My big day out

The School of Rock band, Junk, played on Saturday night so I tasted my first Japanese gig. It was bittersweet. Raju and I dashed to Kita Urawa from Kitamoto school (where I had to get changed in the toilets, although the receptionist I occasionally work with claimed this was too much information - yet other receptionists rant about diahorrea with enthusiasm!), downing a couple of chu-his on the train. Knowing this is now outlawed in England, rather than just frowned upon, gave us added pleasure. If only we`d thought it through and packed a few more for the gig. Japanese concert venues apparently shut the bar when the band plays. A small murmur of discontent rose to out and out disgust when the penny dropped.

Afterwards, I bullied everyone into going to the George so we wouldn`t have to share a tab in an izakaya (it`s fine if there are small numbers, but I refuse to subsidise a pack of beer-hungry Brits when I can bully gullible Japanese salarymen into funding my alcoholism). It was perhaps a mistake as my sushi and rice balls hadn`t adequately lined my stomach and so I spent yesterday reeling. I also left my phone in the pub (people just don`t steal here, so it was relatively safe) and spent the whole day feeling like I was missing a limb.

My friend Jery, a married salaryman who is potentially trying to woo me by quoting the gospel according the Luke (don`t fall into the trap of excessive drinking...), took me on a day-trip to Tokyo. We stopped off at Harajuku, where the streets are usually lined with the freaks in the picture. Only a handful were out yesterday, but they still obligingly posed for all the tourists asking to take pictures of their weirdness. This, apparently, is not offensive. We did a quick tour of the local shrine and peeked on three weddings taking place there - `very rich people` Jery told me, with not insignificant awe.

We then fought through the crowds to get a look at the end of the St Patrick`s Day parade. I think I was supposed to be very impressed by Jery`s thoughtfulness at taking me to it, but I hadn`t been aware that it even was St Patrick`s Day and, not being Irish, have never bothered marking the occasion before. I rambled something about most people at home being wrecked on Guinness and think I got away with it. Playing the alcoholic gaijin card works wonders at times. The parade was a strange affair. We only caught the tail end, but it was more like a bored gathering of Japanese clubs than anything gaelic. I saw a total of three drunken Irishmen and everyone else was nihonjin. There were unicyclists (yawn), jugglers (ugh), Irish dancers (not dancing) and a group of randoms waving Shane McGowan posters.

After that, Jery attempted to get romantic by taking me over Rainbow Bridge to a huge shopping centre. We took a stroll by Tokyo`s fake beach, where the wind made his eyes water and nearly pushed us over. The skyline is unbelieveable and makes London look like a village.

We passed a restaurant for dogs - owners can go in and take their pets with them and there is even a menu for dogs, including meatballs with a bone. It`s next door to a dog shop, so we went in and fondled the merchandise. We`d also seen a cat shop advertised and I said I`d like to go there, but it took us almost an hour, possibly longer to find. Maybe it is only the people I know, but the Japanese seem to have no sense of direction. The only times I have been genuinely lost here have been when I`ve been following a native.

The cat shop was completely worth the trip. It was amazing. I have fallen in love with an Abyssian and when I can afford it, I intend to treat myself to at least one of these beauties. There was a back area in the shop which you had to pay to get into, Jery obliged (even faux Japanese dates are excellent and free!), and we entered a fake house crammed with cats. My ideal home. There was even a little display. Two cats were dressed in traditional Japanese attire, a tabby as a samurai and an American short-hair as the lady, in a cloak which it constantly shook off and was forced back into. They had to complete a small assault course to get some treats, but the American was so pissed off she wouldn`t be bought for any treats and lashed out at her handler and the other cats nearby. Stupidly, the shop assistants gave this cat to a young girl to handle. An older girl who just stepped up to make up the numbers won with the more obliging samurai.

After that we went for yakiniku, where I accidentally ate liver (it`s not so bad here) and was forced to try kidney and pigs` intestine after laughing at the menu (softly pigs` innards) and being told it was actually very good. It wasn`t and I was left with the awful metallic aftertaste of kidneys in my mouth. I then headed back to the George to collect my phone, only to be told it wasn`t there. I then tried to check if it was in the Koban, but had to fill in a police report and my Japanese doesn`t yet include `lost` which made for a difficult conversation! Fortunately, almost everyone in Japan has a little English so we muddled through. I gave one last-ditch attempt at calling my phone and Sean answered, so I had to head back to the George to collect it for real. I got it from him and found a text from Karen telling me Sean had my phone. I honestly think she`s a little retarded.