Pachinko

Ever wonder what the inside of a Japanese Pachinko parlor is like?

Here is how to replicate the experience: First turn up the volume on your computer as high as it will go. Then light up a few dozen cigarettes. Next turn up the air conditioner to Arctic blast. Finally sit down and watch this video.

Tokyo, Japan

Dignity

What is this man singing about? Why contact lenses of course.

Akihabara, Japan

A Potato for An Orange

My first month in Japan had come to an end. Having found an apartment, it was time to move out of the monthly guesthouse I had been living in.

Having already raided the local recycling center for furniture, I turned to scavenging around my apartment. A few of my prizes included an immense roll of industrial toilet paper, a pink sponge, and some duplicate spices from the kitchen.

Since these items existed in great quantities around the guesthouse, I knew they would not be missed. The bicycle I had found outside the guesthouse, however lay in gray area of forager morals.

Though it didn’t belong to any of the current residents of the guesthouse, I felt bad running off with this means of transportation, which I had so thoroughly enjoyed. Luckily I had a scheme to bridge this dilemma.

Earlier in the month, I’d rescued another bicycle after it had been left for dead following a feral night of cyclo partying that had ended with a run in with a car. While this bicycle would not be a fair trade for the one I had found at the guesthouse, it would give future residents a two-wheeled way of exploring Tokyo.

To ensure that this action of masked thievery would sit well with my roommates, I ran the idea past them. Since none of them cared much for bicycles the idea flew surprising well.

So after fetching the feral bicycle from my school and topping its tires off with air, I dropped by the guesthouse one last time to deliver it. Then after saying goodbye to a now old roommate, I set off on my bicycle into the setting sun.

Moving Day

If you shopped for a table, mirror, rice cooker, and some shelf's at the garbage mart, odds are your not going to use a moving company. Which in my case leaves two options, the train or my bicycle.

Not wanting to deal with the unpleasantries associated with negotiating awkward items through train turnstiles and crowds, I opted to use my bicycle. After three trips and a minor incident involving an elderly Japanese woman and my table, I was all moved in.

The Contract Ceremony

When was the last time you read an entire contract before you signed it? The answer is likely never if it was over a few pages long. Well in here in the land of Japan the Japanese have a way around reading all that fine print, they have someone read it to you. Yes that's right the gentleman you see sitting across from me is a licensed contract reader.

Now while my contract reader could speak English, the contract (for the lease on my apartment) was in Japanese. Thus for an hour and a half I sat as he read every last detail of the contact, pausing occasionally for me to sign on the dotted line. Occasionally I would understand a word here or half a sentence there, but over all the characters on the pages and the words floating into my ears made absolutely little sense. It was one of those classic foreigner in Japan moments. Both sides knew this served no purpose, but because somewhere out there was a rather thick dusty old book stating this had to be done, we had to do this.

..............................................

When the “ceremony” was finally over I ask the contact reader, "How many of these contracts do you typically have to read a day." The contract reader thoughtfully paused for a moment, then replied, "No more than four contracts a day." "Does you voice get tired," I asked. He smiled and said, "Usually, no."

Floating By

What is floating on the surface of this river?

Hint: This picture was taken two weeks ago in Tokyo.