Ninjamura

The approach, through the thick woods.

Until 8 or some years ago, Ninjamura was a small local attraction situated atop a forested hill in Fukuoka. As children, some of Ken's friends used to visit the place, and recall a time when they went to the "Ninja House" for a thrill and got spooked by men dressed as ninjas, popping out of walls and trap doors. However, as the years passed, Ninjamura saw a decrease in profits, presumably, and shut its doors to the public. The site of the ninja-themed haunted house was never re-bought, and no one bothered to demolish it. Tonight, Ken and I and some local friends Tatsumi and Kento, have stepped through the gates to Ninjamura once more, for the sake of adventure and nostalgia both.

Notice the pile behind me.

Walking through the forest to reach the first abandoned house, I quickly realize how fast nature had retaken Ninjamura. The wooden bridges crossing through the crevasses and pits in the forested floor have long begun to rot, providing poor footing as we struggle to walk while holding onto our cheap LED flashlights.

 But as we are brought deeper into the forest, we begin to notice the ill-hidden mannequins littering the place. It isn't long before we start finding discarded limbs left and right. Some even hang above our head, pinned to trees for reasons we don't know. Soon, we even came upon a pile of the mannequins, many of them appearing to have blood painted on to them. Not too far up ahead, is our first actual stop - the abandoned haunted house itself. Does that make it twice haunted?

The maze beneath the house.

Of course, the place being long deserted, we found the elements that figure in every Haikyo, (abandoned places, as they call them in Japan,) these being graffiti, litter, and wreckage scattered around the ground.

 But soon, too, did we quickly discover (or in the case of my companions, rediscover) the intricacies of the place, once suited for scaring the shit out of children. Rooms that appear to be small, empty closets reveal themselves to be equipped with hidden doors - those famous, stereotypical reversing walls that flip around to reveal a way into a different room. My companions knew of several of these already, but each discovery brought to me a gleeful satisfaction as I kicked at walls that turned out to be doors.

 These aside, we also found a ladder with access to the attic, as well as an intentionally labyrinthine passageway beneath the house itself, forcing us to hunch over to find a way leading to the next room. We stuck around long enough to get a good look at all of the rooms, many as they were, before we headed back out and towards the next curiosity.

It was only on our way out of Ninjamura that we stumbled upon what once was an illusion-themed house with an inclined floor. The considerable angle of the ground, near 30 or so degrees, gave the impression that someone standing straight was slanted at a seemingly gravity-defying angle. Of course, this place being similarly abandoned, we allowed ourselves to experiment hanging from beams and jumping around as well.

And thus ended our brief visit of Ninjamura! Man, I've been doing quite a bit of Haikyo lately, huh.

Fukuoka: An Overview

After a 14-hour bus ride where I had the embarrassing misfortune of waking up using a fat man's arm as a pillow, I awoke in a new prefecture: that of Kyushu, the southernmost landmass in Japan. My destination is the city of Fukuoka, where I've come to join Ken (who, having left Tokyo a week prior, has been noticeably absent from my latest adventures.)
 Without going much into detail about specific attractions (I'll delve into that later) let's look at the city from a glance.

The local urban landmark; Fukuoka Tower

Fukuoka is defined as a coastal city with a population of 1.4 million; that's several times less than that of Tokyo, and falls just a little short of that of Montreal, my own home town. Whereas Tokyo is a massive metropolitan sprawl of a city, and Kyoto is identified by its remarkable preservation of yonder days of centuries past, Fukuoka has more of a friendly, livable feel to it, combining facets of the island culture of Kyushu with its modern tone and ample green spaces. The sky rises here don't intimidate, and yet the skyline has ample definition.

Canal City shopping center

Fukuoka being very coastal, a lot of the city's internal architecture plays on the presence of water, streams and rivers. The prevalence of these almost feel like a theme, while also playing a large role in the local diet. Ken's father himself is an avid fisherman, who I may or may not have a chance to go fishing with during my brief stay.

My first day in town had me dodging through the streets of the city's busiest districts, while taking brief looks at a shopping center here and the large local park there, interspersed with a temple and what's left of an ancient castle in the middle of the town.

What lies in wait for me in Fukuoka is a food culture that is different than that of Tokyo, and many (including Ken) would argue, a lot better, as well as a small plethora of discoveries. By the time I'm out of here I would have taken you through at least the local children's science museum, a haunted ninja-themed house (not to be mistaken for a ninja-themed haunted house), and New Year's at a local temple. If I can, I'll also try a special local dish that definitely isn't for the squeamish. If they'll tag along, maybe you'll meet one or both of Ken's sisters along the way, but this will determine that.
Discovery awaits!

Painting the Town Red

Happy holidays, folks! In comparison to last year, I've had a very busy Christmas Eve 2012. Christmas in Japan is kind of a couple's thing, as opposed to the family thing it is in America, and I have neither a significant other or family in this side of the world. So, lonely as I am, I wasn't expecting to be doing much on Christmas. But luckily enough, Aala had plans, and I soon found out that Lo and Neal were both in on it. It didn't take much convincing on his part to drag me out for an all-nighter in between two work days (alarmingly enough.)

Neal, Lo, and Aala

 So I join him in Shibuya's Hachiko Square and find him dressed as a panda/Santa Claus (which doesn't surprise me at all, for some reason.) Before him are gathered ten valiant soldiers, ready for a mission: that of placing a Santa Claus hat atop as many statues as possible in Tokyo. Joining these brave missionaries, I become the twelfth member, and at last the group is split in two halves of six: East Tokyo and West Tokyo. Our team, East Tokyo, is formed of Aala as a Panda, Lo, wearing a frankly terrifying black mask, Neal, who also joined me for the Nichitsu raid, the dastardly crazy haired Kenichi Kato, and a very random, quiet woman approaching her middle age, named Keiko.

 As the clock struck midnight, we set off for our first mark, Ueno Park. Aala and Kenichi, who had organized and taken part in the same event last year, respectively, remember the placement of the statues, and we made short work of the famous Takamori Saigo statue. "There's another one," said Aala, "a little deeper into the park. But this one's impossible. It's twice as tall." Pwah!
 Damn right I put a hat on the statue of Prince Akihito. And the thirty foot tall mural in the museum courtyard while I was at it. That Christmas eve, I became a climbing machine.

The mural, Saigo, and Akihito

As the night drew on, we progressed down Akihabara and towards the Imperial Palace, transforming a few statues along the way. I actually managed to climb (and hat) every statue I saw, with one exception. There was the one near Shin-Nihombashi where I accidentally stepped on top of a sleeping homeless guy inside a box I failed to notice. He woke up screaming and cursing at me, and I frankly felt terrible about the ordeal. We ran off before he called the cops.

Despite it being a good night for us, though, we later found out that West Tokyo Team pretty much covered only a miniscule area and didn't even want to meet us halfway at the break of dawn. It figured, though, since we had thrown a bunch of young women into that group who had joined in just so that they could be doing something during the eve of Christmas. Unfortunate!

And that, my friends, is how those Santa hats ended up there. Merry Christmas, and whatever!

Where They Pay to Hear You Rant

When you're a foreigner in Japan, some jobs pay rather well for what is arguably a very trivial task. I don't think of my own work to be particularly easy, taking into consideration the amount of energy that has to be put into it, but there are different ways around to making money in Japan.

Aala's chat table

For example, Aala runs a chat table at a lounge cafe called the Mickey House. His job is essentially to speak to people for a few hours in his own native language, which is, in this case, French. Although they sometimes are, the subjects of his discussions don't have to be particularly educative, and more often than not, we find ourselves talking about things we would've been discussing anyway.
For this, Aala makes 1000¥ an hour, which translates roughly to 13$. Hell, that's not bad, considering he doesn't necessarily seem to have to be nice to people he doesn't like!

The Mickey House has its loyal customers, who I frequently see attending Aala's table, and, quite contrary to what I would've thought at first, many of them aren't even Japanese, but are actually French themselves. Several reasons for this can be taken into account. For one, these people may not have a chance to make much conversation on a daily basis, if they don't have mastery over the Japanese language. Alternatively, they could be hoping to meet Japanese people who are interested in their own culture. And there are quite a number of those, from time to time. Surprising, considering they have to pay 2000¥ to get in (whereas foreigners get in for 500¥.)

The Darndest Things

I've now been working at My Gym for a full 50-week cycle. Most of the 900-some kids have seen my face at some point or another, since I've been moving from location to location, sometimes for extended periods of time. Of the current roster of 25 instructors, only 10 people have been working the job longer than I have, 5 of which are in charge of training newbies.
Throughout the last 50 weeks, I've heard my share of fantastic, awesome things from the kids, so I thought I'd share a few. Because kids always say the best...things.

Sean: "Here's a baton. It kind of looks like a magic wand, doesn't it?"
Hina (6yo):  "Abracadabra. You are a poop."

Sean: "Don't you want to do your forward roll, Mayu?"
Mayu (2yo): "No. I hate gymnastics, and I hate you, too."
Sean: "Ouch."
Ema (2yo): "I also hate you, sensei."
Sean: "But I really like you, Mayu."
Mayu: "I don't care. I can't do it, and I won't do it."
Sean: "That's too bad. Try hard on the next one, alright?"
Ema: "Do you like me, too?"
Sean: "Yes, Ema."

Sean: "Alright everyone. Here's how you do a backrocker. First you want to squat down like this. Good job, guys. Hey, Riku, why aren't you doing it?"
Riku (3yo): "You guys look like you're all taking a dump."

Sean: "What's your name?"
Sarah (2yo): "I'm two years old."
Sean: "But what's your name?"
Sarah: "I'm...four years old?"
Sarah's Grandma: "Her name is Sarah."
Sean: "Hi Sarah! Sarah, would you like to tell me your grandma's name?"
Sarah: "Grandma is one hundred and ten years old."

Sean: "Kento. Now's not the time to play. Let's go back to the red circle and listen to sensei."
Kento(2yo): (Furiously screams at the top of his lungs while punching and kicking me.)

Sean: "Nice swinging, Kento!"
Kento (While on a swing): (Furiously screams at the top of his lungs while attempting at punching and kicking me.)

Sean: "We're going to say bye bye to this beanbag, Kento. We're gonna play a different game, now."
Kento: (Furiously screams at the top of his lungs while punching and kicking me.)

Kyoko (My coworker): "Do you remember my name?"
Aruki (4yo): "No."
Kyoko: "It's Kyoko."
Aruki: "Your name should've been 'A Boobie.'"

Sean: "Hey, nice book! What's this animal?" I point at a horse.
Mion (2yo): "That's a horse."
Sean: "You sure that's not a dog?"
Mion: "That's a horse. You're kind of dumb, aren't you, sensei."

Sean: "Today's exercise worked on our strong arms."
Takehiro (7yo): "Triceps, but also our abdominal."
Sean: "Oh wow. You know your stuff."

Lisa (5yo): "Is this you in this picture?"
Sean: "Yeah! You could tell with the costume?"
Lisa: "You look like a strange old man."
Reina (5yo): "Strange old man!"
Lisa: "Strange old man."

Yusuke (6yo): "You kind of look like Snoop Dog."

Nichitsu by Day

We didn't get a good idea of the scope of the Ghost Town of Nichitsu until day broke, so deep was the darkness permeating the area. It was when the sun rose that we could see all the houses on the cliffs above and down the streets below, and so we wasted no time in delving deeper, exploring the town high and low. What we found didn't disappoint.

  Before going ghost, Nichitsu was fully operational as an independent town: it even had its own grocery store. Early that morning, we hit several points of interest. Nichitsu town was built up-cliff, with public buildings being located at the lower points, and residential ones located higher up. We didn't truly know about the lower point of the city until it was quite literally lit up to us, and the first construction we entered was the hospital.

  The hospital bore all the remnants of a full modern medical facility, including hardware and shelves full of medicine. Each room seemed to have served its own purpose: a first one was littered with nondescript black vinyl sheets, which, upon lifting for examination, we discovered to be x-rays. I beamed in delight as I realized I stood in a pile of such sheets big enough to be that of every bone ever broken in the town.
Other rooms included a sick persons' rest room, stained bed and all, a surgery room, complete with tools such as scalpels and an operating table, a chemists lab, with compounds such as hydrochloric acid still sitting on the shelves, and a dentists' room, with its floor completely smashed in. We delighted as every room brought us something completely new and seldom expected. One room even included organ tissue encapsulated in jars, but we could scarcely recognize the contents of the vials we lifted to the sun, but many of them were not human: several contained insects and other unrecognizable myriapods.
As we stumbled back out into the sunlight, we had little doubt that the next discovery could not be as interesting as the last. And we were wrong.

Surprisingly enough, the small town even had its own theater. Decades of wear weighed down upon the ceiling, planks of it littering the floor already. The place had a VIP room with windows looking straight at the stage, interior balconies, and a backstage room, the latter which decayed worst than any of the other parts of the building. It was easy to imagine the townsfolk gathering here every now and then for a show or a play.

Only after we were sure we had visited every single building there was to visit did we leave Nichitsu. We were satisfied. Our curiosity about the skeleton of the town, so desolate and remote, had finally met its answer, and after spending a massive twelve hours session of exploring, it was fatigue that finally claimed us, rather than any spirit or ghost.

I think I will, one day, return to Nichitsu, but for now, I leave the place to its eternal resting state for the next set of adventurers brave enough to climb up the mountain and face the village in its cold, deathlike trance.

PS: All photos on this post were taken courtesy of Lo. My camera died out the previous night.

Nichitsu by Night

I'm still tittering with excitement at what I had a chance to see and do in the last 24 hours. Just like Ashiomachi, the planning for Nichitsu has been a long time coming. Over the last month and a half, it's been a rush to gather an able crew, triangulate the location and arrange for the rental of a car to take us to one of the most desolate places in this part of Japan, and in some way I have this bizarre sense of pride in having accomplished it. Today, I've returned from a place long abandoned, that the country seems to want to have forgotten completely. I've lots to say about Nichitsu, so brace yourself for somewhat of a good read (at least comparatively to my regular posts.)

The Nichitsu Team

 There are some unfamiliar faces here I'd love to introduce before going into the whole adventure itself. The way the whole adventure played out, though, each member brought a little something to the table, so every one played an amazing role in our adventure.

Neal Pak and Nana Takeuchi.

 By the time the planning was starting to come together, Nana Takeuchi was the first person I had invited to the Ghost Town.
 At the time, she was my boss at My Gym. 
 Nana brought into the equation lock-picking, allowing our vehicle easy access through gates so that we could park the car within Nichitsu itself, away from the eyes of any potential security passing by.

Our driver, Lo.

Neal Pak is a Korean guy from Indianapolis, America, who I had met only a week before leaving. His taste for adventure instantly made me want to bring the guy along, and Neal turned out to be the best equipped one of any of us, owning all matters of rope, equipment and foodstuffs that he didn't hesitate to share during the journey.

Of course, we wouldn't have made it far without Jean-Paul Lo, who I have introduced a little while ago. Lo owns an international driving license, making it possible for him to bring us to our destination, which was otherwise unreachable. That aside, Lo stands quite tall and weighs a respectable 190lbs, which came quite handy in him kicking down doors.

Of course, the role I played was that of making sure we met our destination. Nichitsu does not show up on any GPS, nor does it have an address. Therefore I had to intersect different maps and bicycle paths existing on the internet and find an aerial photo of the place via satellite. Once I found Nichitsu, we manually input the coordinates into the GPS and the trick was done.

This town's as good as ours.

Unlike Ashiomachi, Nichitsu had no surveillance. Our adventure was a blur of jumping through windows, kicking down obstructing doors, and scaling walls. Don't be fooled by the flash-illuminated pictures: this place was pitch dark. Actual chances of getting lost were slim, since we could just as well yell to one another from either end of town, but there was always the risk of wild animals. On top of being dark, Nichitsu was also very cold, being located on a mountain. This also meant there was no cellphone signal. The four of us stuck together as a unit.

Armed with no light other than that of the stars above us and our own lamps, we took to the village with an efficient pace, and found it remarkably nonempty. The village was sizable, and, on that first night, we had managed to navigate through several apartment buildings and what seemed to be a town hall.
 A plethora of objects littered the floors, ranging from books to cutlery to game pieces and dolls, and the sheer number of things left behind was remarkable. Televisions were still connected to powerless walls.

Sweeping through the buildings.

What we knew of Nichitsu was the following: like Ashiomachi, its economy ran on mining. Predictably, the hollowing of the mines meant the collapse of the economy for the small town, forcing shops to close and people to evacuate.  Disturbingly enough, however, and this time unlike Ashiomachi, we did not find a consistent date for the collapse of Nichitsu as a town. Calendars on walls contradicted one another - some showing years as early as 1976. Others showed us 1984. Once calendar, found on the floor, showed us 1997, even. But it wasn't until we went into the last apartment building that we found any cause to feel disturbed by this.

The first thing to throw us off was the presence of recently discarded, new-looking shoes at the entrance. Soon, this was followed by the appearance of discarded calendars with dates going all the way through the first decade of the 2000's. Perplexed at the thought that some one might be using Nichitsu as a base, we pressed onwards, finding more and more signs of recent occupation in the crumbling rooms.
 The final room of the building took us by shock.
 New drapery adorned the beds, and fresh looking clothes hung by hooks. The room had clearly been arranged in a neat fashion, and by then we knew for sure: someone had been living in Nichitsu. However, unbeknownst to us whether it was the same resident who was responsible, clear knife marks adorned the walls, and words had been written into the same walls in red. Pornographic cut outs also hung from string contraptions reaching from one side of the room to the other.
 Who, in your opinion, would willingly choose to live secluded from society in such a place?
 We didn't linger too long.

Just outside, we found the perfect place to set up a campfire to drive away the cold. With a little tinkering, we managed to get quite a good one going, and, much to the amusement of the rest of us, Lo was quite efficient at breaking apart whole trees in order to feed the fire.
 Marshmallows were also brought out, courtesy of Nana, and we spent a few hours in the warmth of the flame, sharing a few jokes and stories. When morning came, we caught a little bit of sleep inside the car, before heading back out and exploring the second half of Nichitsu.

And trust me, we didn't even get to the good stuff quite yet!

Interesting Tidbits: Seasonal Flavors

The four seasons are felt differently here than they are in Montreal, from where I hail. People co-ordinate the colors they wear more closely to the seasons, I fill, and so, too, do the flavors change in accordance.
 Although big names in junk food such as the Coca Cola Company and Nestle are, obviously, American, the Japanese market sees a greater variety due to the local branches trying to appeal to the seasonal inclinations of the populace.
Pictured are White Pepsi and Watermelon Pepsi, for Winter and Summer respectively.

Anecdotely, I was told about White Pepsi before coming to Japan, and I remember it kind of perplexing me. It must be awfully chemical, I thought, to have that color. But then again, if regular Pepsi were white and they released a seasonal black one, I'd have probably had the same thought in reverse. Interestingly enough, White Pepsi is clementine flavored.
 Kit-Kat bars also change with the seasons here, also being available in Strawberry and Green Tea varieties depending on the time of the year. The more you know!

Brief Note: December in the Works

I'm very proud of the Nichitsu team I assembled.

I'm getting all giddy about December, let me tell you. Here's a few things coming up in the next month:

December 11th: Camping in the ghost town of Nichitsu.
 My Nichitsu team, appearing on the right, is composed of Neal, a Korean-American engineer from Indianapolis, Lo, my good pal who will be driving, and Nana, the young lady who I once worked with.

December 26th: Spending five days in Kyushu.
Complete with nation-renown hot baths, a haunted house, and possibly some holiday cheer.


It's gonna be a good month, ladies and gents.

Silly Inventions 2: Face Stretch

#2: Face Stretch

Oh shit, hide the kids. It's Face Stretch (marketed in Japanese as a portmanteau, like "Facetretch.")
 The tagline on the bottom reads "Everyday fun face exercise!" The picture on the packaging looks like a god damn blow up doll, and the product itself looks like something a deviant may put inside his butt.
 What's this even supposed to do? Stretch your maxilofacial muscles?
 Just chew on gum instead!

Silly Inventions is a segment describing abnormal Japanese products I stumble upon. See more by clicking here or on the Silly Inventions tag.

The Gateway Game

Bare with me for this one article as I completely geek out, here.
 I play a lot of video games of all kinds. I consume games like people consume movies. I play some good ones, I play some bad ones, and I play some that are just okay. I play video games that range across a spectrum of genres including action, adventure, drama, crime, fantasy, puzzles and so forth. I seldom stop watching a movie until it's done regardless of whether I'm enjoying it thus far or not, and I do the same with video games, playing them until the end. By the time I left Canada, I was amongst the top 250 Playstation 3 players in the country when it came down to the sheer size of my virtual "trophy cabinet."
 I want to draw attention to a specific video game series, though, that might have eased my transition into Tokyo to a certain degree, and that series is called Ryu ga Gotoku. The local name for the North American release is simply "Yakuza." The series is currently at its 4th iteration, with various spin-offs and a 5th release due for late December in Japan.

Promotional art for Yakuza 4

 I'm not going to go over any kind of synopsis or plot for this game, as that's beside the point. At its core, the game isn't intentionally educative. It's a game where you walk around Tokyo and beat up rival Yakuza gangs, smashing their heads with chairs or whatnot. But it's what the game allows you to do on the side, as well as its accurate depiction of modern Tokyo, that grants it its appeal.

Kamurocho as seen in the video game.

Kabukicho as seen on...wikipedia.

 The Yakuza series takes place in Kamurocho, a fictional district of Tokyo based on the existing Kabukicho. Upon creating the fictional district, Sega, the game's publisher, acquired the rights from various restaurant chains and existing trademarks to feature their branding within the game. In light of this, the player can enter stores that actually exist and purchase equally real products.
 Say, for example, my in-game character gets hungry, I can go to Matsuya, the beef-bowl restaurant, and order pork on rice for 395¥. The exact price it would be in real life. The game features a shocking number of real-life Japanese stores, including Karaokekan, the karaoke chain, and DonQuihote, the variety store, amongst a tonne of others. You could basically discover the food items on every restaurant menu before even stepping into an airplane for Japan.
 Shit, if you order whiskey in the game in certain bars, the bartender even describes to you the taste of the malt. It's pretty deep already.

Yuuna features within the game as herself.

We're not finished yet. The Yakuza series not only features real places, but also real people. Granted, the main characters are all fictional, but some of the figuring characters are not. The series is notable for auditioning young women to star in the game as themselves, playing the role of hostesses in hostess clubs. I'll go into detail about hostesses some other day maybe, but they're essentially girls you pay to have a drink with you (yes, I also learned that in the game.) Although half of what they say in-game is idle talk about their dogs or whatever, these hostess characters do give a sense of what Japanese people are truly like, as they talk about things they do, what they like and what they don't, and where they're from and what those places are like.
 One of the hostesses (seen on the right), for instance, describes in some detail how it was for her to have been a Chinese person raised in Japan.

But last, and most interesting of all, to me, was that the game allows you to experience authentic Japanese pass-times, both traditional and modern. Through the Yakuza series, I've learned several things that even my Japanese friends don't know. Within the virtual underground gambling halls of Tokyo, I've learned to play the traditional Japanese card game Koi Koi, which I later on taught others to do as well. I know how Pachinko, the madly popular Japanese equivalent to a casino game, works. I've also learned to play Oicho-kabu, Cee-Lo and Cho-Han, and that was without even first going in with the intention to learn. I could easily turn the game on and teach myself how to play Shogi (Japanese chess) and Mahjong as well. Maybe I will. 

Oh wow, he actually got Ino-shika-cho.

Man, in retrospect, it's no wonder I felt so at home in Tokyo. I've technically been running around Tokyo for 60 hours before even having arrived in the actual physical city. And this article hardly even describes how much I learned about Japan through this one series. The Yakuza series is definitely one of my favorites, and I can't recommend it enough for someone who wants to get a taste of Japan before coming. Plus, you get to stomp people in the face. Shit, what a bargain.
 Embedded is a trailer for the 5th installment of the main series.

Zakuro

I've debated whether or not to lump in the restaurant I was at today with the other themed restaurants I've been to in Tokyo within the last year, and I'm still not sure whether I should. The Persian restaurant, Zakuro, goes a little further than just serving its signature middle-eastern food, and yet is so much more humble in its demeanor than previous themed eateries I've been to such as Mysterious, which more often than not are decorated super snazzily inside and out, and have menu items and waitresses dressed for the part. For the most part, that can't be said about Zakuro. Zakuro...is what it is.
 See that big face on the sign? That's the owner of the restaurant. An air of eccentricity floats around the place.

Ken and Aala discussing ingredients.

 Located near the North Exit of Nippori station in Tokyo, Zakuro stands out like a sore thumb in its quiet, residential neighborhood. The outside of the joint showcases some surprisingly authentic middle-eastern food ingredients that can be bought on spot.
Today was actually my second time going to Zakuro. It's an easy place to bring friends on a casual day, featuring a pretty cheap full-course meal and a spacy interior a little unlike something you'd expect to find in Tokyo.
Shall we head in?

Lo is here, too.

The inside of Zakuro is fully decked in Persian tapestry and drapery, with middle-eastern paintings and ornaments haphazardly thrown upon the walls. It's an impressive collection. The owner himself can usually be seen hanging around the place. I'm uncertain where he hails from, but he's definitely got some kind of middle-eastern blood in him. He regularly comes out and insults his customers in a joking manner before sitting down behind his laptop and presumably just relaxing in the company of his customers. He's kind of atypical, but fun.

The food itself at Zakuro, though definitely Middle-Eastern, doesn't stand out as particularly amazing in any way. It's humble home-cooking. I was actually delighted to recognize some familiar dishes I haven't at all been able to find elsewhere in Tokyo. Although we had ordered to value 1000¥ (13$) meal both times I had been to the place, I do know for fact that the restaurant does offer fancier food than what I've had a chance to eat. Apparently, even camel meat is available.

Zakuro also offers shisha in several different flavors (although Aala has often stated it left much to be desired) and, on certain evenings, belly-dance shows performed by a particular Japanese employee who happens to be very easy on the eyes. You don't get to see a picture of her, so here's one of me riding a camel instead.

All in all, Zakuro is good. Go there, sit your ass on the ground and enjoy cheap food and the cozy atmosphere.

Let Us Summon Diabetes

Japanese branches of American fast food chains often run interesting campaigns one can't catch sight of in America itself. For instance, almost exactly a year ago, I recall that time when they were offering those amazingly cheap McNuggets. As a matter of fact, there's seldom a time when fast food chains aren't running some sort of interesting campaign.


Well get a load of this; for one week only, Burger King Japan has been offering 30-minute All-You-Can-Eat on burgers and fries after the purchase of one Black Burger combo. What's the Black Burger? Well that's a promotional burger they've been having this month. The buns are actually pitch black. The food coloring used for the buns is actually from squid ink (which you obviously can't taste.) It's quite a powerful coloring agent.



 All-You-Can-Eat on Burger King? You can imagine my reaction. This immediately called for a coalition. I summoned to my finest warriors: Ken Tanaka, his half-sister Nozomi, and Aala's Right-Hand-Man, Jean-Paul Lo. United, we valiantly met in Shibuya to tackle the challenge of eating as many burgers as we could.
 Yeah I know. With the exception of Lo perhaps, one would guess we aren't big eaters and wouldn't be able to eat that many burgers anyway. One would be correct.

This is the one I couldn't finish.

The Black Burger itself was actually quite nice!
It didn't taste irregular in any way. The color had nothing to do with the actual taste of the burger itself. But all that was beside the point.
 I scarfed it down as fast as possible in order to get to the second and third burgers. The young girl at the counter giggled as I ran down the stairs each time to get a new burger. She knew what we were up to.
Much to my chagrin, though, I couldn't make it past three-and-a-half burgers. Whopper Burgers are big, man, and I learned that the hard way today. Fortunately though, I didn't puke, but had I gone any further into that fourth I very likely would have.

FINAL COUNT:

11 BURGERS 

 

That's between four of us. Going in, I thought I'd eat five, but you get what you get. Until next year, Burger King!

The Laotian

It's Jean-Paul Lo, the 25 year-old French Laotian! Often seen alongside Aala and always willing to jump into the Tunisian's crazy antics, Lo is in Japan for apparently no other reason than to have a good time in a place far from home. If we're going to pull off the second Ghost Town I have in my sights, he's going to be instrumental in driving us there.
 With all the free time he has in his hands, we may be seeing a lot more of Lo in days to come.

Interesting Tidbits: The Tokyo Transit

Far more commonly used than the cars or the buses in Tokyo are the trains. The Tokyo subway system is efficient and expedient, and is easily used by several millions of people everyday. 
Many people outside of Japan have heard of the train packers in Tokyo, who stuff people into trains so that the doors will close. You'd be surprised how tightly people can pack themselves into a train without any help. I'll always remember the time when I first witnessed rush hour in Shinjuku station. The train doors opened to reveal a wall of people, a solid mass of writhing humanity. "Fitting in there would be impossible," I told myself, but then I saw it: a man stepped out from behind me, reached into the human wall, grabbed hold of a handle within the train, and pulled his body into the gibbering mass, pulverizing and twisting his body as he merged with the hive. The doors closed and the train left, and I thought I had witnessed a bizarre and unique form of suicide.
 At any rate, the train system took me quite a while to get used to at first. Here's a breakdown of it all: three major companies run the trains in Tokyo: they are Tokyo Metro Co, Japan Railways (JR), and the Governmental Bureau of Transportation (Toei.) Between the three of them combined, in the Greater Tokyo Metropolitan Area alone, the run 45 train/subway lines. FORTY. FIVE. LINES.

Go on, try to put that on your god damn shirt.

And that 45 doesn't count the private railways like the Nippori-Toneri liner and the Tsukuba Express. There are at least 20 of those, too.
 Adding to the confusion are two elements:
1: There are express trains that don't stop at every station. Oh, not just "express trains" mind you, there are those, and the "commuter express", "special express" and "limited express". That's four different types of express trains that stop at different stations. Better get on the right one.
2: Some trains shift lines after a certain point. Better know where you're going.
 That's about it in a nutshell. It took around two months for me to get used to it. See how well you can do.

Anecdote: Names Rich People Give Kids

Only in my work location in Hiroo, Minato-district, considered to be one of the richest districts in Tokyo, do I ever encounter children (or even people in general) with such colorful names as:

1: Plus
2: Atom
3: Knight
4: Cougar
5: Atticus

Mind you, these are Japanese kids. Those aren't translations of their names, those are their actual names.

 "Takayuki! Kana! Cougar! Get over here!"

Let's Make Octopus Balls

Octopus balls! That's takoyaki in Japanese. No, they're not octopus testicles, you fools. They're fried batter with little bits of octopus inside. In recent days Aala's been having quite some fun throwing takoyaki parties left and right. I actually narrowly missed the last party and had to cancel at the last moment, leaving Aala and his roomie Jean-Paul waiting for me at the station for no reason, which they got on my back for (shame on me!) So I owed them to come to this one.

 A couple of Aala's friends were present, and so was his girlfriend, Yuko. Between she and Ken, I guess 90% of the takoyaki was made. It was a pleasant little gathering and Aala got to show me pictures of himself dressed as a panda and walking into stores for Halloween. I didn't take part in the crafting of the octopus balls so much as I kind of just watched and ate. I'm no stranger to takoyaki, but I must say, I don't think it has its equivalent in the western world. I can't say "takoyaki tastes like" or "is like," because it's kind of a wholesome food with its own identity. And not that many westerners often eat octopus to begin with, so yeah.  Or am I wrong? You can write something in the comments below the post and say something like "I ate octopus!" or "I love the balls!" if you like.

Aala looking just about as graceful as usual.

 In Japan, takoyaki isn't even much of a main dish so much as one part of a larger meal. It's kind of associated with street stalls and is something that can sometimes be picked up like one would pick up a hotdog in New York. But there are specialty restaurants that will offer a myriad of varieties.

Off topic, take note: I'm likely to join Aala as he rides the train in a full panda costume some time soon. Yes, of course I'll be in costume too.