Deep Japan

Have you ever had one of those days when you come home and you just don't feel like cooking? Of course, you have. Normally, you might stop at the convenience store or a fast food joint. Maybe you're rather posh and you go to a nice restaurant. Maybe you actually go on dates and someone takes you out. Either way, you have a game plan, you have your favorite spot and you have a good time.

One of parts of living in another country is trying to experience it as an insider rather than as just another tourist. Last night, my friend and fellow ALT, William, and I coined a new term: "getting deep Japan." It means experiencing a part of the sub-culture that outsiders aren't usually privy to. Instead of hitting the family style and chain restaurants, instead of getting take-out and retreating back to your apartment, you take a swig of courage and dive into the night and find something new and exciting and even a little scary.

These are the stuff of memories.

Here are the basic guidelines of a night out in Japan:
1. Start somewhere and get a drink and some food. Call it the warm up.
2. Move to a familiar bar and have a few more drinks. Get nice and loose.
3. Move to yet another location. Now's the time to start getting adventurous.
...Wake up and piece it all together.

I caught up with Will at one of the many reggae bars in Kitakami called Shelter. We had some beers and the most amazing kimchi salad with raw tuna. After that, we traipsed over to Bar Roots, the tried and the true. It was early yet, only about 9:30, so the bar was quiet. Will and I camped out at the bar with beers and a wine cooler, respectively. Like I told Will, I was feeling so delciously American, I ordered the American Lemonade.

I was only half joking, too. I've been missing my friends and family and it was nice to see something so delightfully "American," I couldn't help but indulge.

The menu of the night included some beastly fries and fish tacos. Haru, the owner, knows how to fry a potato, let me tell you. It's always a surprise when you go to Bar Roots; the food is always delicious, and Haru himself is just such a likeable guy! When I was there with Harue, he cooked up a gourd she brought from a farmer's convention that evening! Anyone who's lived in a small town and been a regular customer has developed that sort of congenial relationship with the business owners. Nothing beats that.

At this point, Will and I started talking about what to do next. And here, we invented "deep" Japan and we decided then and there to do the typical Japanese drinking night circuit. We asked Haru for a recommendation for another bar. Haru thought for a minute and said something. Over the rap playing in the bar, I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly. We asked again.

"Honky...Tonk," Haru said.

William is from New Orleans. I'm from Cecil (aka "Sessil") County, Maryland, redneck country. It seemed too perfect. We were directed across the street and down a narrow alley. The building itself literally is just a wall with just a doorway. A literal hole-in-the-wall. The dim, tiny bar seats about 12 people. The barkeeper has wooden homemade shelves stacked with jazz, reggae, rock, etc CDs and a beautiful stereo. Behind his picket fence-like line of liquor bottles, he smokes and drinks with his customers.

And who should be at the bar but Junya, the chef of Mountee and a couple newer friends! To be greeted with excitement and smiles, it truly made me feel like a local. "Deep" Japan was proving to be a success!

We enjoyed chatting and drinking very rich malted beers until the bar's closing time. We followed Junya back to Roots for additional drinks. After a while, I was thinking about heading home. The beer had really gone to my head and I was sipping a water to keep the spins off. I left William to talk to another local and experience more "deep" Japan. I had every intention of walking around town a little and meandering back home. It was about 1:30am after all.

Intstead, I got as far as a convenience store at the end of the Arcade when I came abreast of a drunken trio: two women, one middle aged man. At this point, I'm used to people seeing me, a foreigner, and practicing their junior high school English with me.

"Hello!" one of them said. I turned around and surprised them with a smile and a "Hello!"

They stopped and got very excited! We were communicating. After I explained I was an English teacher and living in Kitakami, they decided my fate was to spend the rest of the night with them. We walked a few paces to a darts and karaoke bar called Nice Nice. Another man joined us, who I suspect was the nephew of the older man (the younger fellow was 26, the man who drunkenly goaded him all night was 49, and if my Japanese is as good as I think, he was calling the older man "otosan").

I immediately developed a friendship with the petite woman with red hair. Her name is Miki. Her birthday is July 7th.

My mother's name is Miki.

My father's birthday is July 7th.

I explained this to Miki and and the group and a bond was forged. They caught onto my mom's name and asked if I was half Japanese. I told them that I'm "quarter" and I explained the three generations of Harukos in my family. Again, they all became very excited. It's like pulling a mask off myself and what they see underneath paints a new identity for them. As long as they're happy with what they see, I'm good with whatever they think.

We spent hours drinking and singing karaoke. Myself, I usually go for The All-American Rejects' "Dirty Little Secret" or Cascada's "Because the Night," but they had neither artist. So I settled for a very genki rendition of Katy Perry's "Roar" and a duet with Miki to "My Heart Will Go On."

Now let me talk about the older gent. This guy was drunk. No holds barred. Not ten seconds after we met on the street, he was clearly indicating the virility of his manhood with some enthusiastic gestures. Here are a few other highlights:

1. When we shook hands over the table, he snatched my wrist so the whole group could examine my pale hands and narrow fingers (this is actually a thing, having slender hands that are "fish white" as an esthetic)...and proceeded to pretend to lick it.
2. Talking to the younger man, he indicated my cheekbones and ears and expressed a desire to lick those too.
3. He asked if I like sex. I countered thusly: "Sax? Saxophone? Oh I love JAZZ!"
4. Although he is 49, apparently, his manhood is 18. (The other woman shook her head and held up her pinky)

Come 4am, we were packing it in. They were going to go to get ramen, but I was more than ready for bed. I excused myself ahead of the group. Miki escorted me out and the man stood at the top of the stairs roaring enthusiastically "F---- me!" in rather exemplary English. Miki, coming to my defense blew a raspberry and called him crazy.

Deep Japan: you can't walk into it expecting anything...simply because you'll never be able to guess what you might experience. There's no telling, there's only doing.