Octopus Have Balls?

22 07 2011

First and foremost, I’m home safe and sound after my stint in deportation limbo. The details of what happened and why are really not that interesting or important; just know that the Chinese really don’t care for visa related shenanigans, and will do everything in their worldly power to make life miserable for you if need be. In the same vein, my first visit to Hong Kong, albeit under ridiculous circumstances, was enjoyable enough. The city might honestly be the least hip place I’ve ever been, however, as my short stint there was filled with boring finance dicks, overweight middle aged English guys ogling at the walk by hussies, and self-righteous 19 year old Russian models. And as unfair as it seems to typecast an entire city into cultural lameness after not but three nights out and about, my observations were confirmed and by many long time residents so…

Tokyo, on the other hand, is maybe the most awesomely overwhelming place I’ve ever been to in my life. It’s chaotic, quirky, and weirdly charming all at the same time. I was lucky to have best of friends Mari-e there to show me around the city, and doing her best to shed some light on the eccentric nature of Tokyo living.

After spending the first day or two seeing and eating my way through Tokyo (apparently they’re balls made of octopus, silly to think mollusks would have testicles) proper, we took a quick day trip out to a little place called Kamakura, an hour outside of the city by train. The place is noted for a series of Buddhist and Shinto temples hidden amongst a series of rolling hills; most notable of which, houses this giant sitting Buddha. There’s also a beach where you’ll find weird Japanese surf bums in dreds and rasta-gear. Are you there Ja? It’s me, Ras-Hisashi.

Tokyo, a place where walking in the street wearing a gimp suit is an everyday occurrence. A place where everything from ice cubes recycling is fetishized and executed flawlessly. No joke, 80% of the public restrooms I used were electronic bidets. They’re sticklers about jaywalking and spitting, but if you pass out in your three piece suit on a curbside in a puddle of your own vomit after a heavy night of drinking, totes mcgoats ok. Our time together was short Tokyo, but I look forward to the next time we meet.




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