We are certainly a little less conspicuous on the teeming streets of Tokyo than we were in Himeji which, despite its castle (famous primarily within the confines of the Kansai region), is not exactly a mecca for American tourists.
Tokyo is everything my stereotypes had led me to expect in some ways, and, in other ways, it is a complete surprise. Emerging from the supersonic train that barely seemed to make a sound as it cut through miles of cities and towns to get us from Himeji to Tokyo, I immediately fell into step with what seemed to be an entire continent's worth of people crammed into one building. The silence of the train gave way to a din of constant chatter and hurrying feet (tiny feet, mind you). Had I not known better, I would have thought the floor itself was moving, transporting the mass of commuters in every which direction without ever allowing a collision.
Outside, the scene was as hectic and crowded and downright overwhelming as I had thought it would be. We've all seen pictures of Tokyo streets, ablaze with neon signs, looking, at any hour of day, like Times Square at night. When we finally emerged into the hot sunlight from the subway station near our hotel, I was not disappointed. Everywhere I turned, my eyes were assaulted by a barrage of flashing bright light, signs beckoning us into blinking corridors of pure commerce that seemed to spread out before us like spokes on a wheel. The place is a madhouse, but in a good way. Organized chaos, perhaps.
Yes, Tokyo looks and sounds and even smells the way I thought it would, feeding my long nurtured stereotypes of a place that, in my mind, was as unfamiliar as Jupiter. But the similarities between reality and my conjured up images end there. To an extent even greater than was the case in the small town of Himeji and the larger cities in the southern Kansai province, Tokyo is not at all what I expected. Though white people are certainly outnumbered, and indecipherable Japanese characters dominate the oversized signs springing from every building, I feel surprisingly at home here. The people are as diverse, if not in skin color, then in fashion, apparent social status, age, and purpose as they are in New York City, the place that, until now, was the standard bearer, at least in my mind, for diversity. American and European labels abound in the stores, to be sure, but there is a combination of international and home grown flair here that really defies description, and certainly debunks any notion I may have had of what is distinctly Japanese.
Most surprising of all, I think -- not just here in Tokyo but in the other places I have visited -- is the dining. I have been in Japan for almost a week, Tokyo for almost a full day, and have yet to eat so much as a morsel of sushi. I have had enough tempura to give me a full blown case of adolescent acne, and I think the soba noodles I ate my first night here are still in the pit of my stomach, a permanent base for the virtual mountain of starch I have since piled on. And, though no raw fish has passed my lips, I have consumed so much sea salt that my weight has nearly doubled. I may be imagining it, but I think I hear a sloshing noise when I flip over in bed. Though I'd say salt fresh from the Sea of Japan has been the most common denominator, I have eaten Spanish, Italian, Nepalese, Indian, and Vietnamese food here, and am fairly determined to grab some Mexican tonight. Sushi before I leave? Maybe. But it's more likely I'll hold off on that until I get back home and take advantage of all the other options Tokyo has to offer.
I admit I have paid dearly for the sodium rich cuisine. Let's just say that my good time here would be even better if the person staring back at me in the mirror didn't look like a pimple faced mutant amoeba. I have brought new meaning to the phrase "ugly American," but I have decided to embrace my temporary (I hope) physique and am already looking forward to my daily lunch of some ethnic variety of fried salt. I will simply avoid mirrors, scales, and blood pressure tests. And, come to think of it, shopping for anything other than jewelry, fans, or one size fits all kimonos.
One of my favorite restaurants so far was a place in Himeji called Ganesh. Ganesh, the Hindu god of new beginnings, the god of overcoming obstacles. Even if the food had not been so delicious and the staff not so welcoming, I think it would still be my favorite restaurant for the name alone. My visit here has been a new beginning of sorts, and I have already begun to feel less impeded by obstacles of time and space that had only recently seemed so daunting. I feel less detached from my son, whose geographical distance from me since June has been difficult, at least on my end. It is far too costly to just pick up the phone and chat, access to email is -- as I have mentioned -- limited, and a time difference of more than twelve hours has us living life on a completely different cycle. Popping in for a short weekend visit is not an option, and we will no doubt be spending holidays and birthdays and just most plain old days apart for at least the next eight months. I get it though; I finally get it.
I have found myself encouraging him to stay on, to use his year in Himeji as a stepping stone, a beginning, as it were, to his Japan experience. Back in Kansai province, I realized immediately how much he would enjoy extending his stint here if he moved, say, to Osaka or Kyoto. But now, there is little doubt in my mind (nor in his) that he will stay on another year, but take a giant leap due north right into the center of Tokyo. He had been here years ago, as a high school student, and had visited Tokyo once or twice. When we arrived yesterday, I saw -- and understood -- in his eyes the feeling of coming home. It is exciting here, challenging, intimidating, vast, and complicated, and I do not think his journey will be complete without his experiencing life as a Tokyo native.
He is concerned that we do not have enough time here this week for him to show us the sites that tourists should see -- the museums, the temples, the shrines, all the neighborhoods. But I have seen enough, and if I really want to, when I return for another visit I will be sure to put some Tokyo "must see" tourist sites on my list. And even a sushi restaurant or two. Mostly, I will enjoy seeing Japan through his eyes, and I will revel in the adventure, albeit vicariously.
It has been a new beginning for me, and, as much as I would prefer to have my son closer to home, I certainly will not put any obstacles in his way should he decide to stay.
No comments:
Post a Comment