Osaka, Japan: Japanese Nerds are a Special Breed

My trip to Japan didn’t end in Kyoto, I also was fortunate enough to take in Osaka for a few days. The closest I had gotten to Osaka in the past was owning one of those Superdry Osaka t-shirts that everyone had in the late 00s. Why were they so popular? Were Japanese people wearing t-shirts with Bradford emblazoned on them? I didn’t see any while I was there.

The train didn’t take too long and I was out sightseeing before lunch. First stop, the Shitenno-ji Temple. It’s the first official temple ever built in all of Japan dating back to 593. And it seemed that they were still building it.

Those scaffolders didn’t take the Zen vibe into consideration much. I think even Gautama Buddha would have lost his rag trying to meditate during that racket.

It looked better from this angle.

Onto the next quieter sightseeing destination, and I ended up at the Namba Yasaka Shrine. Some say it’s a huge lion’s head, others say it’s a demon’s head. All I know is that it’s too big for my apartment. It’s actually a platform where they stage performances. It’s over the top and tacky, but that’s Japan. I liked it.

Next on the agenda – Nipponbashi. It’s a shopping district popular with “otaku” (people who are fond of anime, manga, video games, and such collectables) or “nerds” to most normal folk. I walked around wide-eyed. What happened to Japan? The men have gone from samurai warriors and kamikaze pilots to socially inept men who fall in love with a pillow. 

OK, maybe that’s a huge generalization, but these people exist in large numbers. I wandered the streets questioning how anyone could be interested in such things.

I found a retro gaming shop. It was the one shop that I genuinely enjoyed looking around, I suppose it was nostalgia more than anything. Entire walls of SNESs, Nintendo 64s, PS1s, Gamecubes, Sega Mega Drives, Dreamcasts, games and memorabilia. Maybe, just maybe my inner otaku came out a little.

In the evening I looked around the areas of Shinsekai and Dontonbori.

Dinner, a little sake, a few beers, and then bed was the plan. I ended up meeting these two fun guys, Justin and Aaron. They were fun in the “we love Judy Garland and Liza Minnelli” sort of way.

Justin, a professional dancer, and Aaron, a naval officer (the two gayest professions after rent boy) had the audacity to ask me, one of the butchest men wearing a pink t-shirt, if I was gay. You can imagine my horror.

They were both staying at a Japanese pod/capsule hotel nearby. Maybe it was a subconscious decision, fitting into tight spaces.

We were a Brit, an Aussie, and a Yank drinking in Osaka. It sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, but it turned out to a great night and I got to bed at 5am. My own bed. I was drunk, but I wasn’t that drunk.

The next morning, after shaking off the hangover, I took a wander over to Osaka Castle. Probably Osaka’s most famous site. It played a major role in the unification of Japan during the 16^th century. This blog is not only homophobic, but also informative.

I flew home the next day. I like Japan.

Homosexuality Isn’t a Choice. Discrimination Is.

We just had a bank holiday weekend and it was action packed. Coming to Asia on of the things I  wanted to see was some form of martial art display so on Friday Karl and I went to Namsangol Hanok Village to watch a taekwondo performance. The show merges dance and martial arts to create great entertainment. I’m not really into dance performances, neither am I overwhelmed by martial arts as I always considered the people that did them after school geeks (geeks that could kick my arse) but put them together and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance.

Martial arts are a bit weird really. If Karl had called me that morning and said 'Do you want to come round mine and watch me break some wooden planks?' I'd have said no thank you. But because these people are professional Asian wood-kickers I was well up for it.

Saturday came around and there was the much anticipated Korea Queer Festival to be enjoyed. I have never been to a gay pride festival before so I wasn’t too sure of what to expect. I asked a gay friend of mine and he told me to expect the unexpected.

"They have parades. There're no parades for how I get laid. They have parades... marching down the street to celebrate that they blow each other, fuck each other in the ass, and smush their vaginas together or whatever that one is. Whatever wonderful thing those folks are doing, it's none of my business." (Louis C.K.)

Karl and I arrived in Sinchon, the first person who welcomed me outside the station was someone who was working for the local clinic. “Free STI checks for everyone!” They really know their target market.

We had only been there a matter of minutes before we saw our first confrontation. Homosexuality is still taboo here in Korea, gay movements only started fighting discrimination laws in the 1990s (according to Wikipedia). The confrontation was between the thousands of representatives from the gay community and about 4 Christian nut-jobs. It started getting heated and had the police not intervened it probably would have resulted in violence.

In that situation who are the crazy people? The people who are attracted to the same gender or the guy dressed in his pyjamas telling everyone that they’re committing an “abomination” (Leviticus 18:22) and that they all “deserve to die” (Romans 1:32) because it was written in a book over 1,800 years ago. People used to believe that well preserved Beanie Babies would be worth a fortune one day, and that only happened in the 90s. Sometimes people are wrong. (Although, give it 1,800 years and my Beanie Baby collection could be worth £40).

We met up with a gay friend who came to shed light on the whole festival. Apparently, protesters are very common and they should be ignored (something I couldn't bring myself to do in this blog). Anyway, we continued through the crowds, we saw a lot of stands, a lot of love, and a lot of skin (from both genders, don’t worry). We enjoyed the stage performances too, many gay people, drag queens, and the like who were on stage showcasing their dancing and singing abilities. The highlight of the show was when a transgender (I think he/she was anyway) tried to sing Beyonce’s Crazy In Love but unfortunately he/she didn’t know the words… and was out of time… and was out of tune. To the crowds delight he/she still gave it a go and filled in the unknown words with “blah, blah, blah”. Very funny.

At the end of the show the parade started. This was certainly a first for me, not only was this my first time in attendance at a gay pride parade, it was also my first time partaking in the march. With a cocktail in hand, and wearing the gay pride flag as a cape I was fully immersed in the day, I was ready to throw on a pair of leather hot pants with the arsecheeks cut out.

The parade came to a halt only half-a-mile in. The Christian nuts had taken it upon themselves to stop everyone’s fun. They were sat in the middle of the road bringing an end to the festivities. The police were drafted in again, this time to protect the selfish, insane, prejudice, close-minded, homophobes. The thousands of parade marchers were growing restless, they were ready to throw buckets of cum and glitter on the Christians for ruining their fun. It’s a shame that a mere 20 or so Christians can ruin the fun of thousands on a day which is to be celebrated not targeted.

This is the kind of Christian I can get on board with.

The interruption was a perfect opportunity for a toilet break. I nipped into the nearest Tom N Toms only to find that there was only a single cubicle. I waited patiently, and as the guy in the cubicle left he was followed by another gentleman. I guess it was the day to be proud.

During the wait a friend of mine checked his Grinder app on his phone and it was crazy! An app which is designed to find the nearest gay person to you so you can meet and ‘hook up’. It’s slightly different than straight apps such as Tinder, which measure available singles in miles, Grinder measures available singles in feet. Lo and behold there was a gay man only 6 feet away, I could see him! He was ready to fuck!

Those kinds of Christians really bother me. What do they really expect when protesting at those events? All the gay people to say “I’ve seen the light, I’m now straight and a devout Christian!” No, of course that’s an unrealistic thing to expect. They’re gay, they cannot change who they are. All the Christians are doing is making gay people, and others hate their religion. People were at the festival to celebrate being gay, drink, party, and have a good time not to convert. We stayed a little longer before we got bored and found a nearby pub.

Sunday was soon upon us and we decided to do some sightseeing, we went to Changdeokgung Palace and the palace's Secret Gardens, as I write it on here it becomes far less secret. A less dramatic day than before but beautiful all the same.

A great weekend from start to finish. 

Spectating Isn't About Whether You Win or Lose, It's About How Drunk You Get

For this blog post I’d like to rewind the clocks to late 2013. I’d like to tell the tale of when Ed and I became devoted Sydney FC fans. Before I divulge the story I’d just like to point out that my actions are not routine at all football games that I attend, they were a one-off. OK, maybe a two-off.

Sydney FC vs. Newcastle United Jets FC
Allianz Arena
30^th November, 2013

One sunny day in Sydney, Ed and I were talking and we decided that we would take in a football match while I was visiting him. Ed looked up the details on his phone and found out that Sydney FC were playing at home that Saturday evening against Newcastle Jets. We came up with a loose plan, meet up in Bondi for a cheeky few schooners, get the bus to the game, enjoy the delights of the A-League, and then head into Sydney city centre for a night on the tiles. Sorted.

The big day came around and everything was going to plan very smoothly, we got to the game and the first thing I noticed was the army of Del Piero fans. Every man and his dog had the latest sky blue Sydney shirt with Del Piero 10 printed on their backs. We paid the incredible sum of $15 for our tickets and even managed to use a buy one get one free coupon, try pitching that idea to the Premier League! We got there about an hour before kick-off and enjoyed a few beers pitch side, try pitching that idea to the Premier League!

The line-ups were announced and the two stellar names of the day were Alessandro Del Piero of Sydney FC and Emile Heskey of Newcastle United Jets. Emile Heskey has never been described as a stellar name, there were also another 20 names announced but they could have been the water boys for all I know.  The standard was acceptable, and the Allianz Stadium was half empty but the atmosphere was surprisingly good. The Sydney Ultras really make an effort, a few guys with megaphones getting the chants started it was rather enjoyable. In injury time in the second half Sydney took the lead, the celebrations started amongst the fans and it rained down beer from the overly excited Aussies. Wonderful. Half time came around and it was time to get more beer. The second half got underway and we didn’t have to wait long for Sydney to double their lead, the same delirious frolicking occurred, I even joined in with a bit of beer throwing myself. At one stage a brave foreign lad did an impressive pitch invasion and I managed to capture all of it!

The game finished 2-0 and it was time to head into the city. We tried to get the bus but they were full. We tried to hail a cab but the traffic was too intense so we opted to walk. Following the crowds and not entirely sure where we were heading we got a bit lost, we stopped to work out some kind of direction, not too easy when you’ve been drinking since the early afternoon. To lubricate the cogs in our brains we thought it would be a good idea to get a bottle of wine for the journey, brown paper baggin’ it. We continued to walk and somehow ended up in a residential area and as we walked we passed a house party with the front door wide open. I said to Ed “shall we go in?” As if I had to ask. We cautiously entered and we were immediately approached by a guy who suspiciously asked “can I help you?” Confidently I replied “Yeah, we’re here for the party. Charlotte invited us.” Unconvinced he said “there’s no one here called Charlotte”. Sometimes (not often) honesty is the best policy, we came clean “OK, you caught us. We were just passing and were wondering if we could stop here for a few drinks, we’ve brought wine” as we showed him the half bottle of wine that we’d already been swigging. To our amazement he said “Oh right, sure! Come on in, there are drinks in the kitchen. Help yourselves!” What?! We’ve crashed a party hosted by the nicest people in the world. There was Belvedere Vodka, champagne, beer, we’d hit the jackpot!

We noticed that it was Santa Clause themed fancy dress party so we made a small effort by putting some tinsel around our necks. We started to mingle. Everyone was really friendly, nice people, fun conversations; we were having a great time. A Scottish girl approached us she’d got wind that there were two gate crashing Brits at the party. After a few pleasantries she asked us very bluntly “So, are you two gay?” Excuse me?! We informed her that we are not gay but were curious as to why she’d ask such a question. To which she replied “Because, you’re at a gay party”. We looked around us at the people that we’d been talking to for the last hour and it was so obviously a gay party but neither of us had noticed. I turned to Ed and said “Ed mate, we’re at a gay party!” The Scottish girl could not stop laughing, the tears rolled down her cheeks as we stood embarrassed at how oblivious we’d been. We’d crashed a party full of gay Santas and didn’t realise. I did say everyone was very friendly towards us and now we knew why!

We stayed at the party, carried on drinking and had a really good night. We thought it would be a good idea to explore the rest of the house (I don’t know why). So we grabbed a bottle of Belvedere and went upstairs (honestly, we’re not gay). There wasn’t anything interesting but Ed decided that this was the prime time to go to the toilet, I waited for him. The guys hosting the party discovered me alone in one of the bedrooms and an interrogation began. They asked where my friend was, I said he’s having a shit. They weren’t happy and said it was time for us to leave; I knocked on the toilet door and told Ed to hurry up. So not only did we gate crash a party full of gay Santas, we were also kicked out of a party full of gay Santas. We never made it out in Sydney.

Central Coast Mariners FC vs. Sydney FC
Bluetongue Stadium
7^th December, 2013

The week before, during the game against Newcastle United Jets we got chatting to an eccentric Sydney fan who told us about the game the following week against Central Coast Mariners. Only an hour away on the train, there would be a good following from Sydney, so we decided to go. We had become fully dedicated Sydney fans and we were going to our first away game. Loyal.

Another loose plan was instigated, meet up for a few beers, get the train to Gosford (bogan country (bogans are Australian chavs)), have a few more beers, go to the game, head back to Sydney, and have a night on the tiles. The train only took an hour and cost less than a round of beers, which only infuriates you more to realise how much the Brits are getting ripped off for their own rail transport system.

Upon arrival we decided to try to keep the cost of the day down and opted for the finest, largest, cheapest bottle of wine available at the first bottle shop that we came across. So where to drink such a marvellous classic? Well, the park next to the ground, obviously. After nearly getting caught by the patrolling police officers, we finished the bottle made our way into the ground collecting a few beers in the concourse.

In our seats and amongst a large following of away fans, the stadium was very different to all those I’d attended in the past. It has only 3 stands, one of the ends is open which has a fantastic view of palm trees and Fagan’s Bay, I’m used to terrace houses and council flats. 

But anyway, the game kicked off, the chants were reverberating within the stand and the wine was having the desired effect. About 20 minutes in and the game was rather boring, no score, no drama, no quality. All of a sudden there was some commotion amongst the away support, it was getting rowdy. One fan stood up, took off his jacket to reveal a Central Coast Mariners shirt, he revelled in the boos and the hostility from the many travelling fans. In the heat of the moment the wine took over, I thought back to the week before and reached for a liquid missile. Despite being rather merry I still had the sense not to waste my own beer and reached for the beer that belonged to the guy sitting in front of me. I pulled it through the smallest of gaps and launched it down the stand in the direction of the rebellious home supporter; it covered him and everyone around him.  Bad idea. Everyone was livid; people were coming up to shouting in my face, asking why I’d do such a thing. I thought that was the norm. I was wrong. What I didn’t notice was that there were a patrol of policemen in the tier above us that were watching the away fans the way that Wayne Rooney would eye up a retirement home. Straight away the three policemen (yeah, three!) were down and kicking me out, a welcomed eviction considering the hassle I was getting from the hostile fans. In the concourse and I reluctantly asked if I could finish my beers before I left and surprisingly they said yes. Despite being a dickhead even the policemen don’t like to see wasted beer. I was out, and what’s worse was that Ed followed me. I’d ruined his day and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

I apologised repeatedly to Ed and suggested heading back to Sydney, Ed with little urgency said “the best thing we can do now is get another bottle of wine and think about what we’re going to do next”. That’s a fantastic idea; it wasn’t like alcohol had got us in that situation in the first place. So with the cheapest bottle of white we could get our drunk hands on we sat by the bay pondering our next move. 

Ed suggested trying to get back into the game stating to a steward that we were late arriving. This was not a good idea, the police had taken a copy of my I.D. and told me not to even try getting back in but having polished off the wine it seemed like a good idea. It was half time and we thought we’d try our luck. Acting sober we walked back to the ground, we approached a speccy steward, explained that we were late, flashed our tickets and we were in. We were back in the game! Keeping our heads down we thought we’d find a quiet spot in the family stand and just enjoy the rest of the game. 

That’s a lot more difficult that it sounds when you’re inebriated. Making a loud spectacle of ourselves we were rowdy, cursed, chanted, and did the opposite of keeping our heads down. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise to all the respectable people sat around us who had to tolerate our dickhead behaviour for 45 minutes.

I filmed a lot of our foolish behaviour.

Ed tried to get a chant started and failed hilariously.

In this final video I interview Ed for 15 minutes. If you know Ed or I at all you may find it remotely funny, otherwise we’re just two pillocks that got drunk at a football match.

The game finished and Central Coast Mariners won the game 1-0. We left the stadium and joined in a children’s match outside the ground, we were playing with 5-10 year olds. What kind of parents let their children play football with two drunk, possible paedophiles? It went on for so long I started touching and filming the children just to get a reaction. Bad parenting. We headed back to the station and decided it was about time to get a third bottle of wine and a couple of kebabs, always a good sign. Wine in hand and waiting for the kebabs we started talking to the locals and asked when the last train back to Sydney was, they laughed and said “in about 4 minutes mate!” We hassled the staff to hurry up with the kebabs (obviously we couldn’t just leave without them), and sprinted to the station. Down the stairs, onto the platform, and within touching distance the doors closed and the train departed. The next train – a 7 hour wait. What else to do other than finish the wine, eat the kebabs, go back into town and find a place to party bogan style. We did just that, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur, one of the few memories was being kicked out of a terrible club because Ed was dancing on a table.

The night before never seems worth it when you’re still awake at 7am, hungover, and waiting for a train. My experiences of following Sydney FC were certainly unique and interesting and I doubt they’ll ever be replicated. Since then Ed and I have agreed never go to the football together again.