Good People, Good Food, Good Rhythm
August 26, 2006
On Saturday night Katie, Pam, Tom, Kristine, Marsha and I decided to go out for dinner and drinks. Katie, Pam and I left from their place via bicycle to meet up with the others at Iseshi station. On the ride Katie turns to me and sarcastically says, "check it out, my bike shakes like there are bumps even when there are no bumps...sweet." We're pretty much at the station, but I switch her bikes to make sure that she doesn't hurt herself and to try to figure out what the problem is. By the time we get to the station I have it figured out. The front tire is flat. Awesome. AND it's totally my fault. I was supposed to fill the tire for Katie and Pam, but I had forgotten about it...and now I had to fix it.
While we were waiting around for the rest of the group to arrive Pam asked a cabby where the closest place with an air pump was. He gave her directions to a bike shop a few blocks away, but warned her that it was going to close very soon. Pam relayed the directions to me and I headed off while the rest of the group went to the restaurant to make a reservation. Let me just pause for a second to tell you something about taking directions in Japan. You can never be sure if you're following the directions properly, if you even remember all of them...correctly. It turns out that I was going the right way, but I was thrown off by the fact that one of the directions was "turn right at the barber shop and go down the small street." Problem number one. There are three barber shops on the street that I'm on. Problem number two. The Japanese are very liberal with using the words "street" and "road." I was staring down what looked like an ALLEY at best. But it was close to a barber shop, so I figured I would give it a try. I head down the alley a little way and reach a crossroad. I stop and survey my surroundings while I try to figure out what to do next. Picture this, you're standing in an alley, there are small entrance ways here and there. They look as though they lead to apartments, but it's slightly hard to believe because you're standing in an alley. As I marvel, a guy who is about my age comes along on his bike. I stop him to try to ask for directions to the bike shop. "Sumimasen (excuse me)...uhhhhh...can you tell me where to find...uhhhh...bike shopo?" (Sometimes you can get lucky asking for things by just tacking a vowel into the english word...it's not a typo). He looks at me blankly and then launches into a Japanese. Now it's my turn to stare blankly. I try to think of all of the Japanese that I know...but the most appropriate phrase that comes to mind is, "Nihon-go wakarimasen" (I don't understand Japanese). He nods. Then we both stand there, looking at each other shiftily trying to figure out how we are going to bridge the communication gap. Silence. It's an interesting silence though. He can see that I need his help and I can see that he wants to help, but both of us are in the same akward situation...we use different noises to signify what we mean when we communicate with other people...his sounds are different from mine and mine are different from his. That is the impediment that we're both standing in an alley trying to confront. Both of us are perfectly able to communicate...just not with each other. After a solid 20 seconds of silence I lean down and squeeze the tire and smile. He sees me do this and he understands. My tire is flat and I need a pump. Here's the funny part. He looks up at a sign and then looks at the garage door we were standing in front of. I look up to see what he was looking at and I see a picture of a bike on the sign. We were standing in front of the shop...I HAD followed the directions. Incredible. However, the shop was closed so I was out of luck...or so I thought. The guy walks up to the garage and tries to open it. I stand there wondering if he is affiliated with the bike shop in any way...but he gives up after he discovers that the door is locked and I conclude that he isn't. He turns to me and says something in Japanese. I sit there wishing that I had learned the Japanese equivalent to, "nevermind...but thanks for your help anyways." As I try to figure out how I'm going to tell him that I'll just walk the bike home, he walks by me and knocks on a door. No answer. Then he calls into an open window, "konbanwa...." (good evening). A million questions flow through my head. Is this his neighborhood? Does he know these people? Is someone really going this far out of their way to help me with a flat bike tire?
After he gets no answer he turns back to me. Again we stand the quietly. What to do? I'm standing there thinking, "this guy has gone above and beyond what I would expect from someone...I'll just fix the tire some other time and let him go on his way...I feel bad that I've taken up this much of his time." At this point, another guy comes walking down the alley. He's about 50 and he's rocking out to his ipod while he takes an evening walk. The young guy approaches him and explains what that I need a bike pump. He looks at me and smiles. He then motions for me to follow him. The three of us walk a short way to another bike shop. It closed, but there's a woman inside so the older guy knocks on the window and asks to borrow a pump. She won't open the door and she turns the light off. I don't really blame her. I mean there are three guys knocking on her window during the night to borrow a bike pump...not a common occurence. The older guy and the younger guy have a brief conversation in Japanese...periodically glancing at me and then the older guy says, "please come" and begins waking again. I'm bewildered. He speaks english? How far are they going to go to pump my tire?? While we walk the older guy says to me, "where...from?" I reply, "Toronto...Ca-na-da." He smiles and says, "ahhhh...sooo sooo...Ka-na-da." It might not seem like much of a conversation...but for him and I that was a great little conversation. After about 5 minutes of walking we stop in front of a small house. The older guy disappears inside and returns with a bike pump...he brought me to his HOME to fill my tire. We fill the tire and he sends me on my way with the younger guy. Despite the language barrier, I try my best to convey my sincere gratitude. The young guy leads me back to the road that I came from and I head back to the train station to see if I can find everyone again.
When I arrive at Iseshi, I spot everyone standing in front of a restaurant across the street. Shortly after I arrive we get a table and step inside. Everyone is starving. Pam graciously translates the menu for us and we all order. When our food arrives, I begin to wonder if we have ordered off of the appetizer menu...and that's not the first time that thought has crossed my mind. The portions in Japan are very small, so you usually order two or three dishes. Have a look at Katie's bacon wrapped asparagus and the daikon (Japanese radish) served with full fish head.
Katie and the plentiful bacon asparagus.
Fish head and daikon
Due to the tragic extinction of spoons in Japan, you can now slurp soup from your bowl...but no one told me that you weren't supposed to slurp out of common serving bowls.
The street the restuarant was on.
After dinner Pam decided to go home and Tom invited the rest of us to go to a techno club with some girl that he had randomly met. We all piled into her car and headed about 20 minutes out of town towards sprawling fields of rice. After staring out the window at utter darkness, we came upon an underpass. It seemed very out of place since we were in the middle of nowhere. However, the pumping techno music that was eminating from a small house-like building just past the underpass seemed disproportionately more out of place. Welcome to Club Rhythm. Check out the slogan on the sign.
I have no idea WHY that is the slogan...but nonsensical english phrases are one of the most endearing parts of Japan. Some of the english that you come across is innocently terrible and simultaneously hilarious. I bought a tee-shirt for 500 yen ($5) that says:
Ramp Ladder
Butter
R98938453
Grass without root
And on the back it reads:
We are not permitted
Forget the promise
It's absolutely the most rediculous shirt I own, but I couldn't resist. Anyhow, we pay our 2,000 yen ($20) for cover and head inside the club for our first taste of Japanese club life. We step inside and the music is pumping. There are a few Japanese guys swaying back and forth to the music, but they woul fit in really well as extras in "The Night of the Living Dead." We each grab a drink...because we had to...check out the policy. I was kind of afraid that the dancing guys WERE zombies and that they would eat our brains if we didn't obey the golden rule of Rhythm.
After we get our drinks, Tom's friend Chahiro leaves the club and doesn't come back until 5 am. Kristine, Marsha, Katie and I had taken a cab home...but Tom had to wait for her because he left a bag of belongings in her car. With drinks in hand we head to the dance floor to confront and possibly dance fight with the zombies. EVERYBODY is staring as we walk to the front. We're the only foreigners in the place. We get to the front of the room and all of us begin to bust it out. I don't dance much...but in this country I always look like an idiot, so I figured dancing couldn't hurt. The zombies stop dancing and everyone watches as we fail ourselves around the room in to the steady beat of the techno. Welcome to the gaijin circus. We danced for quite some time and then Katie, Kristine, Marsha and I decided that it was time for us to leave. On the way out one of the guys who was collecting money at the door points to his shirt and say, "what mean?" His shirt read, "Got Weed?" Hahahaha...how do I explain this to a person who doesn't speak English? I tried my best to explain it to him...but somehow I think don't think he really understood. No harm done though...most likely nobody else understands his shirt either.
Check out the videos from the club on youtube. Here are some pics from inside the club:
On Saturday night Katie, Pam, Tom, Kristine, Marsha and I decided to go out for dinner and drinks. Katie, Pam and I left from their place via bicycle to meet up with the others at Iseshi station. On the ride Katie turns to me and sarcastically says, "check it out, my bike shakes like there are bumps even when there are no bumps...sweet." We're pretty much at the station, but I switch her bikes to make sure that she doesn't hurt herself and to try to figure out what the problem is. By the time we get to the station I have it figured out. The front tire is flat. Awesome. AND it's totally my fault. I was supposed to fill the tire for Katie and Pam, but I had forgotten about it...and now I had to fix it.
While we were waiting around for the rest of the group to arrive Pam asked a cabby where the closest place with an air pump was. He gave her directions to a bike shop a few blocks away, but warned her that it was going to close very soon. Pam relayed the directions to me and I headed off while the rest of the group went to the restaurant to make a reservation. Let me just pause for a second to tell you something about taking directions in Japan. You can never be sure if you're following the directions properly, if you even remember all of them...correctly. It turns out that I was going the right way, but I was thrown off by the fact that one of the directions was "turn right at the barber shop and go down the small street." Problem number one. There are three barber shops on the street that I'm on. Problem number two. The Japanese are very liberal with using the words "street" and "road." I was staring down what looked like an ALLEY at best. But it was close to a barber shop, so I figured I would give it a try. I head down the alley a little way and reach a crossroad. I stop and survey my surroundings while I try to figure out what to do next. Picture this, you're standing in an alley, there are small entrance ways here and there. They look as though they lead to apartments, but it's slightly hard to believe because you're standing in an alley. As I marvel, a guy who is about my age comes along on his bike. I stop him to try to ask for directions to the bike shop. "Sumimasen (excuse me)...uhhhhh...can you tell me where to find...uhhhh...bike shopo?" (Sometimes you can get lucky asking for things by just tacking a vowel into the english word...it's not a typo). He looks at me blankly and then launches into a Japanese. Now it's my turn to stare blankly. I try to think of all of the Japanese that I know...but the most appropriate phrase that comes to mind is, "Nihon-go wakarimasen" (I don't understand Japanese). He nods. Then we both stand there, looking at each other shiftily trying to figure out how we are going to bridge the communication gap. Silence. It's an interesting silence though. He can see that I need his help and I can see that he wants to help, but both of us are in the same akward situation...we use different noises to signify what we mean when we communicate with other people...his sounds are different from mine and mine are different from his. That is the impediment that we're both standing in an alley trying to confront. Both of us are perfectly able to communicate...just not with each other. After a solid 20 seconds of silence I lean down and squeeze the tire and smile. He sees me do this and he understands. My tire is flat and I need a pump. Here's the funny part. He looks up at a sign and then looks at the garage door we were standing in front of. I look up to see what he was looking at and I see a picture of a bike on the sign. We were standing in front of the shop...I HAD followed the directions. Incredible. However, the shop was closed so I was out of luck...or so I thought. The guy walks up to the garage and tries to open it. I stand there wondering if he is affiliated with the bike shop in any way...but he gives up after he discovers that the door is locked and I conclude that he isn't. He turns to me and says something in Japanese. I sit there wishing that I had learned the Japanese equivalent to, "nevermind...but thanks for your help anyways." As I try to figure out how I'm going to tell him that I'll just walk the bike home, he walks by me and knocks on a door. No answer. Then he calls into an open window, "konbanwa...." (good evening). A million questions flow through my head. Is this his neighborhood? Does he know these people? Is someone really going this far out of their way to help me with a flat bike tire?
After he gets no answer he turns back to me. Again we stand the quietly. What to do? I'm standing there thinking, "this guy has gone above and beyond what I would expect from someone...I'll just fix the tire some other time and let him go on his way...I feel bad that I've taken up this much of his time." At this point, another guy comes walking down the alley. He's about 50 and he's rocking out to his ipod while he takes an evening walk. The young guy approaches him and explains what that I need a bike pump. He looks at me and smiles. He then motions for me to follow him. The three of us walk a short way to another bike shop. It closed, but there's a woman inside so the older guy knocks on the window and asks to borrow a pump. She won't open the door and she turns the light off. I don't really blame her. I mean there are three guys knocking on her window during the night to borrow a bike pump...not a common occurence. The older guy and the younger guy have a brief conversation in Japanese...periodically glancing at me and then the older guy says, "please come" and begins waking again. I'm bewildered. He speaks english? How far are they going to go to pump my tire?? While we walk the older guy says to me, "where...from?" I reply, "Toronto...Ca-na-da." He smiles and says, "ahhhh...sooo sooo...Ka-na-da." It might not seem like much of a conversation...but for him and I that was a great little conversation. After about 5 minutes of walking we stop in front of a small house. The older guy disappears inside and returns with a bike pump...he brought me to his HOME to fill my tire. We fill the tire and he sends me on my way with the younger guy. Despite the language barrier, I try my best to convey my sincere gratitude. The young guy leads me back to the road that I came from and I head back to the train station to see if I can find everyone again.
When I arrive at Iseshi, I spot everyone standing in front of a restaurant across the street. Shortly after I arrive we get a table and step inside. Everyone is starving. Pam graciously translates the menu for us and we all order. When our food arrives, I begin to wonder if we have ordered off of the appetizer menu...and that's not the first time that thought has crossed my mind. The portions in Japan are very small, so you usually order two or three dishes. Have a look at Katie's bacon wrapped asparagus and the daikon (Japanese radish) served with full fish head.
Katie and the plentiful bacon asparagus.
Fish head and daikon
Due to the tragic extinction of spoons in Japan, you can now slurp soup from your bowl...but no one told me that you weren't supposed to slurp out of common serving bowls.
The street the restuarant was on.
After dinner Pam decided to go home and Tom invited the rest of us to go to a techno club with some girl that he had randomly met. We all piled into her car and headed about 20 minutes out of town towards sprawling fields of rice. After staring out the window at utter darkness, we came upon an underpass. It seemed very out of place since we were in the middle of nowhere. However, the pumping techno music that was eminating from a small house-like building just past the underpass seemed disproportionately more out of place. Welcome to Club Rhythm. Check out the slogan on the sign.
I have no idea WHY that is the slogan...but nonsensical english phrases are one of the most endearing parts of Japan. Some of the english that you come across is innocently terrible and simultaneously hilarious. I bought a tee-shirt for 500 yen ($5) that says:
Ramp Ladder
Butter
R98938453
Grass without root
And on the back it reads:
We are not permitted
Forget the promise
It's absolutely the most rediculous shirt I own, but I couldn't resist. Anyhow, we pay our 2,000 yen ($20) for cover and head inside the club for our first taste of Japanese club life. We step inside and the music is pumping. There are a few Japanese guys swaying back and forth to the music, but they woul fit in really well as extras in "The Night of the Living Dead." We each grab a drink...because we had to...check out the policy. I was kind of afraid that the dancing guys WERE zombies and that they would eat our brains if we didn't obey the golden rule of Rhythm.
After we get our drinks, Tom's friend Chahiro leaves the club and doesn't come back until 5 am. Kristine, Marsha, Katie and I had taken a cab home...but Tom had to wait for her because he left a bag of belongings in her car. With drinks in hand we head to the dance floor to confront and possibly dance fight with the zombies. EVERYBODY is staring as we walk to the front. We're the only foreigners in the place. We get to the front of the room and all of us begin to bust it out. I don't dance much...but in this country I always look like an idiot, so I figured dancing couldn't hurt. The zombies stop dancing and everyone watches as we fail ourselves around the room in to the steady beat of the techno. Welcome to the gaijin circus. We danced for quite some time and then Katie, Kristine, Marsha and I decided that it was time for us to leave. On the way out one of the guys who was collecting money at the door points to his shirt and say, "what mean?" His shirt read, "Got Weed?" Hahahaha...how do I explain this to a person who doesn't speak English? I tried my best to explain it to him...but somehow I think don't think he really understood. No harm done though...most likely nobody else understands his shirt either.
Check out the videos from the club on youtube. Here are some pics from inside the club:
posted by Christopher Janca at 12:02 a.m.
1 Comments:
I would liek to title this one : "Who Wears Their Sunglasses at Night?" Frig, Crhis, I miss you guys so very much, especially Katie's outrageous fashions such as sunglasses in a pitch black bar! I have been busy moving and changing contracts with ym jobs and stuff that I wasn't able to read your postings for a good week. MAN, am I behind! Anyways, you guys really look like you are having the trip of a lifetime and I hope that you can realize why we pushed so hard for you to follow this dream. When I'm in a bad mood, I read your entries and force myself to dream that big! The food looks great, the partying obviously is amazing and I know that teaching is gonna be just as adventurous, so hang in there and enjoy every millisecond of it!
We girls miss ya to death,
Luv Always,
~Andrea
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