I was born in Hollywood, California, back in the time when the American automobile was loved and respected throughout the world and America was loved and respected throughout the world. So, I’ve been around a few years.
For the past 16 years I have spent three or four months a year in Japan. Most of this “Japanese time” has been in and around Tokyo, on the west side. People who know me say I “know Tokyo like a taxicab driver.” That’s not entirely true because I only know the west side. I’ve stayed all over the west side. I’ve had places in Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, Mejiro, Shin Okubo, Nerima, Nakano, Kichijoji, Fussa, Musashi Sakai, Omotesando, Chitose Karasuyama, Soshigaya Okura, Nishi Magomae, Eifukucho, and Jiyugaoka. During these 16 years my transportation has been trains and bicycles. The bicycles, mountain bikes, I bring in from California because Japanese bikes are too small. And, because my legs are long, the seat post is long too. I’m the guy everyone’s always coming up to and “sugoi-ing” at the height of the seat on my mountain bike. That’s me in Japan.
The reason I started these treks to the world’s largest city was that 16 years ago America, under the strange tutelage of Ronald Reagan and supply side economics, was nose diving. Japan, on the other hand, was achieving economic preeminence. I came here to study how the Japanese did it and how they surpassed America. Anyway that was my stated reason. If the truth be known it was because I was broke and I had burnt my “economic bridges” in America. I needed money and I figured Japan was a place I could find some. What transpired amazed and surprised me. Not only did I come up with a way or two to make some cash, I also came to love Japan. Today Japan is in my soul and we are forever linked.
It was amazing because I live in Marin County and have a life people envy. Marin County, in case you don’t know, lies on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco. They say when American’s dream they dream of California. Well, when Californian’s dream they dream of Marin. It’s where the rich liberals live. It’s where the Grateful Dead call home. Where mountain bikes were invented. Where George Lucas has his Skywalker Ranch. Things happen in Marin before they happen in other places in California and, as everyone knows, everything happens in California before they happen in other places in America. Cocaine came through Marin in the Seventies long before it hit LA and years before it ruined lives in Omaha. They say the marijuana is the best in Marin because it’s where the top organic dope farmers come to sell their wares. Marin people have the bread and they have the standard. Marin is such a place.
The “right-wing”, the Bush lovers, hate Marin. A quick trip through Marin and it’s pretty easy to figure out why they hate Marin. Right off there’s “Impeach Bush” signs and bumper stickers everywhere. Then there’s all these healthy looking people biking and running and shopping in super market sized natural food stores. The haters, the “Bushies”, know they’d never fit in so they just hate and avoid Marin like the plague. That’s fine with me.
So, you see, Marin is “the spot” and I am proud to call it home. It was a big deal coming to Japan and leaving my Marin life. But money will cause you to do things you never dreamed possible. Some folks grab a shopping cart and spend their nights in the park or the hills. But I was born in Hollywood, studied at Berkeley, and lived in Marin, so I hocked what I could, borrowed from whom I could, and flew to Tokyo. Naturally my ticket was first class.
In Tokyo there are two real downsides. One is the “air”. I mean how can the air be that clean when you’ve got 35 million people fighting for their share of it. The other downside is all the people. I couldn’t believe it when I first arrived. The packed trains and train stations were something I’d never even imagined. In Tokyo you have to be careful not to turn suddenly cause you could knock three unsuspecting obasans over. I mean there’s people everywhere! Still, Tokyo has it’s moments. One of my pleasures was walking or biking the hosoi michis at night and listening to the sounds of people living their lives. I’ve stood outside countless houses listening to piano or shamisen emanations. When I was real lucky I’d hear a koto. I remember my first uguisu near a Buddha in Yotsuya.
But the thing is you can’t forget 35 million people are there and even if they never moved at all you’d still hear their collective breathing. There is always background noise. Sometimes it’s just there and not so loud. Sometimes it’s screaming like sirens at traffic. But it’s always there. I guess you could say I needed more uguisus so Yoshiko, my lovely wife, suggested we search for a place that would be more quiet and the air would be cleaner. So we found a spot in Kugenuma. We both love Tokyo, and always will, but what’s more important than clean air, quiet nights, and the sound of uguisus?
