Tokyo Diary: Lost in Transition

October 29, 2014. I think.

.. I'm just beginning a six week house exchange in the Shibuya area of ​​Tokyo A 12-hour plane ride from the West Coast to Tokyo requires a certain degree of transitioning that nothing prepares you for. But there is help; in Tokyo , one need only ask.  

I spent yesterday in the company of Miako, a friend of Jami, the guy who is staying at my place. Miako is in her late 30's and speaks excellent English. She was great company and a lovely companion for my orientation to Tokyo. She really helped me expand my grasp of Shibuya which gave me a lot of confidence in my ability to navigate my way around and burrow into the 'hood You would not believe what is here. There's a street nearby that looks like one of the Avenues in Paris, lined with trees and high end shops and beautiful people - .. especially women in heels and ankle socks.  Some of the most stunningly beautiful women I've ever seen, meanwhile I look and feel like my mother ....

This morning I took off around 8 am and headed to Tsukiji, the world's largest fish market.  It was my first Tokyo Metro adventure on my own since I arrived via the Narita Airport Express on Monday, so I was a little nervous about navigating Tokyo's underground.  It was, as a number of individuals who have visited here assured me, well marked. But getting off at the right stop is not my worry.  Trying to find an entrance when I want to come home is .... nevertheless, off I marched. I did not go for the Tsujiki 5 am tuna auction as that requires a reservation and level of commitment that eludes me, (you have to get there at 3 am) but I did go for breakfast at the "outer market" that features all manner of fish and Japanese street food, much of which I could not identify but all of which were intriguing. 

I made my way through and around the market which is a warren of alley ways with speciality shops and mysterious offerings, all the while looking for a place for "breakfast." I settled on a place that was selling rice packets wrapped in nori and filled with eggs and other stuff I was not sure about, but I was sure that their rice bowls with mixed seafood was something I definitely wanted. And so I got in line and when it came to my turn, I tried pointing to a picture of what I wanted, but not before I tried out my Japanese for, "What do you recommend?" which was a real curiosity to the shop owner because I was reciting from my hand scribbled script and was actually was saying, "Thank you very much."  

What I learned was that if you f -. @ # * up badly enough when it's your turn in a long food line, someone who speaks English behind you will, for the good of the country and progress of the line, intervene for you.  And so it was that I met a wiry old Japanese guy who not only took on the role of culinary diplomat, but took me in hand and walked me to the "tables" around the corner, sat me down, and when my rice bowl was delivered , walked me through the application of soy sauce and the side of wasabi. He would, however, not allow me to douse my bowl with the packet of sesame oil, though I dearly wanted to.  Said it was, "... not Japanese . "

I have no idea what it was I ate, but it was not what I had planned. That said, it was not a disappointment either. I think I had a rice bowl with fresh tuna and, of course, some miso soup floating with sea weed and flavored with the tinniest, most delicate little clams in the shell at the bottom of the bowl.

I think breakfast was $ 13 but one is never sure. It could have been $ 1.30 or $ 130.00. Somewhere in between.  My ambassador left me with a, "Have a nice day" farewell to the obvious consternation and disapproval of his wife.  My guess is she does not speak English and was not amused by his interest in my plight. On the other hand, she may just be the jealous type ...


After breakfast, I went back to a couple stalls whose wares I liked. One that I was especially proud of myself for finding the second time was a kim chi vendor.  Earlier, he had very generously allowed me to taste an array of his offerings. I greeted every bite with "oishii," meaning "delicious" [this word seems to thrill the Japanese coming out an American's mouth so I recommend it for your future visits] and then pointed to a tub of an especially fiery and flavorful cabbage and indicated that I intended to carry it in my backpack, to which he vehemently refused to even consider the prospect and would not sell me a bag of it which was probably in my best interest. But really, when did someone in America ever refuse to sell you something because they knew it would turn out badly? As the day progressed, my thoughts frequently wandered back to that lovely man and the phantom plastic bag of fermenting kim chi marinating and foaming inside my backpack. 

Many of the vendors are  rather insistent on giving samples to visitors and I met a few who spoke very good English. Regardless of their linguistic ability, the Japanese are so  gracious and kind and do everything they can to make you feel welcome and at ease. I  kept trying to imagine the same scenario being played out in the USA. Not so good an outcome .... still, it was a wonderful morning and I am thinking that given it's a 20 minute Metro ride away, I may return to sample some of the other food vendors. Though I fear my picture may appear on a Tsukiji's vendor's website indicating that I am not worth the trouble.

After the Tsukiji market, I made my way to a couple Japanese gardens and then up along the Ginza, which is a very high end shopping street.

I was trying to find the Tokyo Gallery and stopped a woman on the street to ask her if she could direct me to it. She was unfamiliar with the Gallery but took me in hand, walked me down two blocks to a hotel that was near it (at least on the map) and asked the staff there to help me locate it. 

A young woman who was working at the bar asked us to follow her to a small room in back of the bar where she looked it up on Google, printed out a map and handed it to me. The woman I had stopped stayed with me the entire time and then asked if I wanted her to take me to the Gallery. Can you imagine this scenario playing out on any street in any major city in the USA? I relate this story, only to indicate the level of accommodation and kindness I have been receiving here. 

While I may be lost at times, there is no shortage of people who will help and not just help, but enjoin in my challenge to the point of resolution. It's quite astounding and I fear that I will become inured to this element of cultural indulgence to the point of becoming very lazy. I only hope that the outcome of my visit here will continue to support this early observation.

So that was my first real "tourist" day here in Tokyo. I am thinking that tomorrow I will return to the area again and delve deeper into some of the other highlights I missed. I decided that 5-6 hours of intense tourism is about as much as my body and my psyche can take each day. So around 3 pm or thereabouts, I head back home in time to pick up something for dinner and avoid rush hour.

Sayonara