Saturday, 9/20/2014

 I got up at 6:50am, got ready, and went down to breakfast at around 7:30am. Even though it was early on a Saturday, most of the tables in the dining room (which is actually a restaurant called Restaurant Fuji) were occupied by at least one person. In fact, the person at the table next to me turned out to be one of the other Fulbrighters. I didn’t recognize her at first. I also eavesdropped on a couple of guys sitting near the food tables. One guy was telling the other his plan for the day: go to Akihabara to buy video games and anime goods. There were also several Japanese salarymen sitting together at a table. 

After breakfast I went back upstairs to my room to skype my family.

After skyping with my family, I checked out of my room and gave my baggage to the hotel staff. Then I headed from Aoyama itchome to Tsukishima to go to the Owl Café I had heard about from my sister (http://wandertokyo.com/tokyo-owl-cafe/). When I came out of Tsukishima Station, a man handed me a tiny pack of wet wipes advertising something discreetly (housing) on the flap.

 I found the cafe without too much difficulty. The café wasn’t brightly marked though; it was recognizable by the crowd of 5-10 people outside of it. It was 11:40am when I got there; there were 20 minutes left until the café opened. I waited, and eventually a man came out and asked for people who hadn’t reserved a place yet. Since I was by myself, I managed to get one of the 2 places left in the 1pm time slot. The 12noon slot had been filled already, I guess by having the man come out and take reservations from people way before the café actually opened.

So I had an hour to burn. I walked back to the main street and went to Family Mart to have a snack since I was hungry. I didn’t think the café would have much food, so it was better to eat something. I bought matcha (Japanese green tea) milk and a kabocha (Japanese pumpkin)-flavored Haagen Das ice cream. Both were sweet, but the ice cream was sweeter, so the milk lost its taste. I sat at the counter against the front window of Family Mart, looking out onto the sidewalk. There were only 4 seats, and each of the ones on the end were taken. So I chose one of the middle seats. The closer man, who was eating cup noodles, scooted his stool slightly away from my and turned his body away. I leisurely ate my ice cream. The other middle chair got taken by another man.

When I finished, I didn’t see a trash can. I knew there must be one, but I didn’t feel like looking for it, so I carried my trash with me to a Seven Eleven, where I threw it away in their counter area. I hadn’t finished my drink, so I kept carrying it. It was awkward since it was a large paper milk carton. I walked 2 blocks into the side streets, where I discovered a long street of shops, in particular monjayaki shops. The shopping area was about 3-4 blocks long, and on both sides of the streets, only 1 in every 3 or 4 shops was NOT a monjayaki shop. I passed restaurant after restaurant labeled “monja.” Wow, this must be Tsukishima’s specialty, I thought. I was reminded that monjayaki was a distinct Tokyo food (based on a manga I had read). Some shops were empty, some were full, and others even had groups of people sitting outside waiting. Having passed so many shops, I resolved to eat monjayaki that day before I left Tsukishima. 

I got a pack of tissues from a lady passing them out. With the tissues was a flyer folded in quarters advertising a Liar Box.

As I was walking, I flattened my carton so it would be easier to carry. But a little while later, milk suddenly splashed onto my hand. Sucking on the straw, it turned out there was still quite a bit of milk that had been hiding from me. I cleaned up with a napkin I had, and then I eventually wandered back to Family Mart, since it was getting close to 12:50 (the meeting time). I’m sure the shopkeepers on that street were very puzzled by my presence, since I walked along that street several times that day, and I was the only foreigner. 

At Family Mart, the trash can was discreet but immediately apparent because it was where, honestly, I had expected it to be (I was just too lazy/tired in spirit to handle the embarrassment of needing to look for the trash can).

Back at the owl café, the crowd of people steadily grew. When a lady came out of the café to take more reservations, she had to remind people to stay out of the way and clear the sidewalk. The locals most inconvenienced were the tiny, hunched old ladies pushing shopping dolleys of groceries purchased at the store on the corner.

At 12 o’clock, the door opened and a stream of guests came out. Then our names were called and we were let in. We were guided to seats at the counter and around a tiny coffee table. Once we were all sitting, we were asked to order drinks. They were brought later in cups covered with plastic wrap, but we ended up not drinking them until it was almost time to leave and they had gotten completely cold. Meanwhile, the lady handed me and several other guests laminated papers with instructions on them in English. After we had a few minutes to read them, she explained them all in Japanese, with more detail. The girl sitting next to me didn’t understand Japanese, and since she seemed a little too eager to interact with the owls, I translated some of the more important instructions to her. She seemed shocked that I could understand Japanese. “You must be a student, right?” she asked disbelievingly.

After the instructions were given, the lady pulled out a bottle of alcohol sanitizer and sprayed our hands. We were allowed to take pictures without flash, and perch the owls on our hands, shoulders, and head. We had to watch out for poop though. Some of the bigger owls were rather intimidating. The biggest ones had a huge wingspan of 3-4 feet that created a huge draft when they flapped their wings. One of the medium ones disliked its tether and kept leaping up and flapping wildly at random times, which startled me every time. The Japanese people were startled that I could speak Japanese, but they took it better than the other girl. After 50 minutes, we were told to sit back down. Once we sat back down, we sipped our cold drinks as the lady introduced complimentary souvenirs. Since there were limited numbers of each one, we did rock-paper-scissors to decide whenever more than one person wanted the same thing. It was an amazing experience. My drink was too sweet though.

Once I left the café, I wandered around Tsukishima some more. I went further down the shopping street and saw more monjayaki shops. Then I went back to the main street, when I found a map next to a bus stop. I needed to use the bathroom, so I saw that there was one at a park a block or two away from the main street. I also noticed that the Tsukiji Fish Market was relatively near, across a bridge. I decided to walk over later, even though everything would probably be closed by the time I got there.

While I was looking at the map, a woman asked me if I was lost. I assured her I was fine, and she offered to give me directions if I needed them.

After the bathroom but before Tsukiji Fish Market, I went to a monjayaki shop. There was one crowded one that I wanted to try, but since it was still crowded even at 3pm, I went to the shop next door. I was loitering outside, looking at the menu on display. One of the staff members beckoned me in. The staff were really friendly, especially my waitress, a woman who may have been in her 30s or 40s. She asked if I wanted a Japanese or English menu; I asked for both. They had me sit at the booth right next to the door. The seat was hollow; I lifted the lid, put my backpack in, and sat down. The Japanese menu was already at the table, so I started looking over it. I was glad they brought the English menu, because although I could read most of the menu, there were some words that I didn’t remember or know. 

I ordered a monjayaki that had shrimp, scallops, octopus, and clams in it.

After I stuffed myself eating that huge thing by myself, I ordered dragonfruit sherbet from a little display stand on the window sill behind me. The sherbet was very cold, so the spoon kept sticking to my tongue.

As I was eating my dragonfruit sherbet, the two little kids at table two booths away stood up on their seats and stared at me. I ignored them for the most part and concentrated on my sherbet. Also while I was eating, some more customers arrived, but the staff turned them away, saying the shop wouldn’t reopen until 5pm. There were other shops that were open all day, the employee advised them. 

After that, I walked to Tsukiji Market. It was raining lightly. I made it to a sign, but I didn’t actually get to the market itself. F-sensei had emailed me again, and I needed to get back to the hotel so that I could read and respond properly. So I walked back across the bridge to Kachioka? Station and went back to the hotel. The hotel staff gave me the key for my new room, my luggage, and the mail that my Fulbright adviser had sent me, which contained my shinkansen (bullet train) tickets. 

My new room was on the first floor, not the fifth floor like my previous room. The room was basically the same as my first room: no autolock on the door, a tiny closet instead of a recessed area, the treacherous toilet, and no slot for the key to control the room’s electricity. There was also a lamp hanging above the desk, which was controlled by a dial on the side of the desk above the minifridge. The room had a strange smell. I suspected that I had been given a smoking room, since I hadn’t requested a nonsmoking one.

It was about 6pm. I settled down at my laptop to deal with F-sensei’s email. I tried to finish quickly, because I wanted to go to Shibuya to look at the multi-story Forever21 store I had spotted two days before. 

I managed to leave a little past 7pm. The store closed at 10pm, so I had some time. When I first arrived at Shibuya Station, I tried to figure out what exit to take, but since I couldn’t find the store on the map, I just went out a random exit. I recognized where I was as I was leaving the ticket gates, but soon I was in unfamiliar territory.

I made it outside, where I didn’t see the Forever21 building, but I did see a sign for H&M. I went to H&M and wandered through all the floors.

Then I made brief stops in Berkentz (?) and Zara, which were close by. After a bit of walking, I finally managed to find the Forever21. I browsed and tried on some clothes. On the top floor, the local employee wasn’t manning the fitting room for some reason, which caused some confusion for me and a few other customers. All the other fitting rooms were staffed. Another strange thing about the fitting rooms in H&M and Forever21 was that I didn’t need to take off my shoes to enter the fitting room, and there were no makeup covers provided. In my previous experiences with fitting rooms, you were supposed to take off your shoes, and often tentlike sheets were provided to wear over your head so makeup wouldn’t smear onto the clothes (since Japanese people are usually pretty heavily makeupped, compared to Americans). I was also surprised to see middle-aged women shopping at these stores, because in America they are geared towards teens and 20-somethings.

Near closing time, I persuaded myself not to buy a top that mostly fit but didn’t really match the clothes I had brought to Japan. I guessed my way to the station, weaving through the huge crowds of people. In the station, I went through the ticket gate, but got confused looking for my line. Usually there are two platforms for each line, for trains going in different directions, but I could only see one platform. Looking lost, I made eye contact with a station employee who had just come upstairs from the platform, but distracted, he ignored me and hurried away. Slightly baffled, I suddenly realized that Shibuya was the end of the line, so there was only one direction. I turned toward the stairs the station employee had come from. As I made my way down, I saw 10-15 station employees directing people around them. I wondered why, when I suddenly spotted a prone man in their midst. He lay facedown on the stairs where he had fallen, his feet higher than his head, which was on the floor in a puddle of dark-red blood. A man in some uniform (station or medical, I couldn’t tell) was attending to him. An empty body bag was spread on the floor in front of them. Shocked and horrified, people fell silent as they walked past, turning back several times to look back. I felt tense and frightened. The injured man might have been a drunk middle-aged salaryman, going home alone; a type of person so common it’s a stereotype for Japan. And Japan is full of stairs. It was an accident that could happen to anyone. Maybe he was nudged by someone pushing past in the crowd and lost his balance. I couldn’t get the image of his sprawled legs and red blood out of my mind as I hurried back to the hotel from the station, clutching my arms together. I was impressed at the composure of the station employees. 

I got back to my room at about 10:30pm. I responded to another email from F-sensei, chatted a little over skype with my boyfriend about the accident, and exhausted, went to sleep.