飲んでいる：Drinking

Commence Nomikai

A man of class in whom I have found an interesting friendship has never shied away from any bottle in the states. If the luxury of choice is not available for financial or opportunistic reasons, the bottom shelf rums and very special brandies may give him reason to wince at the point of ingestion, but as anyone would contend, these crimes against humanity are acceptable in the pursuit of drunk. Hooch, as he prefers to call this chosen vice, is being mistreated and abused in ways I could not have begun to fathom in America. Until making my first real foray into the Japanese drinking methodology, I simply had no concept of what real drinking is supposed to be. My apologies to my fellow compatriots if you disagree with me in this post, and believe me when I say that I do, in fact, maintain a continued enjoyment of American drinking as well, yet class, it seems, has escaped even the best of us Yankees. Chugging? A healthy portion of inebriating one’s self. Shots? There is certainly no stigma around those. Getting hammered? Well, that stumbles hand in hand with alcohol.

At Asakusa

The funnels and shot-guns are not to be found though, as well as any external drinking apparatus aside from glass, can, bottle, or sake cup which leaves me wondering if therein lies the key to the real difference between the American and Japanese practice of inebriation. There is a severe lack of competition in Tokyo drinking that very subtly surprised me in its absence to such an extent that the thought did not strike me until two days later. Drawing purely on observation, my mind forever American and unable to think Japanese, here, a man’s inability to continue consumption does not lend itself to his emasculation as it would in the States. There are no jeers at the refusal of the next shot or beer. Not to say that there is no disappointment between drinking partners, but through understanding that a line has been or will be crossed, all parties know to be true that it is far better to keep the contents of one’s stomach than to showcase it on the table, floor, or even your own Prada shoes.

At Ueno

The other key incongruence between my culture and the Nippon practices here lays in the mentality behind drinking parties dubbed social gatherings by my esteemed school’s rule book. While oftentimes it seems that the night does not start until after the pregame in the West, in the East, the concept of drinking before you get to the party is backwards in every sense of the word. Here, the idea is not, “Let’s get drunk and see what happens,” but, “Let’s get together for the night and by the end of it we all know we’ll be drunk,” which is why last night’s nomikai (literally drinking party) was such a great experience。Our day started with freshman lead tours of Asakusa and Ueno which are both stunning in their beauty and proximity to metropolitan areas. Asakusa’s traditional temples and entertaining vendors were a reminder that being Japanese is not all sardined subway cars and sushi while the park at Ueno was a welcome escape from the roar of bus engines and flashing traffic lights. We walked for hours reveling in our foreignness before coming back to Takadanobaba station and venturing over to the izakaya, a specific genre of restaurant with a vast variety of small plates to be shared and an equally choice selection of (here comes some class) adult beverages.

Nomikai

Stepping into the establishment, we were greeted with the roars and thunderous applause of other organizations already well underway in their merrymaking. Shoes off, we picked our way through the pillows littering the tatami floor until we found spots at one of the nine or so tables being occupied by the Waseda international club, Nijinokai (directly translated: Rainbow Club). On the tables sat fried chicken, fried potatoes, raw squid and perspiring forties awaiting the night’s celebration, and around them, Japanese and foreign eyes alike grinned in anticipation. The purpose of the gathering was purely to get to know people from other cultures so we did. Amidst shots of whisky, endless glasses of beer, games of call (everyone chants at you while you drink) introductions were made and pacts formed between the French, Italians, Germans, Russians, Chinese, Koreans, Canadians, Japanese and the smattering of Americans populating the crowd. I cannot help but bask in the memory of an evening sadly passed, yet no amount of words on a page can do these events justice. Our time up, we made our exodus out into the night air. Some walked, more tripped, but everyone smiled as we gathered in the neon glow of Tokyo knowing that this was how things worked in Japan. Truly drunk but managing a straight line, I began the walk paced by the tunes of Lupe Fiasco, that lead to a karaoke pit stop and hour long train ride at the end of which I managed a few hours of shuteye. The next morning I woke up to go see a castle reminding me yet again, I do not know the depth and breadth of Japanese culture. I do know, however, that I am here and a part of something to which anime inspired dreams cannot hold a candle.

Moé and Parents in front of Castle

If you enjoy my writing please share it so others can do the same. And don't forget to subscribe using the services below or my RSS feed located HERE so you know what's new!!