Fine. The homestay program won me over using incredibly cute Japanese kids and the magic of Wii Sports. If that's not fighting dirty, I don't know what is.
I'll briefly recap the last three hours here.
I left class at 1 to buy a ticket for my 1:50 train to Kamakura. After a lot of wandering around the first floor and basement of Shibuya Station, I also managed to find a liquor store, where I bought a nice bottle of Chardonnay. Had to make up for not having a souvenir from America and/or Yale somehow. Turned out it was a good choice, since the husband (whom I have not yet met) apparently likes white wine. I just figured that Japanese diet consists mostly of fish, and my extremely limited knowledge of winery finery includes the fact that fish and white wine go together like me and a flask full of cheap convenience store vodka.
Rode the train for about 50 minutes to Kamakura. Most of that time was spent under the malicious gaze of a middle-aged Japanese man across the car from me. I guess I was looking all lone-male-gaijin dangerous again.
My host mother, Katou Atsuko-san, called me on my cell after I arrived, and it turned out that she was right there at the same exit I was. I got out and met her and her adorable daughters, Mariko (7) and Sachiko (3). There's a 9-year-old son somewhere, but he hasn't been around yet. The father of the family will be at work late and probably won't return until 9pm. Atsuko-san and I spoke entirely in Japanese during the short car drive to the house. They know about the language pledge! But it seems to be working out, anyhow. I can't understand Sachiko at all, but, sometimes, neither can her mother. She's extremely energetic and excitable. Mariko and I played some Wii Tennis and Boxing. I learned that I haven't lost my touch at Tennis (デービッドやっぱ強いよ！）, but I'm still no good at Boxing. She was kicking my keister, until I somehow beat her at the very end, despite going down for a 9-count twice in a row.
Anyway, they just left to take Mariko to her ballet lesson, so I decided to check my mail and blog. I'll write a full update on Monday.
バイバイ
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Settling in
After almost 2 weeks of class, it seems like I've started to hammer out a routine. I do the homework, watch lots of TV online, generally make and eat dinner with a few of the other students, etc. The weekend is reserved for good times.
Last Friday, we went out. After briefly seeing the Whiffenpoofs--and thus my roommate from last summer--in Roppongi, we managed to get into Muse. The process was actually pretty funny, since they let all the girls--who were clearly with us--into the club without comment and then stopped the rest of us for ID at the door. Again, they wanted business cards or something. However, we calmly explained that we were all students for the summer and, more importantly, that we were with those girls who had just gone in. They let us in, and the aforementioned good times were had. I also met up with another friend, who works for Bloomberg in Tokyo.
Unfortunately, getting a cab back was a bitch and a half. Somehow, a group of rain-soaked gaijin just couldn't get a break on the busy streets of Roppongi. We ate at a cheapalicious ramen place to pass the time, finally managed to hail a cab and got driven to a spot that was a good 7 minute walk from our apartment building. I don't know what that driver's problem was, since he had a GPS. Fucker.
On Saturday, we went karaokeing, which was lots of fun. The last time I did it in Tokyo, it was with a smaller group, and more people definitely made for more excitement. If you don't know how karaoke works at a real karaoke place (not a bar with a karaoke machine in the main room), it's like this. You and your friends get a private, soundproofed room with your own machine, TV, mics, the works. We paid by the hour, but you can get a good deal on all-night singing, and some places have all-you-can-eat or all-you-can-drink rates.
Skipping ahead a little, we repeated the experience (with an even larger group) on Tuesday, which was the birthday of one of the students here. By and large, it was a lot of fun. Many a glass was accidentally broken, though not by me. There is more of a story to that night, but you'll forgive me if I make you ask me about it directly. I'll throw three little tidbits your way: 1) We pregamed the event. 2) We brought booze in with us. 3) We won't be showing our faces at that karaoke place anytime soon.
Anyway, you get the picture: weekdays work, weekends wackiness. Unfortunately, SANC does not get the picture and likes to make us do stuff on our weekends. Last Saturday, there was some kind of tea ceremony type thing at 1:30. Now, if I had not already participated in a tea ceremony at a real live Japanese person's house, I might have considered attending for a few minutes. As it was, I just said, "Fuck that, it's Saturday" and slept from 5am until 3pm, at which point I woke up extremely hungover and ornery. Everyone else had long since left, and someone was nice enough to cover for me. You know who you are! お世話になってありがとう！
This weekend--well, starting Friday afternoon--we have a homestay. For some reason, each student gets to stay with a Tokyo family, except for me. I'm taking a train out to Kamakura, which is about 30 miles from Tokyo. True, it's barely far enough out to be considered a separate city from Tokyo, but the teachers were incredibly apologetic about the distance nevertheless. Now I know what you levelheaded, reasonable blog-readers are going to say: "Come on, it's a homestay, it'll be fun. Plus, SANC is giving you Monday off." Well, first, it's creepy that you know so much about my schedule, and, second, while I realize that it will be fun, it will also be work, after a fashion, and I'm not big on that sort of thing during what should be my time off, as was intended by our Creator, Lord and Savior, Richard Dawkins.
Whatever. I'm sure I'll get over it, as long as they have the Internet. Alison tells me that Japan has the highest rating worldwide for wireless access per household, or something like that, and I'm not going into the deep countryside, so my chances are looking pretty good.
また今度
Last Friday, we went out. After briefly seeing the Whiffenpoofs--and thus my roommate from last summer--in Roppongi, we managed to get into Muse. The process was actually pretty funny, since they let all the girls--who were clearly with us--into the club without comment and then stopped the rest of us for ID at the door. Again, they wanted business cards or something. However, we calmly explained that we were all students for the summer and, more importantly, that we were with those girls who had just gone in. They let us in, and the aforementioned good times were had. I also met up with another friend, who works for Bloomberg in Tokyo.
Unfortunately, getting a cab back was a bitch and a half. Somehow, a group of rain-soaked gaijin just couldn't get a break on the busy streets of Roppongi. We ate at a cheapalicious ramen place to pass the time, finally managed to hail a cab and got driven to a spot that was a good 7 minute walk from our apartment building. I don't know what that driver's problem was, since he had a GPS. Fucker.
On Saturday, we went karaokeing, which was lots of fun. The last time I did it in Tokyo, it was with a smaller group, and more people definitely made for more excitement. If you don't know how karaoke works at a real karaoke place (not a bar with a karaoke machine in the main room), it's like this. You and your friends get a private, soundproofed room with your own machine, TV, mics, the works. We paid by the hour, but you can get a good deal on all-night singing, and some places have all-you-can-eat or all-you-can-drink rates.
Skipping ahead a little, we repeated the experience (with an even larger group) on Tuesday, which was the birthday of one of the students here. By and large, it was a lot of fun. Many a glass was accidentally broken, though not by me. There is more of a story to that night, but you'll forgive me if I make you ask me about it directly. I'll throw three little tidbits your way: 1) We pregamed the event. 2) We brought booze in with us. 3) We won't be showing our faces at that karaoke place anytime soon.
Anyway, you get the picture: weekdays work, weekends wackiness. Unfortunately, SANC does not get the picture and likes to make us do stuff on our weekends. Last Saturday, there was some kind of tea ceremony type thing at 1:30. Now, if I had not already participated in a tea ceremony at a real live Japanese person's house, I might have considered attending for a few minutes. As it was, I just said, "Fuck that, it's Saturday" and slept from 5am until 3pm, at which point I woke up extremely hungover and ornery. Everyone else had long since left, and someone was nice enough to cover for me. You know who you are! お世話になってありがとう！
This weekend--well, starting Friday afternoon--we have a homestay. For some reason, each student gets to stay with a Tokyo family, except for me. I'm taking a train out to Kamakura, which is about 30 miles from Tokyo. True, it's barely far enough out to be considered a separate city from Tokyo, but the teachers were incredibly apologetic about the distance nevertheless. Now I know what you levelheaded, reasonable blog-readers are going to say: "Come on, it's a homestay, it'll be fun. Plus, SANC is giving you Monday off." Well, first, it's creepy that you know so much about my schedule, and, second, while I realize that it will be fun, it will also be work, after a fashion, and I'm not big on that sort of thing during what should be my time off, as was intended by our Creator, Lord and Savior, Richard Dawkins.
Whatever. I'm sure I'll get over it, as long as they have the Internet. Alison tells me that Japan has the highest rating worldwide for wireless access per household, or something like that, and I'm not going into the deep countryside, so my chances are looking pretty good.
また今度
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Remember that dialogue from the Matrix?
The part at the beginning where Morpheus has just called Neo at his office and alerts him to the presence of the Agents pursuing him?
Neo says, "Shit!"
And Morpheus just replies, "Yes."
That pretty much sums up much of my reaction to classes at SANC.
I'm with three other students who have taken 3rd-year Japanese at Yale. Our classes are divided three ways: (1) regular class, which uses a textbook that teaches us vocabulary and grammar through various exercises and essays, (2) business Japanese class, in which we learn, well, business Japanese, for landing a job at a Japanese company and whatnot, and (3) news class, where we read the paper and listen to the radio.
To start, let me say that there is a lot of work. A lot of reading, which entails a lot of writing in the pronunciation and meaning of new kanji--and there are a lot of new kanji--and a fair bit of busywork as far as exercises go. Instead of learning 15 new words for a quiz each day, it seems to be more like 40-50. Except when it's 88, and it's sprung on you at the last second.
While regular class is rather fun, and business Japanese class is okay, if a bit intimidating, newspaper class is boring as hell and really, really difficult. We have it all day on Monday and Thursday. So, we read an article for Monday, and that was tough. We read some more on Monday and listened to the radio, which was annoying. And there are tons of new words. She gave us homework, which was basically to answer questions about the first article and do some grammar exercises. But get this. On Wednesday, after I (and another advanced student) left business Japanese class, the other two advanced students stayed behind, waiting for some of the lower-level kids to get out. And, while they were waiting in the lobby, the news class teacher came rushing in, ever-so-fucking-happy to have found them in time. In time for what, you ask? In time to double our homework load and inform us of a quiz the next day on 88 words for which we had no preparation whatsoever.
I got the call about this while I was on the bus going home. For legal reasons, I cannot transcribe what went through my head in this venue.
I decided to time just how long it took me to do the homework, not including Facebook breaks. The original stuff she assigned took 2 hours. The new stuff took about another 2 more hours. I'm not used to working for more than 1 or 2 hours each night, except to write essays! And I'm a pretty fast worker, so I can only imagine how it is for the others.
The only bright side was that, today, the teacher showed up 45 minutes late for news class. Apparently she misunderstood the schedule, or something. Sadly, it probably won't happen again.
Neo says, "Shit!"
And Morpheus just replies, "Yes."
That pretty much sums up much of my reaction to classes at SANC.
I'm with three other students who have taken 3rd-year Japanese at Yale. Our classes are divided three ways: (1) regular class, which uses a textbook that teaches us vocabulary and grammar through various exercises and essays, (2) business Japanese class, in which we learn, well, business Japanese, for landing a job at a Japanese company and whatnot, and (3) news class, where we read the paper and listen to the radio.
To start, let me say that there is a lot of work. A lot of reading, which entails a lot of writing in the pronunciation and meaning of new kanji--and there are a lot of new kanji--and a fair bit of busywork as far as exercises go. Instead of learning 15 new words for a quiz each day, it seems to be more like 40-50. Except when it's 88, and it's sprung on you at the last second.
While regular class is rather fun, and business Japanese class is okay, if a bit intimidating, newspaper class is boring as hell and really, really difficult. We have it all day on Monday and Thursday. So, we read an article for Monday, and that was tough. We read some more on Monday and listened to the radio, which was annoying. And there are tons of new words. She gave us homework, which was basically to answer questions about the first article and do some grammar exercises. But get this. On Wednesday, after I (and another advanced student) left business Japanese class, the other two advanced students stayed behind, waiting for some of the lower-level kids to get out. And, while they were waiting in the lobby, the news class teacher came rushing in, ever-so-fucking-happy to have found them in time. In time for what, you ask? In time to double our homework load and inform us of a quiz the next day on 88 words for which we had no preparation whatsoever.
I got the call about this while I was on the bus going home. For legal reasons, I cannot transcribe what went through my head in this venue.
I decided to time just how long it took me to do the homework, not including Facebook breaks. The original stuff she assigned took 2 hours. The new stuff took about another 2 more hours. I'm not used to working for more than 1 or 2 hours each night, except to write essays! And I'm a pretty fast worker, so I can only imagine how it is for the others.
The only bright side was that, today, the teacher showed up 45 minutes late for news class. Apparently she misunderstood the schedule, or something. Sadly, it probably won't happen again.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Weekend in review
As promised, on Saturday I went to have dinner with Mark. Steak and potatoes--and how! It was a delicious American-style meal, the likes of which I probably won't see for two months. It's possible that I'll get invited over again, but since they're very busy attempting to move out of the country in the next four weeks, the odds are shy.
After that, I went back to the apartment complex, where we played drinking games before heading out to Roppongi. Two things are worth mentioning. First, one of my favorite clubs, Muse, is apparently trying to weed out foreigners by requiring a Japanese business card, of all things, to be presented at the door. Damn it all! Second, I got way too drunk.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "David," you're thinking, "you handsome bastard, get out of my head!" But right before that, you were thinking, "That's crazy! There's no such thing as too drunk, only increasingly fun stages of drunk." And, under normal circumstances, I would be inclined to agree. But when the goal is to stay out all night and come back at dawn, you can get too drunk. On our way to Muse, before we were turned back at the door, we stopped at a convenience store to buy a flask of vodka, which we passed around. I took about three deep pulls off the thing, and this was after heavy pregaming. And then we went and drank some more. Sometime between 3 and 4, I knew I was incredibly drunk, and, like always when I become incredibly drunk, some kind of switch went off in my head that made me need to go home immediately.
This happens all the time. Usually, I don't even tell anyone--I just get up and walk home, and I'm halfway there before anyone realizes I've left. In this case, Saunders-san was nice enough to make sure I got into a cab. I had the guy drop me off at our subway stop, and, somehow, despite the haze of intoxication in which my world was cloaked, I managed to get back to my apartment, throw up and pass out.
I woke up after 3pm on Sunday and basically wasted the day eating and goofing off before doing my homework at night.
This weekend, I've promised myself not to go that 遠慮なくwith the alcohol. I want to enjoy the whole Roppongi experience.
I'll talk about class a little further into the week, once I have a better idea of it.
以上だ
After that, I went back to the apartment complex, where we played drinking games before heading out to Roppongi. Two things are worth mentioning. First, one of my favorite clubs, Muse, is apparently trying to weed out foreigners by requiring a Japanese business card, of all things, to be presented at the door. Damn it all! Second, I got way too drunk.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "David," you're thinking, "you handsome bastard, get out of my head!" But right before that, you were thinking, "That's crazy! There's no such thing as too drunk, only increasingly fun stages of drunk." And, under normal circumstances, I would be inclined to agree. But when the goal is to stay out all night and come back at dawn, you can get too drunk. On our way to Muse, before we were turned back at the door, we stopped at a convenience store to buy a flask of vodka, which we passed around. I took about three deep pulls off the thing, and this was after heavy pregaming. And then we went and drank some more. Sometime between 3 and 4, I knew I was incredibly drunk, and, like always when I become incredibly drunk, some kind of switch went off in my head that made me need to go home immediately.
This happens all the time. Usually, I don't even tell anyone--I just get up and walk home, and I'm halfway there before anyone realizes I've left. In this case, Saunders-san was nice enough to make sure I got into a cab. I had the guy drop me off at our subway stop, and, somehow, despite the haze of intoxication in which my world was cloaked, I managed to get back to my apartment, throw up and pass out.
I woke up after 3pm on Sunday and basically wasted the day eating and goofing off before doing my homework at night.
This weekend, I've promised myself not to go that 遠慮なくwith the alcohol. I want to enjoy the whole Roppongi experience.
I'll talk about class a little further into the week, once I have a better idea of it.
以上だ
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Funniest joke EVER
This deserves a post of its own:
Although the legal drinking age in Japan is 20, SANC requires that students follow American drinking laws during the course of the program.
AHAHAHAHAHHAHA! AHHAHAHAH! HHAHAHAHAH! HAHAH! ROFLCOPTER TO THE MAX! THAT IS FUCKING HILARIOUS!
Seriously, though. I actually told them, flat out, "じょうだんしないで下さい", which is a polite way of saying "don't kid me." Several of the teachers have already observed my perhaps tasteless alcohol-related antics, from brandishing a bottle of Absolut Kurant on the bus to discussing my favorite kinds of shouchuu (Japanese liquor) with my "buddy." I don't think they really intend to enforce the rule all that strictly, not that they could if they tried. Obviously, tossing back shots in the middle of class would be bad form, regardless. But nothing's going to stop me from having a good old inebriated time every single weekend.
Although the legal drinking age in Japan is 20, SANC requires that students follow American drinking laws during the course of the program.
AHAHAHAHAHHAHA! AHHAHAHAH! HHAHAHAHAH! HAHAH! ROFLCOPTER TO THE MAX! THAT IS FUCKING HILARIOUS!
Seriously, though. I actually told them, flat out, "じょうだんしないで下さい", which is a polite way of saying "don't kid me." Several of the teachers have already observed my perhaps tasteless alcohol-related antics, from brandishing a bottle of Absolut Kurant on the bus to discussing my favorite kinds of shouchuu (Japanese liquor) with my "buddy." I don't think they really intend to enforce the rule all that strictly, not that they could if they tried. Obviously, tossing back shots in the middle of class would be bad form, regardless. But nothing's going to stop me from having a good old inebriated time every single weekend.
First day of SANC
We had our orientation today. Met up in the Shinagawa Prince Hotel lobby at 9 AM, with faces both old and new. We then took a bus (and I'm ever-so-fucking-thankful that we didn't have to drag our suitcases through the subway system) to our apartment building. Technically, our building is in Shibuya, I believe, but it's at this intersection of three different areas, and the closest subway station is Nishi Shinjuku (meaning West Shinjuku).
I was astounded by how nice the apartments are. Full-sized beds, closets, desks, microwaves, stoves, fridges, freezers, bathrooms... all kinds of little comforts like tea kettles, pots, pans, dishes, utensils and even toothbrush cups. Basically, these rooms are fully livable. I took a bunch of pictures, only to realize that I left my camera USB cord at home. However, I'll link you now to another blog post that has some images of a more-or-less identical room. Those windows in the back, with the curtains, lead to a fucking balcony. Hot damn.
The teachers took us to the building where we take our classes, about a 5-10 minute walk from Shibuya station. We had a brief orientation, followed by a placement exam that all four of us advanced students agreed was rather difficult. However, the exam doesn't really determine our placement so much as it does the areas on which we need to work in our classes. We also met with our classes' teachers to talk a little bit about the curriculum and to get our first assignments. For Monday, we have to read two articles about the Akihabara Massacre.
Later that evening, the teachers took us out to dinner, where we met with some Japanese "buddies." Basically, we got to chat and laugh with a bunch of pretty cool 日本人 while ordering all the Italian food we could eat. Awesome. We now have lots of numbers and e-mail addresses of authentic Japanese people, in case we want to meet up with them later. Mostly, they were Tokyo University students, but there were a few in the workforce. My buddy (damn, that is a lame term) was a girl working at JP Morgan.
There's a strict Japanese-only language pledge, which is supposed to apply both in class and out. We try to observe it when we can, but, amongst ourselves, it proves to be rather difficult to maintain, especially given the varying levels of language proficiency.
I single-handedly managed to convince 7 of the 12 other students to go out clubbing tonight--I went door-to-door to see, individually, whether each person was interested, because we couldn't seem to come to any consensus as a group while we were walking back home. We ended up having a great time in Roppongi, but my desire to stay out all night was sadly overruled. Hopefully, we'll hit up the 'til-dawn party scene on Saturday.
Michael, my roommate from last summer's Tokyo adventures, sent me an e-mail. Apparently the Whiffenpoofs are already in town. Should be good times.
But tomorrow... tomorrow is the Night of Meat. May all the gods of Japan bless Dad's friend and colleague Mark, who has gone out of his way to ensure that I get my fill of perfectly grilled cow flesh, and not chopped up into itty-bitty Japanese-sized pieces. More on that, later.
P.S. Freddie: walking back home at 1 in the morning, we saw an adorable white poodle-like dog. I didn't get a good look, but it reminded me of you. Hope you're doing well and taking good care of the rest of the family!
I was astounded by how nice the apartments are. Full-sized beds, closets, desks, microwaves, stoves, fridges, freezers, bathrooms... all kinds of little comforts like tea kettles, pots, pans, dishes, utensils and even toothbrush cups. Basically, these rooms are fully livable. I took a bunch of pictures, only to realize that I left my camera USB cord at home. However, I'll link you now to another blog post that has some images of a more-or-less identical room. Those windows in the back, with the curtains, lead to a fucking balcony. Hot damn.
The teachers took us to the building where we take our classes, about a 5-10 minute walk from Shibuya station. We had a brief orientation, followed by a placement exam that all four of us advanced students agreed was rather difficult. However, the exam doesn't really determine our placement so much as it does the areas on which we need to work in our classes. We also met with our classes' teachers to talk a little bit about the curriculum and to get our first assignments. For Monday, we have to read two articles about the Akihabara Massacre.
Later that evening, the teachers took us out to dinner, where we met with some Japanese "buddies." Basically, we got to chat and laugh with a bunch of pretty cool 日本人 while ordering all the Italian food we could eat. Awesome. We now have lots of numbers and e-mail addresses of authentic Japanese people, in case we want to meet up with them later. Mostly, they were Tokyo University students, but there were a few in the workforce. My buddy (damn, that is a lame term) was a girl working at JP Morgan.
There's a strict Japanese-only language pledge, which is supposed to apply both in class and out. We try to observe it when we can, but, amongst ourselves, it proves to be rather difficult to maintain, especially given the varying levels of language proficiency.
I single-handedly managed to convince 7 of the 12 other students to go out clubbing tonight--I went door-to-door to see, individually, whether each person was interested, because we couldn't seem to come to any consensus as a group while we were walking back home. We ended up having a great time in Roppongi, but my desire to stay out all night was sadly overruled. Hopefully, we'll hit up the 'til-dawn party scene on Saturday.
Michael, my roommate from last summer's Tokyo adventures, sent me an e-mail. Apparently the Whiffenpoofs are already in town. Should be good times.
But tomorrow... tomorrow is the Night of Meat. May all the gods of Japan bless Dad's friend and colleague Mark, who has gone out of his way to ensure that I get my fill of perfectly grilled cow flesh, and not chopped up into itty-bitty Japanese-sized pieces. More on that, later.
P.S. Freddie: walking back home at 1 in the morning, we saw an adorable white poodle-like dog. I didn't get a good look, but it reminded me of you. Hope you're doing well and taking good care of the rest of the family!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Danger, Will Robinson
I was in Tokyo for about 9 weeks last summer, and not even once did I feel unsafe. As a white male between the ages of 18 and 25, I am, after all, invincible. Combine that with being in Japan, and, like Kal-El beneath the light of a yellow sun, I gain additional powers such as incredible strength, laser vision and the ability not to pay for the subway.
However, recent events have led me to doubt my purported invulnerability. First, there was that thing in Akihabara. As if that weren't bad enough, I've begun to suspect that I should be wary of the local law enforcement.
Remember that place I mentioned, Geronimo's? Well, apparently a friend of one of the bartenders was recently caught without his Japanese resident's card on his person and thrown in jail for 28 days. It's not like he didn't have a card--he just didn't have it with him whenever they did an ID check for whatever reason. I assume that Japanese prison is clean and well-mannered, like the rest of Japan, but apparently it's somewhat fascistic, too. This guy isn't allowed to speak English to his visitors, as if some sort of secret and dire message might be passed between them. He speaks English to a translator, who tells another translator, who translates it for the visitor, or some crazy shit like that. So the story went.
At the time, I guessed that the police had originally detained this dude for a good reason, like drunk and disorderly conduct. Based on my experience last year, it seemed like it would take an awful lot for anyone to confront a gaijin. But this assumption was challenged when I went out tonight. (By the way, I don't recommend going out alone on a weekday night--it's not easy to meet anyone, since, for the most part, the only people in the bars are suits getting their drink on before the last train leaves.) On my way back, I was stopped by a police officer who wanted to see my ID. I calmly explained that I'm here on a tourist visa, which was in my hotel 10 minutes away. The hotel is pretty well known, so he took me at my word, but not without giving me a brisk frisk. In his words, "Roppongi is dangerous area."
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Roppongi is dangerous, so I get frisked? That's just not even a good excuse. And what could be the actual rationale? I realize that I've a bit more bulk than the average 日本人, but still, I don't think I look all that sketchy. I suppose it comes down to this: I was a lone foreign male wandering around after midnight. Who knows what sort of mischief was running through my head?
So, yeah. I got racially profiled. From now on, I'm carrying a photocopy of my passport and tourist visa in my wallet, just in case the next curious cops I meet aren't so nice.
However, recent events have led me to doubt my purported invulnerability. First, there was that thing in Akihabara. As if that weren't bad enough, I've begun to suspect that I should be wary of the local law enforcement.
Remember that place I mentioned, Geronimo's? Well, apparently a friend of one of the bartenders was recently caught without his Japanese resident's card on his person and thrown in jail for 28 days. It's not like he didn't have a card--he just didn't have it with him whenever they did an ID check for whatever reason. I assume that Japanese prison is clean and well-mannered, like the rest of Japan, but apparently it's somewhat fascistic, too. This guy isn't allowed to speak English to his visitors, as if some sort of secret and dire message might be passed between them. He speaks English to a translator, who tells another translator, who translates it for the visitor, or some crazy shit like that. So the story went.
At the time, I guessed that the police had originally detained this dude for a good reason, like drunk and disorderly conduct. Based on my experience last year, it seemed like it would take an awful lot for anyone to confront a gaijin. But this assumption was challenged when I went out tonight. (By the way, I don't recommend going out alone on a weekday night--it's not easy to meet anyone, since, for the most part, the only people in the bars are suits getting their drink on before the last train leaves.) On my way back, I was stopped by a police officer who wanted to see my ID. I calmly explained that I'm here on a tourist visa, which was in my hotel 10 minutes away. The hotel is pretty well known, so he took me at my word, but not without giving me a brisk frisk. In his words, "Roppongi is dangerous area."
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Roppongi is dangerous, so I get frisked? That's just not even a good excuse. And what could be the actual rationale? I realize that I've a bit more bulk than the average 日本人, but still, I don't think I look all that sketchy. I suppose it comes down to this: I was a lone foreign male wandering around after midnight. Who knows what sort of mischief was running through my head?
So, yeah. I got racially profiled. From now on, I'm carrying a photocopy of my passport and tourist visa in my wallet, just in case the next curious cops I meet aren't so nice.
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