Jun 9

Japan Fix: New York City

Food & Drink, Japan Fix, JETAA Chapters, Music Add Comment (2)

Note: This is the first in what JetWit hopes will become a series of “Japan Fix” articles.  Each article can be a simple guide for where to go to get a Japan fix in your neck of the woods, or a more personal account of how you get your Japan fix.  (Or in Kirsten’s case below, both of those and more.)  The goal is to use the collective brain of the JET alumni community for the benefit of the JET alumni community.

Japan Fix:  New York City

By Kirsten Phillips (Niigata-ken, 2005-08), writer of the Kirsten’s World columns on JetWit

There are thousands of different angles to approach a story like this, particularly in a metropolitan city such as New York. But I’d really love to expand this topic and hear about Japan Fixes in other parts of the country, preferably those without a coast! Yes, I’m talking to you Wyoming! Hi there, Kansas City! Since Japan means something different for everyone who walks away from it, I’d really like to hear about where and how you find Japan. Whether its building a raft and fording rivers to reach that one Kaiten Sushi bar, renting your favorite Japanese language film, or simply chatting with your Japanese neighbor down the hall, tell us all about it!

Now let’s get one thing straight. I earned an admirable jones before I even lived in Japan.

I have my buddy Reiko to thank for the multitude of pre-JET Japanese obsessions I harbored before marching knee-deep into the trenches. In Nueva York, karaoke was only something I did when I was too drunk to care about the lyrics and the only songs I knew then were by Shiina Ringo. Tarako-spaghetti was novelty, not survival. I entered without ceremony. Tips were important. The sole purpose of a handkerchief was for gagging. Vending machines only offered one thing.

Although prior knowledge of Japanese custom, popular wastes of time and cuisine-abuses was a reasonably applicable methadone for the harder edges of culture shock, nothing can fully prepare you for the experience of living on Japanese soil. Everyone gets shocked in one way or another. However, once you get used to the vibe and start running with the pack, untangling yourself from that mentality can be equally as harsh. Three years of opening important doors with 失礼しますand public transportation that runs on time can really leave a mark. Also, it’s hard to say goodbye to your favorite onsen, izakaya, chuugakkou and depaato. A majority of these are difficult to revive even in facsimile here in the States unless you wanna fork over your rent check.

But for those who are blessed enough to live in or around Nueva York, there is hope.

In this town, most of what I left behind I was able to come back to. In Gotham, I would not have to drive miles to an all-encompassing AsiaMart to find my specific brand of miso paste or umeboshi. We have entire supermarkets devoted to Japan, not just a shelf. A distinction is made between Japanese food and “Japanese” food. There are no shortages of Japanese businesses, artists, cultural events, and just plain walking talking individuals to feed your soul. Nonetheless, some things you still need to hunt for.

The East Village is where you’ll predictably find many forms of Japanese crack cocaine. Decent takoyaki may be found at OTAFUKU. Yakitori and ramen (in the same place???) may be scored at VILLAGE YOKOCHO. I patronized YOKOCHO so much in college they put my face on the menu. Once upon a time there was a sweet little place called PANYA that served as a bakery but alas, it is no more. However, KYOTOFU has lessened the pain of their loss with luscious Japanese sweets of the high quality I grew accustomed to in Japan. *sob* How I do miss my Yamazaki roll kekki! *bawl* *whimper* *sniffle*

I enjoyed going to the nearby HOSHI COUP II when I required a haircut. Not only was the staff patient, understanding and knowledgeable of 7 out of 10 of my favorite Japanese bands, they seemed to have an intuitive feel for what would look good on me. Plus, they cleaned my ears while they were drying my hair and offered complimentary shoulder rubs. Just like in Japan. These days, however, I have switched to the comfort of YO-C (named for its darling Tokyoite owner, Yoshi) salon on East 5th Street for a bit more personalized experience. I go to his website sometimes just to zone out to the awesome trance he’s got embedded therein.

Though once I was a devoted follower of the YOKOCHO sect, UDON WEST on 45th & Lex is where I now get my ホルモン on. I respect an izakaya that serves it up slimy and underdefined, speaks English when it feels like it and stays open a wee bit later if you’re still in your cups past last call. They do have an English menu for chrissakes, this is still America. But how can English accurately portend the ultimate mouthwatering bliss of a もつ鍋？ GUT STEW? That’s attractive.

Though you can always hit up the SUNRISE MART, DONGURI-YA, or KATAGIRI should you ever find yourself in dire need of パンコ or a gas conro, their selections vary frequently and are often limited (though KATAGIRI has an impressive dry goods section). For a truly fun experience, I recommend coughing up the bus fare to MITSUWA in Edgewater, NJ to meet a myriad of your needs. It’s a very wallet-damaging place to start missing Japan. I never go there without dropping at least $100. My hard on is severe.

If all you’re looking for are anime soundtracks/dated J-pop, look no further than Chinatown bootlegs. It’s the most cost-effective option. Failing that, KINOKUNIYA offers a wider range of more timely selections (though pricier). Last time I live in the city, there was a BOOK OFF on E. 41st that sold used or marked down Japanese CDs so check that out first before shelling out any serious yen online. Limewire has been my supplier for longer than I can say with dignity however if I truly want something, I attack AMAZON Japan or CD JAPAN like any normal person.

For those who like their Japanese music way off the beaten pop star, however, I heartily recommend this UK-based website called Far Side Music. Sample downloads available. ^_^ If you have a passion for Japanese music like I do, this site may become your new bitch. Yes, why wouldn’t they have a MySpace?

Japanese bands were once a mere roving happenstance in my part of town but if you look close enough (and attend enough JAPAN NITES), you will find more than a few recurring house acts. Now may I pimp the melodic UZUHI fronted by a man I fall just a bit more in love with every time I witness him. If all you truly seek is a decent kick in the teeth, UZUHI will more than politely oblige. HAPPY FUN SMILE is also an enjoyable outfit. Though I was initially confused by their dual embrace of cosplay and accordion playing, once I heard them cover MATSURI MAMBO and HAISAI OJIISAN, I was bought. I mean, how can you lose with a name like Happy Fun Smile???

However, some pleasures are harder to reproduce.

Once upon a time I was sitting around my countryside elementary trying to look busy when I heard a joyous music burst from the gymnasium. Were they having an unscheduled matsuri here in my little school? Was there a fire? Once my schedule of classes was completed, I was pretty much left to fend for myself. Though I was free to roam the halls at will, I tried not to make my presence too obvious as this always got a pleasing though distracting reaction from my adorable students.

Often we ALTs are left out of the loop or expected to know much more than we actually do. If there had been a fire, I’d have been the dumb chick asking: “So like, who’s KAJI and why is everyone making like such a big deal over him? Hey, do you guys smell smoke? I totally smell smoke.” Unbeknown to me, my elementary school was practicing for their Sports Festival and part of this joy was a dance known as yosa-koi.

I did not know what yosa-koi was at the time. All I heard was happy music and all I saw were happy kids! Only my two favorite things in the world! I eagerly leapt into the throng of teachers and students and did my best to jama along with the music.

I had no clue what I was doing but that’s never stopped me before.

Soon yosa-koi became my Saturday mornings. The teachers, eager to see an ALT interacting outside class with the students, found me a pair of wooden naruko and signed me up for the school’s yosa-koi team. I was thrilled though poorly coordinated. Every Saturday I faithfully showed up in the suffocating heat of our mirrorless gym and tried to learn the steps to our DON GALA FESTIVAL routine.

Yosa-koi was a profoundly good way to meet people. Not only my students but their parents and siblings, friends and grandmothers. It was something we did for fun and together. I loved it lots.

When I came home I was dubious as to whether I would ever dance yosa-koi again. I’d half-resigned myself to becoming one of those eccentric ex-ALTs who sleeps with a naruko under her pillow, sipping sho-chu on the front porch and reminiscing about the good old days when I danced that martian dance Yosa-Koi in the parade of ’08. Yesiree, I’d gaze dewy-eyed at footage of past performances on YouTube and weep into my mochi, yearning fruitlessly for any excuse to rattle them clappers again.

Unwilling to accept such a fate, I Googled “yosa-koi” and “NY” and found: 10tecomai: Yosa-Koi Dance Project.

The most I’d hoped for on this 東海岸 was some extension of a college Asia club or Japan society, an environment I didn’t exactly wish to invade. Finding even Japanese people who were into yosa-koi seemed impossible enough indeed, let alone an entire project?!?! Such an outfit demanded further investigation. To my elation, they were kind enough to let me audition and even kinder to let a 左右-challenged individual like myself join their ranks. The Japanese community in NY, such as it is, is fairly vast. Even within the miniature dynamic of 10tecomai, there are a diverse range of individuals, Japanese and non-Japanese. For me, Japan is well represented by its members. From the fast-talking Tokyoites to the barely decipherable Tohoku-factions, to ALTs who served their time, 10teco represents Japan through one common act: Stylin with naruko. Where there is music and happiness, where there is a stage or no, where there ought to be nothing to see by but beer and red lanterns, there should be 10tecomai.

When I miss Japan, I miss it less when I’m dancing yosa-koi. When I’m talking with people who yearn for onsen the same way I do. Who know to slurp noodles at the speed of light while its still hot enough to sear the roof of your mouth. Who will lend me an aburatori when I ask for one. Who laugh at my old man jokes and don’t need translation every time my Japanese goes on auto-pilot. It’s not Niigata by any means but it’s close enough.