So I thought it prudent to share a little bit about drinking culture in Japan. It is pretty much the way you make friends. You go out, you get drunk, you get closer. I think it is a way of knocking down the wall between the uchi/sotto that the Japanese live by. uchi and soto means inside and outside, or your inside group ((family)) and an outside group ((co-workers, friends, etc)) and the different ways you act around them. To Americans, being "true to yourself" and always being the real you, not putting on different faces is important, but the Japanese would think this crazy. Why would you be the same person you are with your lover when you are with your boss? Thus they put up certain barriers and defenses. Drinking, really takes away the pressure of having Uchi/Sotto, when you are drunk you can do silly things and be yourself. In sharing that you get closer. At least that is my interpretation, as I have yet to do any real research or field work on the matter. It seems that to aid in this ritualistic process of breaking down walls, Japans' many bars (Izakaya 居酒屋）and yes, even Karaoke, ofer what is called 飲み放題. If you are unfortunately illiterate when it comes to Japanese, the previous word is Nomihoudai. The characters themselves mean Drink All You Can. Yes, for the small fee of usually 1,000 yen ($10), you can drink as much as you can for about 2 hours. You might be able to tell how this idea of drinking as much as possible in two hours can be a bad idea. However, don't worry. For 2,300 yen (about $23), you not only get all you can drink, but all you can eat BBQ. Now things are beginning to heat up! This brings us to two events that I would consider two instances where the term "A fall from grace" could easily be applied.
Friday (Saturday?) Night, 3 weeks in. With a group of about 15, we arrived at an Izakaya for Nomihoudai. The area with our room was on an elevated platform, so we took our shoes off and put them in a locker before entering. We sat on small cushions, and there was a space under the table for our legs. We had 2 hours to drink, so we got started ASAP. Now, things to consider: Smooth wooden floors, people in socks, drunk people in socks. Our two hours were up, and needless to say because there are 15 people, our long table is littered with remnants of half eaten food, along with empty and half finished drinks. We all were struggling to get up, drunk, tipsy, and a slightly more that fucked-outta-her-mind girl decided to test out gravity and let the table catch her as she came crashing down. Brings more then half the tables' drinks and food with her. Broken glass, the rank smell of alcohol, and my friend and I are left in the room. apparently, my friend thought that instead of walking around the table AWAY from the broken glass, knocked over booze, etc, that he would simply jump over it. Good plan, expect he obviously did not learn from Ms. fucked-outta-her-mind's fine example of how gravity tends to work. My friend fell short, landed on a cushion which promptly shot out from under him landing him on the other half of the table. To make a long story slightly shorter, no injuries what so ever. A fucking miracle if you ask me.
Now just so the reader doesn't think I am preaching, I offer this next delightful antidote that involves yours truly.
Friday (this past one in fact!) More than a month in. With a group of 20 we went to Guts! Soul!, a yakiniku (BBQ?) restaurant that had all you can eat/drink of 2,300. We proceeded to get absolutely gone. Well, I didn't know that at the time, I felt great. Didn't feel that drunk until when we started leave. This is also where I get a tad bit fuzzy. I do not remember paying (although upon further examination of my wallet the following day it seemed that I had), I remember getting to the train station and leaning against something. My friends were talking in the background and I thought, "If I don't run for it, they wont let me go home!" While I did not so much as run much wobble, I made my way suddenly and without comment into the station. Everything was so blurry, I couldn't see which track to go to for a train that would take me home. Some how I focused enough to get on the right train, only to become acutely aware of the food in my stomach, and how it seemed to be wanting to race up my throat. I raced off the train at the first stop to barely make it to the bathroom. I will spare you the messy details (unless you really want them, in which case you can email me), but what took place from then on was a three hour ordeal of getting off at every stop on my way home to re leave my body of any food/beer that it might have contained. I finally some how made it off the train and stumbled towards my house. My savor came in the form of Jason, the other exchange student living with me. He led me to our house and helped me inside.
And the rest, is history.
