103. Metropolis Known Otherwise As 35.6762° N, 139.6503° E 東京都

In all my travels -and there have been several- since I was in Tokyo, I have never witnessed, in my personal opinion, such ‘clean’ food vendors.  Even back then I tried always to take notice of meal preparations wherever I found myself in this world.  

Perhaps I did this because I spent much time in the family kitchens back home; always interested in how things were done.  I had no intention of going hungry for a delicious meal anywhere in my lifetime!

Back to focus on Tokyo street food; from the way they kept their raw food ingredients to the wearing of gloves and clean preparation, I was impressed right up to the serving of the meal as it was passed on to each paying customer.  I confidently enjoyed a clean meal.

I will say that in the couple of days and nights we three were here, we must’ve taken pleasure in at least 6 or 7 different foodie sittings!  Each one as delightful as the one before, if not more.

We’d experienced nearly 2 full days here so far and last night was simply restful.  Instead of staying at the larger hotels we opted to stay in these little 2-story, cottage-like accommodations.  And these units they called motels.  

The adjoining rooms were separated by shoji (those sliding paper doors) but the bathroom was separated by a curtain … hmmm.  Oh well, and it was time to bathe once again, oh boy!  Two by two behind a sliding door we would disappear.

👘

Each evening after my wonderful bathing session, the girl helped me into the provided yukata and slippers.  Once again, I’m feeling real good!  

You know, more than words the attending girls used body language.  “Massu?”  they’d say, indicating massage though I never felt it was a question -more of a suggestion which one shouldn’t pass up.  

The next morning after a little continental breakfast, we went out to see what last minute fun we would have.  

I also knew my intention was to get back to the ship today.  

I’d literally missed the boat one time before back in the beginning of my adventures and that had left a mark on me for life!  In fact (if you recall) it totally turned my world upside down.  I never wished for that to happen a second time.

We caught a rickshaw because we figured the energetic human motors understood that, if nothing else, we wanted to see their city however they’d reveal it to us. 

Once again I noticed how clean everything appeared to be.  There!  I saw a shopkeeper out front of his business, sweeping the leading path and there’s another, wiping down the storefront windows.  

Alright. Well, these were not extraordinary feats of course but it just blended nicely in the picture I was now holding in my mind.

I also took note how many of these shops, regardless of their contents for sale, had positioned out front, a young lady dressed in what I thought was the traditional attire, no doubt to lure the customer.

Clever business tactic for sure; catch the attention of the foreign tourists and locals alike.  I know they caught my eye.   

There was still one thing I was hoping to see and that was the white face; an image I think a lot of us had associated with Japanese women; at least back then.  Today I just think, grace and beauty. 

I really wanted to know why they did this because it was so different to me.  Here’s what I learned:  the Japanese women placed great importance upon this white facial color, in that to them it was a symbol of beauty.

They wanted a milkywhite, porcelain look to their face.  It was something they’d been doing for hundreds of years, if not longer.  It had nothing to do with wanting to look like the fair European women.  Their pale faces portrayed relaxation; it didn’t look like they spent their days labouring in the sun.  Well, that’s what I came to understand.

I think I caught a glimpse of one in passing but I’ll never be sure, the sighting was so brief.  A ghostly image planted in my mind, so long ago perhaps?

We visited a bar or two along the route to have some refreshing cold Japanese beers; we indulged in the flavourful choices of Asahi and Sapporo … delicious!  And now it was time once more to pleasure our taste buds with the street vendors’ offerings.  

I rather surprised myself to realize that, of all the street foods I tasted, my favorite in Tokyo had to be the soup bowl, the big one!  It had wide noodles, with vegetables and I’m pretty sure it was chicken in it.  

I think it was called ramen, or .. no, I think it might’ve been Hōtō miso ..maybe?  I cannot recall but it sure was satisfying and very palatable.  I loved it!

Later that afternoon, the guys agreed they’d go back to the ship with me and so we made our way to Shinjuku station.  Three one-way tickets to Yokohama please!

I’d almost forgotten how larger than life the Trans Western looked sitting there in dry dock.  Literally climbing up the steep gangplank, we arrived at the top.  Well, I was delighted to know that I didn’t miss the boat!  

I made my way to the bulletin board which I normally looked at.  At this point the forecast for the ship being fully repaired looked like this was still a week out.  

About an hour later I ran into Phil and he reminded me, “I know you’ll be on and off the ship enjoying your free time, that’s great but be sure to check the bulletin at least 3 times a day for departure information.  A week can easily turn into a couple of days.  You wouldn’t want to get left behind!” 

I had absolutely no intention of that happening!  I know he wanted all of us to be vigilant and we had a bit of work to do before we ‘ship’ off.

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67. Amigos & Coo Coo Rachas

‘What do you think about getting married?’  Diana was really happy about this prospect and had no hesitation in starting a life of permanency with me.  I knew it would make my mother happy to hear that I wasn’t alone anymore.

I asked how we would accomplish this marriage.  I had told her father about my previous marriage in Fiji and that I hadn’t received official documentation of our divorce being finalized.  Whether or not it was Ralph who advised us or another, I cannot remember and really it doesn’t matter; it was suggested we take a trip south of the border and get married there.  

With her father’s blessing the two of us went to Mexicali.  It was a hot July, the weekend of the 4th to be exact.  We took the Greyhound Bus all the way. The further southeast the bus travelled the more arid we became.  

It was very late in the day as we arrived in town so the first thing we did was get ourselves a motel room.  We cleaned up, cooling off as best we could and then set out to find our evening’s meal and the justice of the peace.

We asked any and everyone who we thought might be of assistance, where the courthouse was located.  It actually wasn’t that easy getting someone to respond with a little English (besides taking our order for food in the restaurant).  

Finally someone did respond and we were thankful.  The next morning we made our way to the courthouse -it was already blazing saddles hot- and inquired with the clerk.  

He told us the judge couldn’t be located this morning and he very well may have taken the day off.  Wait, what?!  Then he told us that he’d go have another look around, maybe he’d find him.

He returned to tell us he found him … a few dollars later.  Yes it was a good thing we each changed up a $20 bill to single ones, it was just a hunch but nonetheless glad we acted on it.  The clerk told us the judge will be in the courtroom shortly. We just look at each other.

We did meet him in the courtroom.  The judge told us that we needed to have 3-5 witnesses; did we have them?  No. He told us there were always people just outside who may be convinced to come in. “You will have to pay them,” he told us dryly.   We just look at each other again.

Now I was thinking about the amigos Diana and I saw hanging around outside the building, would they really want to join us?  The judge sent a different clerk outside to gather some of them. He returned with 3 sun-stroked looking men.

Or was it simply siesta time already.  Either way they approached the magistrate and he looked at us with a simple finger rubbing thumb gesture.  We knew right away to dig up some dollar notes.

I set $6 into the clerk’s hand for the men.  He took it up to the judge. Each of the men signed a piece of paper, were handed their money and left the courtroom, one of them slightly smiling and acknowledging Diana and myself as they walked out.

The judge then called us forward to his bench and continued the process in pretty good English, the standard marriage vows (in Baja-California anyway).  After the ‘I do’s’ and his declaration of our marriage, we kissed, hugged and then had to sign the certificate.

He reached into his desk pulling out a stamp to which he then applied the ink from a pad on his bench quite deliberately, stamped the certificate firmly and applied his signature within the stamp.  Before handing it to us he did the ‘gesture’ once again.

I placed some bills onto his bench.  He handed us the one piece of paper and Diana immediately suggested we have a copy as well.  She asked him if we could get a copy and for a moment he didn’t answer.  Then he rubbed his index finger to his thumb and Diana handed him two dollars.

He went into the back and returned with a copy.  We stepped outside as Mr and Mrs Blue Masala. It was even hotter than a devil’s armpit now that the sun had pretty much reached its zenith.  

I remember being extremely thirsty, we both were to be sure.  Diana noticed a little market across the street and we made our way over.  Oh my goodness!  see the coo coo rachas scatter across the street everywhere.

I bought 2 bottles of ice cold 7-Up and stepping back outside with open bottles, we cheersed our green glass together and tipped up till we emptied them.  Gotta say, that felt really good!

We had planned to spend that night there as well and to call it a honeymoon?  I guess for now this would have to do.  We caught the bus the next morning back to Los Angeles and to a celebration with her dad and his ‘friend’ Doris.

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62. My Future is Smiling Bright as the Los Angeles Sun

That evening as the night became late with all the joy of the meeting, they drove me home to the motel.  Before leaving me, mom reassured me that they’d be resourceful and get me out of my current place.  

She wanted to help me get my own apartment and employment too and I know if she had her way she’d send me to school.  I should’ve listened to her more.  “Don’t you worry honey, everything is gonna work out just fine!”   

The days went forward and as I was not yet employed I stayed busy hanging around with Dave.  Doing fun things young guys would probably do, going here and there, hanging out at his home and getting fed real well by mom too!

Meanwhile Mrs. Elson was working her magic, connecting with people she knew wouldn’t mind helping her out with this new campaign of hers.  It seemed like all her efforts were about to pay off; just in her general bubbly attitude I guess I felt comforted enough to trust all is well.

In just over a week mom had a fantastic plan of action lined up for me.  She called me to say, today is the day!  Mom and Dave came to pick me up from the motel for the last time and took me to my new residence and place of employment.  

Mom was with me like a shadow when I went to the office to close my bill.  I lifted my wallet from my pocket to pay and she put her hand on top of mine and said, “No Parma, don’t worry, I’m taking care of this.”  And with that she paid my entire bill with a delighted smile.

They drove me to an apartment complex in Westwood Village and parked the car.  Mom had explained to me a little about what she came up with.  I would both live and work in the same place.  I would get my own furnished studio apartment and a small salary.  Well how convenient is that?

Mrs Elson introduced me to her associate, one of the owners of the premises.  We sat down and the basic interview began.  Mom sat quietly.  The lady told me this position was somewhat of a guardian/maintenance person.  I’d be responsible for keeping an eye on the residence.  The main concern was for the safety of the tenants and to keep the premises quiet.   

Mind you the majority of them were college students attending UCLA.  If there was light maintenance to do like replacing light bulbs, I could take care of it.  There was no worries of collecting rent, tending to rubbish or gardening.  There were regular people for all of those things including building maintenance.

I was to be primarily the owner’s eyes and there as a middle man, a young middle man to blend in between the residence and the owners.  But no I was not the official manager of the premises as I really had none of those duties.  A pretty great set up all in all I thought.

Before leaving me there, mom told me to call her everyday.  “Let me know how you are doing and if you should need anything.”  Dave and I would continue to visit one another mainly during the weekend as he knew I had to pay some attention to my new duties and I’m sure he had other things to do.  It was September and the fall term had commenced.

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