Thunder Only Happens When it’s Raining

My jisaboke (jet lag) awoke me from what seemed like peaceful sleep (if you don’t count the evil death creatures I was battling in my dreams) at 4am for the third morning in a row. Tossing and turning eight different ways, lengthwise, sideways, twisted, you name it, I finally fell back asleep. My driver woke me for good at 7am, and I just went with it. Awesome morning yoga followed by plans to visit a gallery to see an amazing artist (Ikeda Manabu), meet a friend from UCLA for lunch, and perhaps try to accomplish a somewhat ridiculous sixteen book mission (using only ISBN numbers) bestowed upon me by my art history guru who arrives on Thursday (and who I’ll be traveling with for the next three weeks).

I looked up “Kinokuniya bookstore,” a very well-known chain, and Google told me it would be on the fifth floor of Tokyu. “Sweet!” I thought, since I am staying about two minute’s walk from Tokyu honten (flagship store). Put on my purple mini and set out, headphones in ears, soundtrack to life playing strong (I “Gotta Jiboo’ed” all ova this city!). Walked through Gucci, Prada, YSL, you name it I saw it designer stores up and down five floors and the closest thing to A book, let alone a book on Buddhist art, I could find was a slew of overpriced pocketbooks that looked like they had been bedazzled by an OCD third grader. Turns out there are about five different Tokyu stores just in Shibuya (not to be confused with Tokyo the city or Toyoko the train line I would soon take).

I decided to just go with the delightfully lost mentality (which would become a reoccurring theme this day), and browsed around several other bookstore-looking locations, only to find manga and gaudy magazines. Inadvertently did a few laps around Shibuya station, passing by what seemed to be endless smiling salespeople bursting at the seams with excitement in anticipation of selling me vacuum-sealed kelp and tubercles, cream puffs, rice crackers, etc. I had to buy a fresh “balance shake” (six vegetable blend) just to get through the groundhog-day mess of it all. Quick train to Nakameguro, where I met Lita. We wander aimlessly for some time down pink lantern lined streets in search of a lunch spot, yet we keep chatting and forgetting to actually look at storefronts. It starts raining shortly thereafter sowe duck into the first decent looking place. It’s tiny and a lovely woman in a blue headscarf seats us at a tiny table and brings us tiny ceramic glasses and fills them with tea from a tiny pitcher. We both order the yakizakana (grilled fish) set lunch and it somehow arrives on a huge platter before I can decide whether beer before a proper breakfast is a good or bad idea. Delicious lunch…whole sanma (mackerel pike), miso soup full of tiny clams, tsukemono (picked vegetables – here, cucumber and carrot), black seaweed salad with mushrooms, and rice.
Now off to the “art gallery,” which I must place in quotations because the mission was doomed. When I researched the location, I was apparently not intelligent enough to notice that Sundays and Mondays are "rest days." It being Monday, then, we arrived to closed doors! That, and I had gotten us a little lost finding the building. Oh well, we would go get a beer and I would buy to make up for the failed mission.

We strolled along the Meguro river, and my daydreaming ways swept over me: I envisioned the sakura (cherry blossom trees) that lined its banks in spring bursting with color and dropping tiny petals in a swirling array while people sat on blankets drinking sake and toasting to health and happiness.

No bars readily presented themselves in this sleepy (but adorable) neighborhood, so we hopped the train back to Shibuya in search of…beer in frosty mugs. You would think, and rightfully so, that Shibuya would be THE place to find a nice afternoon bar. Maybe that is the case and we can chalk this experience up to user error, but on this Monday at 2:37pm there was absolutely no open shot bar, izakaya, or other ostensible drinking establishment to be found. I had a memory burst and remembered the location of this tiny bar run by a guy who loved Phish and SCI, but turning up the alley I noticed it had become a European-style lunch joint. Foiled! We walked forever (another several laps around Shibuya) until passing by an Italian-style café with a large birra sign out front. This was a wise decision, for about three minutes after I poured my long neck bottle with a pretty lady on the label into the glass the skies opened and it started pouring! It rained for over an hour, za-za-ing (this is the Japanese onomatopoetic expression for "raining like cats and dogs") like you would not believe straight down. Schoolgirls, businessmen, backpacking Europeans with horrible German accents and tight pants, and even a few heavily eyelined goth kids from the States crowded the entryway as the sky unleashed its fury. The thunder boomed overhead so loud that several Japanese girls screamed, which made me scream a little and jump (taking care not to spill my beer, of course).

This was some of the best people watching I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Despite the increase in humidity brought on not only by the rain but also the human-ness encroaching on my airspace that made my legs stick to the vinyl chair, I was plain giddy (thank god I brought my mini face towel adorned with joyous personified mushrooms to pat my forehead). We drank beers as long as the rain continued, and I was honestly a bit sad when the storm hit its climax and the blue sky started to win the battle. The air outside was cool and clean when we left the cafe and there were tiny puddles all around making tiny reflections. Quick stroll through the love hotel district (you can rent rooms for 20min., 30 min., and overnight) and it was there that I saw my first real yakuza. He boasted pink and taupe pinstriped pants that rose up conspicuously high on his waist (all the better to show off his shiny white shoes). A matching suit jacket and umbrella (!) completed the outfit, while a pencil thin goatee/mustache complemented his confident smirk perfectly. I wanted to photograph this sight so badly but, alas, I resisted, lest I lose my head (j/k). It started raining again and lightning struck so loudly and crackled so closely that I fled to the closest building...only to find myself clinging to a metal garage under a maze of snaking power lines - not so smart, Lindsey. We were officially without cover and I feared my cute suede sandals would be ruined, so we ducked under the shelter of a seedy nightclub façade to contemplate our next move. More aimless wandering led us down a mirror-lined corridor which conveniently brought us back to…Shibuya station!

This day of rambling was becoming tiring (me being on about hour six of failed missions), and Lita and I parted ways. I intended to go straight home at this point, but the Loft store and its array of random, cute crap beckoned, and I was very pleased to stumble upon a Muji store (a favorite of mine, all goods made without weird ingredients) inside of Loft. Bought a few things then headed home. Stopped at the basement market for green tea and fruit (so beautiful yet so expensive). Two hour nap before dinner party!

Tonight was special for a couple of reasons. I was reunited with my precious Viron baguette and finally got to try uni (sea urchin) pasta! Takeshi, a good friend of Brian and Jean who I had met last summer, came over and cooked for us while we drank Moet, snacked on French cheese, and chatted in Japanese. His relatively simple-sounding recipe: sauté garlic, add finely chopped anchovy, wait for the pungent smell, add small amount of tomatoes and a little cream. Finish with uni (we used fresh jarred uni from Hokkaido). Toss with noodles (preferably spaghetti or linguini) and presto! It may sound weird, but trust me this is absolutely delicious. Good wine again, artisan cheese, heirloom tomato salad, good conversation. Finished the meal with 1979 dessert sherry from Spain. Feeling all warm inside and sleepy time. Thinking of asking Brian and Jean if I they will adopt me so I never have to leave.