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.

Meiji Shrine + Wedding Bonus

On my final Sunday morning in Tokyo at 9 am, I trekked to Meiji Shrine, which enshrines the Emperor Meiji and his consort, Empress Shoken. Like so many other buildings in Tokyo, the original shrine was destroyed in WW2 bombing, but the reconstruction looks every bit as authentic.

To get there, you have to walk through the adjacent park and gardens. This is a beautiful, serene stroll, worlds removed from the bustle of Harajuku (another center of teen fashion in Tokyo). The area is also a fantastic place to hide say, a letterbox...

As I was winding through the park's paths, I suddenly turned a corner to find a bunch of men in Shinto garments processing solemnly through the park. Policemen were clearing the path of people ahead of them, so that they could proceed uninterrupted. I tried to ask someone what was going on, but they didn't speak enough English to be able to explain what was happening.

The procession meandered its way to this pavilion, right outside of the shrine's gates. They began to conduct a ceremony with a lot of stylized bowing and the waving of some kind of tree branch above people's heads. Meanwhile, the rest of the crowd began to purify their hands, using the provided ladles and pool of water.

I went on ahead into the shrine grounds, which had the now-familiar accoutrements of a torii gate, omikuji (fortune slips), and offering tills.

After about 15 minutes or so, the clerics proceeded into the inner courtyard of the shrine...

...and a large drum began to sound. As the clerics entered the shrine, the drum was beat with greater frequency and finally ended with a bit of a roll. The clerics sat down at the front of the shrine, and other shrine staffers scurried about, wearing brightly-colored green, white and orange robes. One of the clerics began to play a flute, and someone else played koto (I think). Shinto ceremonial music is fairly austere; a Bach chorale this is not. Peering into the inner courtyard, I felt like I had been transported centuries away to a wholly foreign, mystical land.

At this point, I turned to leave the shrine when I stumbled across--a wedding! My camera battery died at this point, so I don't have more photos, but the raiments of the wedding party were gorgeous, particularly the bride's dress. It was funny to see everyone wearing the traditional flip-flop-like sandals, since I associate those with going to the beach. You can also see the variety of dress in the rest of the group, from traditional kimonos to western suits to women in black skirts with high boots (of course). The group processed into the shrine, where they disappeared to presumably undergo some sort of ceremony. There was actually a second wedding taking place on the other side of the shrine, but I didn't have the camera juice to photograph it.

After leaving the shrine grounds, I headed right outside to Jingu-Bashi, the so-called epicenter of Harajuku's cosplay scene. On warm, sunny Sundays, this is where cosplaying teens gather to strut their stuff and be photographed. On a good day, you will see an array of goths, punks, French maids, anime characters and Lolitas. At 10 am though, there was not a single cosplayer there. I wasn't sure if my timing was too early, but this post seems to suggest that homework might be taking its toll on the free time of Japanese teens these days? Anyway, here's a taste of what I missed:

Retail Therapy, part 2

The clothing that I picked up in Shibuya only set me back ¥3150, including tax. Now I can start expanding my collection of tights/leggings. (Though it is true that Jenny Z would not be using them.)

Dirt Cheap Hostels in Tokyo

Per popular demand, I'm going to discuss what accommodations were like in Tokyo.

The guidebooks tend to steer you towards traditional hotels, which are rather pricey, even the ones which are marked as "affordable," or to ryokans, or traditional Japanese inns, which are also pricey though they usually include meals and a chance to sleep on tatami mats and futons. Personally, my goal is to minimize lodging costs as much as possible subject to getting some sleep and not getting bedbugs. In Tokyo, there are capsule hotels, which consist of a closed capsules only slightly larger than the Seinfeld dresser drawers, stacked on top of one another. While this is truly a one-of-a-kind Tokyo experience, they are geared towards businessmen and many don't accept women, or relegate you to the top floor. Plus, they aren't that cheap for what you get. So, I decided to bypass this option.

With some googling, you will find there are many hostels for backpackers and young travelers located in Asakusa. While this area does have attractions worthy of your time, Asakusa is located in the far northeast corner of the city, and it will take some time to get from one end to the other.

Instead, I chose to stay at the Sakura Hotel, located in central-east Tokyo near the Jinbocho station, and at the Ace Inn, located in central-west Tokyo near the Akenobashi and Yotsuya Sanchome stations. Both have English language websites and seemed like promising places to park my bags.

The Sakura Hotel offers single rooms (¥6,000), doubles (¥8,000) and triples, but they also have 6-person dorm rooms in the basement level for ¥3150 if you make your own bed, which is what I chose to do. The room, bathroom and premises were quite clean, and the blanket was this lovely, fluffy comforter that I wanted to curl up inside and never emerge from. You could rent a towel for ¥100, the wifi was free and very fast, and several computers in the lobby were available for (I think) ¥100 for 15 minutes use. For ¥315, you could get breakfast in the morning (unlimited coffee, tea and toast) but I picked up food elsewhere. The other lodgers were very friendly and tended to be in college age or in their 20s. It was very easy to meet people and find dinner mates. The front desk staff were very friendly, spoke English, and supplied me with a 3 prong converter for my laptop while I was there.

The Ace Inn offers capsule-like beds for around ¥4,000, but if you choose the 12-person mixed dorm, you will get a bed for ¥2,000 on their 10th floor which is a regular dormitory. This is simply a room with 12 beds in it, including two futons in an adjoining tatami room. The beds are not bunked, which gives you a little more space away from your dorm mates. Everyone was courteous and friendly, however since there are on average 8 people sleeping in the room every night, there is a fair amount of noise as people enter and leave. Hopefully, unlike me, you are not a light sleeper. There is a lounge on the 9th floor with a TV, and it is very easy to meet gregarious Australians there. Bicycles are available for rent for ¥500, and you will have a better selection the earlier you arrive. Wifi is free and there are computers in the lobby that you can use for free for 30 minutes. The hostel also sponsors tours to museums or other attractions for ¥500. My biggest complaint here is that the toilets were not very clean, and were often out of soap or toilet paper. The showers downstairs are ¥100 for 10 minutes and these seemed clean enough. There is free soap, shampoo, and towels. There is a lock-out period from 2-4:30 am, but if you tell them ahead of time that you are going out they'll let you in during that period.

Both hostels were located in semi-residential neighborhoods with not a lot going on after 9 pm. Then again, aside from Shibuya and Roppongi, not a lot is going on anywhere in Tokyo after 9 pm. Sakura Hotel was very close to 3 train lines, whereas the Ace Inn was close to the Shinjuku train line, which is run by the Toei company. Since I often used the all-day Metro pass (¥700) for transportation, this meant I had to walk 5-10 min to the Yotsuya Sanchome station, which is run by the Metro company. Not a big deal, but slightly more inconvenient than the Sakura Hotel location.

Neither place offered lockers in their dorms, though you could store luggage behind the front desk. I decided to have some faith in humanity and leave everything unlocked under my bed, including my laptop. Nothing was stolen. I love Japan.

Soba Noodle Class

Somewhere along the way, I stumbled across the Tsukiji Soba Academy, which offers classes on how to make soba noodles from scratch. These range in difficulty from one time weekend workshops for novices to a series of classes designed for professionals. I emailed to sign up for a 3-hour workshop for novices, and soba master Akila Inouye wrote me back with the date and time.

Sensei Akila turned out to be a jovial fellow and a wonderfully patient teacher. He first jotted down the basic steps for making soba noodles. As it turns out, soba noodles are made by simply mixing 80% buckwheat flour and 20% regular wheat flour, then adding 40% of the flour's weight in water. So, you would mix .8 kg buckwheat flour, .2 kg wheat flour and 400 ml of water together for your dough. "How many servings does this make?" someone asked. "Ten Tokyo servings...which would be two American servings," Akila joked.

Notice that the final product is 1.3 mm wide and 1.5 mm tall, so the soba noodles are actually not square on the vertical slice.

Next, you knead the dough for a few minutes, then shape it into a light bulb, then a cone, to bunch the creases on one end. With a few deft gestures, Akila pressed the dough into a round disk, and all the folds had been smoothed out.

The next two steps are "very easy," and involve rolling out the dough and then slicing it into noodles. Take a rolling pin and press the dough evenly and uniformly from 15 mm thick to 1.5 mm thick. There are plastic disks of varying heights to show you when you have flattened the dough to an appropriate amount. After you flatten the dough to 8 mm, you stretch it into a rectangular shape, which eliminates wasted dough, then gently flatten to 1.5 mm thin. Easy, right?

Finally, you dust the dough with uchiko, a starch powder that prevents the dough from sticking, and fold it into thirds. With your fingers gently pressed on a soba cutting board, slice the dough and keep the blade perpendicular to the table. After each slice, tilt the knife the the left slightly, which slides the top cutting board 1.3 mm over. Then, slice the next batch of noodles. In just a couple minutes, Akila had cut his dough into beautiful, uniform soba noodles.

Now it was time for us to try our hand at making soba noodles. I mixed my flour and water, then kneaded and patted it into a disk. The rolling proved to be a lot harder than it looked. After a few missteps, my dough had torn in one corner, and it was no longer uniformly square. Alas. Like a good sauce though, cutting the noodles hides a lot of mistakes. "How long should we boil these for?" someone asked. "If you have thin noodles of the right size, it should be 3 1/2 minutes. Otherwise, cook them for 4 minutes." Akila replied. "What about these?" I asked. Akila inspected them carefully. "Hmm, 4 minutes!" Oops.

Here I am with my finished tray of soba noodles. I ended up taking home two extra boxes from the two French students in the class because they didn't have any place to store or cook them. Unfortunately, after putting them in the hostel frig, I dashed off to the airport the next day and completely forgot to tote them home with me. :(

For one final lesson, we were taught how to properly slurp our noodles. Forget what your mother said about not making noises while chewing or eating; the Japanese show their appreciation of noodles by slurping them noisily. To eat soba noodles, you first taste the noodles by themselves and appreciate the texture and taste of the buckwheat by itself. Next, drop 2-3 noodles into the soba dipping sauce in the cup. Slurp them up noisily, and keep the noodles contained between your chopsticks to minimize flicking sauce into your face. Next, eat a little bit of the onion with the noodles. After you finish the noodles, fill the soba sauce cup with the leftover boiling water. This creates a thick, creamy mixture that is a perfect finish for your meal.

"Thanks for coming!" said Akila. "Don't forget to friend me on Facebook!"

Needless to say, that is the first thing I did when I got home.

Bukkake Udon

Get your mind out of the gutter, you silly Americans. In Japanese, "bukkake" simply means "pouring," as in the soup is poured over the udon as opposed to noodles being dipped in.

Lonely Planet suggests Sakata (さか田) as the one restaurant you should go to if you visit Tokyo and eat one meal, so I dutifully ventured there. Unfortunately, it was gone. After some googling, I figured out that the restaurant had moved .5 km west, so I stopped by for lunch on a second attempt. The menu is entirely in Japanese, so you need to know some hiragana to figure it out. My server did speak a little English, so they might be able to help you order.

Sakata's specialty is udon, particularly bukkake udon. Above is the lunch set (¥1000) that I ordered, with a bowl of warm udon (you can get it cold), topped with grated radish, green onions, sesame seeds and a dollop of ginger. The noodles were fat and silky smooth, in a simple broth designed to showcase the udon. This came with tempura (jumbo shrimp, green pepper, eggplant) over a little rice. Freshly fried, with a crisp, thin coating, this tempura is miles above popcorn shrimp. Accompanying all this is the obligatory small dish of pickled vegetables, some fermented beans, and a mini salad.

Sakata (さか田)

3rd Floor, Dai 2 Hibiya Building

1-6-1 Yurakucho, Chiyoda-ku Tokyo

Metro: Chiyoda, exit A4, head around the corner in a counterclockwise fashion

Entrees start at ¥700, cash only

Tsukiji Fish Market

Tsukiji Fish Market is the world's most famous seafood wholesale venue. About ¥2 billion worth of seafood is sold here daily. If it lives in the sea, chances are it is sold here. From Tsukiji, wholesalers distribute goods to restaurants in Japan and the rest of the world. At one point in your life, your sushi probably passed through this market on the way to your plate.

The market itself is a series of concentric horseshoe shaped stalls and warehouses, and the atmosphere is chaotic, to say the least. You need to be hyper-aware of your surroundings, since people are constantly trying to move around you, lifting heavy boxes nearby, and the fishmongers drive surprisingly agile motorized carts, which whip around corners unexpectedly. If you aren't careful, you will get in the way/get hit. The market is also rather wet, so you should not wear your best dress shoes.

The market's most notorious event is the morning tuna auction, which takes place from 5-6:30 am each day. For a while, visitors were banned from viewing the auction due to its popularity; the crowd of rubberneckers was becoming too much of a distraction for people trying to conduct business. Now, it is possible to watch the tuna auctions from a cordoned off area, and you can take photos without flash.

I woke up a little later than I wanted, and made it to a train station at 5:15, not accounting that the trains would be running less frequently in the morning. It was 6 am by the time I arrived at the Hibiya Tsukiji stop, and I started running down the street towards the market. After a frantic search, I found the tuna auction in the back of the horseshoe, with a door marked "Vistors Entrance." It was 6:10 am, and they stop admitting people at 6:15. Phew!

Inside, you could see hulking frozen tuna lying on the floor, with pieces sliced from the ends so that buyers could inspect the quality of the meat inside. On another table, you could inspect tuna steaks, touch them, and warm them a little with your hand, before putting in bids.

A bell clanged and the auctioneer moved toward a tuna. These bluefin tuna weigh several hundred pounds and can fetch up to $20 million apiece. I couldn't follow what the auctioneer was actually saying, though he held up fingers to indicate the current asking price. After the tuna are sold, they are packaged and shipped off around the world again. There is also a fresh tuna room, with tuna that are caught in the previous few days. The frozen ones could have been caught anywhere in the Atlantic or the Pacific, before being frozen and flown here for sale.

Outside of the tuna auctions, you could buy every seafood product imaginable, dead or alive. There were buckets of writhing eels, beautiful iridescent shrimp, freshly gutted fish, piles of oysters and even a few turtles. (This is where you can get upset about the devastation of the ocean's seafood stocks and Japan's lack of environmental policing.) Men sliced apart hunks of tuna with hacksaws. Forklifts and trolleys sped through the warehouse.

Traditionally, a visit to Tsukiji is followed by a trip to a nearby sushi restaurant. Just north of the inner market is a series of stalls with slightly less chaotic shops and restaurants. Tipped off by Lonely Planet, I headed to Daiwa Sushi (building #6), where a mass of people was crowded in front. Disorganized though it appeared, the crowd was actually an orderly mass of people, snaking towards the front. I was directed to the end by an employee, who urged us to stay clear of the central path so that the carts could get by. It was 7 am.

After about 45 minutes of waiting, I was starving and had only moved 50% of the way to the door. Suddenly, the hostess leaned out of the door and shouted something, holding up one finger. The crowd jostled and looked around. Wait, one person? I said. Me, me! I leapfrogged in front of at least 15 people to be seated.

Daiwa Sushi is actually two adjacent shops, one run by the father and the other by the son. I happened to be in the one run by the elder chef, who was quite friendly as he showed me a picture menu with English translations. The easiest thing to do though is to order the set sushi meal (¥3500). Everyone else around me seemed to be doing the same. This comes with 7 pieces of nigiri, 1 set of maki rolls, and a bowl of miso soup. As the pieces were made, the chef would set them down in front of you on your plate. I ended up with a piece of squid, shrimp, maguro, sea urchin, tamago omelet, horse mackerel, eel, and tuna and roe maki.

Not surprisingly, everything was top-notch and extremely fresh. I even got a piece of the shrimp head with the shrimp nigiri. Earlier, someone had mentioned that they didn't like the sea urchin, and I have to say that this was the most challenging piece. The texture of sea urchin is too soft and squishy for most American palates, but I actually enjoyed it once I got over the unexpected texture.

I don't think I can ever eat another Philadelphia roll.