Siliconchef by Brian Richardson
Thursday, April 10, 2003. 1:50PM
Just north of Tokyo, Japan.
I don’t know what train station I’m in right now, and I honestly don’t care that much.
I know it’s not in Tokyo, and I know it’s not my final destination. It doesn’t look exactly like every other train platform in Japan, but it’s not that different. Vending machines, magazine kiosks, small numbers on the floor designating where to stand …
I could probably do something sensible like look up and read some obvious sign that denotes my present location in reference to other points on the rail line. I’m really not concerned about that right now. I’m too busy laughing at Justin.
Justin learned valuable information about Japanese magazines at lunch yesterday … information he probably didn’t want to know. They often contain naked women. Many naked women. Pictures of naked women, cartoons of naked women, phone numbers of women underneath their naked pictures, lists of things these naked women will do to you if you call their number, cartoons of said naked things in case you aren’t much of a reader.
There’s an occasional article about baseball or tiny cell phones with color screens, but often the articles describe who the baseball players are sleeping with and how to download pictures of the women to your tiny cell phone.
Justin was pretty embarrassed when he discovered this information. Kirk and Kenny are currently taking full advantage of his discomfort with current trends in Japanese publishing. Justin is still discovering that Japan is a man’s world, and those men have a healthy interest in attractive women … and by healthy, I mean organically grown California granola with soy nuts healthy. This is the kind of healthy that makes a juice bar look like Burger King.
Kirk purchased a magazine at the kiosk for Justin. As expected, it is filled with the aforementioned material. Justin is used to this type of thing being sold in brown paper liners, kept under wraps and under counters. Kirk’s magazine is filled with naked women, sexual material and lots of phone numbers. One section of the magazine has personal ads, the other a list of women for hire.
“These women list their numbers,” Kirk says, “along with of list of things they do. Things they like. You want for me to call one for you?”
Justin is a bit shocked. “They’re prostitutes? Is that legal?”
“Sure,” I say, “Guys read this type of stuff on the train everyday. It’s a man’s world here.”
“I get one for you,” Kirk says, “only three hundred dollars. What your room number.”
Kenny chimes in as Justin blushes. “Justin, why is your face so red?”
“It’s not red,” he says, “my face is always this color.”
Kirk flips through the magazine, coming upon a pink insert. Smiling, he removes the paper and hands it to Justin.
“Here you are Justeen, a gift.” Kirk’s accent stretches the vowel at the end of Justin’s name, giving an exotic sound to an otherwise common American name. It accentuates the many differences between where we’ve come from and where we are. The differences in language are emphasized every time Justin tries to say “thank you” and “excuse me” in Japanese, the strange balance of repression and debauchery, the formality seen in the seemingly everyday purchase of a magazine.
Sorry … I was talking about a magazine, wasn’t I?
Justin is now holding a pink booklet, covered in white kanji. “What is it?”
“It is instructional,” says Kenny, “a how-to manual.”
Justin opens the booklet. It is filled with line diagrams of … how should I say it … a woman’s personal areas. These are not like the cruse cartoons in the magazine, these are detailed biological drawings. The diagrams highlight sensitive areas and describe techniques the male can use to best utilize this knowledge.
Kirk points to a diagram depicting a man taking position behind a kneeling woman. “It tells a man how to pleasure the wu-men.”
“How can people read this?” Justin tosses the booklet at Kirk, visibly flustered. He looks at me for some sort of comment.
“The Japanese are a very detail oriented people.”
My comment gives Justin no comfort. He buys a Coke from the vending machine as we wait for the train.
