Shine: The Ginza
In Shinjuku station at night, the men lay down their bedding in the station, one beside the other in makeshift cardboard cubicles. They suffer in the cold because they have no home. Some of them even have no shoes, their feet wrapped in rags and their skin grey an calloused. Yet here they never ask for money, food, or help. They exist simply as they are and wherever they are, taking run of the parks and public spaces because nothing else can be done.

But in the Ginza, it seems there is none of that. Everything shines with the glizt and glamour of name brands and cash flow. The streets are wide and the sky is open. To me, Ginza screams "America" and it screams "affluent" so much that the name "Ginza" simply isn't enough but I instead call it "The Ginza."








Ironically, tonight we went to the Ginza to give thanks and celebrate the sad remains of an American tradition we've brought with us. I say "sad remains" not because I'm not thankful (I have so much to be thankful for!) and not because I don't feel nostalgic (o turkey! o stuffing!) but because I've never particularly liked the gluttony of the Thanksgiving feast. I *like* it, you know, but it pains me... especially when others have so little. Next year I'm going to fast on Thanksgiving and make a huge meal just for the homeless.

This year's dinner was ridiculous. The combined indulgence of it being a free feast, an all-you-can-eat buffet AND Thanksgiving dinner prompted some of the most obscene overeating I've ever SEEN. You think you binged this year? Think again, my ryuugakusei friends have surely topped you. *I* even probably topped you. But... I came to the dinner with the fear that I would eat too much and look bad in front of others... I left KNOWING I ate too much but only because the group had developed the mentality of starving wolves and turned the whole thing into a "how much CAN you eat" game. I frighten myself... I had two whole plates of food, two salads and two plates of dessert. Afterwards, I hurt. I thought I might throw up. But what scared me even more (but reassured me at the same time) was that other people ate far, far more.

Ta-ran ta-rah.... Rome will fall.

Reinier and I played "yuppie" after and went for a walking tour of the Ginza. (You must say this with a "haughty" accent, by the way.) As bo-nen-kai season has officially begun, we say plenty of happily drunk businessmen, including later one poor fellow who was the most (pardon my french) shitfaced individual I have ever laid eyes on. As we watched, he spent five minutes harrassing a cab driver before slamming himself repeatedly into a closed kiosk, spinning in circles and passing out on the sidewalk. Wow.

Watching this might have been enough to bring me down, had not something already happened to restore a bit of my hope in the nature of the world. As Ren-san and I were browsing, I took out my camera to capture a bit of Ginza. Ginza is an excessively "foncy" place, with every sort of various botique and restaurant all decked out in glitz and glam... thus a perfect and popular place to take a date. As a result of this, the streets are lined with flower vendors where all the men gather to purchase bouquets for their sweethearts or potential dates.

I stopped to take a picture of one hole-in-the-wall rose shop. The store owner noticed me squatting in front of the display, even though I was trying to keep unseen, and came out to greet us. I thought she might tell me to stop taking pictures but instead she invited us in and told us to take our time and to please take more pictures. (All this in Japanese.) She was so sweet, so welcoming and so talkative that I felt completely comfortable chatting in Japanese with her and didn't even need Reinier's help. Then, suddenly, for no reason at all, she gave he and I each a single, deep-red, long-stemmed rose as a "present." I promised her I would email copies of the photos I've taken.











Ren-san and I walked through the Ginza for a while longer, until my feet started to hurt in my boots. Because the rose-lady had asked, we realized we did look like a cute gaijin couple, especially clutching our roses and meandering eagerly from streetcorner to streetcorner looking at everything from Tokyo's first, soon-to-open (Sunday!) Apple Store and the Nissan showroom.








I think Ginza is the Christmas street I see myself on. What this says about my tastes and my habits I'm not sure but I am happily aware that I really enjoy that area of Tokyo. Would that I had the affluence to shop myself at Burberry... or at least the body to see myself in one of their ads. Of course, neither of these "dreams" are really great aspirations of mine and I find them, in some ways quite repulsive. But from time to time it's nice to think about such meanigless, appealing wealth and beauty and wonder about the lifestyle it accompanies.