Will I ever learn?

I need to stop reading into things so much and start taking more at face value. I should have known last night in the depachika that I was not buying cornbread, as the label lead me to believe, but bread with kernels of corn laced throughout. Corn bread. I was so looking forward to some bread of substance with my lentil soup when I got home tonight and what I got when I cut into the loaf was fluffy and slightly sweet bread with said inconsequential kernels of corn. I need to be more skeptical, this is Japan after all.

My gyaru

The characters who dot the popular culture landscape of Japan never cease to amaze me. Unlike Overseas where only the rich and fabulous are idolized on TV and in magazines, in Japan anything goes and people like Gyaru Sone (Gal Sone), an almost 100 pound 22-year-old girl who eats like a champ, share the spotlight with more predictable celebs, like actors and models.

I love Gyaru Sone. I don't know if it's the way her bangs have an annoying way of falling over her sparkly eyelids or her ridiculously long nails that are adorned with 3D art, or just the simple fact that she can eat so very much and be so very small, but I love watching her put back plate after plate and then gasping at the grand tally: Gyaru Sone just ate 20 plates of curry rice totalling 100,000 calories in one sitting! It's fascinating stuff.

Gyaru Sone first became popular after winning an eating competition when she was 19. Since then she has entered and conquered numerous other ones but most recently she has become a fixture on Japan's variety shows, each time amazing us with how much she can eat while continuing to smile and proclaim it all delicious! Often shows will do a small feature on her where she travels overseas or to a region of Japan and then proceeds to eat a truckload of the food famous in that particular area. I saw her travel to Canada last year where she went fishing for a giant octopus. Once they had snared one a chef prepared it in 5 or 6 different ways and Gyaru Sone ate around 10 plates of each, in fact she ate right up until her manager came and collected her to go to the airport.

I think the charm of many celebs here is that they have a niche or something by which they became famous. Sure it may be eating a lot or running around with only a speedo for cover but unlike the recent celebrity of people in the States who became famous by virtue of their money or being at all the right nightclubs (think P. Hilton), these bizarre celebs in Japan are famous for a reason. People love to watch people. Preferably if those other people are "kind of" like everyone else but with some quirk. I think it's admirable that celebs here can laugh at themselves, especially while making fools of themselves on TV. I've never seen more variety shows featuring "diet specials" in which chubby celebs are put through eating regimes and training, all the while wearing too-tight active wear circa 1985 and enduring embarrassing close-ups of their bare stomachs and spandex-covered asses. Many people criticize and write-off Japanese TV as being wildly immature and downright stupid, but I will venture to say it is no more mature or stupid than pitching people on an island against each other or following a group of moronic girls as they compete in a modelling competition. It's simply another brand of it.

Anyway back to Gyaru Sone. How does she do it? I think part of her appeal (OK a large part) is that she looks so damn cute while stuffing her face and is not the image you would first conjure up when given the words "eating competition champ". No the public would probably not be as enthralled if her body betrayed that which makes her famous or if she didn't embody a sweet and less scary version of Shibuya girls, and maybe that's part of what is wrong in Japan but I think she is tops. One program featuring Gyaru Sone took us to the grocery store with her where she selected some ingredients to make curry (she is also very good at making food not just consuming it) and then back to her house to prepare it. The whole time I kept thinking, how is she even cooking with those nails?! But they really are an integral part of her appeal for me. The way she manages to cook and eat with those jewelled claws and look completely natural doing it makes me want to laugh. Like so many other gyaru with impractical hair, clothes and nails, she makes it look so easy. Almost natural. Really though, it's not so much her nails that appeal but the fact that she clearly enjoys everything about food and always manages to smile her way through 10 steaks and afterward humbly thank the chef for such a spread. If you want to check out her nails or the food she is eating, check out the Gyaru Sone blog.

Smelly barbarian

Accounts written after Perry and the Blackships came to Japan describe white people as smelling of butter, meat and sweat. Charming I know. While I think I can safely say I don't smell like butter or meat (except after a night of yakiniku), I, like most other barbarians from Overseas, smell after I sweat. After getting over the initial excitement of buying my first spray deodorant when I was around 12, I haven't thought much about it since. Until a couple days ago when I had to buy my first stick of deodorant in Japan. In the years I've been here I have not gone au natural, perpetuating the tale of the smelly white barbarian, but rather I always made sure to bring several sticks of deodorant back with me after trading missions abroad. Why? you beg to ask. Because I have never seen anything resembling ladies' deodorant in the pharmacies here.

Imagine my shock last week when the last of my lady speed stick crumbled to pieces and I discovered there was no back-up stock in the bathroom cabinet. I vacillated between ordering some online and having my mom send me some and then didn't do anything about it for a very smelly week. And I couldn't just borrow the beau's gentleman speed stick because he doesn't own deodorant and probably never has. He's the limited edition no-smell Japanese boyfriend! Seriously, he is scent-free. It is the strangest phenomenon. I have even smelt his armpits after sports and nothing!!! What kind of good deal did the Japanese make with the evolution gods to make their sweat odourless?

As I said, it was not a good week without deodorant. What with the seasonal change I am overdressed half the time and schlepping around town makes my eyelids sweat so just imagine what was happening in my pittal area!

Enter my new roll-on deodorant. I was acutely embarrassed as I brought it to the check-out counter and was honestly surprised when they didn't put it the same little brown bag they use when I buy tampons. You'd be embarrassed too if you had seen how the ladies' deodorants (all two of them) were hidden in the dark reaches of the pharmacy isle. I had two choices: spray or roll-on, and they were made by the same company. I went roll-on as the sprays had strange scents that reminded me of the spray deodorants boys used to saturate the cloakroom with at primary school. So I went with my "soap" fragrance roll-on with not only anti-perspirant but anti-bacterial ingredients too!!! Score.

Back at chez Geisha I felt like a pubescent lass all over again as I excitedly tore off the plastic wrapping and went to town with my new roll-on friend. I don't know what they put in this deodorant but it smelled like pure alcohol at first and I'm surprised I didn't get fire pit. After a minute or so it started to smell more akin to a cleaning agent like Lysol and after more arm-waving time, began to smell like a more passable deodorant. Safe for now. I'll use it all up but I'm going to stop procrastinating and get a whole box of normal stick deodorant shipped over here pronto. Despite the fact that deodorant is a given for both genders Overseas, Japan has yet again managed to make me feel unfeminine and barbaric.

Fresh air helps my constitution

As promised, Roses' last email: Have you been busy lately? Since the weather was nice today I went for a walk in Shinjuku gyoen. Because I really like Autumn and I grew up in the country, I often go to the park when I'm looking for nature. At this point I'm really tired from drinking too much every day and so I have to at least get some peace of mind. I think you must be busy too but please email me sometimes. I miss you [breaking heart emoticon]. (Please excuse the moronic sounding English, I'm hurrying so I can get to bed.)

Ahhh a host with a soul! He just doesn't stop does he? I handed him the holy grail and he still wants to make sure I'm locked down as a return customer. A return customer that requests him by name on my next visit. In fact, he probably sent a similar version of that same email to several other customers while lounging on the vinyl sofas at the club waiting to be called to a table. I guess even after relenting to a return visit he has to stay on the offensive to ensure I make good on my word. I'm too tired to come up with anything witty so I'll leave it at that for now.

On how to become the easiest customer ever

Despite what I wrote on the Demise of Roses, I felt I should at least email him something that would discourage further contact. So I gave it up and with very little encouragement too. I told Roses that although I was busy with work (i.e. no private dates), I would try to make it back to his club sometime in November (i.e. this is what you have been pursuing me for, now you can stop). Well, Roses must think me the easiest customer ever! He didn't even have to court me and already I am making plans to visit the club again. He immediately texted back and asked if I would ask for him by name next time. Hoping to elicit some information on return visits, I said I was unsure of how the system works. Dot dot dot.

Clever host that he is, he gently explained it to me as follows: the time you came before we gave you and your friends a first timer service, in order to show you what kind of club we have and the kind of hosts you can talk to. The next time you come to the club, if there is a host you fancy, you can ask for him by name and he will receive a portion of your bill. So, the next time you come it will be a little more expensive. If it's OK with you, I'd really like you to ask for me by name...(emoticon of bowing man). Also, if you are working within a budget, you can tell me what that budget is and I will work within that. If you have any more questions let me know!

I figured I would leave it there and contact him again if I went back this month but when another email came the following evening asking if I understood the system, I told him yes and thank you. I thought that would be it. I gave it up so easily after all! But alas the following night I got this: hey, how are you spending the long weekend? As I said in my mail about our club's system, I would really like it if you ask for me next time you come to hang out at the club. Aside from that though, if you do have any free time I would really like to hang out together. There are a lot of things I want to ask you about, like your work and Canada. Email me any time.

If that wasn't enough, he called my cell the evening after that. I'm going to relay his last message that I got tonight and that is it. How do I know it will be his last? I'm going to block his address. Don't worry though, this is not the last of Roses, as I have a sneaking suspicion a visit to Club Love is in the cards this month.

Dissed by a Japanese bird

No I am not quoting a British guy who got rejected after trying to nampa some Japanese girl. On my way to my kitsuke class today a bird shat on me. As I relayed it to the beau, the Japanese birdie looked down, saw my white ass and decided to shit on the foreigner. I guess I have been letting my conspiracy theory get the better of me if I am now widening it to include flying animals. At least in Japan they believe that getting shat on is good luck too or I would be getting both ends of the shit stick.

Truly not the best way to start my week after such a relaxing weekend but if the Canadian dollar stays down and Roses stop calling me everyday, I will know the tide has turned. In fact, I do have Roses to thank for one thing: after reading his inspired date list I decided to create a painfully typical 24-hour date for the beau and I, beginning on Sunday. Yokohama. The fresh sea breeze, the giant ferris wheel, the stuff of dating dreams for young Japanese people. I find the longer I am in Tokyo, the more prone I am to spend ridiculous amounts of money doing stuff. I get this "it will be mine" mentality and I don't stop until I have the hotel room, or the concert tickets or the restaurant reservation, no matter the price. And I usually plan things not so far in advance so once I find that the cheap option I was going for is no longer available, I ruthlessly pick my way up the price ladder until something available comes along, all the while convincing myself that is is totally normal to go out for a 30,000 yen dinner or to spend a night at an onsen ryokan for 100,000 yen.

So for this ridiculous weekend, we stayed on one of the upper floors of the hotel at the top of the Landmark Building, AKA best fucking view ever, and ate room service and drank champagne while laughing at the peons below. The following day we went to Chinatown for a yum cha lunch that was dumpalicious and divine and then spent the rest of the day at Hakkeijima Sea Paradise, strolling around with all the other smug couples and taking in the marine life. If that wasn't enough we ended up in Azabu Juban on the way home and found a yakiniku place where the meat literally melts in your mouth. I know that sounds totally nasty and wrong and I've probably plagiarized the M&Ms slogan, but you've got to trust me on this one. Grilled pieces of meat that melt in your mouth is a very good thing. To cap it all off we drank ourselves silly at Prego nearby, and when our bartender friend finished work in Roppongi, our evening turned into a mini double-date with him and his girlfriend and their wee dog.

All in all a very fun and expensive weekend. I don't know what it is about Japan, but dating has truly become a science here. Never have I heard more people talking so enthusiastically about date spots or asking other people for dating ideas. There are magazines and TV shows that give people dating itineraries down to the minute, with accompanying "insider tips" that aren't so insider when literally a million other people are doing the same thing. It all feels like part of some big show. After mocking the people lined up for restaurants in Chinatown and the people taking pictures of sea animals in their tanks (I mean really, this topic has been over-discussed but who looks at blurry keitai pictures of jellyfish and "cute" crabs the next day?!), I don't know if I can manage to not feel like a cheese when on a date here in Tokyo. I suppose if the beau cooked something up I could genuinely ooh and ahh but seeing other couples snuggling on benches and looking forlornly out to sea at Hakkeijima just made me feel like they had been taught to do that somewhere. Am I a cynic? No matter what I say, I can't be too much of one after enjoying my epic date this weekend, even if it was by the book.

Sexy fruit

I can't believe that I forgot to write about finally seeing my homeboy Donald Richie! He is the be all and end all authority on Japanese cinema among many other cultural aspects of J-land and I got the chance to hear him speak earlier this month. Every couple of months or so Temple University puts on a "Japanese Cinema Eclectics" night at Superdeluxe in Roppongi, where a Japanese film is shown after a short introduction by Mr. Richie.

The film shown was Crazed Fruit (1965), which is based on a novel by everyone's favourite governor of Tokyo, Shintaro Ishihara. But don't worry, I suspect he used to be quite cool back in the day and this movie would never bespeak the politician he has become today. The story follows a group of young boys about town, as they spend their summer in a beach resort outside of Tokyo, drinking and chasing girls. Despite being made in the fifties, the cinematography was interesting and the story still fresh to an audience today. As with all movies from that time, what used to be shocking is no longer shocking today, but the subtle scenes that create a sexual tension in the movie are still fairly palpable and relatable even today. In one scene all we see is two pairs of legs, inching towards each other but not quite making it. Richie asked the audience, is this not sexy? It is damn sexy Mr. Richie.

Ishihara's younger brother Yujiro is in the film, and he was THE heartthrob in those days, comparable to James Dean. There is also a biracial actor in the film, who plays Frank, the swankiest of the group and with an American parent. The fact that there was this foreign element in the film, and that Frank's character was looked up to by all the other boys, was very interesting and surprising to me. The movie isn't fluff though, and takes quite a dark turn towards the end, reminding us that it is afterall, a Japanese film.

If you're in Tokyo I would definitely check one of these nights out. The chance to hear Richie speak and the music lounge session after the screening is an evening well spent.