The New Year celebrations began in earnest for us with the traditional bowl of soba noodles at midnight – said to ensure long life – followed by a visit to our local jinja. Drawn by a combination of spiritual need and the prospect of free sake, we donned coats and headed out into the chill night air. The jinja is literally at the end of our street and is mostly deserted for about 364 days of the year. But not tonight.
It seems like a few other people had had the same idea! The queue stretched from the jinja about half a mile down the road. Still, undaunted we persevered and waited patiently inline for our chance to step through the ring and offer our prayers for good fortune in 2009.
For the Japanese, each year is considered a separate and distinct entity. The visit to the jinja and its purifying ceremony draws a line under the year just gone and means that everyone can begin the New Year with a clean slate. Japanese people attempt to finish the year will all business taken care of and bills paid so that nothing is carried over into the New Year, so for the last few days all the post offices and combini stores have been packed with people paying bills. Although it’s not possible to settle everything by Dec 31st, this idea of being “reborn” each year, spiritually clean and refreshed remains a very attractive one, and I think is perhaps one secret behind the Japanese people’s legendary grit and endurance.
The normally deserted shrine had been really attractively decorated. Lit by a combination of Japanese lanterns and wood-burning braziers, the atmosphere was a mixture of levity and real sincere spirituality. This is perhaps the one time of year when the normally secular Japanese reveal a little of the spirituality that underpins their culture. 
The shrine itself is clearly very old – possibly dating back to the time of the Tokugawa Shogunate or even further. When you look around the site, there are a number of stone shrines, some on them appear to be so old that the carvings and markings that once adorned them have long since been worn away. The stone alter where incense is burned has literally been carved in half by the combustion of countless offerings made over the years.
Eventually we neared the shrine itself and got ready to make our offering of a few coins, bang the temple gong to attract the attention of the temple kami or spirit, and say our prayers of thanks and for the New Year. Every shrine has a different tradition. Here, it is customary to bow twice and clap your hands twice before praying. Afterwards, we got our free sake – not the bloody big glass that Big M was hoping for but the traditional “saucer”. But still gratefully received none the less. This was followed by a go on the Lucky Dip (Y won a bag of spuds, presumably from the local farm) and a cup of warm, milky…something, enjoyed while standing around a roaring fire, in which all the lucky charms from last year are cremated. 
All in all, a very enjoyable evening that had just the right combination of spiritual sincerity and entertainment with which to start the New Year.
So, if you are reading this, may I offer you our sincere good wishes for the New Year. あけましたおめでとうございます！Akemashita omedetou gozaimasu.
Last night we bid farewell to 2008 in traditional style with a midnight visit to the local jinja, or Shinto shrine. By stepping through the ring and approaching the shrine itself, we are purified of all negativity and can begin the New Year refreshed and reborn. Today is a day of reflection on the events of 2008. With its highs and lows, it was certainly a tumultuous year but one that brought with it tremendous achievement. I was looking at some photos I took this Xmas, and I drew some satisfaction from noting that for the first time, the whole family was gathered together under our own Christmas tree in our own house. From nothing but a crazy dream, we have created something quite wonderful – a house filled with love and happiness. 2008 was the year that saw that dream come true.
For all its trials and desperate moments, I will always remember 2008 for this and be thankful; Thankful to all those people that helped us achieve our dream, and thankful to the guardian spirits of our family for bringing us the good luck that helped us on our way. Fare thee well 2008 and thank you. I pray that 2009 will be as kind to us.
Christmas is done and dusted for another year, and despite my pre-Crimbo gloom, it turned out to be quite an enjoyable one. Perhaps prompted by a bit more explanation of the deeper meaning that Christmas carries with it for us gaijin, the wife made a big effort to make it a fun time for all of us. And indeed it was, despite the absence of that special Christmas Day feeling. It is totally unreasonable to expect that we will ever fully replicate the feeling of a “true” Christmas as far as I am concerned. Nevertheless, and as the missus pointed out, their family traditions are no less valid than mine. What I think of as a proper Christmas is just my opinion; that’s all. What I’ve always wanted is to try and bring a bit of extra magic and a bit of depth to their day. And I think it’s fair to say that this was achieved. Well, as much as can be expected anyway.
Now we are in the full throes of preparation for O-Shogatsu, the Japanese New Year. In contrast to Christmas, the Japanese take New Year very seriously indeed. The house has to be cleaned from top to bottom and all duties and obligations discharged by the end of the year, so that everyone can start the New Year afresh. It’s a nice thought and one that I am more than happy to go along with. It is customary to visit a Jinja (Shrine) to pray for good fortune in the coming year. In the past we have visited the massive Sensouji temple in Tokyo on New Year’s day. But it gets very crowded, so I think this year we’re going to sample the delights of our local jinja at the end of our street. They’re planning some special events so it looks like fun.
I have just returned home from my first Bonenkai – the Japanese version of the Western Xmas party. Bonenkai means “forget the year”. While there is no tradition of Christmas here, as my last post explains in great detail, great store is placed in the year-end/New Year. So it’s a time to bring the year just gone to a close and to begin to look forward to the year ahead with renewed spirits of comradeship and shared endeavour.
Naturally, this is best accomplished with the aid of copious amounts of alcohol.
This evening’s do was courtesy of my iaido dojo. I say the word “my” with a good deal of pride, because I have today been formally accepted as a member of this dojo. This is actually a real honour and one that I am personally very thrilled about. I won’t bore you, dear reader, with the details but suffice to say, the lineage of my teacher – and therefore my own learning – can now be traced back over 450 years in a direct, unbroken line. It means a lot to me that I have been allowed to share in this treasured heritage.
But aside from all that, tonight was fun. I feel like I have joined a new little family. And I feel that I am a genuine part of it rather than just the “token gaijin”. I have read blogs by other western martial arts students in Japan – some of them in reference specifically to my dojo – where they have expressed a sense of bitterness about feeling “excluded”; of being allowed to participate, but not feeling part of the group. I am a bit perplexed by this, as this has not been my experience. It appears to me there can be only two explanations: Either I am too dumb to have noticed that I am being “excluded” or the person complaining of such exclusion has had a different experience to me. I genuinely feel it must be the latter, although I feel at a loss to explain why that should be the case. I suspect, however, that it’s something to do with people’s expectations.
Before joining this dojo, I had read on a particular blog about the “intense” sessions; the remorseless training regime that allowed no respite. As a middle-aged bloater, the words “intense” and “training” used in a single sentence are a genuine cause for anxiety. But as someone who prefers to make up his own mind, I went anyway.
The first class was tough: My legs hurt like crazy for a week afterwards and I had no skin left on the toes of both feet. But this is not unusual – I’ve had the same experience in England many, many times. It’s called a normal training session. It’s what I would expect from following any martial art discipline. Nobody said much to me while I was there – it didn’t bother me because I was there to train. So I went again, and again, and again. Slowly, people respond to the fact that you are serious about what you are doing.
The act of willingly putting yourself through a physically difficult routine is really the essence of martial arts. What you are doing is conditioning your mind as much as your body. But of course, if it was easy, everyone would be doing it.
Unfortunately, this seems to have become the case with iaido in some parts of the world – the UK included. In some quarters, the perception of iaido appears to be – as with some Aikido schools – that it is a purely esoteric/spiritual pursuit, completely abstract to a real physical confrontation or a life-or-death encounter with an opponent armed with a razor-sharp sword. Consequently, the attitude in some quarters appears to be that if you don’t feel comfortable with a technique because your knee hurts or you are too fat to sit in tate hiza or you don’t like doing breakfalls, you can adapt the technique to suit your liking. Of course, this is utter nonsense.
In the UK, for example, it is very common to see people performing kneeling techniques from a standing position, even during a grading or in competition. I have not seen that done once here: either you do the technique properly, or you don’t do it at all.
There is a reason for that: It is the act of deliberately throwing yourself at the ground, or relentlessly practicing the same sword technique, even though your toes are bleeding and your legs are killing you that is training your mind to cope with difficult physical situations. The discomfort is the very essence of martial arts practice. Some people just can’t deal with that. Perhaps it is a sad reflection of our something-for-nothing western culture that some of these kind of people appear attracted to iaido because they see it as an easy route to a dan grade in a martial art. That maybe true in some places. But not here.
Personally, I am very happy to have been given the opportunity to spend 3 hour sessions under the gaze of an attentive and extremely knowledgeable teacher. I don’t expect anything in return – fancy certificates or impressive titles - nothing except the hope that my technique will improve if I work hard and that I will enjoy the companionship of my fellow students while I practice. And perhaps even a few beers afterwards…What more could any martial artist want?
the gaijin dilemma
It's the stuff of nightmares for the gaijin in Japan. The thought of it is enough to send them running to the toilet. The reality of it is enough to cause profuse sweating and the breakout of an itchy rash in the nether regions.
The dilemma is whether to acknowledge fellow gaijin walking along the street. Don't let any gaijin tell you it's not a dilemma. In fact, the ones who pretend not to notice their fellow gaijin are the ones with the loudest voice in their head and the biggest knot in their stomach. It's written all over their face.
Their internal dialogue usually goes something like this:
"Oh, what a nice day, I think I'll go and.....oh shit is that a gaijin up ahead? Or just a Japanese person with blonde hair? Shit, it IS a gaijin. What shall I do? Acknowledge? Smile? Completely ignore him? If I smile and he doesn't, I'll feel like an idiot, and maybe it looks like I've just arrived in Japan yesterday and I'll look all naive and lost, but actually I've been here nine years and I know everything.
But hey, I'm friendly, why shouldn't I say hello? Maybe he's nice. He probably won't even look at me; pretend I'm not even here, pretend he hasn't seen me.
Shit, he's getting closer. Hey, he's looking the other way in a most unnatural fashion - so he's definitely seen me! He's looking all over the place, everywhere except AT ME. So he's going through the same hell as me right now. Moving into the critical zone now...I'll go for it....Hello."
Other gaijin: "Hello."
A gaijin with a red T-shirt and a red face.
We visited my beloved J-Mart DIY store this afternoon. On coming out, I was surprised to see Fuji san silouetted against the evening sky. It's not often that you get to see the mountain due to the cluttered skyline and photochemical haze that hangs over the city during the day. My shaky picture taken on a cellphone doesn't really do it justice. But it was a powerful and unexpected encounter with this most Japanese of icons, made all the more striking by its appearance in the most mundane of settings.
Fuji is an impressive sight. At 12,388 ft (3776m) it is the highest of Japan's many mountains. Even though it is around 60 miles away, it has a brooding presence that makes it seem far closer. I was surprised - and a little shocked - to learn that Fuji san is officially an active volcano, albeit with a low probablility of eruption. As someone who grew up in the comparatively benign environment of the British Isles I must admit to being quite terrified of volcanoes. I sometimes question the wisdom of moving to a country that boasts over 10% of the world's active ones! We Brits are not accustomed to thinking of Mother Nature as anything other than nurturing and obliging in her bountiful gifts. Here it's a different story. Of course it's a beautiful country, but there is an unspoken understanding that it is also a fragile one; for all its rich culture and its technological advances, Japan is completely at the mercy of Mother Nature. Fuji san awakening from its slumbers, for example, would be enough to turn Tokyo into an ash-choked wasteland.
As I gazed at Fuji san, it was a sobering thought that this dark silouette on the horizon had the power to change the lives of literally millions of people at a stroke - not the sort of apocolyptic vision likely to be encountered in the car park at B&Q Canterbury.
I have now started training at my friend K-san’s dojo in central Tokyo. And what a marvellous experience it is. In the space of just one week I’ve managed to pack in no less than 9 hours solid training – that’s an incredible improvement over what I’m able to do in the UK. I don’t mind admitting a little nervousness at joining the dojo – I’d read some reports that the regime was a little harsh for Western tastes, but I was pleasantly surprised at how relaxed it actually was. I’m not sure what kind of training the guy who’s review I’d read was used to, but despite the fact that I’d not trained seriously for some months, I didn’t think it was too dissimilar to the sessions we are used to in the UK. Although after the first one, my legs were pretty painful and I’m still waiting for the skin to grow back on my feet. Still – it’s my own fault for being lazy, so no sympathy!
The standard of Iaido here is quire simply in a different class to the UK. I have a good friend who lived and studied here for a long time, and he always bemoans the standards in the UK. Now I can see very clearly what he means. I have been extremely fortunate to have had some personal instruction from my new 7th dan teacher, and the effect has been nothing short of dramatic. My cuts have suddenly taken on an expansive, powerful quality that is quite extraordinary. I feel quite sure my skill will increase in leaps and bounds with continued practice.
The class itself is held in an old school gym – very similar to the gym at Simon Langton's in Canterbury where I trained with K san and P last Summer. The only difference is the smell of the yakitori wafting in from a nearby restaurant – makes it pretty hard to concentrate when the old stomach starts rumbling!
Yesterday I travelled up to Sendai with my friend and Iaido colleague K san for the All Japan Iaido Championships. This is an annual event that changes venue each year. This year’s host city, Sendai, lies about 300 miles north of Tokyo, necessitating a rather early start and a long drive – made all the more difficult, incidentally, by our ill-judged decision to dally overlong at Yebisu’s in Nishi Ogikubo last night. But I digress.
We arrived in Sendai City after a drive through some pretty spectacular scenery. The Kanda plain on which Tokyo sits is surrounded by mountains that rise suddenly and unexpectedly from the billiard-table flat countryside. It is an impressive landscape – perhaps due to its volcanic origins – quite unlike anything that I’ve seen in Europe; Steep mountains and deep valleys, all carpeted by dense forests. As we travelled north, the leaves became increasing tinged with gold and red – a tantalising preview of the spectacular display to be played out over the next few weeks.
The city’s sports hall is quite an impressive facility, and by the time we arrived, the competition was in full-swing. Unlike the Nationals in the UK, this competition appeared to be restricted to just 5th, 6th and 7th dan competitors. Consequently, the standard was – as you’d expect – pretty high. But what really surprised me was the number of very high grades there. In the UK, the highest grade we have is 7th dan and there is only a handful of them. Here, there are lots more, not to mention a surprisingly large number of 8th dans. I thought 8th dan was the highest possible, but apparently there are three 9th dans still alive and one of them gave a demonstration yesterday. Quite amazing – he must have been well into his 80s. There’s hope for me yet.
I met with my new sensei and was introduced to some of the other students and given the official OK to commence training, although it will be sometime before I am given any form of direct tuition. I have to prove I am serous first – just goes to show the limited value of my 2nd dan grade!
Along with the impressive Iaido,there were some pretty impressive toys on display yesterday. Each one of these swords is
a shinken – a real, razor sharp sword forged in the traditional way by a certified swordsmith. And as you’d expect, each has a price tag to match. This selection started at about 65 man Yen – about £3,200.
By for me – the highpoint of the day was the mass demonstration by 7th and 8th dans. There were far too many great Iaido practitioners to take in in one go, but I did spot some fantastic techniques. Oshita sensei – perhaps the most 
important teacher for UK Iaido – was just below where we were sitting in the balcony, impressive as always. But just one of many, many other great displays.
One of the most endearing features of Japanese life for a Westerner is that absolutely nothing can be taken for granted. Food is, of course, probably the first culture-shock people experience here. We are not accustomed to having our dinner arrive still attempting to escape, nor do we share the Japanese enthusiasm for plonking raw egg yolks on everything. But long after these occurrences cease to become remarkable, the country still has the capacity to catch you out with some unexpected cultural roadside bomb.
Take, for example, shower gel. A pretty innocuous household substance, that you would think was fairly universal in its formulation and use. But you’d be wrong, for in Japan they strive constantly to achieve perfection – and those good people at Sea Breeze shower gel are no exception.
Sea Breeze is quite a good name for a shower gel I guess – conjuring up images of bracing sea air, the exhilaration of the briny spray with a hint of wind-swept manliness thrown in. Combined with it’s attractive sea-blue bottle, these factors swayed me in its favour over its – frankly – rather effete competitors. However Sea Breeze proved to be a little more appropriate in its name than I bargained for.
Say the word “congestion” and probably the next thing you think of is “menthol” – of course renown for its ability to clear blocked sinuses and ease the breathing. One can almost picture the chain of thought that led the product designers to that eureka moment where Sea Breeze acquired its magically invigorating powers. Yes, you’ve guessed it. Menthol shower gel.
On the face of it, it doesn’t sound too bad. And on the face of it, it isn’t. However it’s a slightly different story when Sea Breeze meets the slightly more delicate parts of one’s anatomy. If you’re not expecting it, a sudden warming sensation in the nether regions can be a slightly alarming experience. There may be a warning on the bottle I suppose – but there’s no way I could have know. Perhaps I should suggest some typically cute graphic indication of the likely effects of Sea Breeze when applied inappropriately – Miffy the Rabbit clutching his nuts with a pained expression perhaps?
After my previous post (see below) I wanted to contrast my experience with the Japanese authorities while applying for residence, and that of Big M’s in the UK. Basically, there is no comparison whatsoever. In the UK, we were treated like criminals – forced to cough up thousands of pounds, forced to enrol in English classes we didn’t need and finally subjected to the totally demeaning and utterly pointless New Labour Propaganda Life in the UK test. The total cost of all this, just for my wife and stepdaughter to stay in the country, was in excess of £2,500. We had to travel twice to the disgusting Home Office Immigration facility in Croydon, carrying a truly ridiculous amount of supporting paperwork that required an entire archive box. We were forced to wait in the cold and rain with no toilet facilities; when we were eventually allowed in the building we were searched like thieves and treated like absolute shit.
Contrast this with Japan. The application for a marriage visa took one visit to the very pleasant Japanese embassy in London. Even though there was an irregularity with our paperwork, the staff were unfailing helpful and polite and the problem was sorted out easily. Total cost: £5
In Japan, the application for residence took just one visit to city hall and about a 20 minute wait while they processed the application. Cost: £0
I returned one week later to collect my card and register my stamp (see below) Cost: About 25p
Just a little bit different to rip-off Britain!
If there is any UK resident reading this that is contemplating settling in the UK with their Japanese spouse (or any other non-EU passport holder for that matter), my advice simply is – don’t even think about it. I would say that trying to start our family life in England was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.
This morning I went to city hall to collect my gaijin card. This basically is my permission to live and work freely in Japan and it’s what all foreigners who want to stay here strive to achieve. For foreigners arriving here in the hope of getting a job, the gaijin card can prove a major obstacle; you can’t get a job without it and you can’t get a card without a job! But of course for me it’s been pretty easy thanks to the missus.
The other major acquisition today was my personal seal (hanko) which people here use instead of a signature. I found a place around the corner that produced mine for about £25, complete with a smart black case with built-in ink pad. While I was at city hall I also registered my stamp so I can now do things like opening bank accounts etc.
With these two bits of personal administration sorted out, I feel a lot more settled and it really is starting to feel like home now.
Last night we visited a place called Masa Yakitori. As well as yakitori,the place is famous for its fine selection of sake. we chose the ginjo selection -5 representative offerings from the genre. very tasty. Looking at the picture it appears I missed one of the bottles. Can't image how that happened
This morning we got up early (for us!) and went for a stroll in nearby Inokashira Park. It was an absolutely beautiful morning. The trees in the park are just beginning to be kissed with Autumn gold, but the weather is still pleasantly warm. There is something about the light here that is extraordinarily beautiful – the trees in the distance are rendered a kind of smoky blue that is extremely evocative of classic Japanese art and paintings. Even though there are loads of people in the park on a day like today, somehow the crowds seem to do little to spoil the tranquillity and elegant beauty of the place. It is quite the most wonderful haven of timeless peace in a sea of frantic urbanisation.
The tranquility of Shoan 2 has been rocked by a series of scandals involving someone who clearly has a grudge against the Japanese Postal Service. Big M went to post some letters today, but when she got to the post box, it had been sealed up. And it wasn’t just one – they all had. After questioning the bird behind the counter, it appears that they’d been having a problem with somebody who’d been smearing poo over the post office window. But not content with that, they’ve now started shoving it into letter boxes as well. Bizarre – the work of a disgruntled post-stool worker perhaps? Sorry – couldn’t resist it.
In an effort to tackle my burgeoning waistline and get me back into some kind of shape in advance of joining a iaido dojo, myself and Big M ventured along to the local sports club for a look. Like you’d expect, it was very impressive: 3 floors consisting of very well equipped multi-gym, swimming pools, saunas and even an indoor golf practice room. Amazing. We were shown around by an enthusiastic young chap, clearly excited to have a gaijin to talk to.
The culmination of our visit was a detailed analysis of body composition carried out by a machine that looked like Captain Kirk’s bathroom scales. After being instructed to stand on metal plates, clasping an electrode in each hand, the machine proceeded to probe the mysteries of the Beerhound physique, concluding – with commendable accuracy –that I was a fat bastard. Impressive thought it was, I couldn’t help thinking a glance in the mirror would have probably sufficed.
I’m now finishing my first week in Japan, having being wafted here with Teutonic efficiency by those nice people at Lufthansa. Even getting the sword through customs proved an absolute breeze – however I’m sure getting it back into Britain won’t be quite so easy.
The place hasn’t changed much in my absence – i.e. junk and clutter everywhere. I’m not sure if this decor scheme is actually some kind of post-earthquake look or what. It’s bloody annoying, although to be fair the big problem is lack of available storage space. A shortfall that yours truly and his toolbox has already been called upon to remedy. No rest for the wicked.
Yet, for all the tasks waiting for my attentions, it is good to be back. I don’t know what it is, but I sleep so much better here. Monday night I slept for a straight 14 hours. And I needed it, after the traumas of the last 6 weeks.
Today we went to Suginami City Hall so I can register as an alien and get my infamous “gaijin card”. When issued, all foreigners have to carry this card with them at all times because they can be stopped by the police and asked for it in any circumstances. If you don’t have it, it’s “nick ni ikimasho, watashi no furui chugoku sara” – “let’s visit the nick shall we, my old china plate?”
Our American cousins (and I suspect the PC brigade in the UK) really hate this idea of being “picked-on” to produce ID papers on demand just because you are a foreigner. But I can’t see what the problem is. It’s their country and they have every right to wish to protect themselves from the kind of international miscreants that the UK falls over itself to welcome. I say, good luck to them. If you follow the rules and have done nothing wrong, there’s no problem.
I guess in the UK it’s different insofar as if you jump through all the right hoops (and pay their extortionate blackmail fees) you can eventually “become British” – whatever that means. Here it’s different: You are welcome to come and settle, as long as you obey the rules, but you will NEVER be Japanese. Again, I don’t really have a problem with that because I am not (nor, despite a deep affection for the country and its people, do I want to become) one.
However I can see that this status of “gaijin” might begin to become irritating after I begin paying taxes and medical insurance to my host country (next month!). One would like to think that participating financially in society would allow one to also participate socially and politically as equals. But not so. Mind you – looking at the so-called democracy in the UK, I can’t see much difference.
Oh..apart from the fact, there’s very little crime here, the streets are clean, there’s no stupid laws that penalise the law-abiding, the trains work, the cost of living is reasonable… etc etc
Well, it’s finally here: After months of planning and weeks of relentless struggle and heartbreak, I’ll finally be on my way tomorrow morning. Assuming the taxi turns up, and there’s no screw-ups at the airport, of course. It’s always unwise to underestimate this country’s ability to scupper the best-laid plans, so until my bum is firmly ensconced in seat 50K bound for Tokyo, I think my blood pressure will remain at the "High” setting.
I feel a bit in limbo at the moment. Not quite here, but not there either. I truly don’t know what’s waiting for me in Japan. I don’t know what will happen with the business over the next 6 months. I really am flying by the seat of my pants; risking absolutely everything on a wing and a prayer. But whatever happens, it’s sure to be an adventure – and the adventure of a lifetime at that.
I keep questioning myself over my motivation; why am I doing it? Why, at 46 am I not content with slippers and the 9 to 5? The truth is, I don’t really know. There is something inside me that just keeps driving me on. I don't know what I'm searching for, or even if I'll know when I find it. But search I must. One part of me really yearns for the stability of the unadventurous, the provincial; craving only routine and the certainty that nothing will ever happen to upset that cosy, safe existence. But there’s no way I could ever live like that; I’ve always pushed further, reached higher and dreamt bigger than my contemporaries. Perhaps foolishly so.
I think the force that overrides the inertia of my passive side can be simply summarised: I want to able to say on my death-bed, that I really did seize every opportunity to experience life; I really did take every chance to learn and grow and expand my mind to take in as much of this crazy world as I could. If attaining wisdom, becoming a more experienced, capable, benevolent and understanding human being is not the goal of life, then I have indeed been a fool. However, I have a hunch I won’t be proved wrong in the end.
This morning saw the departure of our faithful and long-suffering family car to the great car park in the sky. I was very sad to see it go. Spookily, it actually broke down for the first time since we’ve had it this morning – which I find almost unbelievable. It’s like it knew.
As reported in the excellent Gaijin Tonic blog.
“Oh blimey, what next? Koji Nakamura, a typically inventive Japanese bartender in Tokyo, makes cocktails with mayonnaise. You might think he was incredibly drunk when he came up with the idea, but Koji is obsessed with mayo and even runs a restaurant in Western Tokyo called “Mayonnaise Kitchen” (the Japanese actually have a name for mayonnaise fanatics- mayolers.)
Koji’s creamy cocktails include the “Mayogarita”, and the “Mayoty Dog” (which has mayo instead of salt around the rim.)
I’d have to be pretty far gone to drink one of these horrific concoctions, and have a sick bucket close at hand.”
That makes two of us - Beerhound
A mild-mannered,if occasionally grumpy English middle-aged beer lover with a passion for Japan, martial arts, travel and a whole load of other things.
