Sailing the Bloody Seas

We woke up Saturday at 6am and went to the ferry terminal with pounding heads and half-opened eyes. The ferry was mammoth and we got seats in the front row overlooking the sea ahead. The boat was bumpy enough that it was difficult to get up and go to the bathroom but not so bumpy that one couldn't sleep. I didn't, too excited as usual. I kept thinking of the fleets of Japanese ships sailing towards their Korean conquest. I visualized them singing war songs and preparing for a violent takeover. 3 hours later we saw that dreaded Japanese flag. The symbol will always have evil connotations for us Americans. History planted the seeds and Hollywood has kept them properly watered. Like Russians, they make easy villains. I smiled as my passport was stamped knowing my little travel book is now 2 chapters long. Wow, Asians with facial hair- that's almost non-existent in clean-cut, conservative Korea. The first thing we did in Japan was eat Wendys. I know, how American of me, but Korea doesn't have Wendys and I eat more Japanese food than Korean food in Korea. The Wendys was similar to those back home with a few omissions (baked potato, chilli, bacon cheeseburger) and they served smaller burgers amidst a heavily used smoking section. Satiated and recovered from the night before, we went to the Fukouka tower. The tour guide spoke in the softest, smoothest tone I'd ever heard. She told us that Fukuoka, home to 4 million Iguchis, was the 4th largest city in Japan and ours was the 2nd tallest tower. The city hugs the coast and expands up the unconquerable mountains. The first thing I noticed was the style of architecture. In Korea, views from above showcase the hundreds of cookie-cutter apartment buildings. This isn't so in Japan. Fukuoka is crowded by US standards but suprisingly spaced in contrast to Korea. Bart and I gawked when we saw an actual neighborhood with houses. It looked like the suburbs, probably home to the elite. It was around 4pm after we descended the tower and we felt good so we simply strolled for awhile with no purpose. It never ceases to amaze me how, when you're aimless, the action seems to come to you. We stumbled upon a monkey putting on a show at a shopping mall. Remarkable! And the people were so impressed with the monkey that they didn't even notice us. This is a feeling I got used to as the trip rolled on.
Korea's international significance is still rater new (30ish years). So they're not accustomed to our faces and many are still seeing whites for the first time. They're extremely polite people but they can't control their astonishment when passing us. This paparrazzi-type environment can make one feel special or paranoid depending on the mood you're in. I started to miss the attention in Japan. No children ran up to us yelling "hello," and running away. Their eyes were the most telling sign that I was no longer unique: not even the slightest glimmer of recognition.
I spotted a Toys R Us and had to check the world's premiere video games and all toys for that matter. Japan's got the market cornered on the cute and strange. That reminds me, we saw a commercial for Nintendo with two Japanese men dressed up as Mario and Luigi. I guess that settles the debate; they aren't Italian afterall. Too Bad. The Toys R US was what you'd expect: a lighting exhibition with bright signs, cute monster toys and super, super expensive. I wanted a souvenir but all I could afford was a couple toys out of the quarter machines which, in Japan, are actually 2$ machines.
We were having a great time but, as the sky grew dark and the neon took over, we decided we better find a hotel. This would prove to be exhausting. Unlike Korea, the hotels were all gigantic posh establishments with gold walls and elaborate chandeliers. Bart and I felt guilty just walking through the lobbies. They played us like a couple of silly, white pawns in an amusing rich hotel game. Every hotel was full (around 12 in total) and everyone would give us a map with other posh hotels circled. I was never so happy to see some dirty, broken down love motels. Bart and I walked in "Sweetie" and no one was in the lobby. An ashamed couple, the man much older than the girl, walked in and they just took a room key from a board showing which rooms were taken and which weren't. Ok, we grabbed a key and found the matching room butt he door wouldn't open. A cleaning lady found us trying to break into the room but she couldn't speak ANY English. She said NO, and we went back to the empty lobby. Not about to give up on the room, I picked the phone up and pressed buttons until it rang A woman picked up and I got to say, "mushi, mushi!" Fantastic. You have to say those words to Japanese person before you die. The trick is, "mushi, mushi," is hello but only on the phone, so the opportunity can be difficult to come by. Finally, someone came down with a little English. The motel only rents by the hour. We asked how much for 6 hours and it was 200$! We left "Sweeties" tired from walking and void of all hope to find a bed. As we walked, I began to feel better as the last option, sleep outside in a park somewhere, was becoming our plan. I had only one day in Japan so I figured we could just party and adventure all night, sleep for a couple hours, eat a good breakfast and I could head back to Korea. The only problem was the weather, not freezing, but cold at around 40 degrees. Bart looked to the left and there, amidst yellow neon and the chaotic Japanese characters was a sign with the comfortable, simplistic strokes of Korea's Hongul. Japanese characters are mind-boggling. I couldn't imagine learning how to write them. Bart and I often would mock-read the signs by what we saw in the symbols. The results were something like, "house on broken stilts, two elephants on a trampoline, and a one armed girl doing a jumping-jack." Anyway, we were so relieved to see the Korean and we ran to the building. Bart and I are very similar in our Korean abilities. Having been here forever, he possesses a better vocabulary than I but my study in an actual course has given me a better grasp on some grammatical rules. Together, we combine to equal the speaking of a drunken six year old. Still, we spoke to the owner of the restaurant and he said they had a massage parlor and a Korean style hotel (rooms with mattresses and blankets) for 50$ a night. A Korean miracle! We unpacked our bags and set off for the Happy Cock, a famous bar amongst the foreigners. Unfortunately, everyone we asked if they could speak English replied, "No, sorry." We were eating at a small but packed restaurant and we asked our waitress if she knew how to find any bars where people speak English. Oh, I had my first Sake, the liquor of Japan. It was similar to Soju but not as chemically unpredictable. After a few unsuccessful calls to her phone, she came to our table and said, "just wait a minute and I'll walk you to a bar I know." she as the only waitress in the restaurant. We were sure something was lost in translation, she can't leave the place. Not so, she threw on a jacket and said, "all right, let's go." "Are you sure? You don't have to do this," I pleaded, but she was determined to help. We ran threw the streets of Japan with this angel of a server. She led us to a building that looked like a clothing store. We walked in and, to our dismay, we saw a buff, white guy bartending an empty bar that was attached to a suit store. When I say attached, I mean they were one: the store/bar was small enough that the suit salesman could sell clothes and take part in the bar conversation at the same time. Odd, for sure. The buff guy turned out to be Chris from Poland. Chris had an amazing cynical brand of humor. He was fluent in Japanese but excited about being able to speak English with us. He told us, "I've been here for 5 years. I just want to go home. I hate these people. The money is good but the Japanese men drive me crazy." He criticized Japan from every angle, filled our Jack n' Cokes with 3/4 Jack and told us how to find the Happy Cock. We had 2 drinks each and the total was 44$! Walking amongst this metropolitan glory, I felt an unusual vitality. The Happy Cock was packed with very little space to move. Not the dancing type, I sat near the bar and started conversations with every Japanese person I could. Mostly, we talked about Korea/Japan relations. They are constantly in political battles over culture and disputes over who owns certain islands and whether Japan fully understands the atrocities they committed to Korea. Most people understood Korea's point of view and I felt like I was a rare voice between Koreans and Japanese. The politicians talk, but the regular people don't share this unbending contempt towards the other side. Walking back to our hotel around 5am we passed a group of high school kids crowding around one boy with a guitar. I asked if I could play his guitar for a bit and Bart and I put on a show for the crowd. I cranked out some Pearl Jam and Hendrix and they listened, unable to sing along. Bart and I were lost, it took us hours to get home. Fortunately, this is Asia and you are more than welcome to walk the streets with beers in your hands. I don't know what time we got home, but we passed out immediately.