Heiwa-Dori, Mystique

Wednesday October 25, 2024

This is the first time I have reached a state of exhaustion while traveling. Keep in mind that although technically I’m on vacation, I’m really visiting my second home in Tokyo, which means visiting family—and I have to point out that I lost my immediate family two years ago. Hence, the Japanese side of the world is very much my clan. I’m very fortunate to be married to my wife, who is Japanese, and she has a terrific family that is full of interesting and good people.

I don’t know if I’m going through a grief period in my life due to the death of my mother and Uncle or if I’m having what I think are serious mental issues that are very difficult for me to face. There is nothing like death, which makes one reflect on one's life and character. I see traces of myself in my mother’s being, her very character, which had a sense of tension due to her shyness and her ability to live in a world of her own making. I feel I inherited the darker aspects of her personality, and remember, she was a very loving mother to me. Still, humans are complex beings, and it is not an either/or situation. It takes me a thousand miles away and being situated in a foreign landscape, where one recognizes certain aspects of one’s identity.

I was very much raised among adults. I didn’t have a brother or sister, so I was the focus to a certain degree. But my parents had a full social life in the Bohemian San Francisco/Los Angeles world, and I, as a young tot, journeyed into a place where I was expected to be quiet and not interrupt the adults when they were talking. If I said something kid-like, my dad would gently kick my leg under the table, which meant to be silent. It took me something like 60 years later, and I realize I’m still that kid around the table with adults. I spend a great deal of time with people speaking Japanese around the table, and sometimes I catch certain aspects of the conversation, but still, like a child, it’s almost a ghost-like presence among others. I’m not ignored, but I can’t fully participate as an adult in the room since I don't know the language. A few nights ago, I was having dinner in Roppongi, which used to be a James Bond-like mid-century excellence, is now very much a playground for wealthy foreigners, and here I sit in an upscale shopping center that is part of a five-star hotel, in which they have the second floor devoted to restaurants. I sat there among friends, but I had nothing to offer except to do a lot of thinking while the conversation continued. I felt trapped, and I realized it was the same feeling I had with my parents in adult social settings. The sad thing is I put myself in this position. I have been going back and forth to Japan for the last thirty-five years, and I could have learned the language, but due to shyness or not feeling smart enough, I bypassed that educational experience.

Based on my previous posts over the last few years, one would think I only live in the Shibuya Crossing or various bars in Shinjuku, but the truth is, I Live in a quiet, pleasant neighborhood with its vibe. I live in Meguro, a large section of Tokyo that is not far from Shibuya or Ebisu. The Yanomote Line is close by, and the central train line circles Tokyo and the route to many of the more popular areas of the capital.

The main shopping street near where I live is Heiwa-Dori (Avenue). It is 1.5 (2.4 kilometers) miles long. It consists of local businesses, such as beauty shops/barbers, small doctor offices, the Post Office, a fresh fish market, a Stationery Store, a Bicycle repair shop, a Sake store, a Bath House, a clothing boutique, and about five restaurants. There is a mini-market on the street called My Basket, and down the road, it is 7/11. There is a butcher shop that focuses on pork sausages, but rest assured that one can use the very convenient vending machine at their stand that has various cooked sausages available on a 24-hour basis. There is another vending machine down the street with different Beef grades for sale. Businesses tend to stay in business for a long time on Heiwa-Dori, except there was once a Jazz Kissa (coffee house), Rinbo, which roasted their coffee beans made to order, and an incredible selection of Jazz recordings for customers who sip their coffee and silently listen to the music. I regret that Rinbo is no longer here.

If you are looking for electrical wiring or a plug, this shop is excellent. It is a small space full of old computer parts, batteries of various sizes, and multiple styles of light switches. It is a hardware shop for those who like to plug things in. This store, as well as the entire street, yells out the anti-digital world. A fuck you to the life of Roppongi with its neon lighting and limos waiting outside for customers in bars/restaurants. A quiet life here on Heiwa-Dori, but still an intense experience. There is no reason for a tour guide here, but one needs a Poet Guide to lead you to the exciting aspects of life here. I’m at your service.

A hardware store sells kitchen goods, toilet slippers, toilet plungers, tea kettles, and various brooms of all designs and sizes. This shop is the most visually interesting to me. Chaos as practiced, but there is an order behind the chaos, and this business has been here since I arrived in Tokyo for the first time.

Here is a place I never went to because I’m usually walking with another person. Kenohi is a cafe that serves various Japanese dishes, primarily vegetarian (if not all), with various drinks. The key reason why Kenohi exists is that it’s a cafe for the singular person, meaning you can only dine by yourself. This is not a cafe where you can share ideas with other diners but a quiet place to eat and read simultaneously. I believe one can bring a laptop here and do some quiet writing. It is shameful that I haven’t spent time in Kenohi because this is my ideal spot to spend quality time with a favorite person - me.

Every small neighborhood needs a bathhouse, where Heiwa-Dori citizens can soak in a container of boiling water and gossip or share news about the local going on in all its various forms. I have been to multiple bathhouses in different resorts and vacation spots in Japan, but never a local neighborhood place. Some houses don’t have a bath or shower in their older homes, so one must go to a public bath. Also very convenient is a washing machine and dryer, or, in other words, a laundromat located next door.

There is something ghost-like about Photographer’s Studios, which are open to the public and mainly used for a formal portrait of a family member or a new baby in that family. But the digital world has brought us the iPhone, so neighborhood shops like this one are from another era. I’m unsure if it is still open for appointments only, but I never see anyone enter or leave this shop. What’s important to me is that this business is my visual spot to know that the street I live on is around the corner. There is something hypnotic about the street here, and I can imagine Fritz Lang mapping this location out for a scene in one of his films, such as M. There are no streets that have names, and the only time you see the words Heiwa-Dori is in small lettering on telephone posts. So, for me, Tokyo is totally visual. I only know the streets here by their visual layout of businesses and the old standby, the subway or train station.

The other ghost-like presence is this residence on Heiwa-Dori. It is almost covered by vines that eat the house from the outside. Is someone living there? And like that structure, I feel the outside world is slowly eating me up. I have become sensitive to vast spaces, staircases, and tall ceilings, and I can’t even watch a train go by because it makes me ill, or at the very least, I experience Vertigo. I live; therefore, I struggle.