Aaaaand Action

Hello!

Finally, finally, finally, it happened. I was able to get my camera, my computer and my camera cable to sit still next to each other long enough for me to be able to start this blessed old blog.

Welcome.

So, where to begin?

It's been about a month and a half since I up and moved to Tokyo to be with my girl. We live in a wonderful little room on the 5th floor of a building in Ebisu, which is a nice n' hip little part of Shibuya ward, right smack in the heart of Tokyo. Here are a few shots of our place:
















As an added bonus, our pad comes complete with a sumptuous view of the Tokyo Tower:


In the time since I arrived, I have most notably:

1) Gotten married
2) Bought a bicycle
3) Bought a phone (it has the internet on it and everything)
5) Gone to Hakone, a nice little mountain town
6) Generally farted around Tokyo, getting acquainted with the place

Let's take them in order.

1) O Frabjous Day!

So Thomasina and I arrived at the Shibuya ward office on October 3rd (the day I arrived), our innocent eyes aglow with anticipation. We were to be wed! The sweet smell of ink and vinyl seating filled our nostrils. Incandescent tubes of fluoride bathed us in affectionate whiteness. The red blink of the turn-o-matic LCD whispered sweet nothings to our expectant hearts. A vagrant hummed a jaunty little melody, then was escorted off the premises by a happy policeman. Yes, romance was in the air.
















After a riveting, passionate merry-go-round of signing some papers, waiting for three light years, falling asleep, signing some more papers, watching the papers get covered in stamps, watching our stamps get stamped, and then waiting a few more lifetimes, we were finally issued by the All-Seeing LCD back to that holy tabernacle, the Desk of Report Of Birth, Marriage And Others.

Expectantly, we watched as the lady whose sole authority we were to be wed under, the woman who the ward of Shibuya-ku had vested with the holy power to marry us, brought down a final stamp. She then put our papers in a folder. She handed us the folder and smiled pleasantly. No congratulations. No, "you are now officially married." Just a smile, the peculiar kind of Japanese smile that seems to politely indicate that it would be pretty nice if you left. So we did.

You can keep your Paris; this is romance.


2) Riding A Bike Is Just Like Riding A Bike

On my third day, we headed to the famed Don Quixote, which, as readers of my previous blog will know, is the Store Where You Can Buy Everything In The World (Including Bicycles, Bicycle Locks, Bicycle Headlights And Little Duckies With Pictures of Bicycles On Them). After not very much looking around at all, I settled on a nice little Jeep model (bonus points for you if you knew Jeep made bicycles).

I don't know the classification for it. It's somewhere between a mountain bike and a BMX, though slanted more towards the BMX stylee. Check it:


(I have no idea how I came up with that particular stupid grin. Numerous attempts to replicate it have met with no success.)

There's something to be said for sticking some Jeru in your headphones, hopping on your bike and going for a ride in the big bad metropolis. Possibly nothing makes me feel like I'm living in the big city more than just those rides. I have also learned, somewhat to my pleasant surprise, that after only three hundred or so near-death brushes with old ladies, other cyclists, lamp posts and open doors, my earlier proficiency has now almost returned. I even totally popped a wheelie the other day. Well, almost.

I am proud to report that no one has suffered loss of life or body parts as a result of my bicyclic locomotion, though I often hear breathless whoops of alarm as I spasmodically whizz past people, messing up their hairdos with my bywind and severely disrupting their equilibrium. Sometimes, as I approach a pedestrian going the opposite way, I'll inexplicably turn in their direction, like I'm going to swerve right into them, which more often than not causes them to freeze like deer in headlights. I have no idea why I do this; there is no malicious intent whatsoever. It's like I momentarily get nervous about maybe hitting them, so my earnestly helpful but ultimately idiotic limbic system decides to just, ya know, go ahead and hit them. No fatalities yet, fortunately. I'll keep you posted.


3) My New Phone

You know, I don't really know why I made this into its own section. It's not very interesting. I couldn't even come up with an interesting name for it.

I got a phone. It's chromed and it has little animated stars on it when I close it. It has a camera and the internet, which is more than I can say for any phone I have ever owned. It's this one:




Very pretty. It's the Sony-Ericsson FOMA SO704i, if you're a gadget freak. You can Google it and then talk to me about it, but I will most likely just stare at you blankly. Then a small sliver of drool will make its way out of the corner of my mouth, like glistening dew from a very very bored leaf, and I will fall into a deep sleep.

Moving right along...

4) Mountain Town Blues (And Reds, And Greens, and Yellows)

This was just last weekend. Strapping our knapsacks to our backs once more, the wife and I headed to a quiet little mountain town north of Tokyo called Hakone. We switched from the Non-Express train (which traveled at a little bit over running speed) to the Hakone Mountain Express (all two cars of it, seemingly hand-powered), and as it languidly groaned its way around the mountain we were faced with some powerfully awesome nature, of which Japan has quite a bit. I am realizing as I write this that we took no pictures of the train ride. We are lax and horrible tourists, and we do apologize.

Instead, here are some shots of Hakone at large. Get a load of those autumn colors.































In our infinite wisdom, we had neglected to realize that the town's location to the geographical north of Tokyo meant that it might be colder than the dear old capital. Having packed no warm clothes, we therefore spent a great deal of this particular trip huddled inside our plush and spacious hotel room, drinking sake, doing yoga exercises (which I always pegged as lady stuff, but which I guarantee will make even the most hardcore MMA fighter excrete his pancreas with exertion) and watching crazy-ass Japanese television. It was a wonderful vacation.

Oh yes, and my wife somehow managed to drag me, pleading and whining, onto a ropeway. A ropeway, if you don't know, is kind of like a ski elevator, only it goes far higher and is immeasurably more terrifying, ours made even more so by the fact that it took us to the Mines of Moria:






























After walking around, looking in gift shops and generally wondering why we'd come to this unholiest of all unholy places, we decided that maybe it was time to head back. Our decision was aided when, chancing upon a walking path that seemed to lead into one of the mouths of Hades peppered about the site, we were confronted with a sign that basically said: "Hi. There are a lot of volcanic fumes in this area, so please try to keep your breathing to an absolute minimum. Volcanic fumes such as these can cause [insert interesting, enlightening and utterly terrifying list of horrific and crippling diseases]. People who are [insert list of conditions which basically amount to "alive"] should refrain from staying here too long."

All of which, I guess, is the polite way of saying: "ABANDON ALL FAITH, YE WHO ENTER HERE."

Satan didn't have us for tea that day, alas. We decided that being warm, drinking sake, and not contracting acute bronchopneumonia were all quite pleasant enough ways to spend our weekend getaway. So we did.

Okay, it's getting quite late now and I'm a bit pressed for time. I'll post a few more snapshots of Tokyo tomorrow, and give a little preview of some of the regular and semi-regular features I've dreamed up for this blog.

Be safe and take care. Much love to you all.

Cheers!