Shinsekai Geisha District

Posted on December 22, 2007 by Sack Wedde

I knew I was gonna get my mind freakin’ blown upon finally making it to Japan. But you can never predict mind-blowing and just how incredible it is, no matter how much you prepare. I thought I had a decent grasp, I got over my mild panic upon first stepping into Kansai airport in a matter of one pack of cheap smokes. The train was easy enough to figure with my pidgin Japanese, and the walk to the hotel was harmless, despite the sudden realisation I was in a ghetto, with my pack, blue eyes and blonde hair acting as a sign round my neck that said very clearly for everyone – ‘tourist.’

So I meet this dude Yoji on my first expedition to the communal lounge, and he asks if I want to go check out the red light district, just a block or so east. I’m feeling consciously naïve so I say yes but not before I go stash my substantial funds for the week back in my room. Paranoia. Trust is something my sleepless brain won’t give, despite his assertion that “safe safe very safe,” and his honest face. He explains that he is a photographer, and he’s come here to take pictures of the city, I roll him a cigarette (a stash I keep as it’s a rarity in Japan) and notice he doesn’t have his camera. Why? He answers as we turn the corner into the GeishaTraditional female entertainers. Trained in such arts as singing, dancing, and playing Japanese traditional musical instruments. town. Gesturing to the building on the corner I see a Bentley and a Merc parked side by side, all black, tinted windows, with a sign by the garage door that says in Japanese “Do Not Feed The Dogs.” He explains that he saw the dogs earlier that afternoon being taken for a walk, “They weren’t dogs. They were bears.” I look back towards the hotel. “No photos. Here, we are watched as much as we watch.” I miss my bed.

Painted lanterns signpost a couple hundred different openings all up and down the street. Ornate curtains form an A-frame round the open doorways where Mum (?) sits to the side and beckons you in. Up on raised platforms, under layers of beautiful fabrics or blankets, and further layers of stunning kimono sit the most gorgeous Girls (?) I have yet seen, in my admittedly short life. The whole scene is fanatastical, straight out of 16th century Japan. Im lost for words, and the banter Koji and I had going suddenly (on my part) cuts. Out. And then out of the blue, my mind gets blown. The most Japanese sight, of my life. I peer into just another opening. And I see Mrs. Claus. Red short shorts and bikini top with fluffy white trim and a freakin’ jolly floppy hat with a big furry bauble. My mouth is still an ’O’ when I think about it. I made it back to the hotel eventually, on shaky legs, and sat around with cheap sake and anything but cheap new friends of a night to calm myself. There’s a combination of tradition and modernity that seems to permeate Japanese life, but I’m yet to see it anywhere so clearly as I did that night.

That night my new friends told me Shinsekai is the largest ghetto in Japan. I think its like Coney Island got into a fight with the city streets of Bladerunner, and the aftermath that no one got round to sorting out became Shinsekai. Its beautiful. Pachinko has taken over most main streets, and there’s nothing more hectic than the sound of a million ringing bells, and a million cigarette butts screaming out a cacophony of hope. But down all of the little alleys there’s a goldmine of Mom ‘n’ Pop ‘n’ Yakuza restaurants (that all double up later on as karaoke bars), it takes some nerve and sign language but it is “safe safe very safe.” And there’s not much better than Eel killed and prepared in front of you while some old drunk businessman belts out the most heartfelt rendition of Purple Rain you ever heard.