Tokyo, Japan

Back in tokyo (Sorry for the long entry). A long (6hour) train ride back from the south island with an annoyingly heavy bag with the added Brucey bonus of a lack of sleep from the night before, a hangover, no real directions of where the guest house im meant to be staying at is, and no reservation. Luck was on my side though and i made it to the hostel albeit with an hour wait in the lounge with a bunch of strangers as the receptionist wasnt home yet. When she arrived, I got a bed. I was booked into the named "Ethnic Room" although I think it should have been called the "Stinks of arse and socks rooms" upon entry.

Got a locker, locked up my shit, took a necessary shit, and caught some winks for a hour or two to get some enegry for a night out. Woke up and took a shower then tried to shave of my 1 month beard with a well worn disposable razor in poor light. 45 mins later i was unrecognisable to people in the hostel id just met. No matter. Went out for a curry (nice to have some familar food for a change) and headed out after some warnings from one guest house occupent about lady boys and hostess girls.

Not sure if anyone reading has tried it, but going out on your own for a pub crawl can be a daunting task. I was getting the feel for it now from my earlier trial runs so I headed for the local area Raponggi (basically a horrocias tourist trap) to try my luck. I found it much more difficult, nay, impossible, to meet other people as most were American or foreign workers in general, sinking a pint or 20 after work, and they were all with co-workers. No backpackers. So I managed to watch the last 10 minutes of a lot of football games that were being shown on the TV.

Man United were playing SL Beneria (or something) that had an interesting number 12 called "Quim". Might have been Quin but made me chuckle anyway (Im not a big follower rememebr football fans). Managed to peruse some local haunts that i had been to previosly in the hope of bumping into people id met when i was last in Tokyo. Only managed to meet a barman who thankfully donated a pack of left over Malborough Lights in exchange for the full strength Marlborughs id been currently smoking (I swear each one of those sent my head spinning so it was a blessed release - wot a lightweight!) and we moaned about the general tourist nature of the place. Having to deal with pissed up westeners in suits that had finsihed work and thought they owned Tokyo. Being only mildy sozzled I could see it clearly and gave me a vague sense of embarssment being a westerner but bore in mind that I had been that person countless times before and would invariable become one again if not tonight. He advised me on some places to go on a Thursday but without direction so after I left I was soon lost and the slow realisation crept up apon me that I was in a kinda red light seedy district and it was time to not rely on the safety that Japan had so far blessed me with. Failed to find any of the recommended establishments so tried my luck and ducked down some side streets. Came across "Tokyo Sports Bar" which seemed retributable enough so plonked myslelf by the bar and ordered a pint of mild.

I had the feeling that something wasnt exactly right when I entetred but proceeded to ignore it. I got my drink and settled back to soak up the atmos. It was around 3am and I statrted to notice that all the women in the bar were more than beautiful, they were stunning. I chatted with the bar tenders and they confirmed this was the place that all the Pros, Hostess' and 'erotic dancers' came after their shift. Hog heaven I thought. But, for every woman there was some guy, or heavy that knew them or was willing to pay for them.

Their company cost money and I was far from it. What with my pasty white skin (thanks to the sudden Japanese winter), my stinking jacket (accompanied with oil stains no due thanks for being rolling about in the back of the Rover with a leaking diesel bottle), my towny shirt with the "Next" label refusing to hide itself regarless of my efforts to conceal it, my, now disgusting, unwashed jeans, with the still faint stain of vomit from the Candian girl weeks previous, and my over-worn scuffed beyond 'Clarks scuff protection' (remenber that as a kid) shoes. That, and my 7.99 Casio watch from Argos that beeped on the hour (I knew I should have brought my fancy one!) I was hardly 'Money'. Needless to say, that as un-feasably beautiful woman after un-feasible beautiful woman walked through the door, not one looked my way and honed in on the far more important-looking, handsome, richer men that I started to feel quite inadequet!

Being a lone, red-blooded young man I began to feel quite frustrated and decieded it would be best to cut my losses and head home. On the whole, I found it harder to meet people when your in a western geared tourist hell hole and youre meant to arrive as a group. I trundled home, inadvertantly following one of the pros, dodging in and out of the miriade of taxis that appeared to be the only vehciles on the street (and at times it was grid locked - 3am). Arrived back at the hostel with 3 Japanese people watching 'Anna and the King', a film I vowed never to watch but after 20 mins it actually looked rather good. Time for bed now, but got people to meet with tomorrow for a good old fashioned Techno rave. Sleep, is not an option....except now. Tata