This week we share an excerpt of a post by Luke Baker-Smith whose travel blog can be found at Load of B-S. Luke has been living in Japan since March of last year. While primarily a teacher at the moment, he is an avid traveler and writer who shares his experiences of day to day life in a small town and what he has witnessed traveling to various parts of the country.
Tears in Nagoya
It dawned on me towards the end of last month that I had done little to expand my horizons beyond the surrounding valley since arriving in Susono. Enjoying it as I am, for the Japanese it is nothing more than the most forgettable of backwater towns, one that happens to have some nice views of Fuji and its surrounds. It has only been in the last few weeks that the neighbouring prefectures have been open. After the spring of pandemic discontent, now this was the time to start trying to see Japan.
Cultural Indifferences
Entering bars in Japan is a labour of mythic proportions. Making our way through the labyrinthine corridors of sixteen-storey buildings, no string to hand, we set off to find the proverbial Minotaur (in this instance, affordable booze and karaoke bars). Encountering Brazilian touts, ‘maids’ and unnerving Japanese-supremacist insignia emblazoned on doors, our choices were narrower than first envisioned. Another issue that held us back was my presence. Unlike Gavin, who, with his Thai parentage, has been mistaken for Japanese before, I stick out somewhat… even in a city the size of Nagoya. I’m unsure whether it was anxiety over the current state of Europe and North America or my pugnacious air, but, on countless occasions, I would stick my head round the door of a venue before being offered a shake of the head and a sorry. Gavin had noticed this consternation in Osaka where he often hangs out with other Caucasian teachers. Hopefully it will disappear soon- I plan to meet up with him there in a couple of weekends time. Though talk of second waves is rife… frustrating given this is the first one in a poor disguise.
Drinking Around
The bars we did gain entry to were memorable for more than just the slightly eye-watering prices. Nearly four months after arriving, I can say it is drinking out that taints Japan with the ‘expensive’ label, life in Tokyo aside (I’m told). Even in a small town like Susono you can be charged upwards of 1000 yen (around £8.50) for a 500ml bottle of beer. Admittedly you are provided with a small starter-sized dish of complimentary tofu or edamame (green soybeans) to go with it, but those trips to the bar are the main expenditure for me. To counter this, as we walked the streets, one must make hay of the cheap beer on offer in the combini (convenience stores) and swig away on park benches. Everything else is more or less is comparable to the UK, but food is probably slightly cheaper.
The perfect combination on quality and quantity was found in Yabaton, the most well-known institution in the city for miso katsu, Nagoya’s specialty dish of which they are supremely proud. Doubling up on miso at 11.30 in the morning, I went for the set, with breaded pork cutlet doused in gloopy treacle-coloured sauce alongside soup, rice and salad. Not only was the earthy umami flavour the perfect breakfast remedy for a gently throbbing headache, but it set us up for a day of walking the urban sprawl. Seeking a good coffee was the first point of call for me and the first ‘proper’ flat white I’d had in Japan was well worth the wait.
Onwards to (the replica of) the castle
Traipsing through the heat towards Nagoya’s famous castle, Gavin and I both noticed a phenomenon of the Caucasian nod. This has only happened to me once with a tourist in back in Susono, mostly because the only other permanent Caucasian resident is a fellow teacher. But the surprised embarrassment in the face of any gaijin who was walking towards us was hard to hide before the flicker of a smile and a second’s hesitation about saying hello or even ‘Konnichiwa’. I know my own reactions mirror them exactly.
Our visit to the castle was an odd experience. Many of the structures that were important during the Edo period (1603-1868) were destroyed during air-raids in 1945 and so what you see is a concrete replica- a detail that should really be revealed after a visit. Sadly, the earthquake factor means the main building is now a no-go zone for tourists and this made plain by the hefty cracks that blighted the foundations. There was access to the painstakingly restored Hommaru Palace, which was a series of administrative and residential spaces for the Lord of Owari, the son of the shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu. Nagoya–jō (castle) itself sits at the crossroads of the coastal Tōkaidō and the mountainous Nakasendō, two major routes linking the capital, Kyoto, to the shogunate stronghold of Tokyo. It is not difficult to imagine the seventeenth-century nobility with their band of samurai arriving at these luxurious genkan (entrance ways) to face the glares of the fearsome tigers on the gilded screen paintings, treading softly on the traditional tatami mats as they admire the delicately-wrought idylls of Japanese landscape. Regrettably these grand reveries of mine came to an abrupt and painful end, as I managed to smash my head on a low-hanging rafter and break my sunglasses- I’d been warned aplenty by the concerned gallery attendants.
Read the rest of this tale and other adventures at Load of B-S here.
