Whiskey a go-go

Last night we went out with Kelly to check out the nightlife in Shibuya. Tokyo during the day is a glorious web of people that moves like a single organism, assaulting you with the many smells and sounds of the 33 million people who make it up. Tokyo at night is more unreal, more artificial. William Gibson definitely got it right.

We went to a little cafe called Signs and drank red wine with a ham and soft-boiled egg pizza, while a DJ spun electroclash and super-rave. We then took a walk around nearby Aoyama and checked out the little backstreets. As soon as you leave the craziness that is the main drag and the neon falls away, it's still immensely strange. Drunken, sloppy businessmen stumble around, buying cans of sick-ass coffee from vending machines, while an ancient old lady dumps a pail of cooking water into an alley. Young Japanese couples sit chastely in parks the size of a playground merry-go-round, or walk tiny dogs with flashing collars while talking on flashing cell phones, or sit in cafes holding each other like they're in a 50's teen movie. A little alley offers up an old-style noodle shop with a counter that seats 5, next to a 3 story all-glass French Connection.

We met up with Kelly's friend Alistair at a little bar with chandeliers all over the ceiling. Any drink for 500 yen ($5)! And these were real drinks -- Trevor got a Jamesons in a real glass, not some half-shot of nasty Japanese whiskey. Sadly, however, the music was pretty bad, consisting of Kabbalah-era Madonna and little else. But drinks for 500 yen!

Today, after much sleep, we brave the madness that is Shinjuku. This is where the Japan of sci-fi really smacks you across the face.