Sleep-deprived in Tokyo - a fragment

Don’t know if that’s even an apt title…”super sleep-deprived” is more like it. And I’m not really “in Tokyo” anymore per se, since I’m an hour away from landing in Hong Kong. Details. My mind is relatively blank as physical sensations vie for my attention. My spine’s whimpering from being scrunched up in seat D row 45. I’ve got that dull eyeball headache that comes from stress and a cigar hangover. My nose is raw and my allergies relentless, or perhaps I should just admit to the possibility that I’ve caught some flu from my colleague. The kind stewardess felt sorry for me mid-flight and gave me an entire box of tissues.

This week has been utterly exhausting, but there have been some very good moments, as always is the case when you find yourself in Tokyo. Last night was hilarious…ended up at a quaint cigar bar in Akasaka in the company of three great guys, a mini-goblet of Grand Marnier and a Montecristo No. 5. These three dudes are all married with kids and more than a decade my senior, but such a riot to hang out with. It’s so funny how people in totally different stages of life can just get along…sense of humor is the best common denominator. General grounded-ness comes in second, and rounding third is a shared love of chocolate – Japan’s got its chocolate culture down pat. That place has THE best chocolate in the world. Even in a cigar bar you get these little plates of exquisite chocolate coming your way non-stop. Okay, tangent. But like I was saying, it’s great to have a chance to hang up your labcoats once in awhile and hang out with the characters underneath, brings a lot more humanity into the workplace.

Tokyo is awesome, and even better in the fall. The crisp, dry air didn’t agree with my allergies but it was rejuvenating to breathe it in anyway. Scarves and trenchcoats are out and about and there’s nothing like a warm sake to stave off the chill after a stressful day of work madness. Work is absolutely insane and I’m dizzy just trying to keep track of all the balls in the air. We never seem to do things in a straightforward way, the pioneering company that we are, and I’m always finding myself deep in the brush and way off the beaten path. Tiring but exhilarating all at once. But you can’t complain about a job that takes you to Tokyo every so often to practice your elementary Japanese.

I could definitely live in Tokyo someday, would be so great to buckle down and learn the language with the locals, but seems my number’s being called in Shanghai, so Tokyo will have to wait. Not to mention, would kind of hate working in Tokyo because it really is annoying being a woman in the workplace here. There’s also such an abnormal degree of fronting that goes on day in and day out that I don’t know if I’d have the patience to keep up such a super-evolved workface…forget it man. I’ll live in Tokyo when I can just be a bum and hang out at the pachinko parlors…scary, scary prospect, that. Oh yeah, and there’s still Europe to do after China…ah well.

Things are so quaint in Tokyo, even the convenience stores have an elegance to them and you feel like you can eat off of any surface, everything is so psychotically clean! The word “clean” doesn’t even do justice to the level of hygiene these people keep up on a minute by minute basis. Amazing. You can pick any random place to walk into and it’ll be immaculate and the food will be good.

Most likely it will cost you as well, because Tokyo is also psychotically expensive. Our ride from the airport in a taxi cost over US$200. I know, I know, you’re thinking, what the hell were you doing taking a taxi from Narita into Tokyo, but exhaustion messes with your sensibilities and when you put three exhausted colleagues together after a long workday and a few hours breathing in stale plane air, a taxi seems like a really swell idea. We cited “economies of scale” as our excuse. Of course, still cost us twice as much per person as it would have to take a limousine bus or the Narita Express, but whatever…details. And what is up with those limousine buses anyway? I’ve heard that the Narita Express is purposefully kept from going any faster so that these limousine buses can stay in business and take their sweet time (give or take 2 friggin’ hours) to get you to and from the airport. Makes you really appreciate the speed and no-nonsense efficiency of the Hong Kong Airport Express…23 minutes into Central, trains every 12 minutes - it’s a beautiful thing, man.

We had a splendid listing anniversary cocktail at the Grand Hyatt at Roppongi Hills, the Lost in Translation hotel. This, after a wearing day of “lost in translation” sessions with an assortment of advisors. “Lost in translation” is a big recurring theme when you’re in Tokyo. Ask for two bowls using sign language of a) peace sign aka “two”, and b) cupped hands aka “bowls”, and they give you a stack of four little plates. Ask what the squidgy, lima-bean sized morsels in your free side dish are and get the answer “sperm”. I mean what in heavens name has sperm the size of lima-beans?? Hmm…forget I asked. Ask your advisors how many shares for blah blah blah and get a nod. “No, no, hooow…maaa-ny…shaaa-res,” you lengthen your syllables and make some totally unrelated hand gestures, thinking that somehow this will make them magically comprehend English. And without a hitch, you get the same exact response: a nod and an affirmative “mm” followed by an uncertain smile and silence. Perhaps that was Japanese sign/body language for “twenty-five thousand and six hundred shares”. Sigh.

I don’t want to imagine how much more lost I’d be without the few elementary phrases that I do know, e.g. “turn right at the next corner”, “I need to eat please”, “how much is that sea-foam green couch”…and my most recently acquired ancient Japanese proverb: “For desserts there is another stomach entirely”. "Amaimono wa betsu bara." Now I’m definitely all set and ready to roll.

Looking forward to getting into my own bed tonight. If you happen to be really lucky, Japanese hotel-rooms sometimes feature two twin beds circa Lucy and Desi era and of course they assign these rooms to one guest who will have so much use for TWO twin beds. Very, very strange. Also, be very wary when you see a row of buttons right next to your toilet seat. Can be more of a surprise than you can handle when you accidentally press a button at 1 am in the morning. Clean freak culture, I tell you.

I’ve also been toting around my yoga mat and practicing by myself in the mornings, which is great, except for my having no clue what I am doing - am looking forward to having an actual class tomorrow. Need to sweat out these stale stress fumes wading around in my mind and clogging up my veins...or is it residual Montecristo smoke? Uh oh, better close up, seems we’re descending into Hong Kong International Airport. Till next time, then, Tokyo.

Club Jin Mao, Grand Hyatt, Shanghai - a fragment

I am basking in the gentle haze of Shanghai’s early afternoon sunshine and I feel like I am on another world. In fact, I am sitting here at an elegant table previously set for six (now just for one) at the Shanghainese restaurant on the 86th floor of Pudong’s Grand Hyatt. The sun outstretches a lazy arm across my table and the fine china glows, matching the subtle golden tones of my chrysanthemum tea, served in one of those old-fashioned glasses with the silver handles. I’m surrounded by a very “old Shanghai” feel and the sun feels so much closer up here. Nice to be able to step away from the daily din and hang with the big guy for lunch.

I look down to my right and the river winks back at me, while boats move in slow motion up and down along its berth. I am definitely having a much better impression of Shanghai from this very excessive and over-privileged vantage point. It is so hazy here, is it pollution, I wonder, or just the by-product of the frenzied momentum generated by millions of entrepreneurs and opportunists below?

The food has arrived – three tiny but perfect looking xiaolongbaos still steaming in their bamboo crib. Baby bokchois laid out just so in a mustard yellow ceramic boat, their green crispness contrasting perfectly with the subdued browns of the ox-tongue slices layered in a similar ceramic dish beside it. Quaint and perfect. Must break for awhile and actually dig in.

First, a sip of tea to neutralize the palette. A cluster of chrysanthemums float atop the fragrant tea and I breathe in the calming fragrance. Mmm…the xiaolongbao is an exquisite explosion of soup and crab flavors, accented by a splash of black vinegar and a fine sliver of fresh ginger. I eat all three in quick succession after the waiter stops by to remind me that they won’t be very good if they’ve gone cold! What sweet service!

I move on to the next dish and the baby bokchois are as crisp as their coloring suggests. The mustard sauce adds a real kick as well. Looking out at the silhouettes across the river, it’s just unreal how expansive Shanghai looks, and well, actually is, I suppose. High rise after high rise form shadows along the skyline and deep into the fog (or smog?). I try a piece of the thinly sliced ox-tongue and am happily surprised by the gentle sauce that is tasty but not overpowering, allowing the ox-tongue’s natural flavor to come through. The combination of these distinctly flavorful dishes and the soothing tea is taking me back into a time I don’t even remember, maybe because, well, a) I’ve never lived in Shanghai before and don’t believe I have any roots here, and b) I have an over-active imagination so this “time” most likely never existed.

My eyelids grow heavy and I feel as if I’m in a strange swoon. Perhaps I am falling in love with this hazy city at my feet – full of new adventures and possibilities! Hmm…or is it just PCL, post-consumption lethargy? It’s not as if this vantage point allows me a clear view of the city below – I can’t really see much, in truth. The haze prevents clarity and clairvoyance. Hah! Maybe I’ve hit the nail on the head there…it’s probably the unknown factor of this upcoming move that’s getting to my head. I think I am finally starting to warm to the idea of moving out to this gi-normous, crazy city.

I finish my last bite of ox-tongue and set my silver-tipped wooden chopsticks down with a satisfied clink! Only one more delicacy left to top off this memorable lunch for the tastebuds and the mind – a hot soup dessert featuring pumpkin and hasma, otherwise known as frog’s testicles. Yup, you heard right. Frog’s balls. Didn’t think they had any, eh? I grin and lean back in my seat, taking in the view and contemplating the ridiculousness of what I am about to eat. The Shanghai sun is flirting with my eyesight and everything is taking on a golden hue now. Perhaps someone spiked my tea? Or is it just this heady eagle’s eye view sending me into a pleasant stupor?

My first mouthful of pumpkin and frog’s balls does not really impress me at all. This may be one of those Chinese delicacies that your mom swears is good for you, and you just gotta have faith in its secret healing powers and gloss over the fact that it tastes like absolutely nothing. I push the empty bowl away from me and am stuffed like a suckling pig…someone come now, gut me and hang me upside down in a Cantonese roast shop. I’m ready.

I stand in front of the floor length windows and am surprised when I don’t get vertigo looking all the way down. The sun is glowing brighter now and a rainbow halo surrounds its brilliant yolk. Better "mai-dan” and cross this big fat satin ribbon of a river below me, head back into the frenzy beneath the haze. Or, I could stay up here forever and just hang out with the sun. Also good. :)