The Old Way

The old way is best.  If it weren’t for the old way there would be no Japan.  There would be no bijin, no nihonshu, no konyoku, no Jukujo.  There would be no world-class sushi, there would be no Yasukuni.  There would be no “Wa.”   There would be no Bushido.  There would be no Mishima Yukio.  No NO plays.  There would be no Izumo-Taisha, there would be no Ise Jingu.  There would be no koshihikari.
I am very grateful to be here, but through introspection I ask myself: Why am I here?  Is it because I have an interest in tech stuff, or geeky little go-go gadgets, or manga, or any of those other social vagaries that people fly half way around the world  to partake in?  To each is own.  In my opinion none of those things reflect on Japan at all. I much prefer high quality nihonshu, seasoned and riped Jukujo, and expensive sushi, and of course onsen after onsen after onsen(源泉かけ流し）。  



I first learned of the old way 12 years ago, before I came to Nippon.  I learned from a 38 year old Japanese woman who was at the height of her sexual prime that simple is best and that sometimes talking can kill the libido.


She would demonstrate by  making me get into the trunk of her car in order to sneak me to her house in the mornings.  Thoughts going through my head wondering what the hell am I doing in back of this ladies trunk!  Feeling every bump and turn the car was making, and then two consecutive speed bumps and I knew we were very near her place.  I could hear the garage door open and then slowly engaging the car she carefully pulls into the garage then closes the garage door back.



Sometimes walking along the beach on a beautiful sunny afternoon without talking, but rather, appreciating that the sun and wind and total freedom can be sufficient enough to create  intimacy in itself.  Often times a person can talk a perfectly good experience away.  Less is more.  I thank Mike for that quote, especially after he was so kind enough to unkindly downgrade my blog.


No T.V., no P.C. no shopping malls, No candles, no hot wax, no heavy discussions, no games, no hanging around friends.   Just nature, good food, very healthy and invigorating sex, is all one needs.  And then afterwards, the two of you can relax in each others arms.  

She nurtures you quite naturally, even when you are fast asleep.  Running her finger along  your eyebrows and then tracing a line around your eyes and down your nose.  She gently tugs at your earlobe and then checks inside of your ear to make sure it’s clean.  Then she rests her head on your chest and plays with your belly button and then it’s time to go at it again, and again and again and again and again.


After a couple of years of this lifestyle I got spoiled and only wanted the best, especially in terms of food and sake.  I lost all patients for women my age at that time.  I just couldn’t sit up and talk about Disneyland all fucking night long, and then having to get up for work the next day.



Western culture and ideals were never a topic of discussion when I was with this mature Japanese woman.  Only discussions relating to Japanese customs, culinary delights, and delicious sake and Japanese beer.  I even got into flowers and gardens because of her. 


After moving to Japan, I used to hang out with a lot of older couples who were only interested in love hotels and sake.   Heading out to a nice onsen for the afternoon then checking into a love hotel, not forgetting to stop by a conbini to stock up on snacks and local sake , was great.  Enjoying our bodies for four hours and then checking out and returning home freshly showered and refreshed.   This is the old way!


Of course there are many interpretations of the old ways, but for me this way is the best way.

Hakkaisan or 八海山

 

This nihonshu, Hakkaisan, is one of the single most recognized sake in Japan.  Born in Niigata she was raised by toji, sake masters, who refined her and made  her what she is today; a fine elegant and beautiful sake.  When it comes to taste there are all types and kinds  One link I’d like to recommend is this one, which was written up by John Gauntner over at his website here.

 

The small bottle is this years sake, so it’s only 180ml and is usually available at specialty stores through-out Japan.  Initial taste is strong, then it gracefully fades down in to something pleasant.  Strong rice taste, which for this sake makes it a junmai.

The Approach!

Stereotypes are wrong.  I hate them, but sometimes I feel I contradict myself whenever I express myself on different topics.  Not on this.  One thing I never fail to deliver clearly on is sake, good food, onsen, and Jukujo.  I won’t fail. I never fail.
There are a lot of things lacking in Japanese society today.  Things like wholesome communication, good sleep, good sex( not the obligatory kind), expensive nihonshu and a good three square meals a day.  I learned that the best way to enjoy Japan is to do more of the things that people in Japan do less of! 
Less brain.  More balls should be a spiritual mantra for this country.   And then some….
I met a lovely Jukujo a year ago on bus #110 bound for Yokohama Station.  She was one of the most fantastic human beings I had ever met.  44 and in great shape.  I was staring at her on the bus from the back seat.  From time to time she would steal glances back at me and I took this to mean she was interested in me, but as you know , looks can be deceiving here in Japan, especially a smile.
When her stop finally came I followed her off the bus into a very busy part of town.  I stayed very close to her from behind.  Sensing me she swung around and with a loud voice yelled at me: “ Are you a criminal!  Are you a dangerous man!?” she shouted.   Should I call the police.   By this time, everybody was looking at us and suspecting that I was the culprit behind all of the commotion.   I was mortified and left speechless surrounded by a mass of onlookers and passersby.
I had to come up with something quick, so I reached for my business card and quickly offered it to her and told her I was an English instructor and that I was just looking for potential students for English lessons, and that if she were interested to contact me.   She held the card in her hand for a few moments (holding my breath).
She said OK.  Then I calmed down.  Eventually the onlookers went about their way.  She never gave me her number.  Eight hours later, I get a call and she asked to meet me for coffee.  So we did, we talked, and come to find out she was a little intrigued by my aggressive nature.  She offered to teach me Japanese instead for free, and even correct my ENGLISH from time to time.   I’ve been scolded by her for poor oversight, how embarrassing, but I’m man enough to fess up.  She was really good!  
Thanks, in huge part, to her I was able to get my books published and registered with the National DIET Library(Library of Congress of Japan), and eventually sold through Yurindo, one of the largest bookstores in Japan.  Since then I have shifted markets and am selling them as coffee table books this summer since the books are too large and heavy for mass production along with costs.  I have the largest compendium of onsen in full color in book form in the world along with my own mini-paring guide for sake and food.   
I was the student and she was the teacher of all things Japan, and this was so beautiful for me.  We both appreciated delicious food and sake.  I truly believe that in any kind of relationship/friendship where two people are learning from each other it is essential for both parties to learn and grow from each other. 

Her Name is Called Kanazawa

Every year, Kanazawa, in Ishikawa prefecture releases a sake called “Kanazawa.”  The city’s name sake.  But why post about?  Simple.  It’s a jizake, local sake,地酒, and it’s rare because it’s only sold locally, not nationally.   And they sell out quickly. 

It’s a fantastic thing when you live in Japan because you have access to so many local sake and you never have to look far and wide for good ones either.    Living in North Americans have very little to no access to rare jizake at all, as most are never exported that far.   Typically, what one can expect are the big name brands like Masumi or Kubota….
I had to come back the next day in order to get a bottle of this Kanazawa.  A good flavor characteristic for this sake is its very delicate fruit nose, which never fades.  Like most sake you leave exposed to air, the flavors change.   Not the case in this one.  Even after leaving it stashed away in my suitcase for 2 months! 

Gold chips are what you are looking at in a sake cup.   Very nice touch for this nihonshu, and probably why it’s so popular.  Of course the gold chips are only for visual appeal, unique flavor characteristics are not rendered.

Plum Blossoms of Kairakuen

Finally, and with a joy that I can't exactly describe, I made it to the third most beautiful garden in Japan, Kairakuen in Ibaraki Prefecture. So why the sentimentality? It's just a garden.
From the outset of my own blog I sat out to merge certain elements that have a spiritual (not concerned with material values or pursuits), and an existential congruity. I'm not trying to be deep or profound, actually. What I'm attempting to merge here are the things in my life which drew me to Japan first, in order to make sense out of why I came here, even down to the so-called symbiotic nature of blood types and also at times its antibiosis to how it relates to personality traits (…i.e. there are just some people who absolutely abhor me just because I'm me, but I believe that it has something to do with blood type).
Everything about people and life came together for me when I finally arrived here in Japan, and even more so after I paid a visit to Kairakuen. The third garden!






Kairakuen, Kenrokuen, and Korakuen, represent for me the very height of Japanese beauty and aestheticism for a garden.

(“Out with the old; in with the new - here it's, out with the new, in with the old”)
Here at this garden I saw so many elements of nature and life merging together, there was even the tragic beauty of death of flower caused by spring gales - even the young die before given a chance to fully blossom, such is life, such was me. The beauty of Kairakuen which was on display in the form of two very lovely local girls draped in Kimono was also a special moment for me, each allowing passersby to snap photos of and with them - to my left is Ms. Mito and the other is Ms. Ibaraki.



The simplicity and strangeness of a stupid little delicious looking green candy apple being eaten by a lovely wet mouth, which gave off a sense that there is some sort of quirky balance and an interconnectivity between that which we take for granted in our everyday lives, like making love and deep kissing, or teasing little chubby babies, to even savoring an apple. Far too often and far too many people forget how to just enjoy the beauty of an apple. There’re poor in THIS WORLD in the 21st CENTURY who’ve never even tasted a normal looking apple in their whole entire lives!?



It's a garden replete with all the beauty of old Japan; flowing rivers, long and elegant bamboo with their hollow jointed stems, 3000 swaying ume trees releasing their aroma into the air, clad with thousands of little plum blossoms, tea houses and wooded stairs, ancient cedars, and lovely little footpaths that wind around the entire garden. Just lovely.





So I reiterate , is there any material value in visiting such a park, especially in an age when conspicuous consumption is fast becoming the only modus operandi for living life? Did the 30,000 or so young Japanese people who took their lives last year, and the year before die because they lacked money, or was it hope!? Jobs = money, money=security, without money there's no hope, there's not even a tomorrow, a never ending circle of dependence on money is all many have become. This is the termed the spiritual void. But even money can’t buy my dreams and wishes.
(" Let's buy something expensive, just for the hell of it. That way we can rub it in our friends faces by making them feel like they have to go out and buy the same thing, but only better").
Who cares about visiting such places when you can use your money to buy the latest gadgetry, or drink the latest French wine that cost a fortune, even though you can't even pronounce the name on the label. What can be gained from walking around a garden with a bunch of trees? The Soul of Japan. Gadzooks! What a no brainer. To actually think that something as simple as visiting a garden in Japan one could experience, if one only tries for just a moment to use a little introspection, the appreciation of the beauty of a nation in its most simplest form, a mother naked kind of beautiful form. That’s all I needed.
Here, let me help you. It’s called JR East. The path to enlightenment is called Super Hitachi and it will take you to the promise land. It’s only a small step to freeing your mind, and then your body will follow..



Another step to enlightenment is enjoying a couple of these long distance lunch boxes with one of my other favorite mommas, and then washing it all down with a bottle of Akita’s Shimizu.



The Hitachi Fresh is the newest version of the Super Hitachi.
Another interesting aspect of this garden were the almost mythical images these trees displayed:





Almost like beauty suffering in pain as it’s being twisted by the hardness of life.


And then there’s natto, fermented soybeans, which I absolutely adore. And here is another personal example of natto the old fashion way.
And what I enjoyed the most with natto.

The delicious squid and octopus. ( I love the smell when these foods are being grilled, along with the scent of a women’s hair after it’s been shampooed).

Shinto. Ooh, how I love thee. You are the purest.
I enjoyed walking and talking with my favorite Jukujo the whole time. We drank nihonshu, enjoyed delicious ume ice cream, breathing in the newness of life and the beginning of spring. I can live again.

Tastier Than a Fuji Apple!

I met her when she was a senior in high school. She was petite and unusually tall for a Japanese girl, and trendy for her age, too. She had a type 3 square face with strong defined lines, which can be seen in famous people like Demi Moore, Joan Crawford, Sandra Bullock and even Julia Roberts. A. Fuji had good overall looks and was very desirable to look at. She looked more like a Japanese Demi Moore than all the rest with a bob cut lightly dyed brown and beautiful skin.

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I remember random strangers approaching me and paying me both curt ‘back-handed’ and ‘double-edged’ compliments all at the same time with comments like : ”she makes you look young” or “ you did pretty good for an ugly guy.” I would just shake my head and take it as them being envious of me.

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She was fashion conscious at all times, and made sure that everything matched from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. In fact, whenever we went out she would always make sure that I was either wearing a nice Polo shirt or an Armani - that was before I got the paunch! Even in high school she drove a Lexus - her own one, not her father’s and she made sure that it was always clean.

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Highly gifted in advanced mathematics; dumb about life; and a shopaholic, she never ceased to amaze me at how much she didn't know about compulsory subjects taught in school like history, art, and the sciences, even down to the most essential things regarding her own hygiene - how ironic. And like I mentioned before, when it came to solving and quantifying advanced mathematical equations she was a whizz!

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Being with A. Fuji, her real surname , was an unusual digression for me because I only prefer and love older Japanese women to the core, but I wouldn’t be fair to myself if I only limited my selection to them without first biting into this young apple, and other young fruits of this kind.

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When she finally moved in with me we had to pay for additional storage space just for her shoes ! She had hundreds of pairs of shoes. She was the opposite of my former lover who was frugal. A. Fuji was the youngest girl I had ever been with and one I will never forget. Her fashion sense was way ahead of her time; power suits, Ann Taylor, and so on.

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I was living as a successful bachelor on my own in a very nice part of Torrance, California for a few years. I met her when she was attending high school in Palos Verdes. She was shopping at a Walmart when I approached her to try and get her number. She shot me down instantly! So, I gave her my number and then she walked away leaving me there wondering whether I used the right lines or not….

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That night I get a call at around midnight, and it’s her! The last thing I’d ever expect was for her to call me, but she did. Apparently, she had a falling out with her father and needed a place to stay in order to let off some steam. I told her to come over and have a beer and the rest was history.

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As time went on the relationship blossomed, but not into a normal relationship, but one full of nympholepsy for all things a man could possible want in a young lady. She was a sex addict, and she loved doing role playing during sex, which eventually took its toll on me. Five times a day everyday was a bit too much.

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I started holding back and asking for more time to sleep because I was working a lot. What was really lacking in our relationship, though, was communication. She couldn’t talk about any subject matter other than her shoes and clothes. I began to lose interest in the relationship from that point because of this void. From that time I began to wonder whether Japanese parents actually raise their kids, or just feed and water them.... Even if I had asked her a simple question about Japan, like who's the prime minister, she would just look at me with blank stares. I needed somebody I could talk too, not just a warm body I could just pile drive every night while pretending to be a dirty little doctor dressed in a white robe wearing latex gloves.

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At the height of our relationship she would wait for me at the door 5 minutes before I got home. Upon opening the door I would be greeted with a very large plate of food in her left hand, and in her right hand she'd be holding an ice cold beer, standing there naked with her mouth open and flicking her tongue at me. She said what three choices would you like? Three choices, what was the third? She didn't say anything after that, so I chose #3 and she went to her knees and went to work immediately. All of this was going on before I had shut the front door. I completely forgot I left it open. This whole scene was completely unexpected, but similar pleasure were given to me almost everyday for 6 months.

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Then one day I lost complete interest in her, which was mainly due to her inability to take an interest in relevant things like life and her future. Sex was a good thing, but sex alone couldn’t supplant the need for someone I could talk to naturally and freely. This is where I began to explore other types of women, namely, the Jukujo.

Yabaton’s of Ginza!

I need to give you the direction to this place now, otherwise I’ll forget!  On the Hibya line get off at Higashi-Ginza and take the first exit after exiting the gate off to your right – exite(1).

This is actually a Nagoya specialty, which has been gaining fame for a number of years now for its  mildly sweet red miso on pork cutlet.   If you like premium pork with strong miso flavor then I recommend this. 

I was first introduced to this chain shop a few years ago by a Nagoyan who swore up and down this was one of the best eats in Nagoya, and now with several chains located  in Japan, and now in the Ginza, I believe him.  Great stuff! 

Especially over a heap of hot white rice with red miso pork oozing over the rice was fantastic. 

Before that though, I ordered black tiger shrimp which are about 12 inches long each, and are cut in halves – don’t let the picture food you, these things are huge! 

Everything cost me around 3600 yen, plus I downed a whole pitcher of ice cold green tea – blood pressure is already too high. 

Leonard Foujita

I was going to add links about this great painter, but I decided that I would do him better justice if I just write about him myself and try to show you something that most Japanese try to conceal. Leonard Foujita was first and foremost a Japanese, who later died a French.

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The fatalist and pacifist were the ones responsible for stripping him of his nationality, only to reward it back to him posthumously after almost 50 years, and after he revolutionized French painting and eventually the whole art world. So many of Japan’s great men and women are the unsung heroes in this day and age whose works have been overlooked and only briefly discussed in so-called academia. Tonight I briefly discuss Mr. Foujita.

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A few months ago, I visited an art gallery in Ueno with one of my Favorites for an evening out together. For me, it was absolutely essential I took her because she too is a painter with a strong penchant for fair white skin and muscles – all of which she has and all of which Mr. Foujita is famous for portraying in his art.

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The exhibition that afternoon at Ueno Museum was fantastic. Hundreds of his original works were on display, but the essential ones, the ones that forced him into exile almost sixty years ago weren’t there! I was angry. The most controversial of his paintings weren’t on display and this was not fair, I said to myself. But before I go into a tangent let me briefly explain a little about his work.

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It’s important to understand that Mr. Foujita first came to France when the art world was in a transitional period. Painters from all over Europe were looking for ways to refine how white skin should be portrayed on canvas. Most of the portrayals had a jaundice or a sickly pail complexion, others were just too white or were too unnatural looking to be considered art worthy.

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When Mr. Foujita first arrived in France he couldn’t speak any French at all and he had very little money. He was living below the bread line for a number of years taking odd jobs here and there until his works of art started getting noticed.

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He first got noticed when he started experimenting with canvas and oils and layers which led to the prevention of ink blots in his paintings. The kind of white tones that he brought to the art world was amazing! His paintings had a sort of porcelain white which was enigmatic and perplexing at the same time. No one at that time could figure out how he was able to produce this kind of white on canvas. He kept this a secret. Some sources say he used a special mixture of barium in order to produce white and then he would smooth over a canvas with a knife making it smooth and then applying this barium mixture that gave life to his paintings. Too technical for me.

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Mr. Foujita’s paintings are mostly of nudes painted in fine lines and reliefs highlighting muscles and genitalia on canvas. Beautiful white; soft and alluring; expressive; emotional;passionate were his theme points.

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What I love most about him is his will to do something completely out of the ordinary. He didn’t need anybody to wait on him hand and foot. He grabbed life by the balls and went for it. He took all the risks and gained respect and admiration the world over in the end.

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At the height of his career Japan had just attacked Pearl Harbor. News of the Pearl Harbor sneak attack spread all across Europe causing a great stir amongst the masses because it simply was unfathomable to think that a little island nation such as Japan would launch a sneak attack that would kill thousands of Americans and sink a number of very powerful American warships technically undetected, which in turn officially plummeting the world into WW2.

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Being a Japan, Mr. Foujita wanted to do something to help his country, so he flew back to Japan and began painting for the Japanese Army in order to try to lend support for the war effort. He used black paint this time, which was revolutionary in itself. A type of black paint that no one had ever used before, which too lent a type of mysticism and allure to his paintings. I have seen some of these amazingly life like paintings! Just amazing. What I also found quite intriguing about him is how patriotic he was despite being a lover of European art and society. He loved France, but he loved home more. Here are a couple of his famous quote:

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Fujita wrote, "I became one of the successful painters in Paris, because I received the basic Japanese painting training in my mother country, Japan."

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Fujita wrote, "I lived in Tokyo until I turned age 25. I spent next twenty years in Paris. I became a man in Japan, and I became a painter in France. I would like to live in the world as a Japanese."

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These were quotes by him. He became a man in Japan! Wow. This resonates. If only modern day Japanese could embrace this notion that first and foremost you are a Japanese and then you can be whatever you want to be. The problem is that most Japanese lack not only the knowledge of what it means to be them-principly, but they also lack understanding about the world that they live in-literally, so in turn they try to abandon the ‘old way’ - which has long been established - by replacing it with excessively Western fundamentalist thinking. They don’t know how to establish a balance between the two ways because they lack a soul and a conscience; just empty hollowed out lifeless bodies, drones and puppets for the U.S. is all they’ve become. Only money, greed and selfishness make sense.

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After the allies establish the IMTF court in Tokyo and all the judicial martyrs were hanged, questions were being fielded as to whether Mr. Foujita should stand trial for encouraging(aiding and abetting)his fellow countrymen through his drawings. Upon hearing this news Mr. Foujita fled back to France and officially changed his nationality to French. Eventually he was spared and became a devout Christian/Catholic(?) and went on to paint very heavy dark religious themes. He died a great man. He died French in a Japanese body then was resurrected again as a Japanese man!

I would like to thank this months blog matsuri host Loneleeplanet.

Confessions

Okay.  So here's my confession.  I was a bully.  The last confrontation I had was with a sixty five year old Japanese man I ran into over at a shopping mall here in Yokohama.

I remember him approaching me and asking me what I  thought about his new U.S. Navy cap.  I hate being bothered by stupidity when I'm on my way to work.  He was pointing to the wording on the hat with this stupid little grimace on his ugly little unshaven face.

And then he smiled and the only teeth he had in his mouth were  molars, and no others teeth ladies and gentleman.  Hideous looking man!  I went for the first insult by first telling him in Japanese at how stupid he looked for sporting a U.S. Navy hat with pride in spite of  the dark history of thousands of his own people who were raped, murdered and brutalized way back in HIS generation. 

I had asked him to remove it because I felt that not only was it an insult and an affront to the thousands of sailors who died fighting against YOUR people in the Pacific, but to the thousands of Okinawa's who were victimized by the U.S. Marines.  He had no goddam right to wear the hat jus' cause' it's cool looking or because he wants to appear friendly.   Had the U.S. lost the war  it would be a crime to wear such a hat on American soil glorifying the Japanese military!

"You're not a man," I shouted!  "You're a Yankee lovin' boot licker who would whore his own daughter off just for a chance to go to the States and to look cool in front of your friends.'  He was super shocked!  I could sense his blood pressure rising as the vein in his neck began to pump.  He started pointing at security and began motioning one of the officers over.  Security wouldn't come near, especially after I gave them one of my patented Samuel L. Jackson glares.   

I continued: "How can you ask me such a stupid question?"  " Where is your daughter at right now?  Is she clubbing on one of the American military bases?"  “There are thousands of Japanese people every year paying their respects at Yasukuni, but you.   You have to stop me and ask me about how good you look in some stupid little U.S. Navy hat!  Like I’m supposed to cheer you on and say attaboy that’s showing your national pride and spirit. 

I enjoyed watching his stupid little smile turn to anger.  I felt so relieved after I let off into him.  So many ignorant people forget their history and think that it’s perfectly okay.  It’s not OK!  It will never be okay!

Since then I stopped.  I know I may have overreacted but I have no regrets.  It’s what he needed to hear.  I just didn’t need to hear him asking me something like that.  Maybe I’ll sport a KKK hat next time and stop some black guy and ask him how I look.

In Hot Water!

Sitting in a hot bath is always a nice experience, but it’s even nicer when it’s shared with the opposite sex.  For me, though, I rarely invite anybody to join me in a hot tub simply because I don’t like to talk the experience away, like most people do.  Most times just sitting in silence is good enough and it’s even better when you are sitting in silence in a nice open air hot tub on a Monday morning when most people are out to work.  

On this occasion though, I decided to accept an invitation by an awesome looking jukujo named Ms. Isogo( not her real name).  She was 178cm tall; 46;single;and no kids.  She had unevenly proportioned creamy mochi colored legs that were long with over developed calf muscles that accentuated her black pumps and knee high silk skirt.  Her hamstrings weren’t as developed as I’d have liked, but still all in all she had a wonderful pair of legs and a nice clean wrinkle free face and an excellent waist line.

I met her on the Keihin Tohoku line bound for Isogo.  The last stop.  She was on her way home from shopping.  I approached her feeling extra confident that evening because I was on my way to meet some guys for an evening out on the town.  I’d figure I’d oil the wheels of social interaction early that night by trying to get her number.  No corny ice breakers were required this time just a normal ‘hello’ ‘how are you today.’   I was immediately drawn to her long silky smooth looking black hair as it lay there draped across her left shoulder.

We got off the train and walked for what seemed like an eternity.  She actually allowed me to walk her to the front door of her condo!?  It was 9pm.  We exchanged phone numbers and from that day we gradually developed a friendship  which eventually lead to a passionate relationship – about a week later.

The company she works for offered free monthly passes to an onsen in Tokyo, and since I had a car and no where to go she invited me. 

Sitting in the same Jacuzzi across from us there was a father and son gazing over us wondering what the relationship was between me and Ms. Isogo and wondering  why she was massaging my foot and then running her hair across and in between my toes. I think the father was a little taken aback by this,and wondered a bit rather it was appropriate or not for a Japanese woman her age and caliber to be doing this to a foreigner in a public bath house.  The son was also visibly curious because I assume his father never received such treatment at home or elsewhere for that matter.  The father assumed that I would be visiting this kind of place with a club junky I pulled out of a bar somewhere.  Instead I was with someone who looked like somebody's wife!   Too clean and natural looking to be here with a portly gaijin.  It just didn’t register nor make sense. 

Of course here in Japan  physical contact is frowned upon.  Then again how do you know something's being frowned upon when everybody's smiling at you and nodding their heads at everything you do seemingly obsequiously like they want to coy up to you and befriend you and say cool things to you when in fact all they want to do is find some fault or imperfection so they can tell their friends about it.  

You just  assume that what you are doing is either wrong or just pretend that you don't care and shrug off the staring eyes and go on about your business .

The fact is is that jukujo are the crème de la crème of Japanese women in my opinion.  Not selfish and fickle like their younger counterparts who have extremely low emotional quotients!  But no…many Japanese men would actually overlook these demerits and  go as low as to even prostitute their own women in order to fulfill his own sexual desires because I assume a prepubescent girl is better than an older girl because she  massages his ego better…. 

Most times if I’m in public places I get little to few stares when I’m with someone who’s young.  I’ve dated women who dress like Mary J. Blige from the top down and still very little stares.  I assume it’s because it makes sense.  She loves American culture so of course she dresses the part and gets an American boyfriend.   Makes sense.  But one who in her early 40s who’s dressed down in polyester pants and who wears expensive silk scarves and velvet shirts….this is rare.   I have had many incredibly strange experiences being with this class of woman in public.  

Sometimes sitting in hot water can  land you in hot water if you are not mentally prepared for stares and constant bullshit.   Seeking out the right things and thinking the ‘right way’ is not required in Japan.  There is no right thinking because people simply don’t think, they merely exist in order to keep and maintain a semblance of  order that’s teetering on the brink of collapse.

Rokumeiken of Tsukijii

One of my favorite little eats around Tsukijii is a little place called Rokumeikan, which is famed for serving just about anything fried and with rice.  Everything fried! 

This baloney( three slices) and lightly fried eggs( 3 large to be exact) covered in mayo and shoyu(soy sauce) and a huge mound of rice is a local favorite at this place.  I know what you are thinking…..But, even still this looked really good.  The guy who ate this made it look so delicious.  He ceremoniously rolled up his sleeves, cracked his knuckles and began carefully dissecting and moving everything around on the plate.  He poured a liberal amount of Kewpies mayo all over the meat and rice, and then he added a nice serving of shoyu, and as a final touch he burst the egg yokes so that they would run all over the baloney and rice.  I was watching all of this while eating this:

Which wasn’t that bad, actually.  As a matter of fact it was quite good, so I couldn’t complain.  Ebi Fry!  and shredded cabbage and a serving of rice.  But I will be back for this egg yoke delight.