Erika's party and the secret pond

Saturday 29th July.
Whenever a new memeber of staff arrives or leaves we have a party. Given that there is quite a network of schools in Tokyo, there seems to be a party every weekend for one person or another. This time it was a rather belated welcome party for our manager at Toyoda school. She is very nice - the same age as me actually, but can't speak much English. We met at a local izakaya which is owned by the parents of one of my students, who also works there. I arrived a little late as I had to travel back from Musashi-Koganei and it was the second night of the festival, so I got a little distracted by the commotion. The mother of my student greeted me warmly, bowing and ushering me through the hanging drapes, and sliding open the light doors to our compartment. I slipped off my shoes and found my place at the sunken table next to one of our students - a woman who works for a pharmaceutical company.

After several rounds of beer, some mochi cheese rice balls, some korean kimchi (chili, tomato, garlic and cabbage salad) a sashimi tuna platter and octopus balls the party broke in two. Those who had better things to do in the moring than nurse a hangover went home, and the others set off up the road to one of the only bars in town. In Japan there aren't so many bars - if you want to drink you kind of have to eat too - izakayas serve a large selection of small dishes to share. Alternatively you can go to a club, or of course karaoke. And so, the party continued in the bar. It was a funny little place in a grey block above a florists. There was a group of young people seated around a table on one side, us in the middle - a bunch of expats and inebriated Japanese, and then on the other side a table around which were four cackling hostesses and an extremely drunk business man. We watched with a combination of revulsion and glee as they applied lip stick and eye-shadow to him. He was creased up - having a the time of his life by the looks of it!

At 3 am I decided I had had enough and announced I was going home - but they wouldn't let me! So I stayed until the group fragmented once again and those with more important things to do than sleep all day went home. Those who were left were the 'hardcore massive' so to speak; Tom, Jason, Erika, Emiko and yes, me. We went to the 24 hour convenience store and purchased some foul tasting Japanese beverages (cans of mango flavoured sparkling wine,　and some green jars of sweet alcohol with a rotten plum in the bottom.) I took one sip and thought I was about to OD on the sugar so went back and bought a couple of cans of beer. We hung around outside the school and watched the early morning goods being delivered to the store. A couple were out walking their dog - even though it was still dark.

It was then that I had the bright idea of taking the party to a secret place in knew in the woods. Everybody was very excited about the prospect, so I led them on a merry trail through Tokyo's suburbia to a little oasis in the forest. There was a wooden jetty that led to a covered seating area over a crystal clear pond. The group congregated on the pine decking and gazed into the water to watch the orange carp and turtles swim. The hours that passed til dawn were hazy. As it started to become light the bats set about their screeching. The woods were alive with insects and mosquitoes who enacted a vicious attack on the intruders. I saw a black butterfly the size of a small bird, momentarily block the light from a nearby lampost. It was as if the devil himself had awoken. Eventually the haunting wail and eek and sting of the wildlife life drove the jaded lot back to civilisation.

I was fortunate enough to have but a few minutes walk back to my apartment. It was a grey and misty dawn. The streets were empty. The others trooped back to the station to wait for the first train. There is nothing more depressing than a good night coming to an end; having to wait for the first train and wishing you hadn't spent so much money, and wondering why it had seemed like such a good idea to hang out in a forest where one is eaten alive by blood-sucking mozzies. Still, it is the spontaneous things that live in one's memory. Despite the fatigue I had enjoyed myself. What a welcome party. My last memory of my manager was that of her sitting by a pond, wearing an oversized T-shirt (which belonged to Tom) and warbling like a bird in jazz band.