Survival Japanese with Minimal Effort, or How I Started Obsessively Watching Anime (cringe)

I consider myself decent at charades, but after scrutinizing Google Maps and ogling the spaghetti platter of Tokyo train lines, I decided it might be helpful to at least learn some basic Japanese before traveling. Hence, I loped off to the library and picked up the Berlitz Japanese in 30 Days course book and CD...I'd be practically fluent in a month, right? The Meguro Language Center also offers a nice collection of worksheets that you can download. I dutifully learned some vowel sounds and began piecing together rudimentary sentences. After a few days, I was itching to write some actual Japanese (the text introduces you to romaji first, or anglicized pronunciations using the Roman alphabet), so I flipped to the back of the book, where they formally introduce the three Japanese character systems. Seriously, one wasn't enough? And depending on context, the same character can have different pronunciations? It is settled: Chinese is the superior language.

Anyway, I continued slogging through the course book until lesson 13 or so, when I was memorizing the Japanese words for "arithmetic" and "February." In a sudden epiphany, I realized that the probability of me needing to talk about geography or parts of my body while in Tokyo was pretty darn low. Where would it be most useful to be literate then? Answer: train stations and restaurants.

A little more research revealed that train stations generally have signs in Japanese and English, so I figured I'd be able to navigate that with a color-coded map. How about reading restaurant menus then? After some Googling, I discovered Satterwhite's What's What in Japanese Restaurants, which exhaustively documents the various types of Japanese restaurants and common menu items, with their pronunciations and descriptions. Bingo, now I was learning much more useful vocabulary, like "bamboo shoots" and "grilled eel in a rice bowl." At this point, I'd learned the hiragana (used to write Japanese) and katakana (used for foreign loan words) alphabets, so I could generally sound out words. Actually, I strongly recommend learning katakana because you'll find that your Japanese vocabulary has suddenly grown by a couple thousand words. Take this random bar menu, for instance. I am going to hazard a guess that ｻﾗﾀﾞ (sarada) indicates salad, ﾁｷﾝ (chikin) suggests chicken, and ｽﾐﾉﾌ (suminofu) under the Vodka section means Smirnoff. I don't remember what learning how to read was like, but the wave of warm, fuzzy glee that I felt upon learning katakana was pretty priceless.

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Then, I stumbled across the "Guide to manga and anime" in the Lonely Planet Tokyo guidebook. And despite my staunch refusal to watch anime and be one of Those anime-obsessed nerds, I started to mull over what a large part of Japanese otaku culture I'd be missing out on. Besides, watching subtitled film would help me learn the language right? So in the name of "education," I started off with a couple classic Miyazaki films, My Neighbor Totoro and Princess Mononoke. If you are unfamiliar with Miyazaki, he is sort of the whimsical Japanese Disney, and his films are primarily targeted towards children, though they incorporate deeper themes of feminism and environmentalism. Next, I watched the Ghost in the Shell movie, which, despite strong recommendations from multiple people, sucked. I whined. "No no, you're watching the wrong one," was the rejoinder. "You're supposed to watch the anime series, not the movie." But that's 9 hours of my life, as opposed to 2, I argued. "Look, if I could pay a dollar for a steaming pile of crap, or $5 for something that I'd actually want, I would pay the $5...Anyway, I think you should watch Death Note; it's only 37 episodes." Hmph.

So, one sunny afternoon, I sat down and watched an episode of Death Note. The basic premise is that a notebook is dropped onto Earth by a Death God, and the finder of the notebook can use it to kill someone by simply writing their name inside. After one episode, I was intrigued enough to hit next and watch another 20 minutes. Then another. And another. And another one after that. Friends called to ask if I wanted to go out for dinner and I mumbled some excuse about needing to work on something else. Then I hit next again. Never before had I felt so helpless against the pull of a TV show. Luckily, this was Columbus Day weekend so I had Monday off, otherwise I might have called in sick in order to finish the entire series.

Bleary-eyed, the next day I announced that the anime wall had come crashing down. The reaction was a mixture of congratulations and smug satisfaction. "Welcome. We've been waiting. So, what are you going to watch next?" Erm. I had to keep going? Ah, what the hell. The next week, I went through Cowboy Bebop (a tech-noir, Western space opera...yeah), then started Escaflowne (girl-in-a-magical-land battles large robots) and Serial Experiments Lain (cyberpunk psychological thriller). I discovered the AnimeNfo search engine. I listened to "Tank!" on repeat. I read the "Laws of Anime" and laughed. Wait, what? What had I become? It had been quite a slippery slope. At least I didn't pick up the habit until after graduation?

Also, this costume (a combination of Ronald McDonald & Ryuk from Death Note) got a helluva lot funnier:

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In the end, I'd say I learned just enough Japanese to really explore Tokyo. You can survive well-enough in the city without knowing any Japanese at all, since there is a good deal of English signage, but you will be limited to activities geared towards Western tourists. Some useful phrases that I found myself using daily included "I am American," "I am Chinese" (when they refused to believe I was American), and "Do you speak English?" (You may not have to explain to people that you are foreign.) I would also memorize sumimasen (pardon me), daijyobu (okay), and arigato gozaimasu (thank you very much). Even if you can't speak a lick though, the Japanese are very, very friendly (unlike the French) and will do their best to help you out.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the other half of Neon Genesis Evangelion to watch.

Ghibli Museum

Hayao Miyazaki is widely renowned as an elder statesman of Japanese animated films, the equivalent of America's Walt Disney, if you will. Over the years, he has won acclaim for directing children's films that explore feminism, environmentalism, and the relationship of man and technology. Moreover, his movies are just plain adorable, with characters recognized by every child in Japan.

Miyazaki is the co-founder of Studio Ghibli, an animation company, and the Ghibli Museum celebrates his canon and offers hints of future directions. When I heard about the Ghibli Museum, I immediately added it to my list of sights to see. Unfortunately, as Lonely Planet writes, it is "more difficult to gain entry to the Ghibli Museum than for the Kremlin." There are only a set number of tickets sold per day, you have only a half-hour window to enter, and you must buy a ticket ahead of time, not at the door. For overseas visitors, you can order through a designated travel agency and have it mailed to you. I emailed the Chicago distributor, and with shipping and handling, the ticket came out to about $30. Argh.

A loophole: you can also buy tickets in Japan through the Loppi kiosks at any Lawson convenience store. If you do this, a ticket is only ¥1,000 (~$10). So, armed with the directions for the Loppi machine, the first thing I did after landing was march into a Lawson and attempt to buy a Ghibli Museum ticket. Unlike ATMs and train kiosks, there are no English directions. I got an error message. I tried again. I got another error message. I tried another date. I made it to a new screen. A keyboard popped up and I surmised that they wanted a name. I typed in random characters and got an error message. At this point, I was about to throttle the machine, but then the Lawson attendant came over and asked if I needed help. He successfully typed in my name in katakana and added a fake phone number (9999-9999). Bingo, I had a ticket.

The museum is in the suburb of Mitaka, which is accessible from the JR Chuo line at Shinjuku. This is the busiest station in the world, with a dozen rail lines converging from 5 rail companies, and an average of 3.64 m people passing through each day. As Yukako put it, "Shinjuku station makes me want to cry." To add further complexity, each line has about 5 levels, from super duper express to local. I took a deep breath and hopped onto a train that seemed to be headed towards Mitaka. The next station indicated that I was heading in the right direction, so I sat down to eat a green tea-sesame seed cinnamon roll (without cinnamon). Fifteen minutes later, I looked up to see that we'd just pulled into...Shinjuku station. WTF just happened?

I bolted off the train and tried again. This time, the train actually went to Mitaka. After a 15 min walk from the station, I finally made it to the museum, which looks like something out of a Roald Dahl book.

You are immediately greeted by a giant Totoro in the window.

At the entrance, your paper ticket is exchanged for a ticket that contains an original frame from one of Miyazaki's films.

Alas, the museum doesn't allow photography inside the building, so you'll just have to take my word that it was pretty neat, despite being filled with dozens of (polite, well-behaved) children. As indicated by the exterior, the inside of the building is full of whimsical displays, depicting the inspirations for Miyazaki's work, storyboards, and other information which I couldn't read. The first floor contains a theater where you can view an unreleased 15" film short. For this day, the movie was about an adorable fanged water spider. (This is further proof that anything can be turned cute in the hands of Miyazaki.) The third floor features a giant, plush Catbus (from the film My Neighbor Totoro) for elementary school kids to play on, complete with dust sprites that you could throw.
The building included lots of stained glass with characters and scenes from Ghibli films. Above is the Forest Spirit from Princess Mononoke.

Everywhere you went, there were little nooks and crannies with interesting things if you opened a shutter or poked your head under an arch. Here is a random shed filled with knick knacks.

This window is filled with dust sprites peeking outside.

I think this is the seaside town that Kiki's Delivery Service was based in.

There was also a tree stump and wooden broom in the courtyard, so I clambered on and put on my best flying face.

The museum's credo from Miyazaki:

This is the kind of museum I don't want to make!
A pretentious museum
An arrogant museum
A museum that treats its contents as if they were more important than people
A museum that displays uninteresting works as if they were significant

This is the Kind of Museum I Want to Make!
A museum that is interesting and which relaxes the soul
A museum where much can be discovered
A museum based on a clear and consistent philosophy
A museum where those seeking enjoyment can enjoy, those seeking to ponder can ponder, and those seeking to feel can feel
A museum that makes you feel more enriched when you leave than when you entered!

I think he succeeded.

Akihabara or Geekdom, Ground Zero

Faced with the dismal failure of my quest for soba noodles, I thought, "F that, I'm going to Akihabara." For those of you unfamiliar with Akihabara, it is known as Tokyo's center for electronics and the focal point for otaku (nerd) culture. This is the place to go if you are looking for the latest digital cameras, video games or anime releases.

On the way there, I spotted a Mister Donut, a donut chain that Steph had raved about on the plane. Since my stomach had just been denied soba, I stepped in and began translating the katakana on the display labels. Chocolate, honey, curry...whoa, curry? There comes a point in every man's life when he should consider eating a curry donut, and for me, that point was now. I ordered it. It was indeed filled with a savory curry, with a crunchy panko coating on the outside of the donut.

They really like their buildings big and tall over here.

And they're not really ones for subtlety.

I was warned beforehand that Akihabara can be rather intense, but I shooed that aside. I mean, how bad can it possibly be? As it turns out, Akihabara is the munincipal equivalent of LSD in terms of sensory overload (not that I would know). The streets are filled with neon signs, blaring loudspeakers, flashing displays, music cranked to the highest decibel and girls in French maid outfits. Wait, what? Yes, somewhere along the way, Japan decided that it was a) obsessed with Paris and b) obsessed with servility in women and the two have happily combined in the French Maid Cafe phenomenon. At a number of fine establishments in Akihabara, you can indulge in your wildest fantasy of being served and pampered with French maids. They will greet you as master or mistress, cater to your whims and serve you overpriced coffee. I thought about going into one, then decided that it wasn't worth waiting in the line spilling out the door.

I'd been expecting more cosplayers, but instead there were French maids on every corner.

The sign is hard to read, but these girls (and a dude??) are advertising an opportunity to eat at the same table that the Backstreet Boys used for their music video "Bigger" (released on November 2).

Aside from French maid cafes, Akihabara is filled with electronics stores, vendors hawking duty-free items (some specialize in overseas models that will work abroad), and anime and manga media shops. My neurons were overloading. Ceramic knives! Rewritable Blu-Ray discs! Gorgeous, phenomenally crisp 60" TVs with resolutions better than my eyes (for the low, low price of ¥648,000)! Monitor cleaners shaped like a hamburger! Arcades filled with adolescent boys who looked like they hadn't showered in some time!

A capsule pod in an arcade, there is a list of machines that you can fight as.

I was really amused by this taiko drumming video game.

All right, focus Crystal, you don't really need a WiMax router. Or a USB key with a figurine attached that does crunches.

Akihabara's raunchier side also made its presence known from time to time. On more than one occasion, I would be browsing a perfectly respectable manga store, then go downstairs and suddenly notice that all the covers feature scantily clad, big-breasted women and that I was conspicuously the only female in the room. Or, I'd be drawn into a shop by a display of short skirts (I figure I can augment my collection of one). Then the next floor up would feature lingerie and vibrators, and the next floor up would feature clamps and dildos, then the next floor up would feature dolls...

Anyway, I was on a mission with this trip. After a lot of searching, I managed to find a copy of the first Cowboy Bebop album. It took me a while to realize CDs were being sorted alphabetically in hiragana, and even then, the first couple stores I tried didn't carry it. Then, I did some monster hunting for the Tokyo Anime Center, which turned out not to be on the main drag of Soto-Kanda. The Tokyo Anime Center is worth a short sidetrip though; I thought their selection of trinkets and paraphernalia was well-thought out compared to the average jam-packed store.

Several hours of browsing later, I was drained and ready to move elsewhere. Next up, the Asakusa Temple.