Harajuku Iyahoi

Of course no trip to Tokyo, Japan would be entirely complete without a misjudged acid tumble down Alice's Wonderland; and by that I mean a quick stroll through the wildly bizarre fashion-obsessed youth culture around Harajuku. Turns out every other camera-toting tourist had pretty much the same idea as we battled our way through the sad crush of fuming Goth Lolitas, squealing Japanese tween girls and oddly enough, hyper-aggressive African salespeople as we made our way through the neighbourhood.

Quite the peculiar combination of people but when it comes to Harajuku, I guess anything goes. And it certainly couldn't be more outlandish than some of the more... avant-garde creations on display in the minuscule boutiques huddled around the hilly steps of Harajuku.

But of course I wasn't there to try on a bedazzled leather jacket with a dozen zippers more suited for a futuristic manga than my day job; I was here purely for one of my guilty pleasures. Ignoring the mindless chatter of the adolescents queuing for a taste of crepes, I made a beeline straight for the mother of 100 yen stores. Daiso.

Really. Everything at the same low, low price. How could I possibly not love such a place?

Apparently every other tourist there had the very same idea since after the usual gawking, gasping and gaping over the beribboned Harajuku dolls doing their weekend stroll, most of them actually congregate in Daiso as well to purchase... well, all of Japan it seems. Judging by the dozens of identical items chucked into their shopping baskets, I assume they all have wildly optimistic plans to stock up their own 100 yen store back home.

For real. A few had cash receipts longer than my arm. And then some.

Can't blame them since we had quite a long list ourselves since hey who can resist? 

Actually though has anyone ever wondered what the Japanese cashiers say nonstop in a rambling monologue whenever they accept a purchase and payment? Since we have little way of knowing apart from picking up the local language in less than a week, we immediately made up several made up situations to explain the unintelligible babble.

Paul : Here are my items. 
Cashier : Fuck you. That's all you're buying? Damned idiot. I'll take your bloody change and stuff it up your face. 
Paul : What?
Cashier : Thank you for coming to Daiso. 

Paul : Here are my items. 
Cashier : I gave up a promising job in banking and finance to do this. Damn that idiot boyfriend of mine. 
Paul : What? 
Cashier : Thank you for coming to Daiso. 

Really, the wholly imaginary conversations that the cashiers might be having with us could be endless. Yes, we do know the entirely logical explanation; no doubt they are diligently telling us that they are gladly accepting the cash in exchange for the items and disclosing the proper change in return.

But fabricating wildly wacky scenarios is just so much more fun.

Ninja Re Bang Bang

The old belltower strikes signalling midnight. 

Outside the gently waxing moon shone bright, with only a short handful of days before the annual Tsukimi celebrations in the ancient city. Inside the room, the rickety wooden blinds were battened down to shut out the coming morning sun which fully signalled the intentions of the occupants who intended to sleep through till later in the day. Only the gentle rhythmic breathing of their sleeping disrupted the relative silence.

It was just a common inn. He was sure there were no nightingale floors to warn the sleeping occupants of the coming danger. All his years of training had let to this and it was time to strike. 

Treading carefully across the smoothened wooden floors, he stealthily headed towards the target. Not a sound was made yet like a silent one handed clap, the steady breathing came to a screeching halt. 

Eyes opened,  dark and serpentine, watching him in the dark. 

It was too late to turn back. 

Ugh. The noise is driving me crazy. Can I kill them all? 

Well at least that's how Charming Calvin would describe it.

Plagued with insomnia, it shouldn't come as any surprise that my sleep patterns can be erratic at best especially so when my unpredictable work life occasionally intrudes. Always filled with exasperated envy for those who can nod off the moment their head touches the pillow. Though it can be a little better during my travels without the crushing stress of work, sleep still comes whimsically in fits and starts. So it should come as no surprise that every small tweak and creak in the room would immediately have me awake in microseconds.

Without doubt a work hazard since we usually need to be perfectly conscious and ready for action in moments after being called, no matter the unseasonable hour of the night.

Which becomes a real problem when Calvin tiptoes to the bathroom occasionally in the dead of night.

Though he tries to keep the noise down as best he can, there's only so much a normal person can do without resorting to supernatural ninja tricks. Not that I truly mind since it's a relaxed carefree holiday after all. Once he's finished, silence quickly returns which does help my ensuing slumber.

Best of all, he doesn't snore much anymore. Or perhaps I've grown accustomed to it.

Fashion Monster

Fishy to Flashy. 
Gritty to Glitzy. 
Raucous to Respectable.

All that within the few interesting miles from the rowdy fish markets of Tsukiji 築地市場 to the more refined temples of commerce at Ginza 銀座.

Like every other visitor to Tokyo, I spent the earlier part of the morning sampling fresh seafood - the half of which I couldn't ever name - while brusquely pushing my way through the ever-growing crowds at the Tsukiji markets just to get that all-important tick on my bucket list. Though Charming Calvin raved about it, I wasn't too impressed with the rolled omelettes on offer but then I've never been a fan of tamago. However being over here in Tokyo has made me a serious fan of the tuna sashimi!

Stuffed to the gills with fish, oysters and other unrecognizable shellfish, we made our slow way towards the glitzier end of the neighbourhood. From Tsukiji where rowdy merchants handed out dried cuttlefish while hollering for a peek at their available wares slowly and inexorably transformed into Ginza with the more stereotypical Japanese salesperson deeply bowing and whispering a clear but muted invitation to their posh ateliers.

Think anyone who has heard of Tokyo would know of the world-renowned shopping of Ginza with its streets lined by department stores, world-class designer boutiques and well-established stores. With Hokōsha Tengoku 歩行者天国 in place leaving the main thoroughfare of Chuo-dori closed to traffic, it was the perfect time for a walkabout around Ginza while people watching.

Not to mention the occasional artist playing on the streets; only here would you have the talented Chie Hanawa in a kimono playing the age-old shamisen while utilizing some of the most cutting edge music technology available.

After a couple of days in Tokyo with an entire day spent just watching the people go by on Chuo-Dori, it would be hard to disagree with the general notion that yes, Asian boys do all look alike. Let's be entirely racist but even I have some difficulty telling the carbon copy hotties apart in a Chinese / Korean television series initially, at least during the first episode. Like the dozen or so male characters appearing simultaneously in the first episode of Nirvana in Fire, I could barely tell them apart.

Not that they aren't all equally attractive.

It is however entirely possible to tell apart those with looks more stereotypical of different regions in East Asia, such as me since I'm clearly from Southern China with my flatter nose and rounder face. Yes, yes there are wide variations of course but even the soldiers in the Terracotta Army can be differentiated by their faces to tell where they originally came from.

Quite a few of the boys could have come out of the many yaoi bara titles around!

One surprisingly easy way to differentiate the Japanese boys would be their distinctive hairstyles. Rather than slicked back up like me, most of them have their perfectly mussed hair hair flopping down meticulously over their foreheads.

Tsukematsukeru

Has it really been two decades since I left school?

Seems like it must have been since the last time I saw Skinny Stacey, we were taking our last steps out of high school after our exam results. Or wait, it could have been a week later when we were slightly tipsy after downing drinks at our last school party. Though we hardly spent any time apart during Form Six, we drifted apart after that as we went our separate ways. Cellphones were still bulky extravagances, social media was still in its relative infancy back then and ICQ was a pain to use.

It was only relatively recently that we pinged each other again on Facebook and started chatting briefly about what had been going on in our lives. Sheer coincidence indeed that we both happened to be in Tokyo at about the same time; seemed like fate was telling us to finally meet up.

Which we did.

Though for a while there it seemed like it might not happen since a sad lack of roaming data and miscommunication had us both waiting at opposite ends of the renowned Senso-Ji Temple in Asakusa. BTW when I say Kaminarimon, I obviously mean the Kaminarimon 雷門 otherwise known as the Thunder Gate. Fortuitously the gods of fortune seemed to smile upon us that day since after a frustrating hair-pulling hour of pacing around the temple gate searching for the hitherto familiar face of Skinny Stacey, I saw the even more recognizable mermaid insignia of Starbucks.

And reasonably stable wi-fi.

Amazing what they can do with woodblock prints these days! A memento of our trip there!

So it was that I spent an amazing day tour strolling around the ancient temple of Senso-Ji and the surrounding shopping streets of Asakusa - with Charming Calvin and Skinny Stacey. Can say without a doubt that she has changed but little since I could recognise her slender frame from a mile off. Did the conventional touristy prerequisite of cleansing rituals, soaking incense smoke and dedicating solemn prayers at the temple while leaving the bad luck tied up in knots behind.

Then it was time for a bit of reminiscing.

As much as I found the final years of high school utterly exhausting trying to catch up with endless revisions that never seemed to suffice, I still found it a time for slowly discovering the kind of person I would be; and yes, also tentatively exploring what it meant to be a sexually active gay man. Even then with all that near negligible homosexual angst, I found it an excellent experience to finally leave behind the macho all boys' experience and to finally have some feminine mystique around.

Hey I finally had girl friends. And I wasn't exactly unpopular.

Stacey : It wasn't that fun a time for us. 
Paul : Us? 
Stacey : I knew you were doing great in Form Six but not the rest of us. 
Paul : What? 

However it turns out Stacey - and quite a few of my classmates weren't having such a positive experience back then. An understatement if there ever was one. Unquestionably an epiphany for me since I unwisely figured that the rest couldn't possibly be undergoing as radical a change as I was. Happens that they just weren't dealing with it as smoothly as I was.

All behind us though so we can joke and laugh about it now. Still, has it really been two decades?

Kira Kira Killer

After the initial arrival misery and malaise, I usually bounce back from the terrible ordeal pretty rapidly. Not only do our travels not last very many days, we also usually have a really full schedule to cover.

And let's face it, once I'm signed on for a holiday I'm usually pretty much indefatigable for the entire length of the trip, barring the occasional unforeseen affliction. Unlike the more sedentary Charming Calvin who prefers a more leisurely vacation of course.

Therein lies the problem which is easily encapsulated by our vacation photos after. In the early mornings, he's usually the chipper robin while I'm disembowelling morons before my wake-up coffee; by evenings after our endless walks however it's usually the opposite with him looking like an extra from The Walking Dead while I'm bouncing off the rafters.

Sometimes literally.

And we walk and we walk and we walk all night.... 

Though I usually have a certain itinerary planned for the entire time we're there, it's usually entirely flexible depending on our whims and fancies. After all it's truly a free and easy experience. So I usually walkabout aimlessly with only a couple of must-see sights on the map that I want to cover. Hardly any outlined treks to religiously follow since I love the occasional stroll into the unexpected alley or dori as the case may be in Japan.

Of course that makes me cover a really large amount of mileage, which is alright by me since I tend to walk really, really fast. Spurred on even more by more travelling adrenaline, and maybe a lil bit of Kyary Pamyu Pamyu. Not the case for our slow and steady Charming Calvin so that leaves him utterly grouchy by the end of the day.

So you can imagine how grumpy he was when I abruptly made a plan to find a handicraft centre in Aoyama late at night on our first day there.

Poor fellow. Unlike the near unforgivable time I made him trudge through a chilly autumn night through the Quai Anatole France by the Seine, this time he found it a tad more tolerable though he still did give me the cold shoulder for at least half a mile down Aoyama Dori. Just about the distance between us when we're walking since his speed is perhaps half of mine which leaves me standing around waiting for him to finally catch up. Fortunately a plate of really excellent tuna sashimi perked Calvin right up.

Which gave me time to really ponder over the truly baffling maps of Tokyo, and we're not talking about the serpentine subway maps yet.

Yumeno Hajima Ring Ring

Charmed by Kyoto the last time we went, it wasn't hard to decide that our next trip would lead us to the other end of the renowned Tokaido road which is Edo. Otherwise better known as Tokyo 東京都 these days. A brand name known the entire world for that captivating mix of the ultramodern to the traditional, from neon-lit skyscrapers and futuristic androids to age-old ryokans and ancient temples.

With my debilitating insomnia coupled with an innate fear of flying metal boxes, the first days are usually miserable experiences for me but this time, a mixture of steroid-powered caffeine and the scent of autumn in the air spurred me out into the bewildering subway system of Tokyo the moment I dropped my bags at the hotel ( ironically called Innsomnia ). In a bid to avoid building train lines under the Imperial Palace, most transportation tracks belonging to two different companies go in tangled circles all around, which in a city touted as the most populous metropolitan areas in the world, leaves a bizarre, mind-boggling spectacle that takes several minutes to sink in.

And a couple of exhausting days to adjust to.

That's not even counting trying to make sense of the kanji, hiragana and katakana script written all over the maps.

Though it's rare to find a train carriage just that empty in Tokyo - well maybe at really unseasonable hours. 

Judging from the endless concrete towers surrounding us threateningly, we were definitely nowhere near provincial Kyoto at all. Even the crowds seem to have quadrupled with masses of suited salarymen pouring out of every nook and cranny of the train stations in perfectly timed intervals.

But I've never been one to hibernate on my travels so it was off to nearby Omotesando with their tree-lined avenue full of branded boutiques for a quick walk and dinner. Charming Calvin wasn't terribly amused to be dragged out of his extensive unpacking rituals but he certainly wasn't going to be left behind so off he went. How were we to know that the Japanese aren't too fond of modern-day conveniences such escalators and elevators? Steps and stairs everywhere we turned with the elevators tucked away in forbiddingly concealed corners.

Apparently the Koreans must have learned this bit from them.

So with our mildly befogged brains, we walked the length of Omotesando gaping at the beautifully dressed Tokyo hipsters in their trendy leather jackets and skintight selvedge denim. Fortunately we'd managed a quick shower and change otherwise we'd probably be hounded out of that posh enclave for dressing like abhorrent hobos.

The Blowjob

One Blowjob doesn't necessarily turn you gay.

Let's face it, boys are boys and they do love their little scientific experiments especially when it involves the excitable lil fella down below. Even though it was kept clandestinely hush-hush in my all boys's school, most would have noticed the illicit hanky panky going on between some of the more adventurous schoolboys in the secluded corners.

Doubt any of them would even think to consider themselves gay, then and now. Just a bit of handsy sophomoric fun between the boys, especially when opportunities to get off successfully are hard enough to come by at that jailbait age.

Not that I ever did any of that, well apart from some hasty making out sessions in the darker corners of the school chapel. Hardly enough time to progress past a quick handjob, much less giving a proper oral. Just never know who's going to be bursting through the doors! Terrible enough to be breaking dozens of religious doctrines in a day; what more to present such a spectacle of prurience to a man of the cloth.

Maybe a second round? 

But when a friend keeps insisting that the cheap trick he has been seeing is impossibly straight, it does make me wonder.

Friend : Yeah, I actually gave him a blowjob. 
Paul : Well that doesn't necessarily make him gay. 
Friend : He asked me for another. And I did it again. 
Paul : Oh. Twice? 

Well, perhaps one blowjob doesn't turn you homosexual. Fun times for all and all that.

But two consensual blowjobs?

Makes one wonder. Maybe you could chalk up that first blowjob to simple curiosity and fervent desperation - but the second time around does make it a little more suspicious. Moving towards the second has turned it from an experimental try to becoming something almost habitual. A lil crooked perhaps; down the Kinsey spectrum from totally heterosexual?

Surely he didn't hate it all that much if he's begging to come for seconds?