Drinks, Punch-ups and Rock n Roll - Three Stories From My Time In Tokyo

One of my reasons for moving to Japan was to find stories to write about, which I did…for a year.

After my first year in Japan, the unusual became the usual, and I struggled to find topics and stories interesting enough to post.

I recently moved to Sapporo in northern Japan after four and a half years in Tokyo. Things are much slower up here, and I left a lot of good mates in Tokyo.

I’ve found myself often reminiscing about my time down south. While recalling those memories, I realized that I have many noteworthy stories – and most of them I can’t share.

However, here are three short tales that I can disclose from my time in Tokyo:

Oktoberfest in May

If you’ve never heard of this event, you can take a good guess from the name as to when this famous festival happens. Not in Japan, though.

Oktoberfest in Tokyo takes place from the spring to the summer in parks around the capital; stalls at the event sell German beer and snacks. There’s no admission fee and no limit on attendees.

The beer on sale is outrageously priced – one drink costs around 1000yen ($10). In addition to the steep price, there’s a 500yen “deposit” for the glass to make sure you don’t nick it. (Many enterprising sorts brought in beer from the outside and poured it into the rental glasses).

Despite those gripes, the event itself is a lot of fun. In the last few days of May, the temperature is already hitting 30 degrees in Tokyo. The daytime is rough, but the evening is pleasant—ideal weather to be drinking outdoors.

During the two nights we went to Oktoberfest, the same German band performed. They played famous tunes from their homeland, such as Mambo No. 5 and YMCA.

After the festivities had ended on night two, my mate Lewis and I had one more convenience store beer by the train station.

An elderly man ambled up to us; he was wearing a brown blazer with a shirt and a bowler hat. He started spouting the little English he knew in our direction. His embarrassed wife followed behind him, profusely apologizing. The older man told us that his wife had an art exhibition, and clearly, he helped himself to the free wine.

He then started talking about Donald Trump, a natural conversation to have with a Scottish and Englishman. The elderly man went into his jacket pocket and pulled out a laminated picture of himself with Trump from about thirty years ago.

It made me wish that I had taken a picture of myself with Boris Johnson when he was campaigning on Uxbridge High Street in 2014.

Attacked by a three-year-old

In my time teaching English, I’ve taught all ages ranges and various types of lessons.

While I’m confident teaching most levels, there’s one group so fierce and tough to teach that they make the most hardened teacher call in sick the day before: Kindergarten.

In Tokyo, I worked for a large English Conversation School chain. On Saturday mornings at my school, we had a weekly kindergarten lesson. The lesson was rotated between four teachers, so we would only teach them once a month.

The company provided us with a “Lesson Management Plan” – or “LMP” for short. The LMP broke down the 40 minutes of the lesson into stages: “Warm Up”, “Practice”, “Wrap Up”, etc.

When teaching kindergarten kids, you might as well rip up those LMPs before entering the door; the LMP’s never factored in the kid crying, refusing to enter the room, spitting at you and various other incidents.

My most hazardous kindergarten event happened when I was new to teaching the little ones. In this group, there was a tiny three-year-old girl who we will call Usagi.

It was Colouring Time. It had been a typically chaotic lesson, and I was enjoying the reprieve that Colouring Time provided. While getting the next CD ready, I felt a sharp jab at my leg. I jumped up and saw a grinning Usagi holding a pencil like a spear. Now, I’m quite patient with kids, especially those as young as three, but not ones with stabbing tendencies; I snatched that pencil from her hand and let out a sharp “No!”

Infuriated at getting her weapon confiscated, Usagi rolled her fist back as if she were Mike Tyson looking for the KO and then struck my already wounded leg. She landed a few more haymakers before the Japanese staff member by the door witnessed this beating. The staff member hastily entered the room, Usagi fled under the table.

Thankfully, I never had any more kids with such a penchant for violence. I got better at controlling the kids in the kindergarten lesson, but I always kept my guard up for any errant shots.

Standard uniform for a kindergarten lesson

Spoon Lady

It was a Sunday evening in April; the cherry blossoms were in full bloom; pink petals covered the city for two weeks. Everyone was in a joyous mood.

However, that night we weren’t interested in seeing some flowers, we came to rock.

My friend Kosuke was moving to Australia the very next day. His band were playing one last concert; I brought along some other friends to give him a fitting send-off.

I met two of my mates outside the venue, a nondescript corner of the swang Meguro district. We walked downstairs. I managed to get discounts for my mates and myself as I was “with the band.”

Despite the venue being intimate, you would think the concertgoers were following social distancing a year before it was a thing. There were about fifteen people there – and ten of them were Kosuke’s work friends.

We watched Kosuke’s band perform renditions of Sweet Child O’Mine and Paradise City. During their set, my other mates who attended a cherry blossom viewing party (i.e. drinks in the park) rolled in.

After Kosuke’s band finished, we were all ready to hit a bar with him and his bandmates, but the headline act was up next.

Note: The headbanger on the bottom left

A shaven-head woman who had been standing in the corner, moved to the front of the stage. The final band of the night came out; they looked noticeably older and had more of an edge on them than the boys who had performed earlier. The frontwoman took the mic a few moments later, wearing a timely-selected cherry blossom adorned hat and dress.

The band started playing, and the shaven-head woman took advantage of the sparsely-filled hall and rocked out with reckless abandonment.

After performing some tunes, the frontwoman dashed to the back and came out wearing a giant spoon costume.

I was a few beers in by this point, and my friends who came from the cherry blossom party had drunk into oblivion. We all felt like we were watching a prime Bowie.

The frontwoman had one more costume change left in her when she came out donning a comparatively demure set of angel wings.

After the show, we went to drink with Kosuke’s band for a suitably mental rock n roll after-party. Sadly, Spoon Lady didn’t join us.

Thanks for reading everyone, I’ll try to crank out more blog posts in the future!

Man vs Beast

It was August 2016, my first summer in Japan. I had finished work and was heading home; I was glad to be getting back to my air-conditioned room.

Once I got in, I threw my bag to the ground and sat on the swivel chair. I lifted the lid on my laptop, leaned back and then saw it; a giant cockroach hanging on the wall. My chair thumped the floor as I frantically went for the door handle; I dashed out of the room.

In the hallway, I took a deep breath.

While collecting my thoughts, I saw a small ironing board nestled in the corner; a previous resident had left it. The stifling heat in the hallway had me yearning for my chill room, I exhaled and steely grabbed the board.

A weapon in hand, I cautiously returned to my room; I peeked to see the cockroach perched in the same position. I walked back in slowly.

I stood and looked up at the intruder; it was unfazed by my presence. My grip tightened. I clenched the board with both hands and swung the board at the cockroach as if I were Stone Cold aiming a steel chair at Triple H.

*SMACK!*

I slowly pulled back the board; the wall was clean. I turned over the other side of the board, expecting to find a gooey mess; it was stainless. The S.O.B had escaped.

That night, I plugged the gap in my door with two towels. I couldn’t sleep well, knowing my nemesis was still scurrying about.

The following day, I went over to the chemist to find a bug trap. I stumbled upon a whole section for cockroaches. I looked at a few items before deciding on a powerhouse of a can that had a picture of a cockroach with a large red “X” over it.

Once I returned home, I promptly set up the can and sprayed all over my room, in case the insect decided to return.

Comforted, I browsed my laptop for a few hours until I saw something scurrying above. The ‘roach was back. I darted out of my chair, but I didn’t scramble for the door; I went for the can. I turned back. It had disappeared.

I stepped back. The room was small; there weren't many places for an insect so big to hide. After a minute, I saw a shady figure emerge from under my bed; I pulled down on the trigger and unleashed, the cockroach recoiled and hurried back underneath — not today, bud. I knelt and sprayed that sucker where he hid.

A few moments later, the cockroach hobbled out; its pace had been robbed. As it squirmed on the ground, I hit it with my final shot; the roach turned on to its’ back, its legs flailing, before it finally stopped moving.

I threw a tissue over its lifeless body. Then another one, and another one. Finally, I summoned up the courage to pick up my 15-layer tissue body bag; I galloped to the hallway and chucked the carcass out of the window.

I gleefully turned back; at that moment, my neighbour at the time, a large Swiss man in his late thirties, emerged out of his room. We had only exchanged nods by this point, but I was in enough of a jubilant mood to verbally communicate. I pointed towards the window and mustered out, “Heh, cockroach.”

“Cockroach?!” the Swiss guy darted into his room and emerged with the same type of can I had used.

I replied, “No, it’s done.”

Not Surprisingly Good – My Trip to Australia and New Zealand

When I learned that my workplace would be closed for a whole week in August, I saw it as the perfect chance for a catch-up.

My mate Noah has been living in New Zealand, and I hadn't seen him in a few years. Another friend whom I met in Japan named Thavy had returned to Australia last year. Everything lined up nicely for an Oceania summer vacation. The plan was to spend three days in Melbourne and four days in Auckland.

A few days before flying out, I saw on the news that a typhoon was approaching. Japan gets many typhoons, but most of them pass by Tokyo, but this one was expected to hit the area on August 8th – the day I flew out.

I left for the airport earlier than I planned. While on the Narita Express train, I glanced up at the screen showing the airports flight statuses. I felt a pit in my stomach when a screen showed all flights with a bright red "CANCELLED" label next to them. I urgently checked my phone; it turned out that all domestic and a few international flights were cancelled, but my plane to Melbourne was safe.

Once I was finally seated on the plane, the pounding raindrops outside made it hard to relax. The pilot's voice piped up over the PA, "Good evening folks, well it looks like there are no planes ahead of us, so we'll be leaving earlier than expected." I exhaled and settled in.

The flight was close to 10 hours, but Melbourne and Japan's time difference is only 1 hour. I left in the evening in Tokyo and landed in the morning in Melbourne. Despite the favourable conditions, I still couldn't sleep on the plane. When I arrived at my friend Thavy's house, the first thing on the agenda was a nap.

After waking, we went out to explore Melbourne. My first impression of Australia was "massive". Thavy lives in the suburban area where the roads are wide and the houses are mansions.

As Australia is in the Southern Hemisphere, it was winter when I arrived. I had packed warm clothes, but it was still a shock to go from Tokyo's scorching 35-degree weather to a relatively chilly 15°.

I had very few requests, but one absolute must was to go to Nando's. I've been living in Japan for three years, and the only things that I've been homesick for are BBC's coverage of the World Cup and Nando's. I almost fell off my chair when I learned they had branches in Australia. When I walked in, I immediately felt at home; the menu was the same as the UK's, as was the succulent taste of the peri-peri chicken.

After getting the important stuff out of the way, we went off to the city centre. While the suburban area was reminiscent of the US, the city was straight out of London. They even have a WHSmith. I met up with Thavy's friend Boone, and we had a few drinks around town.

I couldn't leave Australia without seeing some of the country's unique animals. I had no time to go to the Outback, so we went to the next best place, Melbourne Zoo. Thavy thought it was a strange request, but he agreed to take me.

Once at the zoo, I quickly realised why; young couples and families were the only people there on a weekday afternoon. I got to see many animals, such as a lion and a giraffe, but I'm sure I could've also seen those at Ueno Zoo in Tokyo. I couldn't see a koala as it was off hiding somewhere, but I did get to see a group of young kangaroos'.

After that, Thavy took me to a burger place he had wanted to check out. Then, to cap off our romantic evening, we went to a place called The Forum, a free-to-enter live music venue.

Thavy's friend arrived to interrupt our date; the three of us went to the restaurant to celebrate Thavy's birthday – which coincided with my trip.

Before heading to the restaurant, we stopped off at an alcohol shop. (Booze is strictly regulated in Australia, so you cannot buy alcohol at a convenience store or a supermarket, you must go to a dedicated place). The shop included notes from the staff on drinks; all the recommendations were phrased as questions:

"Best wine in Australia?"

"Good for a night out?"

I picked up six cans of Asahi (as I was too scared to try something new?)

The restaurant was surprisingly accommodating; they allowed us to bring our drinks in. After dinner, we went off to the karaoke place, which was conveniently located next door.

This place was right out of Tokyo; even the system was Japanese. However, the Australian version had some official music videos, which was thrilling to see after years of singing Rage The Against Machine songs to the backdrop of two Eastern Europeans on a date.

Too eager as it turned out, the next day, my voice was super raspy. Thavy and I went out for a hangover breakfast at a place nearby with his neighbours Anu and Victoria. Then, we came back and watched Deadpool 2 in his room. While watching the movie, I opened my mouth to ask a question about the flick.

"…ugggh….errr…."

My voice had gotten worse. After waking from another nap, my voice was gone. We went off to a trendy Malaysian food restaurant named Laksa King.

The rare chance to make a pun using my name was wasted ("Laksa King? More like Lak's a King!" I imagined saying).

Along with us was another of Thavy's friends, Mark. A real cheerful fellow who I wish I could've talked to.

While at the restaurant, Victoria asked Mark what he thought of the food,

"Well…it's not surprisingly good," he said.

Everyone responded with a collective "Huh?"

Mark clarified, "Well, it's good, and I'm not surprised because I know this place is good so, it's not surprisingly good!"

Before going to sleep, I checked the internet for remedies to fix my lost voice. I know I rock hard, but professional musicians must deal with this problem too, I thought. I found a YouTube video that demonstrated a technique. The doctor in the video applied pressure on the area just behind the Adam's Apple. I did that relentlessly before going to sleep.

The following day, Thavy knocked on the door, "You up?" he asked.

"…Err…yeah…!"

I could talk!

I applied pressure to the back of my neck at the airport and on the flight to Auckland.

My flight from Melbourne to Auckland was my first time flying in style: Premium Economy! When booking my ticket, I was surprised that the difference between Premium Economy and Standard Economy was only 2000yen ($20). In Premium, the chairs are a few inches wider, as is the TV screen, which helped during the surprisingly long 3 hours and a half journey.

After being greeted by Noah and his wife Karsen at the airport, we went off to downtown Auckland and the casino in the Sky Tower. I had never been to a casino, but what I learned from movies and Grand Theft Auto is that nobody wins at the casino (unless you create a save file beforehand and restart when you lose).

I took out $50 and went off to the blackjack table first; I felt reasonably comfortable with this game as I played it in GTA San Andreas. That comfort faded as my chips dwindled each round. We decided to go to the roulette table for one more go. I kept placing my chips on #30 as I recently turned that age. Noah managed to hit it big and won about $100. I battled on through. On my last chip, I decided to switch at the last moment to #32. The ball rolled around on the table….tick…tick….

"Number 30."

…

We went off to find a bar for Noah to celebrate his winnings and for me to curse my luck. In front of us were a couple; we followed them to find a cocktail bar nestled behind an alleyway. Walking down the stairs revealed a darkened room, only lit up by two men playing jazz in the corner. The waiter showed us to our table; he came back a bit later.

"So, we don't have menus," the waiter said. "We have about 3000 cocktails", he mumbled in a casual but deliberate way. "Instead, I'll ask you some questions." He then took a seat and glared towards me, "I'll start with you. Would you like a spicy or a sweet drink?"

"Erm…sweet."

The waiter thought intensely; he asked me two more closed questions. The waiter then turned to Noah. "So, would you like a spicy or…."

"I'd like a mojito", Noah interrupted.

The waiter cleared his throat and reverted to his script, "Hmm…Would that be a…?"

"Nah, just a mojito."

After we got our cocktails, Noah was feeling flush from his winnings. "Do you have any champagne?" he asked our waiter.

"Well, what would you like? We have about…."

"Could I just get a menu?" Noah replied.

The waiter returned with a menu in hand.

We took an Uber home; the driver didn't offer us 3000 different routes, sadly.

For the rest of my time in Auckland, we did some hiking, found a cave, played a lot of video games and watched some movies. But, most crucially – I had some more Nando's (it's in New Zealand as well).

Auckland is a big city, but you're never too far from nature, one wrong turn, and you end up on a hill.

Another takeaway about both countries is how extremely far they are from…anywhere. My journey from Auckland back to Tokyo took almost 11 hours.

Next time, I will talk about my domestic trips in Japan, featuring an expedition for chicken wings.

Bonus Sanji: He's three years old now!

An Update

This past year I've been focusing on writing wrestling/MMA articles for Sportskeeda; check them out here!

https://www.sportskeeda.com/profile/lak-gill

Tokyo 2017 - Cramp Seats and Hot Springs

I was on the fence about whether to go back to London for the holidays.

All the tickets I found were in the 120,000 yen range (about £850), which was more than I was willing to spend.

One night in November, while casually checking flights, I stumbled upon a bargain: An Air China flight to London for only 65,000 yen. Trips this cheap usually involve an 18-hour layover on an obscure Asian island, but this flight's connection was just an hour-long in Beijing. I scrambled to find my Barclaycard.

I was initially concerned about the short 1-hour connection. Unfortunately, my worries turned out to be valid. The flight from Tokyo was thirty minutes late taking off. By the time I landed in Beijing, my plane to London had already started boarding.

As I ran through the connection lobby, I had a multitude of worries, "What if my luggage gets lost in the mix-up?", "Perhaps I have to buy another flight ticket?!!".

Once I got to the connection area, the lady by the gate looked at my ticket and stoically pointed in the direction of a desk. I gave my connection boarding card to the staff at the counter. The staff mashed some buttons on her keyboard, looked up, and said sternly, "You've missed your flight. You're now on this flight in two hours. Your luggage will be on that plane. Goodbye"

I was thankful that I got another flight so soon after missing the other. I wasn't so grateful that I was given a middle seat. The plane also had the crampest seats ever. My knees cried in pain throughout the over 10-hour journey.

After that ordeal, I finally landed in Heathrow. I had been away for almost a year, the longest I had been away from London. I thought when I came home; I would be overwhelmed with feelings of nostalgia. But, instead, I felt a frightening sense of familiarity. It was as if that year in Tokyo had never happened, that all those experiences and moments were just a dream. Every moment I stayed in my childhood bedroom, I felt I was regressing.

After a few days, I realised I was on holiday and that it's perfectly acceptable to spend a whole day eating Indian snacks and playing Final Fantasy. Looking back, I'm grateful for having the time to relax away from work and to spend time with family, even with Sanji, who would try to tackle me every day.

Sanji's reaction to the snap election

While my mind eventually adjusted to being home, my body never did. My internal clock was stuck on Japan time. I would fall asleep at 7 am and wake up in the evening. While out with my friends, I ended up falling asleep in an IMAX cinema during a Rogue One showing (Can't say whether it was the jet lag or the movie that made me snooze).

The plane rides back were much smoother. On the flight from London to Beijing, I was again assigned a middle seat, but the two guys on each side of me were mates who kindly let me sit in the aisle seat. On the short flight from Beijing to Tokyo, I made my first Plane Friend (Hi Kristie!). As my body had stayed set to Japan time, I had a peaceful sleep that night.

Mt Fuji from Hakone

A week after coming back, I went on another holiday (those two days of work took it out of me), this time to Hakone, a town renowned for its hot spring resorts. I had two previous experiences of hot springs (or onsens as they call them here) at Odaiba Onsen Monogatari in Tokyo. Although, Odaiba's onsens are artificial. Hakone is the real deal.

While Tokyo is very welcoming to foreigners, with English menus and multi-lingual train signs, the hotel I stayed in Hakone was not. The menu for dinner was 100% Japanese, replete with tough kanji. If it weren't for my girlfriend, I would still be using Google Translate to figure out the drinks section.

At the hotel, I experienced Kaiseki for the first time. Kaiseki is a traditional multi-course dinner where many small dishes are served over a long period - almost ninety minutes. As a westerner who is used to instant gratification, this was as frustrating as watching an England national team game.

After dinner, I went to the onsen. The hotel was fully booked, so I expected the onsen to be packed with naked dudes. I walked into the changing room and saw one older gentleman in the indoor onsen. The outdoor onsen was empty. I took this rare opportunity to have a nice long soak.

Before leaving the hotel, I spotted a box of sake with a Kit Kat label; I don't think I've ever bought a souvenir faster. The next day we explored Hakone. Mt Fuji can usually be seen from Hakone, but the weather in the morning was overcast. Luckily, as the day progressed, the sky cleared up. As we went up for a ride on a cable car, we were able to see a good view of Fuji.

The journey back to Tokyo wasn't as scenic; it involved switching at least five trains. When I got home, I tore open the Kit Kat sake box to discover it wasn't Kit Kat flavoured sake; it was sake flavoured Kit Kat...

The box in question

To cap off a busy January, I moved house. After exactly one year, I left my sharehouse in Uguisuidani to an apartment in swanky Setagaya. The sharehouse experience was not what I thought it would be. There were no wild parties, but I did make a good friend (Hi Sanjar!).

On my floor, I was by far the longest-residing person; I went through at least twenty different neighbours. Before I left, the neighbours on my left were two Thai guys. When they weren't chatting to each other, they were having loud discussions on Skype. The person on my left was a Swedish guy with a strong cologne that filled the hallway. He also had a worse cough than the Korean guy. That's how I will remember my housemates, Skype and coughs.

Tokyo 2016 - Wrestling

Since I was a teenager, I’ve been a fan of Japanese professional wrestling.

There are no convoluted storylines and twenty minutes interviews like in American wrestling; the in-ring action takes precedence (mostly). Wrestling is still regarded as somewhat of a sport in Japan. Weekly Pro Wrestling magazine has a featured place on newsstands, and the big shows get coverage in the back pages of newspapers.

Japan has the most pro-wrestling companies in the world. In Tokyo, there is usually 4-5 events in a week. Along with the major companies, there are also niche shows with unique characters. Here are some stories from the shows I’ve been to.

Inside Korakeun Hall

The mecca of pro wrestling - not just in Japan but in the world is Korakeun Hall. Located under the shadow of the Tokyo Dome, the venue has wrestling shows from the biggest company (New Japan Pro Wrestling) to the obscure (DDT - Dramatic Dream Team, a promotion that has matches between men and blow-up dolls).

Getting to Korakuen involves walking up five flights of stairs (or waiting about ten minutes for the one elevator). The stairwell is filled with messages from the multitude of wrestlers who have competed there. I took my brothers who were visiting from London to Korakeun Hall for a Pro Wrestling NOAH show. As this was their first time in Tokyo, I chose to shell out for the expensive tickets just behind the front row.

The semi-main event was a 6-man tag (3 vs 3) involving Minoru Suzuki, a grizzled veteran who has competed in mixed martial arts fights. Suzuki was embroiled in a feud with Katsuhiko Nakajima, a plucky youngster looking to make a name for himself. Nakajima was on the opposite team for this match. During the bout, the wrestlers tumbled out of the ring. Suzuki dragged Nakajima around the outside by his hair. Suzuki then unhooked the guard rail and came towards us. He signalled for the crowd to move and then flung Nakajima by our feet. Nakajima clawed up the steps in the seating area; Suzuki met him at the stairs with a swift kick to the face. Now, I know that professional wrestling aims to present a show without legitimately hurting each other, but there was nothing ‘fake’ about that kick.

The venue I’ve been to the most is Shinjuku FACE; It’s on the 7th floor of the Humax Pavilion in Kabukicho. The floor used to be home to the Liquid Room nightclub. The former owners kindly left behind a blaring sound system that ensures that your soul feels each wrestler’s theme.

The most notable event I’ve been to at the venue was Stardom, a women’s wrestling show. I was with my friend Luke who had never been to a wrestling show - let alone a women’s show. The seats we booked were opposite the Hard Camera in the second row. The Hard Camera is where the women were posing and doing their big moves towards. So essentially, we were sitting in the Ass Row.

The view from Ass Row

FACE is an intimate venue; there were only about 300 people in the room. Despite the size, the women are also prone to some out of the ring shenanigans. During a tag bout, one of the wrestlers, Kagetsu, grabbed a vacant chair in the Ass Row (chairs are a wrestling trademark). Not happy with just the one chair, she ordered a male fan in the front row to give him his chair, he dutifully complied. A man behind us yelled at Kagetsu; she made a beeline towards him. Unfortunately. Luke and I were in between a raging Kagetsu and the heckler. Kagestu shouldered me, which caused me to hit Luke, who spilt his drink. She continued yelling at the man, ignoring me pressed against her and Luke’s fallen drink.

The night’s main event was between the champion Kairi Hojo and an American wrestler called Chelsea, who wore a ring outfit that made me glad to be sitting in that particular row. I tried to get into the action as it featured Hojo, who is considered one of the best wrestlers - male or female - in the world. But as the match went down, Chelsea’s outfit rode up. It was a great bout, but it was hard to concentrate with all that ass.

Kagetsu piles the chairs on her foe

I’ve been to three major shows, two of which were held in Ryōgoku Kokugikan (try saying that three times) or, as it’s known to westerners - Sumo Hall. This is the venue where the bimonthly sumo tournaments are held.

The seating arrangement at Sumo Hall is unique. The lower floors have traditional seating, but fans have to sit in 4 person boxes in the upper levels. The floor of the boxes is a thin carpet which is not very comfortable; fans usually bring cushions to the shows. You must also remove your shoes before sitting in the boxes, so make sure you don’t wear socks with holes.

The two Sumo Hall shows I’ve been to were promoted by New Japan Pro Wrestling (NJPW). Many of the wrestlers in NJPW are hurting bad, but they always deliver intense action on these shows.

My first Sumo Hall show was titled Invasion Attack, and the main event was an IWGP World Heavyweight Title match between the top star of the company Kazuchika Okada vs Tetsuya Naito - the lead bad guy in the promotion. Naito used to be a bland good guy who reinvented himself after a trip to Mexico. Naito is booed in the rest of Japan, but the diehard Tokyo fans love Naito and go nuts whenever he enters an arena.

The match raged on for 30 minutes; it seemed that Okada was on the way to retaining with his trademark finishing move, the ‘Rainmaker’ before Naito reversed the move into his finisher, the ‘Destino’ for the three count. The crowd erupted. We had just witnessed the crowning of a new heavyweight champion! When awarded the title belt by the referee, Naito looked at the belt, flung it into the air and walked away.

As awesome as Invasion Attack was, the event was usurped by the G1 CLIMAX Final in August. The G1 is a month-long round-robin tournament that takes place in arenas all over Japan. The final takes place at Sumo Hall. After a lot of kanji translating and research, I found out the tickets went on sale at 10 am on a Monday. I ran to my local convenience store to order the tickets; after one minute, the chair seats had gone, I managed to snag two upper-row seats for me and my friend.

The final ended up being contested between two men no one expected to be there. Firstly, perennial underdog Hiroki Goto advanced to the final. The other semi-final was between Naito and a Canadian wrestler called Kenny Omega in a rare bad guy vs bad guy match. Everyone assumed that Naito winning the G1 was a foregone conclusion, but Omega ended up picking up the victory with his finisher, the One-Winged Angel.

A shot from the Omega/Naito match (Omega is the one in the air)

The atmosphere in the arena was electric. The fans knew, either way, history will be made. Omega was looking to become the first foreigner to win the G1 Climax in the tournament’s 26-year history, while Goto needed the victory badly for his career after years of near misses.

In a perfect piece of storytelling, Omega hit moves from his friends and rivals of yesteryear. Despite those big moves, Goto wouldn’t stay down. Finally, Goto hit his finishing move, the Shouten Kai for the one...two...KICK OUT!! To the surprise of everyone, Omega kicked out! Shortly after Omega hit his finishing move, the One-Winged Angel, the referee counted. One...two...three! Omega had done it! We had witnessed history!

In the post-match celebration, Omega spoke in English. Omega has been living in Japan for over five years and can speak Japanese, but he only talks to the crowd in English after becoming a bad guy. Because only bad people speak a foreign language. Omega continued speaking in English, most of the audience looked around bemused; a few fans shouted “Nihongo!” (“Speak Japanese!”). I felt incredibly special as I was one of a few people in the building to understand what he was saying.

If you are in Tokyo, I highly recommend checking out a wrestling show. Even if you are not a wrestling fan, Japanese pro wrestling shows a unique side of the capital. Just be careful if you are sitting near the front row.

Bonus pic: Luke and I in between a Japanese wrestlers legs

Tokyo 2016 - Saving Money and Looking Good

My top concern before I moved to Japan wasn't the language, making friends or food. It was getting a haircut.

I've been going to the same barber in London for many years. We're so familiar that all I have to do is sit on the chair and nod when he asks, "The usual?"

My barber cultivates my hairstyle, so the first time I had to explain how it is cut was when I was in the United States.

"So.... it's a little long on this side, but the top is heavy...and this part you only use scissors..." After a few more rambling seconds, the hairdresser in North Carolina got the trimmer out and asked, "So what number should I shave it?"

The second time I got my haircut in the States, I conceded defeat early. "Give me a #3 all over," I said. Five minutes after starting, the barber quipped, "You don't say much, do you?" Hey, it's your job to start the conversation!

My Japanese is not as good as my English (just about), so the thought of explaining how I want my hair cut in a foreign language was a nightmare. I looked online for English speaking barbers; I gawped at the 4000 yen ($40) prices.

It was March; my hair had reached an unsociable level, I needed a trim urgently. One day at work, I noticed my coworker's stylish new haircut; I quizzed him, "Where did you get your haircut?"

"QB House", he replied.

QB House is a chain barber store that charges only 1000 yen (+80 yen for tax) for a cut; I had seen stores around Tokyo. I bit the bullet and went to the one closest to my house in Nippori.

I walked in and inserted 1000 yen into the ticket machine. After jabbing some buttons unsuccessfully, one of the barbers came in and pointed towards the section to enter the 80 yen (for tax). I got my ticket and sat in line. At QB House, no barber is jibing at you to start idle chit-chat with him; everyone has their haircut in quiet. The process is beautifully impersonal.

As I got up to get my cut, the barber took my jacket and bag. Then, he pushed the mirror to reveal a secret hideaway to store my items. I had practised certain phrases to say while getting my haircut, but I didn't have to use any of them; I simply showed the barber an old selfie of myself. It may be considered rude to stick a picture into a barber's face in other places, but here in QB House, it's encouraged. They even have an app for you to take selfies from different angles for future cuts. After showing the picture, the barber confirmed where to cut, to which I replied "Hai" (yes) about ten times.

After finishing the cut, I looked to my left and saw the barber clutching a vacuum; I assumed that was for the hair on the floor. The vacuum turned on, and the barber proceeded to run the machine over my head. Because the vacuum catches every little strand, there's no need to shower afterwards; you can go about your day as usual.

The result was outstanding; he emulated it exactly. Since then, I've gone to QB House monthly for a trim.

Chuhai's are Japan's best-kept secret - for a reason. They are deadly. Chuhai's are a doozy of mix shochu and highball. (The name "Chuhai" is a combination of the two drinks). Chuhai's come in many flavours; the flavours are seasonal, so don't get too attached to one (still miss you cherry). The alcohol percentage in these drinks range from 5% to 9% but what makes chuhai's so lethal is not the percentage but the price. Chuhai's are usually around 150 yen ($1.50), about a hundred yen less than a can of beer.

So to recap, a good taste + rock bottom price + a high alcohol % = HELLYEAHKARAOKE!!

Talking about chuhai's, after an 'hai too many, I stumbled out of Golden Gai for the last train. Golden Gai is a drinking area next door to the more well known Kabukicho in Shinjuku. As I walked to the station, I glanced at my watch. It was past 1 am, I had definitely missed my train. I was left with two choices: pay for an expensive cab or walk 5.5 miles home…

About halfway, I conceded that this trek wasn't as scenic as I hoped. However, this mammoth walk confirmed what I already knew, that you are never a few minutes away from a convenience store in Tokyo. The one highlight was seeing the Tokyo Dome on the way.

The following week we had a big farewell party for a few of the teachers and staff. A big group of us slowly got smaller and smaller until it hit 2 am, and we were left with a few weary souls. Everyone made the collective decision to go home. Once again, I walked the 5.5 miles This time, my phone died halfway through, so I didn't have Google Maps to guide me. Thankfully, my memory is not as bad as my worn feet; I remembered certain buildings and roads to make it back home successfully. I've done the walk one other time after that (I didn't use Google Maps at all that time). It's certainly not fun, but at least I'm saving on cab fares.

Heeeeere's Sanji!