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.
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| Heeeeere's Sanji! |
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