Welcome to Japan

Well, after a surprisingly quiet plane ride I arrived at Narita a bit weary but otherwise elated at how fate had transpired to bring me here. Narita is pretty similar to any large terminal and made me wonder if I stayed in the US and someone just switched the signs. Well, that fantasy was quickly dashed when I hit customs and got fingerprinted and photographed. I was carrying a few homemade DVDs to hawk at the show and wondered it they would catch any flack. Surprisingly, they just looked at my passport and waved me through. in fact I saw no one being pulled over for further inspection.

The next hurtle was getting my butt to the hotel as no one was available pick me up. As had been suggested to me I took the oddly-named "limobus"...which was pretty comfy and whisked me off to the massive transportation hub that is Shinkjuku Station. So far, to my surprise, I really did not find the need to speak Japanese. That changed though when I had to hail a cab to get from the station to my hotel.

"Hai, sumimasen. Hotel Park Inn?" I fumbled as I showed my printed map to the driver. He smiled and took off. We tried to engage in small talk. I told him in fractured Japanese I was a photographer and after saying how long I would be there, we sort of reached a stalemate when speaking about baseball. A few Ichiros and Matsuis later we arrived.

Soon after picking up my rent-a-phone at the hotel counter, I received a text from my contact and owner of Erostika gallery/shop, Junichi "Jun" Noro. Checking in to make sure I made it in all right. Skipping the baseball story, I just told him I was fine and all in one piece. However, after that mother of a trip I there was no way I could keep my eyes open a second longer. Fully dressed, I crashed on my bed until the following day.

The morning brought some new challenges. Mainly, getting myself BACK to Shinjuku station to meet Jun and get to work setting the show up. After wandering round for about 10 minutes within the vicinity of my hotel searching for a subway entrance, I gave up and took a taxi. More baseball talk.

I arrived quickly at the station meeting point ... sort of. Shinjuku station is so large there are East, West North and South entrances....each about a good half mile apart. Already sweating I called Jun and told him I'd be at the West entrance. No sense to get heat stroke on my very first day. There was still time.

For the first time after about six months I was finally able to meet Jun face-to-face after only email communications prior. With a nickname of "Wild Ox" I had already pictured several scenarios. None of which panned out. Jun definitely was larger than your average Japanese guy, but also possessing a kind welcoming smile. And, surprisingly a very good grasp of English due to a stint on the West Coast for several years. After some warm greetings, we took off to meet his assistant for the day Toyozo. Also a member of the garage band The Fadeaways, Toyozo met us sporting a classic striped shirt and black vest circa Sunset Strip 1966. A great fellow, we shook hands and all took off via subway to the gallery, located in nearby Shimokitazawa.

Expecting to be crushed in a mass of people, the subway was relatively quiet. The fact that it was midday was definitely a factor, but immediately I began to realize a lot of my preconcieved notions were being put to the test. The subways were of course immaculate and sped in and out at precisely timed intervals. It was a wonder to behold.

Upon arriving at Shimokitazawa, I finally got a chance to see the space I rented for three days. It was small but in a fantastic spot a few blocks away from the station and on ground level. A big selling point in a city where different stores are routinely on upper floors. Once settled in, we spent a good several hours placing the photos in the brand new wooden frames we ordered. It looked spiffy. Stopping only for a quick lunch, we headed back to mounting the actual finished photos on the walls. Not surprisingly, hanging photos is not easy, but with Jun and Toyozo we pretty much flew through it in record time. Erostika had also printed up some postcards which needed to be colated into sets and enveloped. Another monotonous, but necessary task. Despite the hard work, it was a pretty enjoyable afternoon. Several people stopped by after hearing the music we were playing and asked when the show was opening. One was even a 70 year-old woman. Cool Obaachan.

Soon it grew late and Jun told me the fellow in charge of picking up the A-Bones, Harry, had just picked up the jet-lagged bunch was bringing them to a restaurant in Shinjuku for dinner. At the restaurant greetings were exchanged all around and we proceeded to a typical workingman's eatery.

The restaurant was filled with typical white-collar guys just unwinding after a long day at the office. I am sure seeing our crew come in probably surprised them. We sat down shoe-less on tatami mats and stared blankly at menus written entirely in japanese. Harry, sitting by Billy, Miriam, and I, translated as best he could but for the most part we dealt with blanket descriptions of chicken, fish or tofu. After a while we just decided it was best for our hosts to just order.

We got some interesting appetizers that for the life of me I cannot recall right now. But, they were tasty. I do recall getting some full size prawns though that were....big. Dutifully, I apologized to the big crustacean and separated his body from his tail. Not really being in the mood to feast on his shrimpy guts.

As dinner was in full swing, Miriam decided to pull a prank on Bruce when he got up to use the bathroom. Grabbing his blue Chuck Taylors from under his spot she quickly donned them and wondered how he'd react. Billy remarked "Let the games begin."

As we were eating one of Harry's friends Rie, the bass player of a band opening up for the A-Bones, The Stomping Riff Raffs stopped by and said hi. Jun came over and all three joked about like any old three friends would. It was nice and reminded me how similar both our little subcultures are both here and in New York. Pretty much everyone knowing everyone else. I'll stop here I think lest I wind up humming It's a Small World After All. Damn Disney...

On the other side of the table, Bruce was accepting saki shots and things were getting goofier and goofier. Lars grabbed some chopsticks and started making walrus tusks out of them. His host noticing a severe breach of etiquette lest he not join in, did similarly. Miriam started feeding Bruce using her chopsticks, Bruce started paying up his "baby" role to much laughs while the locals probably wondered whats up with these wacky Americans? Can't take 'em anywhere. It was great though to see the guys in such lighthearted moods. Especially after that grueling 13-hour flight that knocked me on my butt just the evening before. Not being strangers to
international touring, these guys knew how to deal.

After dinner, we all posed for the first group shot of the tour. With the camera flash
eerily making Marcus' Figures of Light t-shirt glow the way any shirt named such ... should. The walk back to the hotel was not far and gave us our first taste of strolling through the quiet, but safe, neighborhood back streets and alleys.

As luck would have it. Our hotel, had a 24-hour supermarket. Not a convenience store....but full-fledged supermarket right across the street. As the days would go on that small store would be everyone's outpost for snacks, food and liquids. Although with two drink vending machines on pretty much every corner, there was no lack of liquid refreshment....anywhere. Big day for both our camps tomorrow. So we called it a night.