winter is coming

Finally got some snow. Yada. I'll take the sweat and humidity of summer any day.

We went on a boat.

It was a big boat, packed with revelers, dancing and decked out in yukata, and the spirits flowed freely.

Well, "spirits" is a tad generous. Sapporo beer and mango chu-his, more like.

My yukata got progressively sexy as the night wore on.

We cruised around the Tokyo Bay, under the Rainbow Bridge. Saw the city from the harbor, set back from all the twinkle lights.

Fun was had.

This seems like a good place to mention a few songs about boats that are kicking around in my head, that I love. I used to always always have a soundtrack playing in my head but nowadays the music has subsided somewhat. I'd say now it's more like half the time. I blame tech. I still love music but all the synching and uploading and downloading, it's exhausing.

If I Had a Boat
by Lyle Lovett

I Wanna Be a Boat
by Jawbreaker

Angel Auction at What the Dickens

The lovely folks at What the Dickens in Ebisu hosted our Angel Auction last weekend, where volunteers put their professional services up for bid. On the block were marital arts lessons, Indian cooking and piano lessons, a tour of the German embassy & meeting with the ambassador, and much more.

Photo by Jennifer Julien

WTD is a great spot even when they're not raising money for a cause, with free live music most nights. They also have nice food - in additon to the standard British pub fare like meat pies and fish & chips, they also have veggie offerings like a cheese & tomato sandwich, hummus, some kind of quiche, and other stuff that the chef dreams up. Plus the whole place is dark and woody with cozy corners and feels like something in Diagon Alley.

today on the train

This morning on the train, a couple was standing next to me. He was in business clothes with a briefcase, she dressed nicely but more casually. Both around 40, he had a bald pate with a good shock of hair in the back. Both were wearing glasses. She had a ponytail. She stood with her hands on his shoulders, and murmured "isshokenmei" (一所懸命: do your very best）.  He nodded and got off the car, briefcase in hand.

Pure Café

Thought I posted about this place before, but blogger's search function sux and so does my track record with tagging things correctly.

Pure Café in Omotesando is a super healthy and yummy vegan place in the Aveda building, where I would spend all my fancy money if I had it.

This is pumpkin soup, salad, and a roasted vegetable and tempeh sandwich, in the lunch set.

La Longevite

A few months ago I received this book as a gift:

Tokyo Vegetarian Restaurant Guide And a few nights ago I went to a new place, for me, called La Longevite.

(click through photo to go to source)

We sat here, and got the macrobiotic course menu.

The restaurant is French-ish, though I'd call it French fusion. The chef was lovely, the service great, and the decor was cozy and fulfilled my boudoir quota for the month. 

It's not an entirely vegetarian place, but they do focus on healthy food and organics and have a good selection of veggie food. One of my dishes is pictured on the cover of the book - "vegetable mosaic".

Located in Shirokanedai, it's best to call ahead to be sure they're open. There were only two staffpeople the night we went - the chef and a server. Oh! And I almost forgot to mention the steady stream of '80s and '90s hits the chef was playing! Whitney Houston, Paula Abdul, and other roller-rink favorites. 

Tel: 03-3449-3231

3-3-1 Shirokanedai, Minato-ku, Tokyo 

   

The Battle of Takkyubin

Brrrr! It's cold up in this piece! Blast these barely-insulated un-centrally-heated Japanese houses. I'm having trouble getting out of bed.

Speaking of which, the takkyubin man came to the door this morning. I suppose I didn't hear his first few knocks, being burrowed deep into the covers, because suddenly someone's in the genkan and SHOUTING, "GOOD MORNING! DELIVERY! WATERFALLRIVER-SAN, DELIVERY!" 

Well! He had woken me up, and it wasn't a scheduled delivery, and I was in my underwear. I wasn't about to go scrambling around, bleary eyed, to try to get down there and face an INTRUDER in my house.

It may be the neighborhood, but a lot of these people DON'T KNOCK. They just barge right in. This has happened on several occasions. Maybe I'm not home, maybe I'm in the shower or some other compromising position, maybe I JUST DON'T FEEL LIKE ANSWERING THE DOOR.

Oops. This post is getting a bit shouty. Sorry about that.

Anyway, he left with a great deal of muttering and cursing. Right back atcha, dude.

If I am home and available, I will answer the door, even though it's frequently someone trying to sell me a newspaper that I don't want to (and can barely) read, or the milkman trying to get me to sign up for a weekly delivery (this still exists?!?)(he also repeatedly asked me if my parents were home, fuck off), or some Jehovah's witnesses who exclaim about my gaijin-ness before going into their sales pitch. And if I have scheduled a delivery, I will certainly answer the door. Other that than, bugger off!

the rest of the summer

In September I had a houseful of visitors from Germany staying with me for three weeks. We were lucky to get an extension on summer while it was already getting frigid over on their continent, and we spent most of the time in tshirts and shorts, fighting off mosquitoes.

We puri-kura'd and got creepy alien eyeballs.

We went to Minato Mirai and rode the rides.

We went to Kamakura and the Daibutsu and the beach and found some truly heinous sea life that Anne happily picked up and prodded. She's a rock. I shuddered.

Lena had her first go at an ocean. And everyone knows, the best way to be in the ocean is in your birthday suit. Here's a tip: if you want people to stare and exclaim EVEN MORE than they usually do, unleash a naked blonde baby on them. I swear we turned hundreds, if not thousands, of heads in unapologetic fascination with this little one. She fell in the fountain in Yokohama, okay? That's why this sprite was tearing around Sakuragicho in her nethers.

And we went to Kodomonokuni, twice, which is majorly fun for kids and pretty cool for adults too. It's totally okay to go swimming in the fountain there, and nobody will even stare at you.

But you might want to bring some extra butt padding if you brave the 110 meter long roller slide. Just saying. I'll spare you more details about the road rash on my backside.

She didn't seem to mind, though.

ew

The guy standing next to me on the Denento-shitty line （thanks to Saki for coining that name) just picked his nose and ate a gooey booger. Twice.

Sakuragaoka Café

Here's a laid-back lounge in Shibuya’s backyard. 

I like this spot for a coffee and a some quality time with my laptop.

Peep the Nihon-ga.

Just a few minutes away from the hugger mugger of Hachiko Crossing, you'd swear Sakuragaoka Café was in a different world, or at least a different station. This spacious, mellow lounge filled with soft lighting and low-slung couches that invite you to linger longer doesn't feel like Shibuya. More like Seattle.

Rum and cherry coke, caramel latte, or a coconut curry. The staff will loan you a LAN cable.

Open until the wee hours. Shall we have a drink in Udagawacho?

geezer gawk

Ice cream eating, beverage sippin', and kicking it on the curb: it's an excellent season for people watching.

Of course, sitting out amidst the stream of vain and fashionable humanity makes you a target for the more brave and brazen to strike up a conversation. And unfortunately, it's usually the people I least want to talk to that approach.

Last night PJ and I were observing the parade. 'Fabulous hair!" "Is that a dress or a shirt?" "It's adorable when drunk boys hold hands!"

A guy rocked up to us wearing sweatpants and a mesh vest, a green-accented can of beer in his pocket. He pointed to PJ and exclaimed, "Malaysia!"

PJ's not Malaysian.

He was about 50 or 60, wiry, tan. He nattered at us for a bit and I bemusedly fielded his questions. He stopped to shake my hand every sixty seconds. Yoroshiku, ne!

After ascertaining our nationalities and length of stay in Japan (prerequisite information for any conversation with a foreigner, I think it's written in the law), he started insisting that PJ certainly looked like "Michael's" daughter. In fact, was she not actually related to him??

We told him that she was not.

He persisted. But everyone says that, right? Can you moonwalk? He did a little demonstration.

No, in fact, it was the first time she'd heard about this likeness.

Ah, he said knowingly, I've got a good eye. 

He then segued into cadging a free English lesson off me.

"This is a pen!"dayo! I learned it in school! これはぺんですよ、ね。

Then,
"very good", what does it mean?
and,
"come on baby", って、何の意味？

We finally escaped him after ten or so minutes. It was okay for the first few minutes, but then he started repeating himself and the MJ references got tiresome.

Is it too much to ask that some interesting, non-drunk and crazy people would stop and chat once in awhile? As amusing as a geezer moonwalk is.

meow baby

When you think of Shimokitazawa, you think of hipsters, right?

Hipsters and music clubs and funky shops and vintage clothing. And cat cafés.

Oh, you don't? My bad. Well, Jen suggested that we check one out, so one sunny day, we did. JB's sister came out too, and Beth joined us. Oh yeah, and she already wrote about it. Look at us, bunch of lazy ass bloggers.

The Cateriam is open from 10 to 9, closed Mondays.

It's 1,000 yen for an hour and a drink; they also provide toys and cat munchies to help you interact with the kitties. There are about ten cats in residence, and some of them even have their own mixi pages.

space 12

Yikes, I've been meaning to mention Space 12/Enjoy Kitanaka Hall for some time now, but a year has passed! 

 

This spot in Koenji is an infospace of sorts, where you can find vegetarian food, quilting and craft circles, indie music, zines, handmade stuff, dumpster life, activist literature, and tha punx.

 

Kim worked on her huge awesome quilt while we shared smuggled-in betel nuts and plates of vegan deliciousness from Vege Shokudo, across the street.

Incidentally, this spot is run by some of the same people, like Yoyoさん and Yukoさん. Go for sewing, food, and community.

frenchy

Well, I meant to submit this to a website but someone beat me to it.

I had a lovely date a couple of weeks ago with a great girl, and she seems to know all the good Gallic spots in town.

Viron is a boulangerie and patisserie in Shibuya, and though I didn't get to try the downstairs bakery, I can attest that the wine and dessert bar upstairs is very good.

Nice coffee.

Pretty atmosphere, open late-ish. Curiously, they don't seem to have a website, but you can check the CNN link for information.

wiggly fingers

Sunday morning,  Den-en-toshi line, first train. After a night of birthday partying, darts, billiards, and roaming the streets with the other poor tired fuckers at 4 a.m., we finally secured some sweet corner seats on the slow local ride home and fell into a lazy doze as the train chugged its way west and south.

I woke up, confused, five or six stops later. I couldn't figure out why, for a second, then I felt something touching the outside of my thigh. Still sleepy, eyes closed, I wondered what was happening. A few seconds later, it couldn't be denied: I was being felt up by a chikan, a pervert.

After a few seconds of making sure and getting my bearings, I opened my eyes, turned to him, and loudly said,

"NO. DON'T DO THAT. DAME!!!"

Bordering on shouting.

Freaked out, frazzled, he nodded meekly and then stumbled out of the train car, dropping his wallet on the way and fumbling to retrieve it as he retreated. He was young, early twenties, maybe 23.

This is my second time being felt up on the Den-en-toshi line, which, I'm told, is full of hentai, along with the Chuo line. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to deck him, rip off his nipples, or haul his ass to the station police, but in my vulnerable confused state, it was all I could do to shout at him. In that state of mind, I couldn't even summon more than basic Japanese and yelled at him in English. My  message was clear, but it's easy to talk about what you would do when you're not in the situation.

Next time. Next time there will be a man with severe damage to his family jewels.

Do I get a prize at the end of this? I'm exhausted.

Him: Indian?
Me: Nope.
H: Afghani?
M: Uh-uh.
H: Pakistani?
M: Nah.
H: Spanish?
M: (yawn)
H: BUT WHAT ARE YOU?

Otherwise:

American or Canadian Guy in the hall outside the bathroom:
YOU ARE VERY PRETTY!
Girl coming out of the toilet: Ah, thank you very much! I have relax time!
AoCGithotb: OW! (As I hit him in the shoulder with the door.)

Serves me right for going to a place where people are wearing green jerseys and Guinness balloons tied around their necks.

blue in yokohama

I have mixed feelings about Yokohama. I think parts of Minato Mirai are sterile looking, like the whole area was wiped clean and rebuilt with little trace of history.

Still, it's really pretty, with the wide paths and lights and parks. 

The Red Brick Warehouse/Akarenga is one of the anchoring landmarks of the area, and inside the old preserved building now are shops and restaurants.

Motion Blue is on the 3rd floor of Akarenga. It's a jazz club and restaurant, part of the Blue Note empire (screenshot from their webpage).

Sorry for the crap quality of my pictures; the staff busted me before I could fix my camera settings. Usually the cover charge is about 4,000 yen, but that's a little steep since I'm not a jazz connoisseur.  

But a few times a month, they offer free shows, with stuff like jazz, Brazilian music, Latin, etc. The pair above is Sonho, a Brazilian-style duo.

A glass of wine or a cocktail will set you back about a thousand yen, but it's a fancy, chill place and one of the best deals around for live music. The next one is a jazz duo on April 1st, and then another on the 7th and on the 14th.

chinese new year

Yesterday was Chinese New Year and some other holiday, too. I trekked out to Yokohama's Chinatown/Chukagai to ring in the new year.I read on the internet that this Chinatown is the biggest in Asia, so it must be true.
There were dancing lions, there were fireworks, there were hordes of people and shopkeepers handing out roasted chestnuts and bits of cake.
I ate veggie gyoza and spring rolls and sesame noodles at Mimika. It was a good evening.

teatime

Jen showed me a pretty café on the 10th floor of the new Shin Yokohama station building. There's a boulangerie and tasty tasty cafés au lait.
It's a lovely spot to while away the shitty, sleety afternoon.

At a fancy Italian restaurant the other night:
"What kind of wine is the house red?"
"It's Italian."

Thanks, brother. I am by no means even an amateur wine drinker (seriously, I know diddly squat), but even *I* could do better than that.