HOW TO LIVE THE DREAM, part 4; or, 気分転換

the bicycle races. i had every intention of writing about them tonight. i really did. but i also needed to eat. and after paying the 620 yen to get onto the observation deck at sunshine city to take a picture of the docomo tower as one of my thirty-six views (no offense, hokusai, but my series looks stopped at thirty-two), i was too tired to search for anywhere other than somewhere i'd been.

i visited japan last november for a good friend's wedding, and the restaurant i visited for dinner tonight was the place that my good friend and i were able to share a meal after the frenzy of the festivities died down and before, that night, we met up with a group of mutual friends for festivities of a different sort. the japanese are wonderful at justifying all-out gatherings, and (as would be proved once again tonight) they do it with careful nomenclature and cultural aplomb.

so i had dinner again tonight -- a late one, it was verging on ten -- at nami, a teppan-yaki style restaurant that specializes in okonomiyaki and monjayaki, which are batter based griddle dishes representative of osaka and tokyo, respectively. the place is nothing like the images that most would conjure from the "japanese steak house" implication of teppan-yaki in america, which then i complicate myself by saying because nami ("wave," although not written with the character that designates that word) is subtly surfer themed. by going so far as to say that, however, i complicate myself further, because i can't imagine any way to explain why there are dozens of vuitton scarves on hand to be laid over customers' bags and jackets once those things are settled in the baskets provided for them next to each set of seats. (rather, i've no way of explanation beyond that nami is in japan, and especially in tokyo.)

so that's the scene. it was set nicely and quietly, and although i felt somewhat awkward about eating alone at a place where the menu had been written on the assumption of parties of at least two (it's the nature of the food), i had no trouble both cooking my dinner for one and reading my copy of roland barthes' incidents at the same time. it was delightful, actually. you wouldn't believe the music selection: all american, but with no discernible pattern from one song to the next.

then the unexpected. in japanese they call them "happenings" too. they really did look like a bunch of yakuza, which is what the senior waiter lamented when the group of six came in, at least twenty minutes past when she'd given me the chance to make my last food order. i made haste to finish the last of my post-meal beer and kimchi when they were sat four to my left and two to my right at the counter around the prep area.

"how rude. don't talk to him when he's reading."

i didn't care. i was only thinking about the fastest way out of an uncomfortable situation. but i let them know that they could have my seat in just a minute, which was also letting them know that i could speak japanese.

you can have more, i promise, if you want it. ask and i'll give you all the gory details. but i have a plane to catch in the morning, and several coded, in other words, completely useless, souvenirs to buy before that. they were coming from a funeral. for a friend's daughter. a stranger couldn't possible express appropriate sympathy. luckily, they'd already been drinking. and luckily, one of them was the owner.

"oregon," he said (feel free to make up the interim conversation yourselves), "you need to do something about the guns. and then all the warring." then he tried to give me his daughter and that senior member of his staff. it would seem that i was all luck tonight, because i had a recently established anecdote ready when he jokingly mentioned a certain japanese author.

"he's drunk! don't worry about paying any attention." but i was more than happy to. you talk and remember why it is you travel alone. maybe it was all good fortune, or maybe it was the mood of incidents, or maybe (probably) it was these hott new boots. i was more than happy, even before they picked up my check. tokyo, i might miss you more than i thought.