I meant to send this out last week but then the earthquake hit and all hell broke loose. Now I can finally get this out of my draft folder....
A couple of weeks ago Russell and I went to a mixer partially sponsored by Asian Tigers, the company that moved our stuff from America to Tokyo. The point of a mixer, besides cocktails, is to network. Similar to the FCC event we went to a month ago, there was a lot of men and passing of business cards. Un-similar to the FCC event - there was a lot of wine; although you had to go to the right wine station. There was the stingy station which was pouring minute amounts of pinot and there was the generous station which was pouring merlot abundantly. Can you guess which one we were hanging around?
The event was held at the Oakwood Apartment complex in Roppongi Mid-town. Unlike the divorcee infested Oakwood Apartment complexes in the U.S., which all seem to have been built in the 1970s and never updated since, this Oakwood apartment is state of the art gorgeous and adjacent to the Midtown shopping complex. Who could ask for more?
After properly lubricating ourselves with wine we were ready to mingle. We met a most charming man originally from Tel Aviv, who used to live in Singapore and has been in Tokyo for the past couple of years. We covered the usual topics: where do you live, what do you do, what kind of car do you drive (oops, that's L.A. sorry). He works for a software company. He's married to a Japanese woman and has a three year old daughter. But he almost became a sugar daddy. They live in Meguro next to famous people. I'm sorry, what? Almost became a sugar daddy? Let's go back to that!
Apparently, when he lived in Singapore, which is about the size of Rhode Island but as pretentious as
Santa Monica (above Montana of course), it's all about the flash and the cash. Cars are extreme status symbols even though there's not much country to drive on. He lamented, "shift into second gear and you're in Malaysia already." He went on. In Singapore there are only three Lamborghinis. As if this were not ostentatious enough, each Lamborghini is painted a bright color: bright green, hot pink or flaming yellow, to ensure maximum visibility and babe attraction.
In Singapore the women are interested in five things and five things only - the five "Cs":
Cash
Car
Credit Card
Condominium
Country Club
I'm thinking why not "Carats". Oh yeah, that's L.A..
This is such a strong axiom in Singapore it's even in Wikipedia. Can you believe that?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/5_C's_of_Singapore
I thought he was joking but apparently not. He said he almost got caught, but escaped, came to Tokyo and got married. All righty then.
Then we met up with a couple of guys who work for Asian Tigers. One of them, Dennis, is the person who handled our account. He introduced us to one of his clients who works for IBM and one of his associates at Asian Tigers. It's hard to believe Dennis has lived in the orient for as long as he says, over ten years. If you met him you would think he's from Iowa. He's blond, modestly good natured and talks about sports a lot, namely hockey and baseball. Besides networking and ensuring his clients were comfortable, he was light heartedly recruiting for his sports teams.
In the course of the conversation we talked about visiting Kubuki-cho, the seedy part of Shinjuku.
One of the guys related a story about the first time he was in Kubuki-cho. It was around four in the afternoon and he was approached by a Nigerian fellow (much like we were when we were there). But instead of hawking a bar or night club, he was hawking women. "Sir, would you like nice Japanese girl?" Doh! Our friend said no. "But sir, nice 18 year old Japanese girl?" Our friend said no. "But sir, half off for happy hour." I guess that really is a happy hour. He still said no or so he says.
We related our own story, far more tame, about the Nigerian fellow named Austin Powers who tried to coax us into his club. Talk about coincidences, one of the guys in our party whipped out his cell phone and showed us he had Austin on speed dial. He also told us Austin owns a club in Roppongi Hills in addition to the one he was trying to get us to go to in Kubuki-cho. Obviously this guy must entertain a lot to have Austin on speed dial.
Clearly he must be very knowlegable in this area. He told us to never use our credit card at a bar or club in Roppongi or Kubuki-cho unless it's an American chain restaurant like Hard Rock Cafe. (As if I would even consider going there. Ha!) Inevitably overinflated or mysterious charges totaling hundreds or even thousands of dollars may show up. Word to the wise next time we're clubbing or happy houring in Roppongi or Kubuki-cho.
After that we stumbled out of there to Roppongi. Looking for food! Geez you have a dirty mind. And ran into a couple of friends from L.A.. One who now lives in Sydney, Australia and the other who lives in Roppongi. In a city of 12.8 million people of course you're bound to run into someone you know. They both work with Russell. We ended up having a delightful dinner together at Orange. The food was outstanding. You really have to work hard to get a bad meal here. But you do have to ask for ice water at least three times before you get any, even if you call it by its Japanese name "Mizu". The truffle french fries (truffled at your table), baked cauliflower and rigatoni with porcini mushrooms were insanely good.
After that we did not stop at any clubs but took the subway home while I contemplated the five Cs.
Showing posts with label Tokyo Manners. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tokyo Manners. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Yes, I'd Like a Haircut with my Massage
So I think I made an appointment for a haircut for Russell and myself for Saturday. I say think because the guy at the Aveda salon didn't really speak English and I don't really speak Japanese. But he seemed to understand when I said haircut for two people and my enthusiastic pointing to the calendar and clock.
When he handed me his card I'm pretty sure he indicated he wanted me to call to confirm before coming.
Russell tried to do this Friday afternoon. After ten minutes of consternation, Russell hung up in agitation. "Are you sure you made a reservation?" I replied, "Are you sure you did? I guess we'll find out tomorrow."
On Saturday we presented ourselves at the salon. They were all smiles and so were we. They took our coats. They directed us to sit. We did, still not sure we were in. After a few minutes a very nice Japanese guy in his twenties, with great hair, came and took Russell away. He came back a few minutes later and introduced himself as Kazuki and handed me an English version of Vogue. Nice.
Then a few minutes later he came back again and shook my hand. This was encouraging until he began to try to ask me what kind of haircut I wanted. While the handshake gesture was western the speech was not. He didn't speak English very well at all. I was prepared for this and pulled out a hand drawn version of what I wanted my hair to look like. It was a crude rendition. But what the heck, it will grow back, right? He smiled and bowed. I felt he understood.
A few minutes later another very young, very attractive Japanese guy, also with great hair, came and collected me. He took me to the back to where the sinks were. As I walked to the back I noted Russell and I were the only two western people in the salon. I also noted every one was looking at me. I checked to make sure my blouse was buttoned. It was. The young guy gestured to me to sit in the shampoo chair. And wouldn't you know it - the shampoo chair was electric, and automated. Of course it was. No abrupt recline here; just a slow easy repose.
And there, in the automated shampoo chair, in the back of the salon, the very young, very attractive Japanese guy, with the great hair, gave me the best head massage of my life. His hands were warm and slow and experienced, hot towels on my neck were involved, sweet intoxicating scents of product being professionally administered, warm water flowing..... In the process he also washed my hair. My hair, heck my head for that matter, had never been so clean.
He delivered me into the hands of Kazuki. At that point he could pretty much do anything to my hair; the massage alone was worth it. Other than being absolutely straight, my hair is nothing like Japanese hair. It's very, very fine, like baby hair, and it's very, very blonde. And if you make a mistake it shows glaringly. I used to cry every time I got my haircut. But then I finally realized, no matter how bad the butcher job, it does grow back every time. I assumed there wouldn't be any crying this time considering the Japanese perfect everything they do and they all seem to have great hair.
Kazuki did an excellent job. He took his time and was very technical in his approach. The part that was interesting and different than my regular American stylist, who I love, is he was very careful. He assiduously combed my hair out after it was shampooed. When he blew it dry, he was very deliberate and gentle. My American stylist has actually cut my ear with her comb because she was working so fast. The results of his ministrations were comparable to my usual haircut, well, except I don't get an incredible massage in America.
When I was finished Russell had already paid the check. The cost was only twelve dollars more than what I pay in America. I usually pay $60.00 for a cut and blow dry. This cost $72.00 but with a massage. I asked Russell, "What about tipping? Shouldn't we be tipping the shampoo guy?" He reminded me there's no tipping in Japan. "But what about the massage guy, I mean the shampoo guy?"
I looked longingly to the back of the salon. I didn't even get his name......
When he handed me his card I'm pretty sure he indicated he wanted me to call to confirm before coming.
Russell tried to do this Friday afternoon. After ten minutes of consternation, Russell hung up in agitation. "Are you sure you made a reservation?" I replied, "Are you sure you did? I guess we'll find out tomorrow."
On Saturday we presented ourselves at the salon. They were all smiles and so were we. They took our coats. They directed us to sit. We did, still not sure we were in. After a few minutes a very nice Japanese guy in his twenties, with great hair, came and took Russell away. He came back a few minutes later and introduced himself as Kazuki and handed me an English version of Vogue. Nice.
Then a few minutes later he came back again and shook my hand. This was encouraging until he began to try to ask me what kind of haircut I wanted. While the handshake gesture was western the speech was not. He didn't speak English very well at all. I was prepared for this and pulled out a hand drawn version of what I wanted my hair to look like. It was a crude rendition. But what the heck, it will grow back, right? He smiled and bowed. I felt he understood.
A few minutes later another very young, very attractive Japanese guy, also with great hair, came and collected me. He took me to the back to where the sinks were. As I walked to the back I noted Russell and I were the only two western people in the salon. I also noted every one was looking at me. I checked to make sure my blouse was buttoned. It was. The young guy gestured to me to sit in the shampoo chair. And wouldn't you know it - the shampoo chair was electric, and automated. Of course it was. No abrupt recline here; just a slow easy repose.
And there, in the automated shampoo chair, in the back of the salon, the very young, very attractive Japanese guy, with the great hair, gave me the best head massage of my life. His hands were warm and slow and experienced, hot towels on my neck were involved, sweet intoxicating scents of product being professionally administered, warm water flowing..... In the process he also washed my hair. My hair, heck my head for that matter, had never been so clean.
He delivered me into the hands of Kazuki. At that point he could pretty much do anything to my hair; the massage alone was worth it. Other than being absolutely straight, my hair is nothing like Japanese hair. It's very, very fine, like baby hair, and it's very, very blonde. And if you make a mistake it shows glaringly. I used to cry every time I got my haircut. But then I finally realized, no matter how bad the butcher job, it does grow back every time. I assumed there wouldn't be any crying this time considering the Japanese perfect everything they do and they all seem to have great hair.
Kazuki did an excellent job. He took his time and was very technical in his approach. The part that was interesting and different than my regular American stylist, who I love, is he was very careful. He assiduously combed my hair out after it was shampooed. When he blew it dry, he was very deliberate and gentle. My American stylist has actually cut my ear with her comb because she was working so fast. The results of his ministrations were comparable to my usual haircut, well, except I don't get an incredible massage in America.
When I was finished Russell had already paid the check. The cost was only twelve dollars more than what I pay in America. I usually pay $60.00 for a cut and blow dry. This cost $72.00 but with a massage. I asked Russell, "What about tipping? Shouldn't we be tipping the shampoo guy?" He reminded me there's no tipping in Japan. "But what about the massage guy, I mean the shampoo guy?"
I looked longingly to the back of the salon. I didn't even get his name......
Monday, February 28, 2011
No Business Card; No Respect
So Russell and I went to this event a couple of Tuesdays ago. It was sponsored by some business club Russell belongs to called the FCC (not to be confused with the Federal Communications Commission).
Basically it's a bunch of people who work in marketing, or a related field, in Tokyo. I had to put on a business suit for the first time in six months. Good thing I brought one. Anyway, Russell invited me because, besides cocktails, which of course I'm always game for, the guest speaker was going to talk about TED X.
I was very excited about the prospect of both, especially given everything I had heard about TED.
Boy was I disappointed, not to mention demoralized. First, there were no cocktails. At dinner they only served one glass of wine, which was decent, but only one. Seriously? Second, the guest speaker wasn't what I expected.
It was touted as an "inspiring discussion about Ted X" but really it was a guy talking about his challenges executing the 2nd ever TEd X. He showed about 45 seconds of one TED talk and just when it started to seduce you, something about a professor and her brain, he cut if off. I was hoping for a little more inspiration. The only thing I was inspired to do was go home and drink and maybe log onto TED.com to find out what that's all about.
This only after I learned the hard way you don't show up to a business function in Tokyo without business cards - even if you're not employed. My empty handed explanation of "trailing spouse" just didn't cut it. I had to turn on the heavy charm which was just slightly more effectual than blondly pointing at my handwritten name tag that said "Dawn." Doesn't everyone know what a "Dawn" is?
The only person remotely interested was this snazzily dressed Japanese man. He was wearing an all cream ensemble except for his jaunty tan hat adorned with various pins of unknown origin. Complimenting him on his cool hat was apparently an open invitation to share with me that the hat had been recently signed by Ken Watanabe, who is hot I confess. Turns out he's a photographer and he just happened to have some black and white copies of the photo shoot he just did with Ken. He proudly gave me one. I demonstrated appropriate awe.
After our brief and somewhat one-sided conversation I met his manager, an Asian woman, wearing a red power suit who commented on how much healthier the food is in Japan. I agree but later I thought maybe she was making a point about my American figure. Nah.
Interestingly, the photographer's consort showed up a few minutes later wearing a beautiful cream colored kimono. She didn't have a name tag; she didn't need one. Maybe I should don a kimono next time.
And I don't know what was going on with the body odor but it seemed like one out of every three participants had serious fetor. Russell thought it was him. Later when I asked him why on earth would he think it was him, he said, "it kept following me around."
The highlight of the evening was the food. No media chicken here. I thought the appetizer plate (soup, and three kinds of salads with various meats, was the dinner, only to be delighted by another course of genuinely great crispy fish on top of a luscious mystery vegetable. And I met a couple of interesting and accomplished females - alpha females. This made me feel very unaccomplished indeed. One is a partner for luminalearning and trains executives all over the world and the other is in charge of training and development for Amex Japan They were gracious and humored me - the trailing spouse. This was the first test of my willpower and self-validation issues.
The next event guest speaker is the head of marketing for some French chocolate company. Part of the deal is he has to bring some of his product. I might be ok with that but I may have to start wearing a mask. Perhaps the Japanese have it right after all with the mask thing.
Basically it's a bunch of people who work in marketing, or a related field, in Tokyo. I had to put on a business suit for the first time in six months. Good thing I brought one. Anyway, Russell invited me because, besides cocktails, which of course I'm always game for, the guest speaker was going to talk about TED X.
I was very excited about the prospect of both, especially given everything I had heard about TED.
Boy was I disappointed, not to mention demoralized. First, there were no cocktails. At dinner they only served one glass of wine, which was decent, but only one. Seriously? Second, the guest speaker wasn't what I expected.
It was touted as an "inspiring discussion about Ted X" but really it was a guy talking about his challenges executing the 2nd ever TEd X. He showed about 45 seconds of one TED talk and just when it started to seduce you, something about a professor and her brain, he cut if off. I was hoping for a little more inspiration. The only thing I was inspired to do was go home and drink and maybe log onto TED.com to find out what that's all about.
This only after I learned the hard way you don't show up to a business function in Tokyo without business cards - even if you're not employed. My empty handed explanation of "trailing spouse" just didn't cut it. I had to turn on the heavy charm which was just slightly more effectual than blondly pointing at my handwritten name tag that said "Dawn." Doesn't everyone know what a "Dawn" is?
The only person remotely interested was this snazzily dressed Japanese man. He was wearing an all cream ensemble except for his jaunty tan hat adorned with various pins of unknown origin. Complimenting him on his cool hat was apparently an open invitation to share with me that the hat had been recently signed by Ken Watanabe, who is hot I confess. Turns out he's a photographer and he just happened to have some black and white copies of the photo shoot he just did with Ken. He proudly gave me one. I demonstrated appropriate awe.
After our brief and somewhat one-sided conversation I met his manager, an Asian woman, wearing a red power suit who commented on how much healthier the food is in Japan. I agree but later I thought maybe she was making a point about my American figure. Nah.
Interestingly, the photographer's consort showed up a few minutes later wearing a beautiful cream colored kimono. She didn't have a name tag; she didn't need one. Maybe I should don a kimono next time.
And I don't know what was going on with the body odor but it seemed like one out of every three participants had serious fetor. Russell thought it was him. Later when I asked him why on earth would he think it was him, he said, "it kept following me around."
The highlight of the evening was the food. No media chicken here. I thought the appetizer plate (soup, and three kinds of salads with various meats, was the dinner, only to be delighted by another course of genuinely great crispy fish on top of a luscious mystery vegetable. And I met a couple of interesting and accomplished females - alpha females. This made me feel very unaccomplished indeed. One is a partner for luminalearning and trains executives all over the world and the other is in charge of training and development for Amex Japan They were gracious and humored me - the trailing spouse. This was the first test of my willpower and self-validation issues.
The next event guest speaker is the head of marketing for some French chocolate company. Part of the deal is he has to bring some of his product. I might be ok with that but I may have to start wearing a mask. Perhaps the Japanese have it right after all with the mask thing.
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