lingqi's Journal: September 10th, 2004

September 10th, 2004 (0:21)

I was thinking recently about all the friends I made in the past few monthes. Not that I am gossiping about them or whatever - just that they generally share something very common: almost everyone are gaijin like me.

Or not so alike. I think everyone is an english teacher... The social network for foreigners here is very interesting, because invariably the majority thereof are english teachers and as an english teacher you immediately get access (contact information, etc) to all the other english teacher in your area and upon landing in japan, you would have already been tangled in this intricate web of foreigners' social circle.

Not that there is anything wrong with that - obviously life here is not the easiest thing and since everybody involved would have something in common right off the start, people makes friend of all kind. I have been told on more than one occasion that the friends made here are often people that would never included in the social circle at home.

I was, however, originally not part of the said circle. One reason is my job, the social circle which did not intersect at all with all the other foreigners, and then I don't appear "foreign" which would mean that i am simply ignored on the street. Christian, when he was here, made several friends by simply BEING himself - one such occasion is whe he was walking through the station and came face to face with a canadian guy, both stopped and was basically like "hey! another gaijin! let's be friends." Only in japan would such things happen. (though not to me)

So what I was actually thinking is that maybe i am going about it in a completely opposite way. Usually I would have though the path of a foreigner in japan is to first be cradled by his circle of foreigner friends and as language levels increase and he wanders deeper into japanese culture / social groups, he would eventually be partially assimilated. I seemed to have gone backwards: thrust into the middle of everything without a single foreigner (my age) in sight, and contrarily I began to hang out with them when I am almost about to leave this place.

-- continuing onto the story -- (this is turning into the great american (erm, japanese) novel or what? it's getting insanely long...)

It was not a terribly long distance between the keikyuu station and the JR station, but that night it really felt like a march between Paris and Moscow. Inexorably, it is human nature to be anxious about the unknown, and it was unknown that laid in front beyond the dimly lit streets. Steets devoid of people and any sign of activity. Even the crows, usually busy fluttering about tokyo, seemed to have decided that it's past their bedtime and are nowhere to be seen.

All of establishments along the road that resembled a hotel looked empty. Several had lights lit but an empty front desk, which added to the desolation. I was becoming quite worried about my prospects - it was already very late but not late enough that I was going to spend 4-5 hours on the road walking around.

Hotels, however, did increase as I approached the JR station, and i found at least one that was open still. I was much more at peace knowing I still had the prospects of staying on a bed that night, despite the fact that I did not quite have the spare 7,500 yen that particular hotel advertised. The worst case is I have to come here, I told myself.

However, about 100 meters forward I came to my destination. A capsule hotel came into view with its blinking signs and I was overcome by joy and rushed toward it. It did not even cross my mind to check if there are any other capsule hotels in the area that was cheaper. I found my oasis in the desert and it had occupied my mind in entirety.

Capsule hotel are indeed very cheap. A whole night costs 4,000 yen there. But one can charge by hourly rate of about 600 yen after the inital 2 hour block for 1,400. Since I did not have any reason to stay there beyond 4 hours, I chose the hourly rate because it was much more economical.

I should point out at this point that for the times when money really matters, one can stay at manga-kissaten (manga cafe), for very cheap and comes with internet access and shower. The only thing that's not available is a bed, but instead you have a very comfortable chair to pass out in (so I heard). Every hour is only a couple hundred yen and so far it's the cheapest way to stay in tokyo if one misses the last train. It does kind of creeps me out that the said stores have showers - as it reminds me of horror stories in korean internet cafes, but I do appreciate their convenience.

The guy at the front desk gave me a key and told me my capsule is on the third floor top bunk. I went in around the desk and into the building.

The hotel layout is as follows: the first floor is the locker room and the front desk. Second floor is the lounge and bath. Third through seventh (maybe eighth) are the capsules. In the locker room there are tiny full length lockers but it was impossible to put my backpack in. In the locker was a jimbei and a towel.

The capsule was bigger than I have previously imagined, and is actually quite a lot more comfortable than I have imagined as well. My idea was something like a single person version of a front-entry coffin sized room much like the concept shown on The Fifth Element. In actuality, however, the capsule is actually have an entry of about 1m x 1m, with two capsules stacked vertically and reaching the ceiling. inside the capsule is surprisingly roomy as well, you can sit upright inside, and it comes with radio, alarm, a small ceiling mounted TV, and of course the myrad of lights. What it did not have was a door - a curtain can be pulled down from the top and latched to the bottom which served to block out the light from outside and shield yourself from public view. A guy's said curtain was up while he slept inside, and I don't think he was wearing underpants. I looked away before I could clearly distinguish if he was or not - but it simply serve to illustrate that the "shielding yourself from view" part is as much for yourself as it is for everyone else.

Since there was so much room, I piled all of my junk into my capsule and went to take a bath, which was one of my main purpose of visiting in the first place. I was amazed that the bath actually had a... bath, instead of just some shower stalls. The floor was small and the bathtub was also quite small as well. Another guy was grooming himself when I went in, but both of us were too tired to strik up conversation, so the bathroom was filled with only the sound of water pouring over the rim of the bathtub and the occasional sound of towels as he washed himself.

The bathtub was about 2.5m x 1.5m, and the entire thing was made of stainless steel. There cannot possibly be a bathtub made of more un-natural material. The steel was warm to the touch. I slowly lowered myself in, acclimating to the hot water, and felt the day's tiredness slowly melt away. It was a good thing that I came here, I thought to myself. On the wall above the tub hung some poster talking about the awsome beneficial effects of the water I am currently soaking in. There was lots of these things in the hotel - for example, the water I drank from the water-fountain was supposed to be triple-filtered ionized water. The water I was soaking in also had some mix of minerals and whatnot shipped all the way from somewhere I never heard of before in China, that's supposed to cure me of all sort of illnesses. There were also lots of advertisements all around too. Most advertising for hair-loss solutions, and circumcision clinics, and various other stuff targeted at men. I should say, targeted at salary-men who would frequent such hotels. I actually felt really sorry for the guys who stays at this place on a regular basis; I probably have a stereotypical idea of what such people are like: middle aged and balding, worked so late that cannot go home to see family or simply doesn't have a family to begin with, and worried about all the superficial things like hair and what kind of ionized water to drink and yet all he needed is to get away from this insane lifestyle and this cursed capsule hotel. I kind of felt like these guys are like modern slaves. I cannot imagine living like that at all.

After the bath, I settled into my capsule and surfed through the channels. There were not many (and no pay-per-view, which is good, because the curtain certainly blocks no sound). By that time, my eyelids already weighted like lead, and I fell asleep easily in that little square, dark capsule to the sound of distant muffled sounds of men sleeping and snoring.