Sunday, March 18, 2007

Drinking with Japanese

"A-Bar" is located near Kiyamachi-dori between Sanjo and Shijo in downtown Kyoto. It's one of the few more spacious bars and has this wooden cabin/reggae quality about it. Colorful pictures, various posters and scribbles from customers decorate the walls and tables. When you get bored, those writings provide a nice distraction: "Good times, Ryan. Feb 20/04". I guess Ryan must have had fun there three years ago. The thing with this bar though is the atmosphere: above all it's the jovial nature that draws us to this 2nd floor-bar (that and the not-too-expensive beer). The tables are really big so you are usually seated with strangers whom you can always strike up a conversation with, if they already hadn't initiated it themselves at that point. Now and then I am approached on the street by a foreigner asking directions to the bar, because they explain: "I heard this bar is good." In short, A-Bar is one of the hottest joints in town. A little story is perhaps the best way to explain.

Yesterday night I strolled into the place at around 20:30. My dear friend and companion, Kendall (U.S.), was with me. Damn! At first glance the bar looked full. Where else could Kendall and I await our friends Erez, Efrat and la belle française, Pascale for a drink together? Luckily the bartender escorted us to one of the four big tables present in the bar. The Japanese crowd of around ten people who occupied the benches immediately made room at the sight of this Belgian skinhead and his wavy-haired friend. One of the Japanese guys, wearing glasses and clearly intoxicated, stood up, introduced himself right away and eagerly told us to sit down with them. The other Japanese at the table were laughing and cheering when Kendall and I were about to take our seats. Actually all of them, including the four girls, had obviously been drinking for a while. They even applauded. I laughingly looked at Kendall and he glanced at me with that delightful smile of his. Before I could even get the attention of one of the bar staff to place our usual order of two bin-biiru (bottles of beer), our glasses-wearing, new friend already bellowed at the bartender to bring us beer. That's when I said to Kendall: "Awesome! We're drinking for free tonight." And last night was not a rare occasion at all. Ten seconds later we were holding out our glasses as they were being poured by the cheerful fellow with the glasses. He seemed like the leader of the gang. Well, he was by no means the loudest (and most drunk) of them all. I took a sip and my body filled with a tantalizing sensation. I was thirsty and the warmth of the bar and welcome at the table were exhilarating after that numbing bike ride in the surprisingly cold night of March.

Contrary to the image that most people have of Japanese, is that they LOVE alcohol and partying. Of course Japanese are usually distant and act rather stiff. But that's the exact reason for their fondness of the fermented sugar-drink. When they are intoxicated, it is the only time they can dispense of their stiffness and escape the pressure of society to walk in line. They are some of the merriest, craziest drinkers I've seen. For example, Japanese glasses don't stay empty for long. Generally a fellow drinker will refill your glass as soon as the last drop has disappeared down your throat.

As such Kendall and I had barely finished our first consumption of the night or the Japanese guy next to me already bestowed us with more of the golden liquid called beer. He started talking to me and I learned him to be of half-Japanese, half-American descent. I asked if they were all part of the same group. Apparently not. Our big welcome committee actually consisted of four different groups who had all met that night at the table in the bar. But in A-Bar such things don't matter. Everybody drinks together, talks with each other. Questions were being fired from all directions at Kendall and me and we were having trouble answering them all at once, let alone hear them in the noisy bar. Nonetheless we were enjoying every second of it; and of the free beer of course. It was a very pleasant chaos.
It wouldn't have been a complete night Japanese style, if there hadn't been any collective downing of beer as if it concerned liquor shots. The guys at our table stoop up, shouted our names and told us to down our beers together with them which Kendall and I did under loud cheering. I maybe had five or six of those beer-shots one after the other, when I decided to sit down again and take it easy for a while. A minute later the half-American fella sitting next to me looked at my empty beer glass, shook his head in disapproval, refilled it and told me to down it. Which I did. Drinking with Japanese is definitely a shortcut to rehab. I wonder where the AA holds meetings here...

Because of some switching places, people visiting the toilet, a red-faced girl was sitting next to me at one point. (Most Asians' face turns red soon after they start drinking alcohol. It's genetic.) Even though she was 24, she was already married and proudly showed her wedding ring to me. I told her it was a shame she was off the market as she was a pretty girl. Doesn't drinking make us all a little more audacious and flirtatious. However, she pointed over to her friend at the other end of the table and asked me straight up what I thought of her. "She's pretty."
, I said as a white lie upon which the married girl required if I wouldn't take her friend as my wife then. White lie number two.
It must have been about an hour later when Erez and Efrat arrived and took a seat at our table. I introduced them to our Japanese amigos and vice versa. While drinks were immediately being ordered for them, I explained the situation. Erez and Efrat both laughed and joined in on the ongoing fun and conversations. Pascale arrived another 45 minutes later. The Latin power-combo, Sakura (Brazil) and Melinda (Colombia), eventually adhered to our company as well, heatening up the feast even more with their erogenous appearances. Sporadically people from other tables would join us for a bit and then leave again. And I remember there to be a long-haired wig and fake glasses at one point which most people of course tried on, accompanied by the ensuing laughter and giggles of the others. The drinking and amusing turmoil continued all night. I'm sure Bacchus was proud of us!
I think Kendall and I only ordered one beer ourselves. The rest was provided by our benevolent Asian friends at the table. Towards the end though we were a little worried of having this huge bill, since all of the Japanese had left before us and we weren't sure whether or not they had paid for everything. But no, worrying proved to be redundant. Like it fits the giving and honest nature of the Japanese, a tiny bill awaited us when we left the bar around 1:15. Amazing; drinking and snacking all night and still end up paying for just one beer.


Good times indeed Ryan!










Sunday, March 11, 2007

"The Japanese clerk"

Being in Belgium the last two weeks of the year's shortest month made me realize something: no matter how "friendly" and "good" the service one enjoys in Japanese banks or stores is, I would rather like to deal with the Belgian (/western) type of customer care, despite the latter's rudeness at times. Allow me to argue my point.

It is a reputable fact about Japan: the service to a customer, whether it'd be in a store, hotel or at a bank, is friendly, fast and one is usually treated with great respect. Rudeness is a scarcity. And what is even more astonishing: it's ubiquitous. No matter where high-speed shinkansen and bicycles have taken me, I enjoyed the same service all over Japan. All the tourists love it and many of my ryugakusei-friends as well think it's one of Japan's finest traits (ryugakusei = exchange student). I used to love it too and I still genuinely enjoy it now and then.

On the other hand you have the "western" type of customer treatment: very variable and dependent from place and individual. Sometimes one is welcomed with a warm smile and efficient handling of business. But numerous are experiences when the person serving you seems to be struck down by the unbearable lightness of monotony and seems unaware of the existence of "customer care". "Fuck you!", a phrase I have sometimes shouted in my head as I was leaving the village post office or nearby bar after being treated bluntly.

I hear you thinking: "What the hell is the problem then?"
-> Japanese service to a customer is devoid of personality.

The individual serving you hardly ever inserts something from his/her own personality. No matter who you deal with behind that counter, it's always the same person who is being played in front of you. There is something like "the ideal Japanese bureaucrat/store clerk" and the guidelines to impersonate this character are closely followed.
In Belgium for example you never know what to expect as each person is different. Sometimes fortune abandons you with a genuine asshole. BUT, the next day you might have a truly friendly person there opposite you and then you can feel it, that unfeigned friendliness. And THAT's what I don't feel in Japan: there is nothing behind that smile of the store clerk or the white-collar worker. It is empty as such. It feels rather like you're dealing with a robot well-trained to recite "phrases" straight out of the national manual of "How to be the ideal clerk? (for dummies)".
Usually I just want to make my purchase and exit the store. But occasionally, when an excellent mood has struck me, I like to make a little joke at the counter; or a funny remark. In Belgium those are usually greeted with a smile or a follow-up humorous comment. Or even better, the store clerk himself takes the initiative and a pleasant exchange of words ensues. In Japan however, my servant of that moment almost always ignores the comment and acts like nothing was said. I don't like that. Breaking out of the "clerk-character" is something I hardly witness here.
Furthermore, that cyborg opposite you in the bank follows the rules strictly, and I mean STRICTLY! And everyone with some experience with Japan knows that bureaucratic rules (/bullshit) are plentiful. Whenever you need something done for which maybe a tiny, little bit of rule-bending or circumventing is necessary; or something which is not described in the rule-book, you can be certain the clerk smilingly acts like you're asking them to walk on water. How uncompromising that person is. How greatly my experiences with Belgian banks and other bureaucratic divisions contrast! At the very least they don't act by the EXACT letter of the rule-book and sporadically you're even granted with a favor (Japan?!). My German ryugakusei-friend Moe summed it up neatly (yet a little harshly): "In Japan there is no REAL service."

This is why I prefer the Belgian (/"western") customer treatment. At least friendliness exhibited to you is genuine. And that warms the heart. Quod erat demonstrandum.

(Remark: Of course there are times I witness non-typical behavior in Japan. But then it's always AFTER my initiative/initial joke, the clerk breaks character and reacts like a real human being would.)

Yesterday was a good day. I ran with my Israeli friend Erez along the Kamogawa-river and afterwards we biked to his place where he cooked for his wife Efrat and me a delicious, traditional Israeli dish, Shakshouka, for lunch. Meeting people from all over the world, learning from them, trying exotic food; I really love it! If I can experience that here, I'll face those occasional irritations with Japanese society with a smile on my face.

Thursday, March 8, 2007

The one-year mark approaches

One time Caleb (an American friend of mine) and I were having this long conversation in the cafeteria of Kyoto University together with our Israeli friend. To be honest, the three of us were there for over 3 hours, debating love, war and other topics of lesser gravitas. At one point we entered the realm of hobbies and more particularly, creative output. Caleb plays the guitar, writes song lyrics and I don't know how many other things he mentioned. Undercover mossad spy Estie was no stranger to things alike either, writing poetry occasionally or updating her blog.

Then my number was up. "... Uhm... well uhm...". I tried to remember what that particular, creative thing was that I did... How could it slip my mind?... My brain cells were going in over-drive only to discover there was nothing there to discover.
"Don't you have any creative output whatsoever?" Caleb's remark came as a revelation to myself, although it embarrassed me slightly at the time. He was right; I had no real, creative output. Even though I am an avid consumer and fan of the brain power and creative efforts of others, I myself contributed nothing to the noble field of the arts. Ouch!
Caleb assured me that you don't neccesarily HAVE to have a creative outlet and that appreciating the artistic creations of others is a laudable thing on itself.

However, ever since this small epiphany sporadically re-entered my mind, up until today when I finally put my aspiration for a blog into practice. Many friends of mine here in Japan atrust their experiences and feelings to the internet and I admire them for it. So why not give it a shot myself. At the very least it will be a good exercise exploring my limitations concerning the English language. And maybe someday I will even get satisfaction out of it up to the point where I can't live anymore without regularly writing down something. Who knows. One thing though I will try to cautiously avoid: merely summing up activities. In the past I have noticed I'm prone to do so. Surely with this blogging-experience I must try to do more.

This short introduction being said, pretty soon I will have been here in Japan for one entire year. I arrived April 5th, 2006. Another two years are in store for me. Luckily I've had the fortune of surrounding myself with awesome friends and partying/having fun certainly tops my agenda here. What an incredibly fun year I have had so far...
I promise to work on the studying a bit more starting from April, when I enter my master's program (a thought undoubtedly shared by most of my fellow Monbusho-students). But until then it's technically vacation here so I shouldn't feel quite so bad for not touching the books. After all, I have to charge up my study-battery for the start of classes again (an excuse, I know). Right now it is carpe diem!