JAPAN: Hot butt and 108 sins, Tokyo New Years 2006-2007

(Chofu Jendai-Ji Buddhist Temple, New Years)

I came to Asia because I wanted to start my new year in a new continent and have a shock to my system. Spoiled with being in countries where I spoke the language or could at least read the alphabet, I wanted to see how this street-smart adventurer would fare in a totally foreign environment. I started easy, with super modern Japan.

Before leaving New York for Tokyo, I went to the Russian stores in Queens to buy Russian sausages and cakes for my cousin for New Years. I heard that European style sausages were quite expensive in Japan. My roommate Carla, who is half-Japanese Brazilian and half-Portuguese Brazilian, warned me about bringing food into Japan. Her cousin knew that a taxi ride from the Tokyo airport to his friend’s house in Tokyo would cost him $100 and that exotic Brazilian melons sold for $50/each in Japan. So, being the clever man that he was, he bought two Brazilian melons in Brazil for $1 or so and brought them to Japan thinking he would pay the taxi driver with two melons. Well, the Japanese customs officials forfeited his taxi fare and her cousin had to take the subway to his friend’s house and leave all his heavy luggage at the storage facilities at the Tokyo airport and come back later in a car to retrieve his luggage. Though I wasn’t planning on paying my $15 train fair to my cousin’s house with kielbasa, I found the story to be very funny.

After exiting the airport and embarking on my three-hour train and subway ride to my cousin’s apartment in Chofu, I sit on my train seat and look around. Since leaving the airport, I have not seen any other foreigners. I’ve traveled in about 40 countries and lived in many places around the world. For the first time in my life, I truly feel like a foreigner. I can’t read any of the subway advertisements. When the conductor calls a stop, I have no idea what he is saying.

The girl across from me is wearing a short wool skirt, very long socks and platform girlie sandals. Considering the cold outside, she looks silly. Dressed like a schoolgirl in the spring, she seems to have the common sense of a very dumb schoolgirl who hasn’t noticed the change of seasons. A young man nearby looks very stylish with his slightly spiked hair. Barely anyone talks except for a young couple. They cuddle each other and seem to be very relaxed as though they just came back from a vacation. Everyone else is immersed in playing games on their mobile phones that they hold ridiculously close to their faces.

I am in the hot seat. I am sweating. The train seat is heated! Why do they heat the train seats if the train cars are already warm? I take off my jacket. I want to take off my sweater too, but after having flown from New York to Tokyo, I think the shirt underneath my sweater is not very clean. No one else is taking off their jackets. We’re all in the hot seat, but no one seems to mind having a heated butt.

My cousin Sasha meets me at the train station near his house. He’s been living in Japan for several years with his wife and three kids. They speak Russian at home and use certain Japanese school terms when they have to discipline the kids. The children have taken well to strict Japanese schooling and react to Japanese words for “be quiet” better than the Russian ones.

Sasha takes me to the Buddhist Temple to witness the Japanese New Year’s tradition of banging the temple gong 108 times to ring in the New Year and wipe away the 108 sins from the past year. We meet his son’s classmate and her Taiwanese mother who offer to take care of me at the temple. My cousin goes back home to celebrate the New Year with his Russian friends as they watch Russian New Year’s festivities on Russian TV via the Internet. The English speaking Taiwanese woman is with her Japanese husband, their daughter and her niece and her niece’s white American boyfriend, both of whom are visiting from the US. She explains the New Years traditions as we walk around the various booths selling talismans, poems and trinkets for the New Year. We stand in line to ring the bell. Though we are all shivering from the cold, I don’t want to go back to my cousin’s apartment. I didn’t fly all the way to Tokyo to watch Russian celebrities drink champagne on TV. The Taiwanese woman and her Japanese husband treat me to a hot rice sake drink to keep me warm.

When the foreigners powerfully pound at the gong, the Japanese laugh and mutter “gaijin” (foreigner) under their breath. The Japanese seem to prefer a gentle flex of their bicep and tricep muscles when they swing the metal handle to the bong. I bang the gong as hard as I can, but I am not as forceful as the other Westerners in line. Before leaving, I make a donation to the temple. I’ve rung in my year the Japanese way!

(Left) I am banging the New Year’s bong in Chofu, Tokyo.