Green IslandTears and a Clown: Candy and Shnade in Japan
December 11th 2010 13:09
Shnade had it all planned. He had thought it through and despite the risks he had formulated a plan. If there was money in Taka’s jacket he would take it and run; if there was nothing, then no harm done. And even if there was money or something, he could always back out at the last moment and Taka would be none the wiser. Delaying the ultimate decision made it easier to proceed. And besides Shnade thought, “What do I have to lose? This sucky job; paying for an apartment; a useless band and little in the way of selling weed.”
Shnade was beginning to get nostalgic for his old town in Japan. He had forgotten that he had run out on debts, responsibility and bad blood. Instead he remembered his two kids (one of which he hadn’t seen yet), but more than that he remembered hanging out with his homies: getting brewed up and hopped up and life being much more sweet. Nothing seemed to be as good in A City. The foreigners’ bar wasn’t as good, there was less easy money to be had and where was the lady action? No, it all seemed to make sense. Blow the scene or pay the rent, keep my head down, play in a band called ‘Jump’ and hang out with a Christian (whose girlfriend I fucked – mustn’t forget that). Fuck that.
No. Shnade had made up his mind. He would delay paying the rent for a couple of weeks, pick up another month’s salary and get a look at Taka’s jacket. Then it was back to his old stomping grounds where he was sure to find a floor to sleep on, some good weed deals to exploit, a few easy teaching hours, some hot chicks to bang, some hard rock nights to showcase his new song, ‘Destiny of Rock Part 1’ and just plenty of the good life. It would be easy. If all else failed he could go back to Otoko. She hadn’t divorced him, and after all they had a child together. Otoko represented free food and a free bed. Maybe he could get her to drive him around like in the old days. That other bird what was her name? Oh yeah Miyuki. Probably best to stay clear of her. Her dad was pissed and seeing that kid might cost. Stay clear of that ho.
____________________
Candy didn’t sleep with Hiro. She might have done if he had made a move, but he never did. He was such a sweet boy. After that night drinking on the balcony in the capsule hotel balcony he had made Candy’s welfare his main priority. Over the next 3 days he spent all his time teaching her Japanese, taking her out for cheap meals at curry stands and noodle shops and showing her the few places in Tokyo where the high-rise drabness parted briefly for a park, temple or shrine. Candy loved the serenity of the Buddhist temples. They were spotless – not one weed, plastic wrapper or cigarette butt. She instinctively felt there was a difference with the Thai temples she had visited. It struck her as they walked around the Meiji Shrine.
“Hey, Hiro. It’s just occurred to me. We’ve visited a few shrines and what have you, but we’ve never seen any priests or monks praying or chanting or studying. In fact I’ve only seen a couple of monks. I remember that man with the big straw hat and funny white socks in the subway begging. He was a Buddhist monk right?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, are all temples and shrines like this one? Just places for tourists to go? Do they do any monk stuff?”
“Sure, lots. When someone dies they do lots of praying for the dead person. They make good money from it. I guess religion is a kind of family business here. The job goes from father to son. Most temples are private property. It is a business. Priests need to make money to live.”
“Do you get rich priests in Japan?”
Hiro laughed. He loved being with Candy. She was so fresh in her outlook, so unashamed in her opinions and so beautiful. This brief holiday in Tokyo before going home was turning into something special for Hiro. He must get a picture of Candy and him together. “I think some of them are rich: those who have famous temples and shrines. In Kyoto you see BMWs parked behind temples. We love cars in Japan - even priests love cars in Japan.”
“Hiro, I need your help. I’m running out of money. I need to get a job here or I have to go back to Canada. Do you think I could study Buddhism in some temple somewhere, you know like Zen, and live for free?
“I don’t mean this place. Ha! I mean some small temple in the forest or on top of a mountain: a lonely, peaceful spot to meditate and do gardening and other chores.”
They walked out of the shrine and back down the wide and long gravel path listening to their feet crunch in the gravel as they slowly headed back to ugly modernity.
“Let’s look on the internet about your temple idea. I think foreigners can study Buddhism in Japan. Did I tell you about the Komeito party? No? They are a political party from the Buddhists called Soka Gakkai. Only now they are not from Soka Gakkai,” Candy looked confused but Hiro went on, “Never mind. They have lots of money.”
“What do Buddhists want from politics? More rights for monks?” Candy couldn’t understand religion in this country. She also couldn’t make much sense of the politics either. Nobody seemed to care much about either here. She was glad to have Hiro as a guide. His explanations didn’t always make sense but at least he tried. And besides what was better than strolling around beautiful ancient buildings with solid roofs and immaculate empty rooms on hot sunny days? She hadn’t done much sightseeing on her trip around the world and she was beginning to realize what she had missed in all the countries she had breezed through.
Hiro interrupted her musings to take up the thread of the conversation, “I think they are against nuclear weapons. They get farmers and members of their religion to vote for them. Generally, they try to form coalitions with other parties.”
“What for?”
“It’s how you get power in Japan. You make a deal. I know a place with free internet near here. Let’s get a snack and go there and find out if you can be a Buddhist monk in Japan.”
It was a ‘nun’ not ‘monk’ and besides she didn’t want to be either. It didn’t seem a point worth making to Candy.
____________________
Takashi was one of the few adult students Shnade had left. The important group lessons had all been removed from his schedule by the management. They gave him a few kids classes instead. The management of the school was far from happy about Shnade but he had a visa and no other foreigners had inquired about jobs recently, so Shnade maintained his position by default. The only thing that was worrying the boss of ABC English was this American’s landlord. The American hadn’t paid his month’s rent in advance. It was two weeks overdue. The landlord wanted the ABC boss to do something about it. I suppose I will have to take it from his wages. The action was easily done, but his experience from working with foreigners had taught him they could be most aggravating when they got angry. Foreigners did not know their places. They complained like they were little Emperors. I will get the ball breaker secretary to break the news to the American. I’ll pay everyone on Saturday night and so Nade can’t complain until Tuesday when he starts work again. Life would be so much easier if we could get Japanese foreigners to teach English.
So around came Saturday night. Shnade was listening to Taka talk British nonsense and go on about fish. Near the end of the lesson he interrupted Taka.
“Hey, Taka. You wanna go out tonight, bro? You know anymore good hostess bars? I just need a couple of hours to chill then we can go out and what do you say ‘sink a few’?”
Taka jumped at the opportunity to ‘hang with his homie’ on Saturday night. His old school friend Nobuyoshi had introduced him to a new place a few weeks back called the ‘green room’. His friend had worn a bandage on his head when Taka ran into him at a noodle shop they both sometimes went to. When they went out to the green room that following Saturday Nobu had told him a story about some foreigner who had mugged him in a toilet and taken his cash and kindle 3. It must have been one of these Brazilians I see everywhere, Taka thought.
“Nade-san, I know this new bar. Very, how to say, ‘underground’ and foreign girls, too. I think you will like it,” Taka eagerly offered.
“OK, dude. I’ll meet you at the train station at nine. How does that sound?”
“Just Hunky Dory.”
Hunky fuckin’ dory what was that? No doubt some pumped up fag called Dory. Anyway, here comes the plan, Shnade thought. This is where I turn this motherfucker around.
As the lesson ended at seven, Taka slipped out of the small school and Shnade went over to the secretary’s desk by the door. Ball breaker seemed particularly pleased to see Shnade. Maybe she got laid last night. Maybe it was Hunky Dory and whips. Now there’s a song title.
“Yo, I mean sumimasen. Can I get my salary, please er kudasai?”
“Otsukaresama deshita, Nade san.”
“Er yeah, otsukare to you, too.” BB handed over the wage packet to Shnade with two hands and a slight bow of the head. Shnade was nearly salivating as he took the long thin envelope. He took it, folded it in two and shoved it into his pants back pocket. BB waited as the sweaty potato head foreigner bent over showing her anus crack as he struggled into his dirty sneakers.
“By the way, Nade-san. The boss took away 50,000 yen from your salary and gave it to your landlord. You didn’t pay your rent for nearly 3 weeks. No choice. Boss asks if you want him to do the same for next month’s salary?”
Shnade completely lost his balance and fell over. The joy this job gives me, BB thought. She watched with a child’s detachment, like Shnade was an insect being fried alive under a magnifying glass. The foreigner went purple from his neck up and stammered something and looked for a moment as if it would charge her. She edged back from her desk just in case it tried to grab her and did her best to freeze her face in a fake smile. She felt slightly turned on. They were alone. All the other teachers and students had left. Strange how the ignorance and uncouthness and now the impotent frustration of this man left her fantasizing. She forgot to listen to Shnade as he complained.
“Atsui ne?” BB intoned as she undid the top button of her white blouse.
“I think it’s about seven thirty.” Shnade’s eyes followed BBs hands and searched for some cleavage. This bitch is playing some fucked up mind games with me. He swore softly and left. BB locked the door and settled back at her desk and used a chunky stapler to scrape her clitoris until she flushed with pleasure.
____________________
As they searched the internet Candy began to realize two things: firstly, Buddhism really was a business here – all the information they could find was about paying for Zen courses and Zen lectures (possibly a contradiction in terms she thought) and about getting the right type of visa. And secondly, she intuited that this really wasn’t her. It felt right doing yoga and meditation in Thailand. The solitude, the natural beauty and the break from drugs and random sexual encounters had cleared her head of paranoia and revitalized her body. But having retreated and rejuvenated Candy now felt very much part of the everyday world and not ready to retire into an obscure life of abstinence and poverty, especially when there was no Thai beach nearby. The urbanscape of Tokyo was pure consumerism and surface – the place or timing couldn’t have been worse for spiritual endeavour. Candy tried not to think about it too much because something deep down was worrying her. Instead she chose to take shelter in pragmatism: “If you are in the Candy shop you might as well buy something or get out,” She told herself. Candy didn’t want to get out. She definitely didn’t want to go home. In the unaffected and adoring Hiro was her one small chance of making a go of Japan.
Japan seemed more developed than Canada. It also felt more dysfunctional. From just her brief experience she saw how the average Japanese labored under immense workloads, exorbitant prices and confining spaces. Yet at the same time she saw how many Japanese maintained equanimity and an odd formalism that seemed at odds with the vomit stained sidewalks of Shibuya and the bizarreness of teenagers who did their best to look like cartoon characters. The common sense of Canadian culture had been replaced by group sense, no matter how unnatural that sense may be.
“You know, Hiro. I don’t think I want to go to a temple. To tell you the truth I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you go. I really like being with you and I think I like Japan.” The words had come out all wrong for Candy. Here she was again sending out signals, making tacit promises that she would reluctantly feel obliged to keep. She didn’t fancy Hiro. He was too soft, too adoring; too much like a brother. And yet he was one of the most genuine men she had met since she had started her journey.
Hiro smiled eagerly and sadly. How he would love to make this foreigner his girlfriend. He couldn’t see how the beautiful Canadian could get a job in Tokyo. He was without contacts or experience of foreigners other than English teachers. That was it! English teachers.
“I have idea, Candy-san. We speak to other foreign persons in Tokyo. They can give advice. Tell you what to do. And same time we have some fun. You not see many bars in Tokyo. It is great city for drinking alcohol.”
Candy wasn’t convinced of the merit of Hiro’s idea but going out appealed. It was better than the prospect of another night hanging around the shabby common room of the capsule hotel looking at sad business men with ant-like purposes.
“OK, but I’ll need to change some money.”
“Don’t worry. I invite you, so I pay.”
Candy smiled her gratitude and assent. She was falling again.
____________________
The place was totally green. The walls were covered in green felt tiles of varying hues of green. The sofas were all a deep fluffy green. The tables were glass with green enamel frames. Even the karaoke monitors were set in lurid fluorescent green plastic. Best of all were the girls – Japanese and Eastern European wearing green hot pants, miniskirts, tiny halter tops and long green leather boots. Shnade completely loved the green interior design once he had dragged his eyes away from the fit pussy that sauntered around the long narrow basement bar. And of course our hero was completely baked and so the surrealism of green walls and green tights and green eye make-up was making him dizzy with the joy that all stoners had when they found a place that was as odd and enticing as their own inner bizarre beatitude.
“Yo, Tak, my man. This place is some far out gnarly shit. Fuck.”
“You don’t like it, my friend? We can go to another place.”
The Shnade man was probably a little too quick and enthusiastic in his hurried assurance that he dug the fuck out of the place for a few green feline heads looked up. Shnade suddenly worried if he was meant to have taken his shoes off at the door. He was always making that mistake. He was relieved to look down and see that Taka had his smart shiny black shoes most definitely on his feet.
The mama san came over to smooth over any awkwardness. She was older, but still doable. Like some of the fit mum’s Shnade thought. She made a big deal of Taka and before Shnade knew it they were at their own table in the long bar with a Japanese lovely and a demurring Romanian for company. Taka was in a jovial mood and ordered two Mona Lisa’s.
“What’s a Mona Lisa? Is that like Hunky Dory?”
“Indeed, my friend, hunky dory. Chartreuse, gin and bitters, I believe.”
What the fuck’s bitters? Shnade thought, but never bothered to follow through with his questioning because the non-English speaking Romanian was devoting her assets to getting Shnade to pick a song to sing. She managed: “You sing, cowboy.” The Slavic tone of defiance was giving him a hard-on as was the rounded flesh that threatened to escape its moorings from the green bra that Sabina was wearing. Shnade couldn’t fail to take in the awesome sight as she leant forward to place his drink on the green table. When she stood up again the flimsy little green dress didn’t little to diminish the force of her presence. Hot damn. I need a pipe.
Chill, bro. Remember the plan. Yes, the plan. It needed his full attention. His conscience fought another side of Shnade which wanted badly to go and do a pipe in the head and then down some Moaning Lizzers and bust some moves out for the heart-breaking European pussy.
____________________
Candy couldn’t really dress up for her night on the town. She put on a pair of baggy shorts and a Chang beer T-shirt that she had found in her bungalow in Koh Rah. And to complete the shabby casual attire was a pair of green and yellow Havaiana flip flops that she had bought in Argentina. She didn’t even have lipstick or eye make-up anymore because all of her cosmetics were gathering dust with her lost pack in Thailand. Yet from Hiro’s point of view, Candy was the most desirable woman in the crowded standing only bar in Shibuya. The Japanese girls had false eyelashes and long Edward Scissorhands nails with little arses squeezed into mini-skirts and hot pants. Padded bras and orange hair and heavy foundation complimented hysterical high pitched voices in the great game to attract the metrosexual men in flat caps, goatees and thick horn rimmed glasses. The foreigners amongst the fashion victims seemed untroubled by labels and looks, preferring jeans and shorts, T-shirts and the occasional ironed shirt; few of them felt the need to flaunt labels or accessorize their limbs. Hiro was seeing Japan differently since he had fallen under the sway of Candy. Before he had considered ‘natural’ another look that had to be artfully teased from the wardrobe, just as to say something shocking was a convention for those who sought to look ‘cool’. Hiro wasn’t very good at any of these games and was happy to tag along with his few university friends all of whom seemed more ‘original’ and ‘interesting’ than him.
Now things were different. Hiro and Candy stood at the small round table near a wall with a big projection screen. They were showing some sporting event. Hiro had the feeling that people were using the sports broadcast as an excuse to look at Candy. To Hiro she seemed to radiate sexuality without even trying: tousled hair, forthright blue eyes and a straight posture that emphasized her figure. He was proved right. They hadn’t finished their second beer before a group of men engineered an opportunity to introduce themselves to Candy and Hiro. They were three foreigners with a Japanese couple.
Candy was enjoying the cold beer and the culture. The bar was busy and crowded but held none of the menace or machismo of a South American drinking hole. She loved looking at the doll-like women and the effeminate men. They sparkled with surface. Radical fashions and traditional manners Candy thought. The more she saw of youth culture in Japan, the more she felt lucky to have met Hiro. His lack of self belief had given him immunity to fashion. She had completely forgotten about their fact finding mission when a group of lascivious Australians pushed in on their conversation.
They made some comment about the football on the screen behind them and then started to ask Candy some questions. Candy answered their inquiries but gave them no encouragement. Candy had always been amused by the Australians she had encountered on her travels. Everything seemed sunshine and surf to the folk down-under. She remembered talking to one Aussie in a bar in La Paz who had told her that he only had 3 weeks left in South America and that he was going to skip Machu Picchu because there was a reef break he had to do in Mancora instead. Knowing about culture somehow made you less of an Aussie man.
Hiro bought the conversation around to what the foreigners did in Japan. Candy remembered their plan and turned on her smile to help Hiro.
“I teach in a Junior High. I’m an ALT,” one of them offered.
“What’s an ALT?” Candy asked, barely interested.
“Assistant Language Teacher. Kinda the token foreigner. I read from the book and play games with the kids. Easy.”
Mat was the name of the Aussie spokesman. His other two mates chuckled in a conspiratorial fashion. The Japanese couple looked like a magazine picture and politely loitered behind the burly Australians waiting for their entrée into the conversation.
“How did you get the job? I mean my friend here, Candy-san, is looking for work.”
Alan with spiky hair and tanned face joined the conversation, “There’s lots of teaching work in Japan. You just need a degree. You can try visiting English conversation schools, or do the conversation cafes, or look online. What’s that site’s name, Joey?”
The final Aussie came to the crease, “Er. Gaijin dot org I think. Hello, I’m Joey what’s your name, love?”
Candy winced at the familiarity, “How did you lads get your jobs?” For the life of her she couldn’t see how these barbeque brutes could teach anything worth knowing to the Japanese.
Candy’s question seemed to raise mirth amongst the group. They looked at each other and Matty spoke: “Through the great Aussie network, darling. One goes and one comes. We all got recommended by Aussie’s before us. We get working holiday visas so it’s no problem. Where you from? Maybe you can get one as well.”
And so it went on. The Groucho Brothers Mat-o, Joe-o and Alan-o gave a burlesque show of gay jokes and rabbit punches as all three tried to hit on Candy. She wanted Hiro to save her but he was busy chatting with the patient Japanese couple still waiting to be introduced.
____________________
Back in the green room Shnade is doing his best to sip the Moaning Lesbians and engage Taka in conversation. Every now and then the Romanian would growl some husky Japanese. The other Japanese hostess had wondered off because Taka seemed uninterested in her company.
“I say. She’s splendid isn’t she? She’s asking if we want to buy a bottle of Scotch. She’s also asking me how much money you make Nade-san. Sadly, I don’t think you could afford her.”
“Hey, dude. Do you think she likes me?” Shnade had tried to put his meaty hand on her white legs and had been slapped in the face in a none to playful way. Shnade knew all about prostitutes from his days growing up on a trailer park, but this blonde haired dominatrix bore no resemblance to the cheap skanks on the park. She was like an expensive car that you had to be rich even to test drive.
Shnade had an idea. “Taka, why don’t we buy a bottle of whiskey at a convenience store and go back to my place for a few drinks. It’s a bit noisy in here to chat. Is that Honky Dury?”
“You, no go. You stay here. We have good scotch. Honto scotch. You like.” Sabina challenged with a sexual authority that neither man could easily ignore.
“Fuck, dude. She speaks English.”
“Yes, a touch too mercenary I’m afraid. How to say? Ah yes: let’s blow this joint.” Taka was already making signals to get the bill.
Shnade wondered why someone would blow on a joint when they clearly should be sucking. He was also wondering whether Sabina would attack both of them for trying to escape her lion tamer’s sway. Instead of the viciousness of the alpha whore she grabbed Shnade’s hand under the table and whispered in his ear:
“I know what you are doing. That man is rich. His father is powerful. Think twice my friend. You don’t know what you are getting involved in.” Shnade went pale as he listened to her carefully pronounced syllables. He had little time to react. Before he knew it Sabina had slapped him again and the people at the next table chuckled away at Shnade’s embarrassment.
The red mark on Shnade’s face hid the shadow that momentarily flickered over Shnade’s soul. He felt like he was in some dark movie or some horrible dream. As the green clad girls bowed and Taka paid Shnade found the door. He needed to bail.
____________________
The Marx Brothers quickly bored Candy. They were getting tiresome in their insistence that they all go to karaoke round the corner. Candy tried to get Hiro’s attention. She wanted to escape the bravura of testosterone. She felt Hiro’s plan had been a waste of time. Saturday night was about indulgence and abandon. The input required of her to make this networking situation work was something that had once come natural to her. Now she wanted something else.
“Hiro, if we leave now we can catch a train back.” Before the great white hunters could interject Candy was heading for the door. Hiro made a quick flurry of bows to the Japanese couple he was chatting to and soon caught up with Candy outside.
“What’s the matter Candy?” Hiro noticed a tear swell and fall down her cheek.
“Let’s walk before those clowns catch up with us.”
Catch Up on Earlier Installments of the Candy and Shnade Tale:
Candy Finds a Capsule Hotel and Shnade Gets His First Apartment (Part 9)
Candy and Shnade Reach the Line (Part 8)
Candy Gets Religion and Shnade Gets a New Guitar (Part 7)
Shnade Gets Drunk with a Serial Killer and Candy Arrives in Bangkok (Part 6)
Candy and Shnade Move On (Part 5)
Candy Trips in the Jungle and Shnade Trips Up (Part 4)
Candy Comes in the Jungle and Shnade Becomes the Man (Part 3)
Candy in Bolivia and Shnade in Hawaii (Part 2)
Candy in Argentina (Part 1)
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