The demise of Roses

I really didn't mean to leave everyone in suspense after my last post on Project Host. I can assure you it won't happen again, as I wouldn't ever use the word "suspenseful" to describe my everyday. Naive and unthinking Geisha that I am, I just couldn't wait to tell the beau about how I had made friends with Roses. This. did. not. go. down. well.

And I should have known better, as I would shit a brick if the beau decided to start trading emails with a hostess or kyaba-jyo. Oh wait, I have! When we were first dating one of his rich and balding customers took him and some guy who works for him to a kyaba kura (cabaret club) where they pretended to be the presidents of their own companies. A couple days later one of the bitches, I mean girls from the club, emailed him asking for money. Apparently a "talent" scout had loaned her money and if she didn't get it back to him by the end of the month he was going to put her in an AV (adult video). So what does she do? She emails the beau for monetary support.

But I digress. The beau being in the water trade himself knows a fair bit about the business and told me that not only did I have no idea what I was doing, but that he could tell me exactly what Roses would email me next. Basically I was letting myself get played, despite knowing that was what the game is all about. I lost sight of the fact that hosts do not make friends with their customers. It's more insidious than that. They email their customers (which is what all the bored-looking hosts lounging around at the club last week were doing) and actually go out on dates with them. Not just dinner dates, dates dates. Once they've secured the woman's feelings, they get them back to the club as customers, and out comes the expensive bottle of brandy or a champagne call. After Roses' date list email, I should have realized there were not going to be any fun nights out with a group of friends and the next step would have to be a date.

The beau perused Roses' emails and proclaimed him a hack and not very smooth. Apparently if he had been smooth, he would have mentioned a really nice restaurant to get me interested. In a later email he would tell me that he had managed to get us a reservation and that he would treat me. He would treat me and it would all be downhill from there. I felt like a silly little girl after the beau set me straight. I made the fatal mistake of thinking that somehow my gaijiness would be the ticket to making friends with these hosts. There is no ticket to making friends with them I suspect, short of meeting them outside of the club. That is how good they are and I think I understand now why so many women here get roped in. Every woman thinks they are different, that this time the host does want to be their boyfriend (or friend). So they go on enough dates to "fall" for the guy, and then he invites them back to the club. I won't pretend that I'm not disappointed. I'm mad at myself for my grandiose plans of becoming chums and having heart-to-hearts on the state of male-female relations in Tokyo.

Readers, I assure you if I was a single gal or with a guy I wanted to flick, I would have gone the distance for you. For the sake of Project Host research I would truly have become a participant-observer as they say in anthropology, probably going further than I should and attempting to shed light on the myths surrounding hosts-customer relationships. After being schooled by the beau however, I realized that I had taken this as far as I could without going on a simu-date with Roses. This doesn't mean I won't be going back to Club Love, because I will, and I will find out what it is like to become a return customer. But I will not be receiving any more lists of possible dates from Roses. I didn't reply to his list.

The next day I got another email from him asking if he shouldn't have emailed so late the previous evening and encouraging me to tell him if there were any other things he shouldn't do. The he said that if I had any ideas for our date (he used this word) I should tell him. This was followed by some heart marks and a Let's meet soon when our schedules allow. And with that, he said he was off to work. I resolved not to email him again, as it wouldn't do any good. But that went out the window earlier this evening when I got off work.

It's the little things...

that remind me Tokyo isn't such a cold place after all. There is a French bakery I frequent when the Kaisha's got me down and I'm in need of a cheesy carb fix. I haven't been going so often as of late, but when I used to go all the time I started to notice how the girls working there would remember me, but not necessarily in a good way. They would give me these knowing smiles, like Oh whitie's back for more! And one of them was just a lazy ass who couldn't be bothered thanking me sometimes, which is practically unheard of here. Then today when Miss No-thank-you served me, she looked up and asked me if I'd cut my hair and commented on how nice it looked. Straight out of nowhere! From a girl I thought detested me and my cheesy carb habits. This kind of exchange also comes as a surprise to me in a place where there is usually no unnecessary chit chat between customers and clerks. Not even at Starfucks! Not even from the conbini clerk you see at least once every day. It's really these little moments that keep me from turning completely black inside.

In other news, we had another donut day at work this week. That's right, 1500 donuts all for our pie-hole pleasure. One of my co-workers and I scooted into the room that held the mountainous nuts of dough as soon as the announcement came round, and just as I was beginning to enjoy my little nugget of joy I heard girlish screams and exclamations and surprise surprise the secretaries had arrived. Is it possible for them to do anything in a vaguely adult and dignified way? All evidence points to the contrary. A few minutes in and it was like a school dance with the secretaries on one side of the room and the men (and myself) on the other. I finished my donut and promptly got out of there, spurred on by the spectacle of the secretaries all putting on Santa hats and taking a video. And before you ask, no I have absolutely no fucking clue as to why they would put on Santa hats while eating donuts in October. The icing on my donut was when walking down the hall later, I passed a secretary station just in time to hear one of them say to the other two, "there were gaijin eating donuts".

Please do it at a pub

Who else thinks it is highly suspect that this "please do not make a commotion on the train" manner poster for November was conveniently unveiled today on Halloween? I have heard throughout the week that the attempted Yamanote Halloween train last weekend was a bust and there are also rumours circulating that the real one is either tonight or tomorrow night. After last year's debacle perhaps the Metro Suits are worried we might move the party underground, so to speak. I mean really, how many "commotions" have you seen on the train here? I've seen the run-of-the-mill loud salarymen groups and the high school students who take up half the carriage but apart from the odd lone salaryman enjoying a brewsky and a bag of smelly dried fish, I have never seen groups of people using the train as a bar (or "pub" as they say).

Again, creepy sweepy is on the outside looking in. Are they trying to foreshadow something here? Is the last manner poster going to urge passengers not to employ trains in their own suicides? Was that inappropriate of me to say? Well I think the faces on the train revellers above are inappropriate, who can tell whether they are nose less or faceless? And that woman on the far left is sporting a hitler moustache if I ever saw one! Ultimately though, Tokyo Metro needs to take a look around because I see a lot of commotion outside on the mean streets of Tokyo, particularly in salaryman hot spots like Shinbashi. Since when has causing a drunken commotion in Japan been limited to "pubs"? Oh well. If anyone would like to join me, I am considering setting up a photo series imitating each and every manner poster thus far-I think it could be very camp.

Before I wrote this I quickly googled the poster to see if there was anything else written on November's suggested manner and I found this fantastic spoof, which is much more visually effective don't you think? Geisha, Interrupted also had some fantastic ideas for keeping the pervs in check and her photos never cease to amuse me. Let's hope December's poster is also related to current events or at least Christmas-themed! ("Let's do it on the ferris-wheel in Odaiba" with a picture of a young couple making out after exchanging ridiculously expensive gifts??)

If I were a host, where would I go?

After I posted my last update on Project Host, Roses emailed me at 2 in the morning. After apologizing for the late reply because the club had been busy that night and he had gotten "quite drunk", he said he was so happy that I had time to meet up. The he listed (as in with numbers) his initial ideas for what we could do. Drum roll please...

1. A walk in Shinjuku gyoen park [ah, we can inhale the smell of autumn leaves together]
2. A hike up Mt. Takao, a World Heritage Site [is it just me or are we getting higher in level of difficulty?!]
3. If it's next month, watching Red Cliff at the theatre [He expects me to watch it with Japanese subtitles?!]

Roses then assured me that the above list was just a few ideas, he has many more, and ever the gentleman, urged me to tell him if I had any desires. Obviously my idea of a non-date thing has gone by the wayside, as has the existence of the beau. The above are a shining example of classic date ideas in Tokyo. In fact, if I took a peek at one of the many dating guide magazines here, they would be at the top of the list. Later that night a katana got thrown in the works of Project Host (which I shall later elaborate on) and I suspended contact. Roses however, has not, and I received another interesting email last night...

Host project

Just a quick note to update those of you following the chain of events, my host project is coming along, although perhaps not as expected. The second host who has my number called me tonight and I neglected to pick up-I wonder if he is just trying to get my keitai address too and can't simply get it from Roses, some kind of host code of honour?

After telling me by email last night that from now on he would "email me sometimes", Roses emailed me tonight and asked when I was free to go out with him. No mention of the club and he specified "somewhere". I replied a few hours later with a non-committal, Sure I have time, and I have yet to hear further from him. Maybe I'm not being preened for a regular customer position but that of a friend!

Geisha party

Last weekend saw another kind of paid entertainment, but this time it was at the hands of geisha. A geisha I know was in a good mood a few weeks back and offered me two places at a ryotei party last weekend. By offered I mean she foot the bill which was probably in the ballpark of 30,000-40,000 yen per person. Maybe more, who knows when it comes to lavish geisha parties! This particular party was held at a ryotei that is over fifty years old and was in honour of one particular geisha, whom I had met once or twice before that night. Due to the nature of the celebration, the party took place in the ryotei's largest room, which held around 30 guests and 8 or 9 geisha.

Other Whitie and I arrived a few minutes before the appointed time and were led up a couple flights of slippery wooden stairs to the zashiki room. When the ryotei employee opened the sliding doors we were faced with a spacious tatami room, three of its sides lined with low tables and already seated guests, with the front of the room open for the dancing and games to take place later. We were immediately plied with alcohol and the old man across from us immediately engaged us in pleasant conversation. From there the geisha who were performing came out and plied the guests with more alcohol while the ryotei staff started to bring around the first few courses that made up our kaiseki meal. By the end of the evening we had received so many courses on small dishes and in covered bowls that I couldn't keep track of how many there were.

Needless to say, when Other Whitie and I first entered the room there was a lot of who-are-they stares but by the end of the evening, the other guests were yelling out Geisha-chan and Whitie-chan from across the room at us. Definitely a good sign. Halfway through the meal, four of the geisha in full regalia (elaborate wig, white face, long kimono for dancing) gave a performance of several short dances. I have been wanting to learn Japanese dance for several years now and I think last weekend's performance sealed the deal for me. The style of dance is so controlled and calculating but I just love watching it and I particularly love the subtle head movements and eye expressions that we could pick up on from sitting so close. After some post-dance imbibing the geisha rallied the guests and we played a couple games often employed when geisha entertain, simple and silly games usually with accompanying ditties, that by the end, had one drunk middle-aged man slapping another on the ass. A smashing success if you ask me.

No sooner had the games finished with the losers taking shots of sake, then we were doing the sanbon jime clapping phenomenon that is the end of all parties. Those three hours whisked by faster than the trailing hem of a dancing geisha's kimono. How's that for a cheesy metaphor? We walked out into the nippy air and I felt exhilarated. Other Whitie and I had been a success at our very first geisha party, a chance event that not even the majority of Japanese people get the opportunity to attend. Funnily enough, the geisha who had invited me took me aside later that night because she wanted to make sure that Other Whitie and I had fared OK and weren't off-put by the old man who had taken up most of our time that evening. A true hostess with the mostess.

Best enjoyed at 22 degrees

I'm not much for reviewing food but once in a while the urge strikes. It struck a couple days ago when I saw an ad on TV for Dars chocolate, some of the tastiest stuff in Tokyo. I've been hip to Dars for several years now, but as a re-marketing ploy they have released the little trays of chocolates with a temperature indicator on the front, which recommends that the chocolate be eaten at around 22 degrees, or when the heat-sensitive circle turns pink. I think the website says it best: "Mouth-melting is 22 degrees C".

So after seeing the commercial I just had to go out and buy myself a tray (I would say bar but well, in the spirit of being accurate I shall use tray). In the konbini the circle was slightly dark, indicating it wasn't yet at optimal temperature. Once I got outside though and watched it expectantly (kind of like a home pregnancy test!), it turned a rosy shade of pink and after confirming that the shade matched the colour key indicating 22 degrees, I ripped that sucker open and mouth-melting delight!! I suppose that before this temperature sticker we could have surmised that the chocolate was too hard after trying a piece, but now we can increase the efficiency of our consumption by only eating the chocolate once it has reached 22 degrees. I'll say it again, mouth-melting delight!!!