By Mark
Hello everyone. Mark again, after a small hiatus.
As nice as my hotel room at the Hotel Okura was, I got sick of seeing the same walls night after night, and I decided to break out of my self-imposed prison in grand style. I reached the conclusion that the most trouble could be found with other gaijin, so I dressed to the nines, and headed out for Roppongi, the foreign section of Tokyo.
I'm not a historian, so I don't know how Roppongi evolved into the quagmire of everything non-Japanese it is today. However it came into being, the results are plain to see. The streets are a Babel of languages, and signs completely devoid of kanji and kana line the streets. If what you are looking for isn't Japanese, chances are you can find it in Roppongi.
Roppongi is a savior for those who cannot stomach Japanese cuisine. Every foreign food is here somewhere. Just in the time I was there I found a Johnny Rocket's, Hard Rock Cafe, Tony Roma's, and an infinite variety of Asian restaurants. I ate at an incredibly tiny Thai restaurant, and had one of the best Thai meals I can remember.
Roppongi is also the home of countless bars, clubs, and other places of pleasure, all of which are extremely foreigner friendly. I went bar hopping for the night, just to check out the scene. I stopped in at a bar called Gas Panic, and had a ridiculously overpriced Heineken. It was elbow-to-elbow in there, and the American and Australian bartenders hustled people for tips.
Tipping is a very rare and frowned-upon practice in most of Japan. The bartenders had a bucket with a label proclaiming how hard they were working and how we should fork over our dough to these unfortunate destitute souls. Needless to say, I was not impressed, and left after I finished my beer.
I stopped in at another bar further up the street, and squeezed myself up to the bar. I mortgaged myself another ten dollar beer, and scoped the place out. Within a minute or two, I came to the conclusion: pickup joint. This was apparently a place where Japanese women went to pick up foreign men...or vice versa. How do I know? Because I was hit on within ten minutes of sitting down. Now, don't get me wrong, it's good for the ego every now and then. However, the ladies (yes, plural) weren't in my age range...by about two decades. I bowed out as gracefully as I could, and beat a hasty retreat up the street to another bar.
By this time, I was in a dancing mood, and was looking for a place to help me out. I found another bar by another Gas Panic, which had a nice dance floor, and not too many people on it. They were playing a fairly decent mix, and I grooved by myself in a corner. I asked a few girls to dance, but either my Japanese was lacking, or they just weren't interested. Tiring quickly of this, I left in search of my next hangout. After being rejected, I was rather grumpy, but I heard a very young British girl say as I walked by 'Now HE'S cute!'. Quite honestly, I don't know if she was talking about me, but it's nice to think so. :)
My final stop for the night was at a place advertising live music. I had to climb about 6 flights of stairs to get to the club. It was about the size of a two bedroom apartment, but it had a bar, a stage, and couches all along the sides of the room. The band was a Beatles cover band, and did an excellent job. I sat through one and a half sets before I decided to call it a night, and drag myself home.
It may seem like I'm down on Roppongi, which couldn't be farther from the truth. You just have to be in the mood for it, which in retrospect I was not. It also helps to have friends to dance and drink with, which is why I hooked up with Kim when she and her friends came into Tokyo. But that's another story.
Email me your comments at gleep@lvcm.com
