This afternoon I paid my weekly trip to the Sento, to warm my cockles and trim my moustache. Whilst there I noticed that there were a couple of rather burly men with tattoos who kept looking at me. I am pretty certain that they were members of the Yakuza (Japanese mafia), and so I tried not to stare back as they bic-ed their heads and cast knowing glances in my direction. I even managed to keep my cool when one of them insisted on using ‘my’ locker, opting instead for number 21 and the retention of my little fingers.
This evening a group of us went to a Shisha bar in Shimokitazawa, where we enjoyed apple and cinnamon Shisha and drank plum and sea salt tea. It is a travesty to think that this area, one of the coolest and laid back in central Tokyo, will soon be no more, as there are plans for a central highway to be laid right through the middle of it during the next couple of years. I guess you just can’t stand in the way of so called progress, well not unless you’re willing to lose more than a couple of little fingers.