Pancake Epiphany...and Shinjuku

It took far too long than necessary for me to get from Kyoto to Shinjuku, but I’ll spare the details and say that after getting on the wrong train twice and back-tracking far more than I should have, I arrived in muggy, rainy Tokyo with sore feet, an aching back and about 8 hours to kill before my night bus to Sendai.

Every locker at the station was full, so lucky me got to walk around with my entire trip on my back. Fortunately, Shinjuku is interesting and busy enough to keep your mind pre-occupied. 

 For example, robot girl battling is apparently a thing...a very popular thing.

I saw plenty of the street art and fashion that the area is known for, and even popped into a few famous stores. I made a real nuisance of myself in the enormous and very cramped Don Quixote store. The building has five floors, and they all are just jam-packed with a wide variety of everything imaginable. Designer bags and shoes, home appliances, toys, gag gifts, tech, gear, snacks, music, clothes, cosmetics, luggage and more, just stuffed in to the ceiling! I shimmied my way through the shelves and racks and indulged in a few little items like a Bath and Body Works Minty Foot Scrub (hey—I was looking forward to a little pampering after this trip). And hey, anything from Bath and Body Works for under 20 bucks is a freaking miracle. My scrub was just 700 yen! Yeah, let that settle. 

As the sun went down and the neon lights came up, I was starting to feel seriously under dressed. There is some amazing and edgy fashion in Shinjuki: everything you've heard is true. I had read about a shop in the area that sold cute fashion corsets, so I went looking for it thinking I could just change there and wear it out. Unfortunately, the place I'd read about wasn't in the right location. So instead, I found a plaza and propped myself against a rock to rest and people watch for a bit.

That's when the creep found me.

At first, he'd just doubled back to say hello and then we were conversing in Japanese/English. It was fine, but this middle-aged man kept commenting on my eyes and even my body, asking if I had a boyfriend. 

 

Obviously, I lied and said "Yes, and he visits every month." He also kept licking his lips or sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth. For all his business attire, he was seriously gross. He actually suggested (seriously? jokingly?) that he could be my Japanese boyfriend (lick) and told me he loved me (lick). Finally, I told him I had to leave and meet my friend in the station. He offered to buy me dinner but I just said no thanks and walked away...only because my bag was too heavy for me to run.

Maybe you’re thinking I should have just laughed it off, that he couldn’t possibly be serious…but is that just a common way for middle-aged and older men to talk to young women here? Because it happens EVERYWHERE! And maybe I could have just taken it as a joke, but something about this guy in particular was just giving me red flags out the hoo-ha.Why don't the handsome young salarymen pay me that sort of attention? Why just old perverts?

But seriously, what am I doing to draw these guys my way like so many moths when all I need is a butterfly? Ok, that’s asking a lot, I realize. How about I settle for a luna moth?

Fortunately, that doesn’t conclude my adventures in Shinjuku. At this point, I was grossed out, but also starving. Stations are tourist meccas for food, so I went up to the restaurant floor seeking out the comforts of the Starbucks. Unfortunately, I’m not a novel thinker and the place was full. So onward and upward to the 6^th floor when I found the most beautiful sight in the world:

An all day/late night pancake shop. 

Yes, Tana. Let's make some pancakes.

The place is called Slappy's Pancakes and it was set up a little like an teppanyaki place where if you elect to sit at a table with a griddle, you could make your own pancakes. I wasn’t feeling nearly that adventurous, so I just asked for a regular table. 

When I'm whimsical, I play with my latte foam

I was surprised when my waitress spoke in some very good English. She was actually from Akita and was amazed that I was teaching in Iwate: she knows the area well, and told me that Tohoku has a special place in her heart. It was so nice, after a long day and a long trip, to be talking to someone so kind about our mutual “home.” 

And the fact that she served me this familiarity with coffee and pancakes only solidified our sudden friendship. 

Maybe it was the tired feet, or there’s seriously something magical in that batter, but those were seriously the best pancakes I’ve eaten in my life.

So we talked for a little while. I asked her what brought her to Shinjuku since she was from Akita. She came to Tokyo to find work because she loved the big city life (even though her heart belongs to Akita) and her first job was in this pancake restaurant. Ever since then, she’s never wanted to do anything else. She enjoys being a waitress and her job here is secure. 

I thanked her for my food and she went off to check on another table. After she left, I started thinking. How amazing it has to be to have that sort of contentment about what you’re doing. 

I sat there, amazed. I can only hope to find that sort of satisfaction, especially now when I don’t know for sure what I’ll do with my life. The way she carried herself and talked about how she enjoyed her job just made me reflect on how in America, every child is told they’re special and every other show on TV is about discovering the next idol in music or dance or television. In a land of equal opportunity, everyone thinks they’ll be the next big thing. And while sure, that’s great, reach for the stars, elementary school kids are brainwashed with the “I’m special” creed. Yes, everyone is special…in their own way. But the sense of entitlement that comes along with chanting “I’m special” is damning: it sets a tone that some people are better than others just based on what they do with their lives.

The pancakes that changed me

In Japan, junior high schoolers tell me that they want to work in book stores or bakeries or be nursery school teachers. People work at convenience stores and gas stations and on construction sites with pride because they know that what they’re doing, they’re doing to the best of their ability and their participation builds a better, stronger society.

And I love that way of thinking.

Nobody needs to be rich or famous. Find what makes you happy and do that for as long as you can: isn’t being happy more important than being prestigious? We all have a place in this world, and none is better or worse than the next. You can’t have executives without clerks. You can’t have police chiefs without officers. You can’t have elaborate half-time shows without someone pushing buttons and wearing a headset backstage. And you can’t have pancakes in Shinjuku if someone’s not mixing up the batter in the kitchen.