Alcoholia

I want to mention a little bit about what happens when the Japanese ‘let their hair down’.  It may come as a surprise to many people but when the Japanese drink (alcohol I mean) a lot of fun is in store for anyone in their company. 

I have never been to a country where alcohol could be bought from vending machines.  Nor have I seen ‘top shelf’ liquor being sold in supermarkets.  Nor have I seen cans of alcohol being sold separately, outside of a six-pack in Convenience Stores (Dairies).  I really didn’t know what to make of it.  Was Japan behind or ahead of the rest of the world in terms of their attitudes to alcohol?  I know if alcohol was sold so freely back home, we’d have chaos.   Maybe it’s the attitude of the people and the culture that makes the difference? 

I remember being told earlier on that Japan has a zero tolerance to drink driving.  Alcohol is not permitted in the system of any driver, for whatever purpose.  You will go to jail.  That is to be sure.  I was told that as a foreigner, if you break this particular law, you will be fined, be imprisoned and when your sentence is over, you will be deported, and NEVER be allowed to come to Japan again.  I thought it was a bit harsh, but then maybe we shouldn't treat our lives and the lives of others as bits of nothing? The worst case scenario of someone driving drunk on a road filled with other people in cars, is death.  Either they die or someone else does. Or both. Or all. If you look at it from that perspective, zero tolerance doesn’t seem like such an unreasonable, heavily weighted law after all.  However, the Japanese make sure that the message hits home, by also legislating that anyone who is aware of someone getting behind the wheel of a car drunk and does little or nothing about it can also face criminal charges.  That includes friends and family.  No one can plead ignorance.  Again, this is in place so people don’t die.  I wonder, in my own country, whether we’d see less carnage on the roads if we adopted this hard line.  Anyway, getting way off track.

     

The first dinner I was invited to attend with some work colleagues was a definite eye opener for me.  In my head I thought it would be a rather dull and formal affair where we’d eat, drink but definitely under no circumstances would we get merry.  It was a sensible assumption to make given that at work, my colleagues are serious, focused and extremely restrained in both action and speech.  Of course they have a laugh from time to time and crack a smile every once in a while.  I just don’t know what (or maybe who) they’re laughing about or what they’re smiling at.      

The long table was laid out in traditional fashion.  We were all going to be sitting on cushions on the tatami floor, and I had to quickly suppress the urge to sigh disappointingly at the absence of chairs.  I can never sit on my knees as ladies are supposed to do.  Instead, I sit cross legged like the men, but before long, pins and needles attack me and I end up extending my legs under the table, trying not to touch the person’s legs, sitting opposite from me.  That would be awkward.  It’s not the most comfortable position to be in when eating, especially when there’s no obliging wall behind you to lean on. 

Anyway, I had arrived early with a few other people.  When we entered the room where we would be dining, we were shown a small wooden bowl full of folded bits of paper.  Ah, a random seating plan.  I wish I’d stayed home.  I resigned myself to an evening of awkward silence, averted eyes and nervous smiles.  The piece of paper I selected read, ‘11’, so I went to sit at the far end of the table.  Number ’12’ was already seated.  It was the Social Studies teacher whom I’ve said hello to on a couple of occasions but never anything beyond that.  Number ‘10’ was one of the English Teachers, thank you Jesus.  There was certainly nothing random about that.  I'm sure she was asked to 'take one for the team' and sit beside me for the evening.  I didn't care.  I beamed at her as she made her way down my end of the table.  At least I’d have a bit of conversation to go with my meal. 

When everyone had arrived, the Principal was invited to say a few brief words of welcome to kick off the ‘festivities’.  Drinks were ordered and people began pouring for each other, and taking the opportunity to say a quick ‘hi and how are you’ before returning to their seats.  The clinking of glasses and bottles, signalled the first ‘Kampai’ of the night.   Looking across the table at some of my colleagues as they sculled back bottles of beer and glasses of chuhai, umeshu and sake, I thought to myself it would be more prudent for them to drink slowly otherwise they’d be pissed in an hour.  Little did I know that this is what happens here.  I was about to witness first-hand what it means to get drunk in Japan.  You drink quickly because you’re on the clock.  A long night we don’t have.

Cute little dishes of mostly seafood began to make their way onto the table.  When I think of the sushi I used to eat back home, it just doesn’t compare to what was being put in front of me now.  Never mind not being able to hold a flame to it.  You wouldn’t even be able to light the wick.  Every dish is aesthetically pleasing, fish expertly cut and displayed in such a way, that you’re momentarily conflicted about whether to simply sit there and take snaps of it, or to start chomping on it.  Most of the time, I didn’t even know what I was eating.  Only that it came from the sea, and the serving size was so small that making a scene about not being able to identify it would seem trivial.  Pop it into your mouth.  If you don’t like it, swallow it whole.  A teaspoon of soya sauce makes the strange looking food go down.  A flame was ignited under every individual sukiyaki hotpot. The contents cooking tenderly as a mouth-watering aroma filled the air. 

I began stuffing things into my mouth whilst enjoying the surprisingly refreshing entertainment provided by my alcohol fuelled colleagues.  Most of those drinking were by this time, thoroughly red-baked in the face, eyes unfocused and mouths loosened considerably.  Shrieks of laughter could be heard up and down the table and the restraints being cast off as people became more and more animated.  I couldn’t understand any of the conversations taking place, but the tone strongly suggested that everyone was having a good time.  I found out that the Social Studies teacher can speak a LITTLE English and is a very kind-hearted man, who incidentally knows a little magic.  The usually stern looking Science Teacher has a great sense of humour, with a splash of cheekiness.  The scholarly Vice-Principal is able to have an intensely intellectual, rational conversation, despite beer oozing through his pores. The Bus Driver is simply the life of the party, moving from one person to the other, even me!  And together they all drink like fish.  A thin veil of haze hung in the air from those who chose to light up cancer sticks, nostalgia assaulting my nostrils as I remembered those long forgotten days of my youth spent as a serial passive smoker.   

Tonight, everyone wanted to speak English and staff that I had never spoken to before, had some pearls of wisdom to impart to me.  Most of the time I just smiled back.  'A' for effort, 'C-' for execution.  Being off your face does have its advantages, giving you the courage to do things you would never do sober.  They’re really very nice people once the screen comes down.  As with most people, ‘peeling back the layers’ of one’s character and personality to others is not an easy thing to do.  Trust has to be established first and upkeep is essential.  So I happily concluded that I had gained a little bit of their trust, for them to let me in on some things.  These people are not detached or rigid and certainly not boring.  I guess a release of certain emotions do have their place.  At the right time, in the right situation, and with the right people, they can come out.  And when they do, you need to have your camera ready. 

What amazes me is how strict the time frames are.  There is a beginning and there is most certainly an ending.  Our dinner began at 6.00pm and by 9.30pm we were standing up away from the table, listening to the Principal making the final farewell address, anticipating that one clap thing that we’re all supposed to do (I’m proud to say I’ve always managed to clap together with everyone else) and then leaving!  It was all over just like that.  The only proof that this extraordinary dinner had happened at all, was a stomach full of expensively delicious food, and for those who had been drinking, an embarrassingly unsteady gait.      

I watched with fascination as some of my colleagues went from stone faced sober to stupidly drunk in a ridiculously short space of time, knowing that when we get back to work Monday morning, it’ll be ‘business as usual’.  Amazing.  No collapsing on the kerb, no verbally abusing other revellers, no vomiting in rubbish bins, and certainly no compromising positions down the alleyway behind the restaurant with a co-worker.  And yet we still had fun.  Wow.     

There are certainly advantages to indulging in fun with boundaries.  You finish strong.  You get to go home before the excitement wears off (as it so often does, in the early hours of the morning).  You get enough rest to sleep it off, and don’t feel like road kill in the morning.   You get to remember what you did the night before and it’s not such a bad thing.  You didn’t have enough time for your behaviour to deteriorate to a point where you may have embarrassed yourself or others.  Everyone goes home happy, everyone gets home safely. 

There is a perception of Japanese people, that they work hard and don’t do much else.  Yes they do work hard.  But they play hard too.  Just not to the point where they flush their self-preservation down the toilet.  It’s good to get drunk once in a while.  Just don’t be stupid about it and end up in hospital or worse.  Of course this is a general view.  I’m sure Japan like other countries has their equal share of boozed up idiots.  Most of my work colleagues have families, and perhaps this kind of fun suits them, a brief, temporary break from routine and responsibilities.  It’s good.