Anybody still there?

A World Cup ago, a truly inspired act of clusterfuckery resulted in the death of my faithful laptop, hence the inactivity here in recent months. The unprecedented generosity of my mother has bestowed upon us a shiny new beastie, which permits us, from the comfort of our home, to keep in more frequent touch with friends & family, refresh web & photoblogs on a regular basis, remain savvy with regards to the planet but most importantly, resume watching this.

This sudden acquisition of a new computer took us both by surprise - thusly this weeks entry has about as much substance as what we did this weekend...tremendous fun, friday night was...a thirty-eighth birthday party in the heart of Tokyo, held in a popular bar, which sells 200 yen beers, although "beer" is a very generous description of what we were drinking that night.

Verily, 'twas a night of random encounters, perhaps the most entertaining being these two funny German fellas...

...and a gaggle of London girls, as it's always refreshing to hear an English accent this far away from home...that particular thirst was sated in a very surprising way whilst I was waiting for Hayley outside the station.

The Hachiko exit of Shibuya station is named after a certain dog, whose story echoes that of Edinburgh’s Greyfriars Bobby. The difference here is that the statue of Hachiko was erected before the death of the actual dog. Cynics have pointed out that maybe Hachiko didn’t visit Shibuya in order to wait for his departed master, rather to accept food from the people who had started recognizing him…but no matter…it’s a popular and convenient place to meet somebody in the madness of Shibuya.

Whilst I waited, I noticed a couple of Christians (specifically, Baptists, as I later discovered) wandering through the crowds, talking to people and trying to persuade them to come to church. Knowing what my answer would be, I tried to look inconspicuous, but non-Japanese tend to stand out over here. Naturally, I was spotted, and approached by a gentleman who, (well, I’ll go t’t’foot of our stairs) turned out to be from my hometown, sporting the delightfully Boltonian name of Roland. I found out later that his mother was Italian, his surname is “Franz” and that he’d been in Japan for about as long as I’ve been alive. I resisted the urge to point out that, in a sense, he represented the Axis powers of WWII, and did my best to avoid the subject of Theology. As far as people go, I liked Roland, and in a place like Tokyo, it was good to feel the “Bolton Kinship”, despite our wildly differing world-views. The crunch came when he tried to fulfill his mission and get me to Church, which was when I had to put my foot down and point out, without going into detail, the distance between our opinions.

Certainly, if I were to go to a Christian Meeting, I wouldn’t be able to do much, other than argue against their beliefs with the perseverance of a demolition worker, which I don’t really have the right to do…I think I surprised him with my refusal - although his face didn’t move a muscle, and he still kept his smile, there was the sensation of a sudden jolt, as if a pleasantly cruising vehicle in his head had just struck a solid object.

I wish him luck - although there are Japanese Christians, Shinto had deep roots long before Buddhism came over a century and a half ago…