The Gardens and Shibuya
July 2008

By Sassy

Entry Two

I rolled out of bed at 5am, wide awake. At least on the other side of the globe I'm a morning person. Soon I could hear the sound of the dog scratching and grunting at the door, the moment I sat down on the couch the scruffy dog planted himself inches from my face and steadily stared while I had my I drank my first coffee.

Flipping through the television channels, meant jumping from one food show to the next. There's no escaping their love of food and the seriousness with which they treat it. Little Japanese women took tiny trial bites, holding their forks as though made of the most delicate crystal. They chewed and chewed their single bite, moaning lightly, bowing and nodding with approval as chefs explained the dish and the occasional outlandishly dressed comedian joining the tasting for a chuckle.

After a couple of cups of coffee Feedback and I leashed up the dog and headed for a garden near our residence. I jogged with the rambunctious pooch along the stone pathways, circling beautiful trees, over little bridges crossing streams. The walled in garden gave the impression of walking through an ancient forest in the midst of a thriving urban city. Soon I found myself standing in front of a beautiful statue of a monk. Circling about to enjoy the view of the garden, I spotted a Japanese man with a straw broom sweeping - I kid you not - the dirt around the bushes and trees.

We went back for some breakfast: rice with fish shavings and soy wrapped in sea weed. Simple and yet surprisingly good! From there we decided to head out to Shibuya, a shopping and entertainment district.

The subway in Tokyo is a completely different affair. There are over ten lines going about 6 levels under ground from the top line to bottom one. Getting on requires a "Passmo" not so different from New York's system of a prepaid card that deducts fair upon use. As you move through a gate a sensor screen detects it (even if it sits in your wallet) and lets you know the balance on your card. Rather than a set amount, you are charged according to the number of stops you travel and how many lines you take. I particularly like that some of the vendors on the subway let you use the card to pay.

The seats were cushioned and cozy, young people often gave up their seat to older travelers, or people carrying a load. In Toronto I've witnessed women in the advanced stages of pregnancy have to stand as no one would offer a seat. Not to say the Japanese don't have their share of inconsiderate asses, no culture is immune to bad genetics and poor upbringing.

I noticed quite a few people staring my way, something I would come to expect during my stay. "It's because you're eating mochi," explained a friend. Mochi is a rice cake that has been pounded. I was eating daifuku, a mochi filled with a sweet red bean paste. It has the chewiness of a marshmallow with a different texture - something I'd discovered in Toronto import stores. There's nothing like mochi when you've got munchies! I've introduced it to many friends since. Though I knew it was Japanese I didn't know it was considered a traditional food that most foreigners disliked.

We got out at Shibuya, which looks like an oriental times square. During my first trip to NYC I had been impressed by the oppressive ads and endless lights, but after a couple of weeks in Tokyo, I'm sure no city will impress me again. Nearly any commercial and entertainment district looks like times square but crammed with more people and stuff.

The streets were packed with stores and restaurants, shoppers and merchants hollering promotions. Groups of teenage girls sat with their makeup bags on the sidewalks painting their faces. Stores everywhere are small and tightly packed with merchandise. Most t-shirt shops sold a lot of shirts with English phrases that were often nonsensical or badly translated, like "I Love Food Feed." One of my favorite window displays was a rhinestone Hello Kitty bike.

The prices can be fantastic. For equivilant quality and detail quite a few things would have been double the price at home. I suppose there's an economy of scale coming into play, when the city's population is nearly half of Canada's, they can purchase in large volumes at reduced rates feeling confident the product will move.

We wandered into a 3 level arcade. The bottom was focused on gambling. Computerized horse races on giant screens with big cozy chairs where viewers placed their bets. Computerized fishing and lines of slot machines filled the rest of the floor.

On another level were the video games. Good old fashion fights to the death, some were intricate war games with touch screen navigation that seemed complex and confusing without the ability to read kanji. Some people played in groups, others sat alone burning a cigarette and intently staring at the screen. Yet another level had carnival style games with quite a few of those clawed hands you navigate and try to grab a prize with. The prizes weren't your usual small plushies: they were costumes, toy pianos, playful pillows and giant stuffed animals.

Getting a bit nibbly we stepped into a McDonalds, wondering if it really was the same all over the world. Here the only difference was the presence of 100 yen (one dollar) pork teriyaki burgers. The ordering area was more like a kiosk than a fast food restaurant, but like everything in Tokyo, you go up. So up the stairs we went, passed the first dining area and to the second one set aside for smokers. The room was unventilated and the windows were closed, eating my little burger in a haze of smoke wasn't entirely enjoyable.

Heading back, our little group decided we were still hungry, and the consensus was to grab something on the subway. The subway system is quite commercial, with nice sit down restaurants, bakeries, desert cafes and venders selling clothes. Very much like an underground mall. We settled on Udon, a hot noodle soup in a mildly flavored broth topped with green onion and often seafood or meat.

Since the restaurant was full, we couldn't be seated immediately, and became the first in line. The hostess encouraged us to order while we waited. All the restaurants featuring Japanese menu's have realistic sculptures of the food, made out of what I'm guessing is acrylic. They stand outside in glass cases, or sometimes placed on a table, forcing a habit eater like myself to live with the constant hunger. I was able to point out my order, a gift when they speak no English.

Soon we were lead to our table, a large wooden one that could seat 9. Two were already seated on the far right, and we were placed on the far left. Our orders quickly arrived, the waitress hesitating as she handed me chop sticks. I didn't realize that a lot of foreigners never quite got the hang of using them. I'm quite comfortable with their use, in fact at home I have cooking chopsticks. I find it as comfortable as using fingers, particularly when trying to get a pickle or peppers out of a jar. It amazes me anyone could live in Japan and not learn to eat with them. The waitresses and adjacent tables kept glancing my way, nudging each other, muttering comments.