4 Days in Tokyo. (Part 1)

First impressions of Tokyo; really strange and sticky. When we got off our bus at West Shinjuku we were greeted by a Japanese woman by the name of Yuki and two university students whose names I cannot remember. We we're confused, sleep deprived and apparently I was grumpy. Nevertheless we pressed onward to do some very basic sightseeing which consisted mostly of getting food. I was mildly annoyed that the first thing I was to eat in Japan would be Spaghetti Carbonara. I thought I'd left understanding and Carbonara back in the West, but somehow they followed me across the world. Regardless though, we ate and then headed towards our hotel. Much like the journey, I was far too occupied to really worry or be stressed so I just focused on taking it all in and chatting with the Japanese students. Although slightly shy, they we're very polite and nice.....extremely Japanese. As I walked past all the bright lights and signs that made absolutely no sense I found myself struggling to believe I was on the opposite side of the world. I still find it hard to believe. I've journeyed almost as far as I can get from home and yet I don't feel that far away. I guess that's the problem with planes. In a journey like a hike you expend energy through movement and you traverse rough terrain with nothing more than your own body and effort. Even in a boat or a train at least you can see the landscape roll by. In a plane however, your placed in a metal tube and hurled across the world at incomprehensible speeds. It feels more like a horrendously inefficient teleporter rather than something that moves.

When we got to our hotel we put on yukatas (these really nice Japanese bathrobes) and I began a very intimate relationship with the air conditioning unit in my room. This was not my first encounter of the miracle that is air conditioning. In Bulgaria it served as my iron lung whilst my pasty Irish body was pounded by the relentless humidity. In Tokyo it was similar story; a man and a machine entwined in a forbidden romance that could not be.

We began the next morning with a quick trip on the Japanese underground. Although I had heard stories of the gender segregated carriages, that was only from 7-9 in the morning, so I had missed my first chance to be culturally insensitive. I also felt somewhat jipped. Not once was I felt up by a burly Japanese man in a crowded train. I had heard that blondes we're hot stuff for Japanese perverts so you can only imagine what the lack of groping did to my self esteem. Feeling dejected and undesirable I made my with the group to
Harajuku.

In case you didn't know a lot of Japanese people love posing for photos...I, on the other hand, hate it. This is why I felt the urge to pretend that my crepe was a telescope.

Harjuku appeared to be somewhat of a haunt for tourists as there were many stalls filled with junk (albeit very interesting junk) and we were certainly not the only foreigners there. Apparently it is also a stomping ground for Cosplayers so I was a small bit disappointed when I wasn't met off the train by Yu-Gi-Oh with a deck ready in hand to duke it out with me in duel monsters. I didn't see anyone dressed up initially which was actually a little disappointing but this was soon remedied when I saw what can only be described as a once in a lifetime sight. A man in a hat and cape, with 18th century clothes was walking hurriedly through the crowd. In his left hand he had a leash which the other end of was attached to a piece of corn that he was dragging along. All I could think was "Oh there's Japanese Zorro taking his piece of corn for a walk". Unfortunately I didn't have time to take a picture as I was too busy picking up my jaw, which upon seeing Japanese Zorro walking his corn, had dropped so low it was nestled between my shoes.

Barrels of Sake outside the Meiji Shrine. Legend has it after decades of fermentation, they all still taste like ass.

After this we did some more sight-seeing which included visiting the Meiji Shrine and a Japanese market. Although they we're both really interesting the jet lag and humidity had finally caught up with me and I was too tired to really enjoy myself properly. My fellow Japan volunteers saw I wasn't t feeling 100% and quickly took many photos of me for their new website www.brendanlooksgrumpy.com. I swear to god if it becomes an actual website I will murder all the other Japan volunteers via eggplant enema.

Me taking a quick break from my grumpiness to improve another photo.

More in part 2!

Departure!

It feels somehow surreal to pack up your life and move to the opposite side of the world. Or at least it did on Wednesday the 13th of September, which was my last day in Ireland. As I walked home after saying my final goodbyes to my friends I felt somehow numb. I thought back on all the little random chances and happenings that combined together to lead me to this junction in my life and how easily, if one of them had been missing, I might be doing something completely different. As these thoughts raced through my head I finished off the last of my packing and tried to get some rest.

Myself and the other volunteers waiting to get on the huge plane which you can see in the reflection of the glass.

The day of departure wasn't at all like the weeks of worry and excitement that had come before hand. I wasn't focusing on going away for a year I was simply getting to the airport on time, checking in, transferring flights and so on. I was merely completing a set of tasks that required most if not all of my attention so I didn't have time to contemplate or worry. It was oddly calming. Of course everything went well except for one small hitch.

Fuck you Will Smith...

 As I was passing through security the woman behind the desk took interest in my bag. I, like many other people, manage to convince myself, as I go through the metal detector, that I actually do have a kilogram of heroin safely hidden up my ass. So when she put the bag back through I was feeling quite uncomfortable. While the security guards we're talking I was racing through the packing procedure in my head making sure that I couldn't possibly have anything unusual in my bag. It was at this moment when I remembered the small butcher knife that had been resting next to my bag while it was being packed. One of my relatives must have been having a snack that required a certain degree of precision cutting that your garden variety butter knife can't provide. About 3 seconds after this thought entered my head I could see a small grey object that had been illuminated on the screen of the x-ray machine. The possibility that a family member accidentally threw the knife in while packing suddenly became very real. My heart started racing as the security guard asked me to open the bag. I proceeded to do so and as I lifted up the first layer of shirts, there it was, my grandparents butcher knife, shinning with pride as it displayed it's potential as a lethal weapon. I imagine that if the knife had somehow had a face at that moment it would have had the same facial expression as Will Smith in the poster for that god awful movie. It was in this moment where I had horrible flashes in my mind, of being led into some airport security back room where a fat hairy man nicknamed barry-the-plumber was waiting with gloved fingers ready to probe me. Fortunately, this didn't happen. They we're quite understanding about it in fact and I continued on my merry way silently wishing horrible things upon my family.

Barry-The-Plumber.

3 uneventful plane rides later I stepped off in Tokyo. The first bit of culture shock that hit me was when we were getting on the bus to take us from the airport to our accommodation. Three young employees of the bus service took our bags from us and all bowed in a line as the bus pulled away. It was a small gesture and one I knew I'd encounter but it was still odd to see three grown men who contribute to the nations GDP bowing to some sweaty student on his gap year. Let alone being bow worthy, I'm still wondering when did I become a Mr. Brendan Scally. Nevertheless though I had made it to Tokyo and my gap year was about begin.......YAY CHEESY CLIFFHANGER :D

Scramble crossing in Tokyo.

Hopes and Fears

Hopes and fears...we all have them and in many ways are defined by them.  When you reflect on your own desires and anxieties you really are reflecting on what makes you tick. I can think back to my childhood and remember some of the fears that plagued me, and believe me, there we're many. In fact, when I think about it, I was essentially a blonde haired "Chuckie" from the Rugrats.

Me aged 10...with ginger hair.

Anyway, I digress. As I was saying, when I was a small child I had many fears. One in particular that stood out was my arachnophobia, or fear of spiders.  While the little fuckers made my skin crawl, I was absolutely obsessed with them. It gave me some sort of weird pleasure to pick up an encyclopedia of spiders and recoil in horror as I found the hairiest most venomous bastard of the bunch. While you may think this is weird, for many, fear is just a step away from obsession and in my case it's definitely true. Although my hopes and fears have progressed and changed as I've grown up, the close link between fear and fascination remains.

So today...about 10 days from departure (oh god!) what are my hopes and fears? Well, both can be easily answered in one word; attention. We all love attention (sorry if you're a hermit), at least, in a positive way. It validates us, and shows that people acknowledge our existence. I, for example, love positive attention...like many other people...obviously. Behind all the false modesty and phrases such as "oh stop, it's nothing really!" there is a ten year old saying "Yes!! I did the thing very well! Acknowledge it and say it to me again!".For the most part there is nothing wrong with this, apart from maybe an over reliance on the approval of others. But generally it's not a problem. Now, on the flip side of things, negative attention. This is something that literally gives me nightmares. I still have World War Two-esque flashbacks from performing a play as a child and completely freezing on stage. Feeling all the leering eyes falling upon me as panic begins to flood into my body...I start to pant, the relentless heat of the stage light burns my skin and a searingly quiet silence follows...Ugh! It sends shivers down my spine as I type. But despite this, I still crave attention...while fearing it at the same time. Really, I would love to pursue something like acting, more than anything, but I am petrified by fear at the same time. In a way, I'm happy that it is this way, because in order to achieve that ultimate happiness and satisfaction, I will have to confront my ultimate fear. It is my Everest....without trying to sound over-dramatic.

Now, at this point you may be thinking "Jesus Brendan, what does this have to do with your year in Japan?". Well I'm getting to that imaginary heckler, so please shut the fuck up and listen. It seems that by teaching with Project Trust I may have found a way to both confront my fear of attention while indulging in it at the same time. Teaching may not be the hardest job in the world but for me it is something that I enjoy while facing a personal demon. So in a way I am killing two birds with the one stone, sort of. However with a venture like this comes added risk. What will it do to my self esteem and confidence if all goes horribly wrong, I drop out and return home. I know these are the things that typically enter the head of someone just before a big journey but still, I have invested so much time and effort into this that I would truly be crushed if it goes terribly wrong. But, I suppose fear is an integral part of any adventure and one that I wouldn't omit of given the choice.

My Everest....doesn't look too bad does it?

Anyway, enough negativity for now. This will probably be my last post in Ireland so soon enough I can get down to the real purpose of this blog...documenting my year in Japan...and having the opportunity to rant overseas, that too.