Oct
14
Michishirube
Filed Under Newspost
Roaming Sheep
Most of the other people we had done the journey with had already left the premises or stayed at the hostel to sleep so, as I had planned, I was able to drift around Tokyo alone. I had very specific plans for the few hours I had left to waste in the western capital, and the first step was to take three different metros to the Omote-Sando station. Once there, I had two goals: the Oakley store in Harajuku and the Kinokuniya supermarket in Omote-Sando. I had done a bit of research on where to find rye bread in Japan and apparently the best option was the large foreigner-oriented Kinokuniya. On the other hand, the Oakley store was just a good excuse for me to switch to consumer whore mode.
Somewhere in Harajuku
The Man, the Idol, the Legend
Before getting anywhere meaningful, though, I was stopped in the middle of the Omote-Sando avenue by a girl who had run after me I didn’t dare ask how long. She was knackered. After a moment of confusion she was able to explain that they wanted to interview me for a girl’s magazine (An An) because I was a “gaijin” and, this is authentic, “good-looking”. Yea I didn’t buy that part either. It looked like they were just trying to find the nerdiest guy to ever cross the avenue I would define as the Champs-Elysées of Tokyo. There I am, minding my own business, wearing a horrendous vocational school stubble and a world class mullet, and someone has a brain lapse and wants to take pictures of me for a girl’s magazine. Exquisite. The operation was quick and painless and I got a ¥1000 bookstore coupon for my efforts. It’s like selling your soul for one volume of Slam Dunk.
L'avenue
Happamaton Reikareipa to Hapanrimpu
After I was dismissed, I had some vein-clogging breakfast and roamed a while through the narrow clothing store-filled streets of Harajuku before finding the coveted O Store. Long story short, before I went in, I had a broken wallet with some money inside, and after 15 minutes I came out with a new wallet with Matti inside. The next target was Kinokuniya. Weirdly enough, while in Tokyo, my sense of direction or lack thereof not once interfered with my search for any of the places I wanted to go to; it must have been a miracle of sorts. Once there, the supermarket offered everything I had been dreaming of for one and a half months. At outrageous prices. Therefore, I contented myself with only admiring the package of imported goat cheese and drooling over the rest of the available cheesy comestibles. Fortunately enough, the Finnish bread wasn’t that expensive, so I bought their whole supply (two loaves, woo) and left for new adventures.
Pan da!
A Road Home
I met up with Henrik a few hours later to have the biggest goddamn burger lunch I’ve ever had (Wendy’s SUUPAA MEGA FAKKINGU BAAGAA, IIRC) and to prepare for the trip back to Kyoto. This time we were deprived of the cheaper Kodama plan tickets because they were already sold out, so we had to settle for the next best option, unreserved seats on any Shinkansen going west.
The whole train system in Japan is incredible. There are bullet trains leaving from Tokyo to the Kansai area every five minutes or so, and the unreserved seats are always full. You have to wait in line at the platform for twenty minutes in order to actually get in. Mite goran:
Sei! Sei! Sei!
With our cursed luck, we made the line to the fucking smoking car (JR Tobacco Line), something we had no way of knowing beforehand. This time we were also surrounded by chain-smokers, a breed of people I’ve come to despise. I Couldn’t blame them much for smoking in a smoking car though, so I engulfed myself in the smoke and cried myself to sleep. Before I even realized, we were in Kyoto.
Väliaika, kahvia ja pullaa.
The story continues in Seminar House III, Hirakata, Osaka. After buying those delicious loaves of bread from Tokyo, I got the brilliant idea of holding a Finnish bread party for the Finns of Kansai Gaidai. The plan involved one problem of significant magnitude. Visitors are not allowed to eat in seminar houses. Ever. And the punishment for breaking the rule is death, although this isn’t commonly known. Those are the absolute rules here, and our Okaasan and Otoosan are increasingly anal about them. While my standard first reaction concerning any regulations I perceive as unfair or absolute bullshit is to get angry as hell, this time I chose the path of peaceful co-existence. This meant explaining the situation in Japanese to Otoosan and begging to get an official permission to eat bread. I eventually got it. “Because Antti-kun had brought the Finrando-pan from as far as Tokyo, it was ok for visitors to eat”. Just this once. And only bread. Daiseikou! The following day I brought the Otoosan and Okaasan some Finnish rye bread and hapankorppu as a token of gratitude but also to get on their good side. I wonder if they actually liked it…
Suomi Finland Perkele
Thus end the Tokyo Tales, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I struggled while writing it.
-Antti