Japan: Attracting dissonance
Shugyo 20.X.6
As per the usual, my return to the land of the rising sun was motivated by furthering my training in the martial arts, and the need for me to clear my mind and decompress. Of course I had also planned on visiting all my old friends, many of whom I hadn’t seen in a few years. My summer shugyo (training mission): a couple months of pure focused martial arts training. Business as usual, after wich I agreed to show an American girl around Tokyo for 10 days. I’m no stranger to guiding people around foreign lands, so THAT was nothing unusual; what WAS out of the ordinary was the fact I was dating this particular girl, with whom I had somewhat recently entered into an exclusive monogamous relationship. It seemed to most people I wasn’t cut out for such an arrangement. Was it the monogamy? Likely not; I had a queue of 3 or 4 ladies who were trying to seduce me, and I told them I wasn’t a person to go back on his word since it was generally the only currency I had and so I couldn’t afford to have it devalued. They would just have to wait or move on, so the keeping with monogamy wasn’t so much what surprised people, no it was my “free spirit” that caused me to wander around. There was the whole matter of me traveling often. The girlfriend didn’t like to travel, not as I know it anyway, didn’t like the majority of what I did, and had never left the states. Even though research seems to indicate that “opposites attract” is not a thing, we were happy, so until such time as the whole thing fell apart we decided we would make a go of it. She had an interest in Japan and me, and so it was decided I would guide her on her first international journey. However, she had known me for quite some time before we became an item and had even traveled across the states with me 6 years prior, so she was well aware of how I do things and my general shenanigans, so she had some stipulations about how she would travel. If I was to guide her she didn’t want to have to “fly on a crappy unregulated plane, sleep in the mud, or outside, or in an abandoned building, or in a room with tons of other people, eat something with it’s face still attached, climb a mountain or something, run from cops or do anything that would get us banned from a place or thrown in jail, or die”. Fine. Suck the fun out of life. It was her first trip after all, so I couldn’t push too hard. She wasn’t a closed minded person per se, but her lack of experiences made her not like to travel, eat food, or try new things, so going to Tokyo was a big step for her. My stipulations were that she keep an open mind, try new foods (1 per day), and trust me. She drew up a list of things she wanted to do, I made an itinerary, and we had an accord.
It turns out that traveling like “a normal person” really changes my whole groove. First was the housing situation, which I actually had to square away instead of just winging it like I normally would. I found a place I thought fit her stipulations, seemed nice on paper, and began corresponding with the apartment/guesthouse owner. He definitely didn’t seem to have much grasp of English… or anything for that matter. He did have a room available though, and said I could either pay half down to reserve it, or show up and hope it was still available. Obviously I normally would have chosen the latter, but for the lady’s sake I decided I would be “responsible”. Right off the bat that didn’t feel right. The owner would only take a wire transfer which was a big pain in my ass. He wanted 30,000yen wire transferred to his company’s account. I researched as much as I could in order to mitigate the chances I was being long-conned, and decided to go through with it. A week before I left I went to see my bank contact, who knows the second he sees me his day will be difficult and stress filled, and he began the convoluted process of the wire transfer. Due to market fluctuations, from the morning I set out to wire the money until it actually got wired, I lost 30$ in the currency conversion. Then the bank I was using charged me 45$ for the wiring service, and the receiving bank took a cut of between 25-50$. All in all it cost me over 350$ to get someone 250$, which was still short of what they wanted. My bank lesion stressed that there was no way he could have compensated for the market fluctuations. I was sure it would be fine. Dumb Japanese housing company, Mayflower house, told me the money was sent to their bank’s main branch (down the street from him) instead of his personal branch, and I would need to resolve this matter myself. Great. I questioned why he couldn’t just walk his ass to the bank himself, and I would get my answer when I got to Japan. In the meantime, I had to spend 2 days getting phone and email transferred around by Mizuho bank before finally being told that everything should be fine. I passed the word on to the difficult –to-converse-with guy from the housing place, he told me I was all set to move in, and I headed to Japan, proud of the fact I had been so responsible as to secure a place to stay before leaving, and a supposedly nice one at that.
Packing for the trip felt weird; for the first time in a long time I wasn’t taking any sort of field gear. I had a place to stay, so no tent. My time was allotted, so no need for “just in case” camping gear, since the lady wasn’t into it, and no field repair kit as I shouldn’t have anything to repair. It just felt off not having survival/adventure gear. Oh well, I though, I’ve got my martial arts bag, and that’s all I’ll need!
My journey to Japan took over 24 hours in total, 6 of which were spent on a layover in Toronto international airport. Alternating between reading and walking around to pass the time I ran into a couple of guys doing what seemed to be exercises and filming silly things. They saw me and asked if I would help film them. Of course I said sure. We got to talking, and they turned out to be a couple of Canadian fitness professionals who were on their way to Singapore to teach some seminars. They were the owners of “Lebert Fitness” and had decided to film a silly promo in the airport to illustrate how you could work out anywhere. Right up my ally! So much so in fact, that they invited me into their fun, and I wound up in their promo! Running up the down-escalator, handstand walking, doing the splits, you know, normal airport shenanigans. Great times with great guys, and it really helped pass the time. What wasn’t so great was that after the layover I was getting onto an Air Canada flight.
Since my girl and I both had things to do in the states at the same time, me a friend’s wedding and her an actual job, the lady wanted to fly back from Japan together. As per her stipulations this meant no no-name airlines. I hate Air Canada for all the crap they’ve put me through; but when it comes to North American airlines, it’s all pretty much a lose-lose situation. After much research and begrudging acceptance it seemed that Air Canada was the lesser of the evils to pick from. Begrudgingly they were getting another chance to show me they deserve to stay in business. I boarded the plane. I always choose my seat based on 2 parameters: Statistical likelihood to survive in a crash, and my child-sized bladder. This means my seat is always near middle plane, slightly to the back, aisle seat. Always. I’d say I go out of my way to get the seat, but everything about flying is an inconvenient thing out of my way. Having chosen my seat prior, Air Canada decided otherwise and stuck me far back of the plain, by the window. Now I had to make a confused old lady and someone else get up every 45 minutes for 14 hours so I could pee. At least we didn’t crash.
I landed in Japan and headed straight to Kachidoki, the nice Tokyo outskirt I was to be staying in. The addresses in Japan are such nonsense, that not even the postmen can decipher them and so have to ask locals for help. As a result it took me a bit to find the place, but find it I did. My first thought of the building was one of surprise, since Kachidoki is such an upscale area, because this building looked like garbage. Stepping in I was hit with an overpowering cloud of stagnant cigarette smoke, and not much else. Certainly no people. The owner I had been corresponding with knew the date I was to arrive. Confused, I wandered the premises. “Hello?” I yelled occasionally. I tried the room number I’d paid to reserve. Locked. The place was several stories, so up I went looking for anybody, until I eventually wound up on the roof. No body there either. I repeated the process on the way down eventually coming across a Turkish guy heading up to the fourth floor. I told him my situation, about being scheduled to move in and there being no one there. “The guy who owns this place is a crazy asshole and this place is shit. Run while you can!” That was uncomforting to hear as a first time greeting. I explained I already paid half the rent. “Shit. Guess you’ll have to call him.” Turkish guy gave me his number, lent me his phone and I called the owner. No answer, so I left a voicemail. I tried the computer in the lobby and sent him a message from their company website. I called several more times. Nothing. It was now 9pm. An Australian who lived there came in and started talking to me. I told him my situation. “Shit man. The guy who runs this place is Kiyomura. He’s a fucking asshole. What room where you going into?” I told him. He told me that there was an old lady who lived in that room and had been living there for the better part of a year. Dammit! Had I been hustled? “Kiyomura has no idea what’s going on or who lives where. Sometimes the cleaning staff leave the unoccupied rooms unlocked though, maybe you could crash in one of them if they’re open?” I searched around and found an open room, and the keys were in there! I moved in. I sent Kiyomura another message telling him my new room and where to find me for the rest of the rent. I shouldn’t have though, because I’m sure that had I not, I could have stayed there indefinitely for only what I’d already paid. I was being nice though, as I hadn’t yet learned I hated Kiyomura, and my girl specifically requested I not het her banned from a place or in legal troubles or on the run.
As I dealt with basically being a squatter in a place I’d partially paid for, my next order of business was to continue doing things I wouldn’t normally do: Since I needed to meet my lady at the airport, guide her through the travel process, etc., she wanted me to get a phone. A cheap burner phone, but a phone none the less. So, I set off to do just that. Like everything else that I think will be simple, it wasn’t.
At Softbank, the “main” phone provider in Japan and the one said to be the friendliest to foreigners, I was having some trouble getting a phone; the trouble being that they refused to give me one. Due to heightened and tightened security measures, I was told I needed to have a foreign residence card in order to get a phone, but of course I was no longer a resident, just a visitor, so no card. Ergo, no phone. They recommended a place where I could go rent one. I quested all day to different places comparing rates, the cheapest of which would cost me 1.50$ per day, plus 1.50$ per text message. Ridiculous! The employee of the place told me I could buy a phone if I went back to the airport, but it would only communicate with phones in Japan, on the same network. Practically useless! Then the idea was bandied about that I hit the black market, buy a used phone, get a new SIM card, and try and get that to work. Dumb? Yes, but it seemed my only option at the time. Before I continued down this now multi-day mission any further I decided to stop by Softbank again just to make absolutely sure there was no other way. “You can just buy a phone here.” … But I don’t have a residency card. “Who told you that you needed one of those?” … you did. “Oh, well you don’t. Just write down where you’re staying and that will be good enough.” I don’t know if there’s a word for both relief and rage, but that’s what I was feeling at the time. What if I hadn’t stopped back in to check!? I would have been out so much more money and time! Of course, purchasing the phone still wasn’t easy, even with their go-ahead.
Softbank needed the address and the phone number of the place I was staying, but as my luck would have it, the place didn’t have an address OR a phone number. I have the clerks all the details I had and they were able to find the company’s website. They were even able to get a satellite picture of the place I was staying, but there was quite literally no address, or post box, or phone number for the place. Figures I would try to do right by someone in being responsible and sill wind up staying in a place that doesn’t officially exist. They did find the owner’s phone number on the site, and gave him a call. Through him, they got the necessary information… sort of. We had to improvise a bit. They made me deface my passport by writing in it that this place was my permanent oversees address, and then took several photos and scans as proof. I then had to fill out forms that said my regular address was the U.S. embassy! The hoops to jump through in order to get a burner phone for a couple months. After all that I finally had the phone though… and it was one of the worst I had ever seen, even by burner flip phone standers. Dammit.
Japan was supposed to be calming and rejuvenating me, but after almost a week trying to figure out if I live in the place I’d paid for and hunting for world’s worst phone, I wasn’t feeling very relaxed. I decided to take a 5 hour walk to unwind. A walk to Kabukicho, the yakuza gangster district. My old stomping grounds. Along the way and especially after my arrival I noticed that everything seemed to feel different. New places had been built and old placed had been torn down, and the places that remained had been changed. It seems in order to get ready for the impending Tokyo summer Olympic Games in a couple years, every effort had been made to sanitize the area. Sure, there were still gangsters, prostitutes, and gambling, but it wasn’t as oppressive and brazenly in your face. I missed that “underworld” feel. The rest of Tokyo was also feeling the pressure to make foreigners feel welcome, replacing the former national view of “we don’t care if you come to visit or not”. Yes, it was still Tokyo, but it wasn’t “MY” Tokyo. At least not the one I remembered. As melancholy as some find little revelations like that, the walking did clear my mind. Arriving back at my shady abode I found a paper note under my door, instructing me to call the owner. Looks like I’d finally been “found out” … even though I’d been trying to get ahold of him since I arrived. Don’t know why I bothered.
Despite all my calls and messages, and the fact that the owner knew what day I was to move in and should have sent someone out to check me in and get the second half of my rent, I’m sure he forgot all about me. That is, until the Softbank phone call. Now I had been summoned by not decree to call him. I did, and on my fancy new phone. When he picked up he sounded like a garbled crazy mess, but though the madness he managed to tell me to meet him at his office. Great, now I had to hunt this poor businessman down. I wasn’t looking forward to it, and to top it off, the phone ran on prepaid phone cards, without unlimited calling, and the call had eaten up all the money on the phone causing me to need to buy a NEW 30$ card. In essence, the call cost me 30$! I guess that it was a good thing I needed to track this guy down, because I was going to need a lengthy quest to blow off steam. Turns out, as usual, the inconveniences were just getting started.
I tracked the owner down. To say he was insane wouldn’t be doing Kiyomura justice. He was well beyond insane. He seemed to be about half crazy, half senile, but fully out of his mind. Visually he resembled Vincent Price, if Vincent Price was a 150 year old Japanese man/mummy. His speech was almost unfollowable, a mix of stutters and contradictions, through which he told me he received 50$ less than I had sent him for my reservation! I showed him HIS bank’s confirmation receipt, which showed otherwise, but he was impossible to reason with. It was like arguing with a random word generator. He demanded the second half of my rent, plus the 50$, plus 30$ more than we had agreed upon in email writing; emails which I had with me. Again, reasoning with this person was asking too much from him. I’m fairly certain he had no idea where he even was, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let me out of his wierdo office without paying him. My mind drifted back to what the Turkish guy had told me a week prior. Crap. As punishment for trying to be responsible and actually reserve a room I wound up paying over 100$ more! Lesson learned. Also, the old hatter tried to make off with my passport! He tried to dismiss me after I paid up, while he still had possession of my passport. When I called him out he denied it, until I made him look in his own damn hand. Dick. I was fed up with the whole business of being at this guesthouse, but at least the worst was behind me… it wasn’t, but I thought it was at the time.
Leaving the codger’s office I headed straight to Shinjuku Dojo, my Kyokushin Karate dojo of choice, to say hi to everyone, tell them I was back, and to drop off a box of fancy Alaskan chocolates I’d picked up for them in Alaska as a souvenir and been holding on to since then. As I walked in Mori looked half surprised to see me, though in his defense, nothing I do really surprises my friends anymore. He told me that he’s normally not at Shinjuku dojo anymore. The KyokushinKaikan has him teaching at a handful of other dojo around the city, but they were having a special training that night with all the different dojo in the area gathering there. He said I should definitely join in. I wanted to, but I had come straight from that stupid meeting and hadn’t brought my gi. I hadn’t brought anything but chocolates. “Here. Take one of mine. You’re always welcome to it, you’re family.” The gesture was nice, but his phrasing really meant a lot. I borrowed his uniform, and we had a really good training session. Afterwards we all hung out and chatted. Those who knew me were happy to see me, and the ones that didn’t know me were filled in by the ones who did. “Wait … you’re THE Nash!? You’re a legend! You’re like a videogame character.” We exchanged some esoteric techniques, and the new (to me) guys were amazed at my conditioning. “You’re crazy ripped and flexible!” That’s what a lifetime of silly training and not working will get you. Mori and I talked, catching up. I asked him when his next fight was. “I’m retired from competition.” I was shocked. A several time world middle weight champion, maybe it was injuries? Our lifestyle can grind on a body after a while. “No. I’m fine; I’m just focusing on my career now.” What!? Why? “I like money. I want more of it.” Fighting’s not that good for making a lot of it consistently, so I couldn’t fault his logic. He asked me “what are you doing for a career these days?” … I’m an adventurer. “Haha, so you’re still poor.” Yep! He knows me well.
The next day was competition training for 4 hours. This day happened to be the one day of the month when some pro wrestlers would come and lead half the training with Sumo and wrestling drills. It’s infamously tough, but my recent training with “Indy Boxing Grappling” and Kudo had given me decent ground skills. I pinned the assistant instructor! After training, as everyone was getting dressed, Yamada Shihan walked in. Yamada Shihan is head of the Tokyo Jousai Shibu, and Shinjuku dojo within it. He glanced over my way. “Is that Nash!? We’re all going out to eat!” And we did. I was even given a seat of honor at Yamada Shihan’s table and we drank and feasted the night away. He still wants me to open a Kyokushin dojo in the states… I don’t know about being pinned to one location, let alone one style! Time will tell I suppose.
By the time all that dinner madness was over it was passed 2 in the morning. I had just enough time to shower up and nap before returning to the dojo for Waseda University’s special training that they invited me to. Of course it was great, and all the student’s kept calling me “the guy from street fighter” or “The guy from Fatal Fury”. I would hear that a lot from people in Japan. Mori and I sparred with each other for the first time in years, and we had a great time! We went hard by other people’s standards, but we weren’t going hard for us. Everyone kept asking if we were ok afterwards, but of course we were just playing. We even threw in some of our more ridiculous moves, such as Mori’s dropping wheel kick. After training we all went out for a nomikai, drinking party, as per the Japanese custom. It was at this nomikai that I learned Mori had gotten married! Between marriage and the career he had become a full blown adult. I was one of the last of my kind. After nomikai 1, we naturally moved to part two, which subbed a sit down meal for karaoke, and booze for more booze. Anything worth doing is worth doing to the max, and according to the Japanese that’s part of training as well.
My time in Japan was mostly spent training, exactly as I had set out to do. When I wasn’t training I was trying to subtly sneak in more training by walking everywhere. Walking is great training, plus it saved me money because I wasn’t riding the trains. On top of it’s other benefits, walking kept me out of the place terrible place I had actually paid to stay at! I would walk several hours, from one side of the city to the other, Kachidoki to Shinjuku, and beyond. On one of my walks I made a wrong turn on the return and walked all the way to Yokohama! It turned my 4 hour walk into a 10 hour walk.
Mori had invited me to train at all the different dojo he taught at, and I could still train at Shinjuku dojo, so I wound up training all over the city. It was great. On top of that I would occasionally teach things like limbering drills and whatnot, and Mori got me my old part time position back as a fighter masseuse for a little side money. I would do my own training on the roof of the garbage house I was staying at, then strength training at the local children’s playground, some running, and then off for a 4 hour walk to a dojo. My training life was good. In between trainings at the Kyokushin network I popped over to the Kudo Honbu (headquarters/main school) but no one was there, so I sent them some emails. I waited to hear back so I could train there as well.
As I waited for my Kudo reply I continued my devout Kyokushin training. I tracked down the “densest, hardest striking bag in the region”, and blew everyone away with my ability to demolish it with my full power strikes. Nash-Style! Again, Mori took me out to eat and drink with the dojo guys, since despite my protests he’d been paying for me this whole time, and I learned that Komine sensei, who was the teacher infamous for his super deep to-the-bone massages and his delicious homemade inarizushi, had died. No one was really sure what caused it; he just went out ninja style. Mori and his wife had moved into his old house after it happened. These dinners were full of surprises! Some of the guys at the dinner who were in their late teens and early 20s started talking about when they started Karate as young kids and the things they remembered from that time. “I remember you.”, they said, pointing to me. Me? “Yeah, it was definitely you. You had shorter hair … but the same bag. That was like 10 years ago wasn’t it?” Mori commented that time flew … and my bag is super old and gross. It’s fine! Since we were already in a reminiscing mood, we started talking about Alle, our Italian friend. He was now bald, and running a very successful Kyokushin dojo in a nice Italian hamlet. We talked about how years ago sometimes I would be drifting around Japan with no definite place to go and Alle would let me crash at his apartment because he’s nice… but he actually hated me staying with him because he like his space to himself. We laughed, and Mori called Alle right there on the spot, and he actually picked up! “NASH IS HERE!” is how Mori greeted him and then tossed me the phone. We chatted for a bit, and then Alle said “I’m jealous of your training nomad lifestyle, but I’ve got a career now. I do want to spar you again though! The next time you’re in Italy, you should stay with me. Come by, I’ve got lots of woods and mountains nearby for you to train in.” I’m tempted to take him up on it just out of hilarious spite, knowing he likes his space, though I could just head out to the mountains if he gets sick of me. Alle had to get back to work so we hung up, then All of us ate dinner and finished up our mini party. The following day was heavy training followed by another full-on party.
This time the training and nomikai were in honor of 5 students from the international college that had started official training. We had a good training, capped off with a heavy sparring session between Mori and myself, then it was again off to dinner, and from there karaoke. The party rolled on and people started bailing because the trains were stopping. I attempted my escape. “You’ll never make it in time” Mori said “The trains have already stopped. You can stay at my place.” It was already passed midnight so Mori decided to end the party. Good call. As some people were wandering off I asked Mori how we were going to get to his house. “Oh, we’re not going to my place. We’re going to the next place for food, still partying.” He got me! Typical party in Japan, there’s always a next place. People do slowly drop off as the night/morning goes on, and by now we were down to a group of about 8. Everyone talked about how my life is ridiculous and how everyone is surprised I was still alive, myself included. By 4 in the morning Mori and I were so drunk we had one of his students drive us to Mori’s house, as Mori passed out after each sentence he spoke. When we got to his house thee was already a futon, pillow, and cover laid out in his kitchen floor for me to sleep on. How did he know I would be staying here? Did he anticipate the whole thing? Does he always have sleep gear in his kitchen? I didn’t get a chance to ask, because I woke up a little before 6 in the morning in an awkward anxious state and snuck out to not be a burden. I had no clue where I was, but I found an old guy walking his dog and asked where the train station was. “What station?” The closest one. “Well, you’re kind of in the country right now, so you’ve got at least a half hour walk.” Figures. 30 minutes of walking is nothing to me though, so I found it without much effort. I got back to Kachidoki around 8 in the morning, just in time to start my day.
A couple days later, I found out that a guy from LA who I had recently met at the Kudo Colorado training camp, the guy who was the default translator until he left and it became me, was in Tokyo! He was surprised to learn that I was there as well, and we decided to meet up and spend the day together. He was in town to do some business for his successful international real estate company, and his normal stomping grounds were in Roppongi, so that’s where we met up. He showed me parts of Roppongi I didn’t even know existed. It was nice. In fact, we jokingly called it a date, since all the things we did that day resembled a date. In fact, it was a really good date! First, we went to the Mercedes SUV dealership, and got taken on an obstacle course in the most expensive SUV they have, and then sip coffee in their fancy café. As (his?) luck would have it, it was the last day for the exhibition! The things this SUV could do were very impressive, and I wouldn’t have ever thought of doing something like that without him suggesting it. After the Mercedes SUV dealership we took a stroll through a park on the way to a nice steak place. After our steak dinner we walked around some more before finally settling down at a fancy second floor desert café overlooking Roppongi. He was a true gentleman on our date, and like the true successful businessman-gentleman he was, he paid for everything. What a guy! I offered, but he wasn’t having it… thankfully. At the end of our evening his ex-wife came by the dessert shop and we chatted for a while before parting ways. As I was heading my own way my new friend gave me an invite to train with him and Ito sensei again at their Kudo dojo in LA the next time I’m around. Challenge accepted!
After my impromptu date, I had an actual scheduled meeting/dinner with my old friend David. I hadn’t seen him since I mailed him a package for myself from Spain, so we had all kinds of fun things to catch up on. We went to a decent place for food and drinks, and besides catching up we continued our tradition of intellectual debates regarding books and movies. We then met up with some friends of his and relaxed late into the night, talking and drinking around an abandoned lot. His friends told me my life was straight out of a comic book. Phrases like that were rapidly replacing “goodbye” when people were ending conversations with me. I had actually planned to get together with David, and so had allotted money for our shenanigans, but David wasn’t going to let me pay, so he paid anyway.
As the days went on the monsoons rolled. On the occasions when it was oppressively monsoony I filled my time by studying books on martial arts, and taking indoor based cultural excursions. One such jaunt took me to the Japanese sword museum. I had gone there with the intention of photographing and filming everything, but the place wasn’t about to let that happen. They had guards posted everywhere just to make sure I didn’t! In their defense the swords wouldn’t have translated well at all to photo or video. Also, the place was surprisingly small.
During this period of time I got a message from my scumbag landlord saying my rent was coming due, and he was going to arbitrarily raise my rent by over double, because I wasn’t planning to stay another full months there. Bullshit! He knew the exact dates I would be staying well before I got there, and he said it was fine. Then, when I finally saw him in person, I reminded him face to face and he said it was fine (while trying to steal my passport). I’m not paying more than double, he would be lucky if I paid anything at all! Professional efficiency is supposed to be one of the pride and joys of Japanese culture, and the guy was not about it. If you don’t want to run your business, don’t have a business! The place I was staying as a slum. The walls were paper thin, and my room shared one of those thing walls with the toilet. Most mornings I was awoken by some Korean buy blasting kimchi into my ear holes. The ceiling was poorly wall papered and falling down, and there was a hole in the in the corner of the room that went … somewhere. I would sometimes see light shining through, and could swear that smoke was coming in. Everyone there smoked heavily, and the smoke hung thick and stagnant in the air. It was like living in a back alley mahjong parlor! The carpet in my room was made of 1 x 1 squares that kept coming up and moving around! One day I met a guy from Spain who was moving out of the place, post haste, and was waiting on an employee to show up and give him back his deposit. Of course they were hours late, and when they finally paid him, the owner, Kiyomura, had “forgotten” to give the money to his employee and the employee had to pay out of his own pocket and hope his crazy brain-syphilis riddled asshole of a boss would reimburse him. Fat chance. And what was the straw that broke the camel’s back causing this Spaniard to move out? Was it the crazy thieving slumlord? Was it the fact that everything was broken? Perhaps it was the sky-high rent? Nope. The final straw was a cockroach infestation. It got so bad he had to seal his windows and door with towels and then build a fort out of his bed to keep them out… and they had started to come to my room. At least Spaniard had a bed, all I had was the floor… were the roaches were! The only reason I was staying at this place was for the girl I was dating, and there was no way in hell that a person like her was going to stay in a place like that. Now this landlord wanted to more than double my rent? He would be lucky if I didn’t punch a hole in one of his walls and take a poop in it! I began the search for a new place that very day.
I found a new place relatively quickly, but I was leery of it because the rent was so low and there weren’t any good pictures of it. I read as many reviews as I could, and they were all glowing. Too good to be true? I emailed back and forth with the owner and finally agreed to stay for a trial week. It couldn’t be worse than where I was, and if I liked it I would stay and if not, leave. I emailed the owner of the garbage heap I was currently in and told him that when my current month was up I would be leaving. Did he email me back? No. He sent an errand boy across town to put a note on my door that told me to call him. Begrudgingly I did, and got no answer. A few more days went by and I received a gibberish email from him at 2 in the morning, ignoring my prior correspondence to which he was directly replying, telling me the total of my next month’s rent. I replied again that I would be moving out. The fateful day arrived, and I was doomed to sit around and wait all day for the employee to arrive with my security deposit. Eventually they showed, and proceeded to ask me for the next month’s rent! I told the person I was leaving and wanted my money, and that their boss had known for some time. The employee wanted to know the reason for my leaving. “This place is a dump.” Was my reply. After they made some phone calls I finally got my security deposit back. However, they didn’t take my key! I stayed an extra night just to spite them; free was about the price someone should pay to stay there.
My final act before moving out of Kachidoki was to go out with the Aussie who lived in the same place, and his friends. We went to the Marche that pops up once a month and reveled the day away before running into one of their Peruvian friends who ran a bar in Kachidoki. He opened it up just for us, and we had a good night. He picked up the tab too! Now that my Kachidoki business was done I was off to check out my new place in Shinkoiwa.
Shinkoiwa was a great town, and the new place was a perfect match for me. The building itself was a large old style traditional Japanese house/apartment that had been renovated and partitioned to support more people. It had tatami floors, good outside showers, and fantastic people staying there. Several Japanese people were living there, including a Japanese girl who I hit it off with because her brother has similar philosophies to mine, a Thai family, and a goodly mix of backpackers shacking up for a mid-length amount of time. The property manager also lived there. She was a Japanese girl, and every morning she would get up early and bake everyone complimentary treats for breakfast. Breakfast! Once she saw me eat a big bag of mochi, and big chicken, and a liter of fruit juice, and she said “whoa, you just ate like 10 people’s worth of food!” Yep, and it was all on sale, since I was conserving money to the extreme. I spent less than 3.50$ one day! I met the owner of the place and he and the property manager said I was the most Japanese person there, due to the fact I have perfect sitting posture, practice martial arts, and like sweet red bean. I’m not sure that those things qualify me as a particular nationality, but they were both super nice. The atmosphere in the place was just very enjoyable. I couldn’t think of anything bad about it, other than the fact that the rent was a couple hundred dollars cheaper than where I had been staying, so I was mad because I wished I had been staying there from the get-go. A better thing for less money! My room was a nice large private tatami room, with one too many beds in it. It was the perfect base of operations, and it was next door to a sumo stable! You could look out of one of our building’s windows and be right in the middle of sumo training! Good motivation for training.
During the move to the new place I had finally received a reply from the Kudo headquarters regarding training. It was go time! I showed up to the honbu dojo, and one of the students said “Jukuchou (headmaster) wants to see you” so up we went to the 5th floor office. I was announced, then entered. I didn’t think he would remember me. He stared at me for what seemed like way too long, before finally saying “You cut your hair!” Nope! Just pulled back! , I said as I moved my head sideways for him to see. “I thought you were in Alaska, fishing or something?” I was, but now I’m here for training. I brought you something though. I presented him with a box of Alaskan chocolates. “You know, normally no on is allowed to train here without a kudo specific uniform. Also, you have to be part of the organization, and even then you need to be accepted to train here. Plus, you need top have Kudo specific headgear.” I looked at him for a bit. “… but! I know you, and I know you don’t have any money. You can train here.” Thanks!, I said ecstatically. “Get some money!” he replied, smiling but meaning it. Guess he remembered me after all! I told him I didn’t think he would remember me and he said he had a good memory, also “You’re tough to forget. Plus, since you met Komatsu sensei in Colorado, he talks about you all the time, and I have to hear about it. You’re ridiculous!” Sounds about right. “So, how long will you be training here?” Just about a month, but I’ll be in Japan a couple weeks longer. “What? Why won’t you be training for 2 weeks if you’re still here?” I told him about the girl. “What!? Who would date you!? You’re only ever in one spot for 3 months, maximum!” True. “She must be Japanese to put up with your nonsense. Only a Japanese girl could tolerate your life.” She’s American. “No way! Your life is crazy.”
I had trained at the honbu before, but only a couple times, and it had been a few years back. This time it was consistently for weeks. I was happy to be allowed to train there, especially considering I really shouldn’t have been allowed to for a myriad of reasons, including not paying money. Azuma Jukuchou must have thought my presence there would add something of value. The Instructors and students sure seemed to think it did. I trained hard and everyone seemed to like having me there. Due to my conditioning and ability to resist pressure points, one of the instructors said I had a body that reminded him of “Grappler Baki” or “Fist of the North Star”, which I took as a huge compliment. I got invites to train at other dojo as well, but was focusing on the headquarters. During the boxing only drills I outclassed the students in their boxing, during the kicking only drills I shined again, and during only jujutsu I more than held my own. Of course during the full-on Kudo rules I wasn’t as sharp as the students who focused exclusively on Kudo, but I seemed to do well enough. So well in fact, that one of the instructors asked if I was considering entering the world tournament. Nope! Kudo is great for training, but the tournaments aren’t my cup of tea. It may have something to do with the mandatory headgear that my too-big and lumpy head can’t fit into. That was without taking my hair into consideration. During the course of my training at the headquarters we did manage to get my head into the helmet twice, though I certainly didn’t like it. I also learned all kinds of neat drills, and taught some things I had picked up at the Shaolin temple in China. I also got one of the sleeves of my gi ripped most of the way off, so I needed to sow that back on… but didn’t have my field repair kit! It just hung there for the rest of my time in Japan.
I finished my training up at the Kudo headquarters and then finished my Kyokushin training, culminating in a couple more dinner parties. One of those parties was specifically in my honor, a “Nash going away party” and the oldest female student of Mori’s even gave me an Omamori (protection amulet) for safe travels. Everyone at the dinner contemplated jobs I could do, and decided the only career that made sense for me was TV or movie star, probably doing action. Then help me do it! I left the party around 1 in the morning, finished the 3 martial arts books I’d been reading, took a shower, a nap, and then off to the airport. It was time to pick up my girlfriend!
I set off for the airport eager to see my significant other and show her the joys and wonders of travel. It was my job to be her guide and guardian in this time, to broaden her mind with the hope she would love the experience and feel the same thrill that I do when I do things. I may have nailed the “me doing things” part of the experience a bit too well… she was dating me though, so she should have been at least partly used to everything going wrong when I’m around. On the way to the airport to meet her someone killed themselves on the tracks and delayed my train significantly. Then a monsoon rolled in and delayed the next train due to flooding. I had to take a couple trains I wasn’t sure about as a detour, but I did eventually make it to the airport. My delay turned out to be mute though, because her Air Canada flight was delayed almost 2 hours! When she finally got to me she was wearing old pajamas and holding a pillow, looking super disheveled. Let’s go get your luggage I said. “They lost it!” Air Canada lost her luggage. Typical. She had no carry-on except the pillow. “They said something about it eventually showing up but they were super Japanese and I couldn’t understand them. You need to talk to them for me.” So off we went to the airport office, so I could have a word with them. “Your luggage will arrive tomorrow, and we’ll have it at the place you are staying in 2 or 3 days.” Couldn’t I just come tomorrow and get it then? “No, no. It’s too much trouble for you. We’ll ship it to you.” It’s not too much trouble, the sooner we get it the better. We’ll just come and pick it up. “No, no. It’s too much trouble for you.” It’s not. “It is.” And around that dance we went for about 10 minutes before I had to accept that they had already decided they would ship it, and that would be that. On top of Air Canada doing what they do, I found out that right before she left my girl’s cat (who I was quite fond of) had gone missing and she was not taking it well. Great. Missing luggage, missing cat, great start and we were only about an hour in. I needed to take her min d off of all this, so we went straight for some shopping for cloths and a toothbrush and such. Against my wishes our first meal there together was at a KFC, but I let it happen as she was having a pretty rough go. Damn if it wasn’t the best KFC though. After that I showed her the wonders of Kabukicho at night. She was shocked by the warm weather and the packed Tokyo trains, but I knew I had to be firm in my duty to show her around and make her try new things. On her first night she tried a pineapple chuhai, a drink that tasted like gummi nail polish, and hated it. I also had her try curry bread. A donut like bread roll, filled with curry. She hated it. I thought she was being a drama queen until she passed it to me. It looked and smelled like it was full of literal poop. I think this donut was full of diarrhea… We did see a guy who might have been world’s best “Taiko Drum Master” player. He was playing two at the same time without looking, and getting a perfect score!
The next morning continued her Nash-Style trip: She got a phone call that her cat had been found, and had died. She did not take it well. She was an emotional wreck. I was determined not to let her waste her opportunity in Japan though, so focused on trying to show her a good time. Similarly, a friend of mine’s daughter had just finished 8th grade in the states, and was selected along with a handful of her peers to go on a cultural enrichment trip to Japan for a couple weeks. Her group was to spend a few days in Tokyo, and she arrived that day, so I offered to shower her around. When my girl and I found their group, they looked miserable and were eating at a McDonalds! My friend’s daughter was excited to see me, as it seemed the rest of the group was as well, save for the chaperones. They had no knowledge of Japan, Japanese, or the culture, or what they were doing. They were wining it, and poorly. I offered my services if they needed help, but they forbid me from being around. I felt bad for the group. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to broaden the minds of a group of kids getting ready to enter high school, and your group leaders have no idea what they’re doing and just default to McDonalds!? In one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. What a waste. We parted ways, as we had to, but she kept me up-to-date with their disappointing goings ons. My girl and I spent the rest of the day in Akihabara, the nerd and videogame district. I knew she would have fun there, and she always wanted to go to a Japanese arcade and play crane machines and get capsule toys. It would help take her mind off of her cat (who I also missed, but had to put on a strong front so she didn’t break down again). Well, it WOULD have taken her mind off of her cat, except that there was a new comic that had become extremely popular and the main character looked JUST LIKE her cat, and was now plastered everywhere. My plan had literally done the opposite thing it was supposed to. She found a crane machine with a stuffed animal inside that looked just like her cat and she had a mini-breakdown and decided to win it. At all costs. Over the course of a couple of days she and I spent near 200$USD trying to win the cat… and didn’t win. This caused her to break down again, resulting in her crying while playing the crane machine. She didn’t eat the whole day, but I got her to eat a small chicken sandwich before bed, made with fat Japanese bread. She actually liked that sandwich.
The next couple of days we focused on cultural excursions, as per the lady’s request, and she had a very good time. I took her to the Sony building in Ginza and to Sensou-ji, the most visited temple in Tokyo. While there she got an Omikuji, which is like a very elaborate fortune cookie fortune, and hers was good. When I got one, it was not only bad, but seemed intentionally spiteful and directed at me. It read:
“You wonder why so many barriers are repeatedly in your way. Intimate people are leaving one by one, being ground under the heavy wheel you are forced to stay under during hard trouble. Gold, treasure, and wealth are buried underground, the chance doesn’t come to you yet. Your request will not be granted. The patient won’t be cured. The lost article will not be found. The person you wait for will not come. Building a new house and moving are both bad. You should stop planning a trip. Both marriage and employment are bad.”
Harsh! If you get a bad fortune you are supposed to tie it around a tree to let it go, but no, I kept mine. I’ll fight my destiny! After the temple I took her to Shibuya to see the statue of Hachiko and world’s busiest crosswalk, and on the way there some lady on the train was telling her young child that “Japanese is hard to learn because it doesn’t have an alphabet.” Don’t tell your kids your ignorant shit! How hard is it to not talk about things you don’t know about? To get away from terrible nonsense we went to eat at one of my lady’s preferred restaurants: “Hooters”. It was terrible nonsense. Everything was bad.
Continuing the culture theme I took the lady to Meiji Jingu, the most important and prominent shrine in Tokyo. It was under construction. The major parts of the shrine were completely covered in a construction shell, with a PICTURE of the shrine printed on top. Supposedly it was getting refurbished for the shrine’s anniversary… that just happened to coincide with the Tokyo Olympics. The Olympics were cocking a lot of things up. The impending Olympics were changing the scenery, the atmosphere, and even the Kyokushin karate competition rules; though that last one’s for the better. With the shrine mostly un-viewable, I felt bad for the girl; she was having a trip like I would have. I’m sure it was unrelated to me planning it and being there. At least the treasure museum was open, which was nice, and we were able to get all the souvenirs for our friends we were after, such as Omamori. The one souvenir that took the most work was tracking down a specific kimono for my friend’s girlfriend in the states. Normally I wouldn’t go out of my way for someone’s girlfriends, but they were living together and quit serious, so I did. Walking around Harajuku questing for phantom stores in sweltering heat for hours damn near gave my lady a very real heat stroke. She got sunburned and nearly passed out. Also it was a weekend, so Harajuku was packed with thousands of thousands of people. This did not help her already low image of Harajuku. She hated the packed city feeling, and wanted to get back to the relaxing cultural things and gardens. I couldn’t blame her. She did like the Harajuku crepes though. After a rough quest I did eventually get the yukata style summer kimono for my friend’s girlfriend. Victory!
After the day of boiling Harajuku we went back to relaxing. I took my lady to Rikugi-en, the best garden/ark in all of Tokyo and we strolled around for a few hours before heading off to Ikebukuro to pick up a souvenir for her friend at a specific skate shop, where I was again told “you’re straight out of street fighter!”, and then we went to Sunshine City for my own personal quest: Ice Cream City! Almost a decade prior I had been there and tried to eat the grossest Ice Creams I could find, including poisonous snake Ice cream. This time I wanted to surpass that. I had six ice creams: Cow Tongue (with chunks of real cow tongue), Shark Fin Ramen, Coal, Wasabi, Indian Curry, and Mediterranean Blood Orange because my girl knew I’d need a pallet cleanser. After my mission we kicked around Namja Town, a supposed child’s attraction but was very fun. I’m glad we went. We finished Sunshine City by eating a horrible pizza with ghost-thin crust for way too much money. We spent the evening at the Tokyo Dome City attractions. Besides eating at “regular” places like burger joints (albeit Japanese joints like Freshness burger and Moss Burger) I was still keeping to our agreement of making her eat one new thing per day,. She hated most everything, but didn’t mind the Japanese croquet or pudding.
After a nice couple of days a monsoon blew in, so we spent the day at the National Tokyo Museum. On the way there we stopped for breakfast at an “American Diner”. It couldn’t have been worse if they tried, and I think they WERE trying. We stood outside studying the menu so we knew our order, as is the custom. When we got inside, the menu was a fourth of the size and totally different! The hostess was ambivalent about seating us, even though we were literally the only customers, and then argumentative about my order. I politely asked for pancakes and eggs, which trigger this escalating Japanese exchange:
“Pancakes are sweet.”
I know.
“Eggs are not sweet.”
Yes. I know.
“I don’t think they will go well together.”
It’s fine. I would like pancakes and eggs.
“I don’t want to ruin your meal with conflicting tastes.”
It’s fine.
“I would hate to trouble you.”
It’s no trouble.
“Well if we made them, they would need to be on 2 different plates.”
That’s fine.
“It’s so many plates.”
It’s fine.
This exchange went on for a little bit longer, escalating politely in a Japanese style argument. Bitch! I’ll tell you what I want, you bring it to me. My lady just wanted plain pancakes. I wanted “pancakes with maple walnut sauce” and eggs. What I got was pancakes with thick ass icing on them. It wasn’t even a pancake; it was just a small cake! The icing felt and tasted like it was made out of sand. My eggs were one singular egg, which I’m pretty sure was a plastic replica of an egg. I was not happy. My girl’s pancakes? Small and dry. She asked me to ask for maple syrup, which is as-is in Japanese. I wanted butter as well, so I asked the waitress for butter and maple syrup. She said “Maple syrup?” confirming my order. Yes, maple syrup I said, double confirming. She came out with a literal thimble full of honey. I’m also convinced the butter she brought me was just a candle in the shape of a scoop of butter. The place was the worst, and my girl and I took turns uttering “… I hate it here.” The place was so bad that one of my friends thinks it’s a Meta commentary with tier theme of “American Diner” in that terrible service is tantamount to the true American dining experience. I think they just sucked at being a restaurant. You try and show someone the value of new experiences and then craps like that happens. We left the place and went straight back to KFC. At least the museum was good. The highlight of which was having our dreams interpreted. There were various monogramed pillow-like items with words and object on one side, and you found the theme that corresponded to your dreams and flipped it over to reveal your fortune. For example, one might show a picture of the sky, with the word “flying” printed on it, so if you have been dreaming of those things you’d flip it over to reveal your fortune as something like “you will soon overcome the obstacle in your way.” One of them had forests and mountains, which I had been dreaming of, so I flipped it over. It just said “You have a bad liver.” That’s not a fortune!
As our days in Japan were nearing an end I reminded the lady that there was a built in improvisational day in our itinerary, so we could do anything she wished. She seemed burned out though. She turned down hiking, the Tokyo Sky Tree, Tokyo Tower, going to an onsen, going to a sento, or going to see Mt. Fuji, in favor of resting around our apartment. After all, she had already done quite a lot compared to what she’d done prior. We spent our final day casually walking around parks, getting last minute souvenirs for people, and packing. The girl had a job to get back to, and I had a friend’s wedding in Chicago I had to be at. We left for the airport, and aside from hours of plane delays and plane changes Air Canada didn’t feel the need to inform people of, and an insane cluster fuck at customs, nothing went wrong on our return. I guess what I mean is, we got where we were going, in one piece, with our luggage. Sure, the entire trip seemed cursed, and almost everything that could have gone wrong did, but It seemed like the lady enjoyed herself. After all, she was dating me, so she had to know what she was in for. I was hoping this would make her want to travel more and more exotically, with me. Either that, or I broke her and she’ll never travel again. This could be the first in a series of Adventures for us, I thought.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Well, after leaving Japan I found out Kiyomura of Mayflower house threatened to call the cops on me to have me arrested because I wasn’t to be on his property… back when I first arrived and emailed him I was there for check in. What a senile douchebag. The wedding I left Japan for was supposed to be a 3 hour drive, but thanks to construction it turned into a 7 hour drive, in a truck without a horn, air-conditioning, power windows, an airbag, and failing power steering… I missed the wedding! A couple of ride hitches and I made the reception though. There was no way I couldn’t show up after coming all the way from Japan, specifically to be at this wedding and bringing gifts. Also, the friend’s girlfriend that I almost killed my own girlfriend with a heat stroke to get her a special kimono? He dumped the girl a few weeks after I gave them their gifts. This is why friends-of-friends don’t get souvenirs! Two months of living in Japan and I had only spent a total of 1,500$USD and a lot of that was for things I wouldn’t have paid for if I was by myself, like a place to live and a phone. When I went out to eat with people, they paid, but that’s because they wanted me there. I normally don’t go out to eat. I’m sure I could have easily have gotten that number below 1,000$ for 2 months. Even so, after leaving Japan I was flat broke, and so I began a quest for money, to fund future enterprises. As for my girl, her work shipped her to Omaha, Nebraska for several months and she wound up leaving me shortly after in the worst possible way. She ghosted me, just disappearing one day without word or warning and getting pregnant six months later by some guy. She was likely cheating on me for awhile. So, basically everything I had done had been rendered moot and I was reduced to right back where I had started with nothing to show for it but a story. Typical.
-Nash