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!

Tokyo 2016 – Housemates, Meetups and Food.

When you dream of living abroad, you never think of the minor annoyances.

Such as washing your clothes on the wrong setting because you can’t read the instructions or being so exhausted from work that you fall asleep in your suit.

The honeymoon is over; six-day work weeks are not unusual but the norm. Although, in-between all the work and gripes, there are many fun and interesting things to be found in Tokyo.

Sake. Dangerously tasty

After the Sakura House Party, I had the weekend off to relax. I choose to live in a share house as the price of a one-bedroom apartment in Tokyo is out of my budget. I wasn’t thrilled about sharing a bathroom and a kitchen, but at least I would make friends with the people in my house. Or so I thought...

After three days, I finally encountered one of my housemates in the hall. Before I could raise my arm to wave, he dashed into his room.

While everyone mostly keeps to themselves, I have hung out with a few of my housemates on occasion, but my dreams of drinking games in the kitchen and 4-player FIFA sessions have fallen by the waste-side.

The turnover rate in my house is high; I’ve lived in the share house for six months and am the longest-serving resident on my floor. It’s a roll of the dice on whether you will get a good neighbour or not. When I moved in, the two people living on each side of me were Taiwanese guys, both of whom never made a whisper and were only interested in their PS4’s.

After one of them left, a Korean guy moved in. I could never get anything more than a nod from him, but during the night, he would let out these guttural coughs. He departed a few months back; in his place is a super quiet American girl who has the bad habit of Skyping at 4 am.

I’ve accepted that the share house is somewhere where I rest and recover rather than Party Central. Instead, I’ve made friends elsewhere; one such place has been meetups…

My friend currently living in Australia suggested Meetup.com. After the success of the Sakura House party, I thought I should give it a try.

One of the first meetups I went was a “free” language class in Akihabara. I say “free” with quotations marks as everyone who goes is required to buy a drink. I only went two times; this meetup couldn’t seem to decide if it’s a serious language class or a place to meet new friends.

After that, I mainly stuck to the booze and chat groups. A meetup I used to go to often is titled Tokyo International Meetup. A Colombian-American called Oscar hosted the event. Organising meetups is Oscar’s full-time job, so he’s extremely well known in the international community (although he has gone dark recently for unexplained reasons). This meetup was always quite pricey: An 1000 yen entry fee. My takeaway from Oscar’s meetup was the realisation that meetup.com is a real business for some.

One meetup I do regularly attend is titled Tokyo Spontaneous Hangout. Despite the name, the organisation of this meetup is anything but spontaneous. There are 3-4 organisers in this group; between them, there are meetups every day, from picnics to ‘speed friending’ events. The organiser whom I met the most is a South African fellow called Allon. Like Oscar, he treats meetup like a business, and he doesn’t shy away from it. He even has a loyalty card system. 5 points get you free entry into a 500 yen another event. 10 points earns you free entry into a 1000 yen event. (I’m super close to hitting the 10 point mark).

My favourite meetup is titled Tokyo International Friends (there is a pattern with these names). I recently discovered this group; the organiser is a Japanese fellow called Ryohei. Unlike other meetups that have a limit on attendees, Ryohei’s has none, so it’s not unusual for over 80 people to show up. The most tantalising caveat of all is that there is no entry fee for foreigners.

My top tip is to go for a big meetup, many people enrol in the meetup, but less than half tend to show up.

The biggest problem with meetups is that initial awkwardness at the start, but that becomes less of an issue over time. I now regularly run into the same people.

Another tip: Drink. That helps.

The infamous Choco Potato

When people ask about Japan, the topic of food frequently comes up. Initially, I was apprehensive when it came to Japanese food but have grown to love it. Here are some of my favourite foods and restaurants in Japan:

When I first got here, I stuck to convenience store lunch boxes and “old reliable”: McDonald’s. Although McD’s Japan has its own unique take on the famous brand, this has not been more so evident than with the Choco Potato, chocolate-covered fries.

Choco Potato was a limited-time item in February that got coverage across the globe. I was reading an article on the Choco Potato on Kotaku; I chuckled at the notion before it hit me: I’m in Japan. I went to my local McDonalds (it’s dangerously close) armed with 300 yen to try it out myself. The packet to spray the chocolate and vanilla was ingeniously made; it sprayed just the right amount of sauce. As for the taste, it was fine but nothing extraordinary. The fries weren’t piping hot, which brought the rating down.

My go-to restaurant is Matsuya, a beef bowl restaurant that can be found on almost any street in Tokyo. For only 380 yen, you get a normal-sized bowl with beef, rice and a smattering of onions. All meals also come with a bowl of miso soup.

Kariage Kun is five pieces of chicken nuggets sold at Lawson convenience stores. They might be laced with cocaine as they are ridiculously addictive. On the subject of chicken, recently, I’ve gotten into Famima Chicken, the trademark food of Family Mart. There’s a special 10th-anniversary celebration of Famima Chicken going on, so the delicious pieces of fried chicken are now sold at a reduced price.

My hands-down favourite food, though, is Go Go Curry, and its trademark chicken and rice dish. The SS size is 580 yen and provides a generous amount of chicken, curry, rice and lettuce.

Next time I will talk about haircuts, drunken treks home and probably more about chicken.

Bonus Sleeping Sanji

SIM cards, ward offices and banks – Fun Times in Tokyo

After finishing a game of FIFA against a work colleague, I received this message from him: "Good game. Let's play again soon."

I replied: "Cheers. Actually, I'm going to be offline for a while, I'm moving to Tokyo."

After sending that message, I realised how ridiculous it sounded. Moving to Tokyo is a concept so ludicrous that it was used to write the kooky character off Girls.

Fast forward a few days, and I was on a plane descending into Narita Airport.

I had a lot of emotions running through me, but my overriding thought was: "I've got a lot of shit to do."

The company I work for required me to complete three objectives before I could start:

1. Obtain a Japanese mobile
2. Register at the local ward office
3. Open a local bank account

On top of that, I needed to go to the estate agents to move into my new room. I had to do all these things by Friday 15th; I arrived at noon Tuesday 12th.

I left the Arrivals lobby and retraced my steps from my holiday last year. I stayed at the same hotel as before, not because I was enamoured with the service, but simply because I knew how to get there. The only deviation was that I got out of the right train station. The moment I emerged out of Ochanomizu Station was when deja-vu smacked me. The only place I've been back to multiple times is my home in London, so to have this feeling thousands of miles away was very surreal. By the time I got back into the hotel (not the same room but the same layout), I hadn't slept in 24 hours, but dammit, I had work to do.

I strolled around Akihabara, admiring the various new anime and gaming billboards. However, my trip around wasn't just to gawp at the SEGA Arcade; I needed to buy a SIM card from Odabashi Camera – a massive 9-floor shop.

My sleep-addled body stumbled around the mobile section; I made two loops around the floor before I found the SIM corner. I shuffled through the packs of cards on display before I finally found it nestled in the back, the b-mobile Unlimited Data SIM.

The SIM card provides unlimited data for only 5000yen a month with one downside; it's a data-only SIM, so no calls or texts. I purchased a Japanese Skype number to get around this, which means I can phone anyone as long as I got an internet connection (smug face emoji).

After a night of Japanese TV and SIM installing, I promptly awoke early the next day and chugged my bags to the estate agents in Shinjuku.

The name of the agent is Sakura House; they deal exclusively with foreigners in Japan. When I went over, the mood was hush. The company's Facebook page had led me to believe that the Sakura House office was rocking 24/7. I couldn't believe that someone would exaggerate on Facebook. I signed all the contracts and went on my way.

I live in an area called Uguisuidani, famed for its wide selection of Love Hotels. If Hotel Platinum isn't your thing, then Hotel Joy next door may be what you are looking for.

Lifting my luggage up the stairs made me grateful that I only lived on the 2nd floor. I threw my bags into my room and laid on my new surprisingly plush bed. I sprung up after ten minutes because now it was time to register my address at the local ward office. This is a requirement for all long term residents. I chose to walk the twenty minutes to Taito Office. Even though scenic Ueno Park is close by, all I learned from my trek is that you're never two minutes away from a convenience store in Tokyo. My initial fears that I wouldn't find the building were availed when I noticed it a mile away.

Once inside, I scanned around for any hints written in English that could help me find out where to go in this massive labyrinth. Finally, I conceded defeat; I had to use what I had been too shy to utilise: my undeniable charm.

Also, my broken Japanese.

The first couple of exchanges were conducted by the art of gesturing; the old man at the counter pointed at the form, "Namae!" he said.

"Yes!" I thought. "I know that word!" ("Namae" means name if you hadn't figured it out).

Next, a suited man looked over my files; I handed him my resident card. He looked at the front. "Kino kimashita?" he asked. I replied with a confused "Hmm?" He shook his head as if to say, "never mind." It took me a few moments to realise he asked: "Did you arrive yesterday?" That was in Volume 1 of my Japanese textbook! Following some scanning and stamping, the man took my resident card so he could imprint my new address. As he got up from his chair, I stammered out

"Do…Donogurai? (How long will it be?)." His eyebrows arched, he turned back. I wondered: "Did I say it right? Please don't make me repeat myself." he outstretched two fingers and said.

"Nijuppun. (Twenty minutes)". Never has a council visit been so tense.

As I left, I noticed another foreign man who brought a Japanese friend to translate. Bah, amateur.

The last part was the most simple, opening a bank account. I was recommended Shinsei Bank. I choose to visit a branch where there were English speaking staff. Once I walked into the door, I stumbled out the phrase "Ginko akemasu" (literally means "bank open."). I motioned opening a book with my hands to illustrate the point further. The receptionist, noticing my caveman ways, spoke back in perfect English, "Please take a seat; someone will see you shortly." I dealt with another English speaking staff member to open my account.

I finished all the tasks set out to me and with a day to spare. As I headed back to my seedy town, the thought of spending my first weekend alone in Tokyo felt like a let-down. My housemates were not what I imagined (more on that later), and I wouldn't meet my co-workers until Monday. This was unlike America and China, where I was a part of a big group of newcomers. If I wanted to meet people, I had to be proactive.

I recalled an e-mail I got from Sakura House detailing a list of events for the month. Amid events such as flower watching and walking tours, I saw that there was a New Year's party on Friday. I usually turn down events such as these, thinking that organised fun is beneath me. Also, the thought of being at a party and not knowing anyone is more terrifying than explaining True Detective Season 2. Nevertheless, I e-mailed Sakura House telling them I'll be there.

I arrived at the venue the next day at 6 pm on the dot, thinking that everyone would be as punctual as me. Clearly, I had forgotten Rule 1 of a party: Never Be Early. I walked into the lobby of the Sakura Hotel lobby, nary a soul in sight. I approached the clerk behind the clerk. "Pa…Party…?" I asked.

"Sure!" the clerk exclaimed; I then handed him the 500yen entry fee that got me a free drink and snacks.

"Oh, me too!" said a blonde-haired woman directly behind me. A few moments later, a man with a hoodie and frazzled hair showed up; this party is rocking! He wrote his name on his sticker; the woman exclaimed, "Ah! Are you Italian too?" This party sucks.

As the two conversed at length in their native tongue, a man with an Oklahoma hoodie strolled in. My kind of guy. I spoke with him at length about Oculus and how VR will be the end of mankind. While we were chatting, the room filled.

I met a plethora of people from all over the globe, but the most interesting was this tall goateed Japanese man. I asked him what he did. He replied: "Cage Fighter."

I'm a big mixed martial arts fan, so I pried more. "I fought in Sengoku once," he answered. Sengoku was one of the biggest companies in Japan. I couldn't hide my glee that I was meeting a professional MMA fighter. "But I lost," said the tall MMA guy. "I don't fight anymore."

Everybody started filing out shockingly early; I inquired as to why. It was here that I learned that Tokyo's trains close at around midnight. Night buses are non-existent, and taxis prices are so ludicrously high that most people opt to sleep in the station and catch the first train back then catching a cab.

The ex-fighter was loitering around outside; we started talking about China. "Oh, I fought in Macau," he said. "I lost." (I looked up his MMA record later on, it wasn't pretty).

As I got on the overly-packed train, I felt upbeat about Japan and my time here.

Next time, I will go over my antisocial neighbours, meetups and the Choco Potato.

Bonus Sanji pic

First Time in Japan

The plane ride from Shanghai to Tokyo was the easiest flight I'd ever been on.

I had lunch, blinked and was there. I was with Sam, a friend I met in Shanghai. She had never been to Japan either and had a very cool boss who let her take time off with little notice.

I meticulously planned our journey from the airport to the hotel:

1. Get through immigration and down to the ticket desk
2. Purchase the tickets, take the Narita Express to Tokyo Station
3. Take the Marunouchi Line at Tokyo Station to Ochanomizu Station
4. Walk the wrong way for twenty minutes…FUUUUU.

After walking out of Ochanomizu Station, I chugged my heavy bags down a long road. As I approached the corner, a large egg-shaped stadium came into view; it was the Tokyo Dome. The wrestling fan in me drew a huge grin, knowing that was the venue for many legendary bouts. However, I was slapped back from my stupor when I realized that the hotel was on the other side of town.

Whilst looking at a street map, an older Japanese man with greying hair and a suit approached us, "Do you need help?" he quietly asked in English. Before I could respond with the Standard English response ("Nah, you're alright"), Sam interjected, "Yes, we need to get to this hotel." He pointed us in the general direction of the place.

After gathering ourselves, we went walking towards where the man directed us. I spotted him from the corner of my eye sheepishly waiting for us; he approached us and asked again where we were going; the man deciphered our English address into Hiragana. "Oh! Twenty minutes, that way." He exclaimed, "I'll take you there."

After leading us around Tokyo's backstreets, the man stopped and asked for directions from a shopkeeper. Much later, we arrived at a busy street; I listened attentively when he told us to "go straight here." We thanked the man graciously for his help. He was embarrassed for the praise, as if helping two strangers for over half an hour was just something you do.

The rest of the trip was fantastic, albeit not an exciting read unless you want an in-depth analysis of the hour I spend inside the Mega Pokémon Center.

I only managed to get us lost at one other point: after leaving a shopping centre, we took the wrong exit and ended up smack dab in the middle of a pachinko parlour. Now, I've never been in a warzone, but I have played a lot of Call of Duty, and that parlour reminded me of the scene where the helicopters fell from the sky in Modern Warfare 2. It was hard to tell which was louder, the hundreds of metal balls clanging together or the blaring sound effects the machines made.

I yelled to Sam, "I think we need to go this way!" I successfully led us to a room with… another set of pachinko machines! While trying to find a way out, I noticed that the parlour staff had earplugs, but the customers sat leaned back with no ear protection, as if they were immune to the chorus of hell surrounding them.

We somehow emerged out; I needed a few whiskeys after to forget.

Adjacent to the hotel was a shop that served as my introduction to the amazing world of Japanese convenient stores – or "konbini" as they are known over there.

This konbini was a FamilyMart, a convenience store chain that can be found all over Asia. There was a FamilyMart located next to where I stayed in Shanghai, although that shop paled in comparison to its Japanese counterpart.

Konbini's are open 24 hours, have seating areas and stock a wide selection of warm and cold food that forced me to rethink my opinion on the Tesco Lunch Deal. Such is the power the konbini wields, that McDonald's and Starbucks Japan both had to rethink their strategy after FamilyMart start serving fries and coffee. You can also do many other activities inside a konbini such as paying bills, photocopy and collecting parcels. On my last morning, I shunned all of the delicious and unique food that Tokyo offers for a fried chicken + rice combo at FamilyMart.

During the gruelling 22-hour flight back (including a mere 2-hour stopover in Dubai), I decided to head back to Japan soon. Fast forward to today, and that time is very soon; I leave for Tokyo next week; I shall be there for the whole of 2016.

In preparation, I've been studying Japanese. The main reason I'm learning is for survival. As I learned on my previous trip, Tokyo is not as easy to get around for foreigners as Shanghai is.

Another reason I'm learning is for the surprise factor. In China, a big group of rookie teachers and I went to a restaurant; included in this group was a randomer from the hotel we were staying at. All I knew about him was that he was a white guy with a jumper two sizes too big. While seated in the restaurant, the waitress approached our group for the order; Mr Baggie Jumper answered in Chinese, the whole table awed. My first thought was, "Man, fuck that guy." I had to concede, though, that was impressive (his Chinese ability, not the jumper). I eagerly await my moment when I stun a group of people with my broken Japanese.

I plan to document my thoughts, adventures and certain mishaps. Stay tuned.

おたのしみに

Ting Bu Dong – My Time in Shanghai

It was around Christmas when I received my Work Permit.

I had applied to teach in China a few months earlier, and the arrival of the Permit marked the end of a longwinded process. I emailed my recruiter in Beijing; he rang a few days later. "Oh, hey, we're going to need you here by the 6th," he said.

"The 6th? Of February?" I replied.

"No. January."

"Bu… That's next week!?"

"Haha….yeah…"

I hastily packed up my things and moved to Shanghai.

I taught English in the company's Adult Centre. There were a varied bunch of students, but they did have one thing in common; they all made more money than me. I taught designers, lawyers, and a lot of engineers. The most interesting job belonged to a student named Celine; she was a video game designer for Ubisoft Shanghai. Celine designed the crowds for the Assassin Creed series. Her excited giggle at my Ubisoft account made all those years of collecting UPlay points worthwhile.

Many students came to the centre daily, fitting English lessons around their demanding jobs. One such student was Renber. A jovial fellow, Renber was a singer, drama teacher, and actor. On stage, he sang Chinese versions of famous English songs. His reason for learning English was to get "closer to his art." Despite being the most accomplished man in the building, Renber was incredibly humble and attentive, especially when he took advice from this rookie teacher.

Renber hosted a special singing lesson one Saturday in the centre. I learned the most valuable lesson in all my time in China, how to sing from your nose. Renber brought over one of his pupils who sang an impromptu rendition of I Dreamed a Dream. There was very little English taught that evening.

My view from the office

The internet situation in China has been well documented. "VPN" is a commonly thrown around term between ex-pats. Even worse than the lack of RedTube is the internet speed in the country. It was so slow; it left me pining for the days of dial-up. To occupy my time, I turned to the CRT TV in my room. Thankfully, the hotel had HBO Asia, which played non-stop movies. I finally saw Mean Girls and immediately understood 80% of Buzzfeed.

In contrast to the broadband, China's mobile internet speed is remarkable and somehow works underground on the Metro. The Chinese have an extra special, Joaquin-Phoenix-in-Her love affair with their phones. It's commonplace to see whole train carriages staring intently at their mobiles. Multiple times, I witnessed diminutive Chinese girls dart past bodies on busy platforms with cat-like reflexes, all the while still glued to their phones.

China's smartphone obsession sometimes gets in the way of their jobs. During a cab ride back, our cabbie would pick up his mobile every time he got to a stoplight to watch a movie. He would grumble whenever the light turned green. All that pesky driving got in the way of the newest 2 Broke Girls.

I mostly stuck to the Metro even though the service closed ridiculously early; most services would shut by 23:00. Getting onto the platform was also a hassle. There were security checkpoints at each train station; all bags had to be put through a scanner. However, the only people who placed their bags on the scanner were nervous foreigners like me; the vast majority just walked on by. Despite these grumbles, the service did always run on time, and the price converted from CY to GBP is 30p for one journey. Londoners, I'll let you catch your breath.

Shanghai is truly an international city, which is a fancy way of saying, "You don't have to speak Chinese here." I met many Westerners living in Shanghai for several years despite possessing only 'Survival Chinese.' In my first few days in the country, I picked up two essential phrases: "Ni Hao" and Mi Fan." "Hello" and "Rice."

The only time my erm…' lack' of Chinese proved a problem was when a scruffy man on The Metro asked me for directions. I was boggled why this crusty was asking me, considering there was a train full of people who were far more qualified. I later learned from a local that this man was messing with me, and that is a common joke played on foreigners. Afterwards, I added a new phrase to my collection: "Ting bu dong." "I don't understand."

All of those papers were Sherpa's bills

After the honeymoon period ended and I craved western food, Sherpa's was there. Sherpas is Shanghai's biggest delivery service (identical to JustEat in England) with a full English language version of their website. My favourite place to order from Sherpas was called Mr Pancake House. One of the only places that served an all-day English Breakfast, I shamelessly ordered from Mr Pancake's multiple times a week.

Restaurants were a bit dicey; many have menus with English translations. When they didn't, I would point-and-pray. The most bizarre food I ended up eating was a frog (tasted like chicken), which I know of.

Booze is outrageously cheap. A Tsingtao bottle is 5 CY (around 50p) at a convenience store, and the bottle size is twice that of regular western containers. Expat bars, though, are to be avoided. The cost of a drink in these places is high, even for London standards. One bar that does get my approval is Demarcia. My fellow rookie teachers and I stumbled upon this place on our second night. Located near Jiao Tong University, Demarcia blares out mid-noughties hip-hop and serves cheap drinks. My first visit happened to be Free Beer Night. That's right. Free. Beer. For one hour only and the offer only applied to the cheapest beer (Tsingtao). But still. Free. Beer.

This suave statue was to commemorate the Year of The Sheep

I never got to branch out and see the 'real China.' Instead, I quickly got engrossed in teaching; Shanghai (and China) just became the backdrop. It was both the most challenging and most rewarding job I've ever had. The biggest compliment I got was after I wrapped an hour lesson. A bemused student chimed, "It's over already?!"

After leaving China, I took the short plane ride to Tokyo, fulfilling one of my lifelong dreams. But that's another story for another time.