Club Ai (The Host Club Bus Tour)

So, yesterday was the much anticipated ‘Host Club’ Bus Tour and it lived up to the anticipation, though it was quite different than I’d hoped/expected. I got done up, and my host mom, her friend and myself met up at our local train station around 3:30 and made our way over to Tokyo station, which is where the Hato Bus Tour’s main hub is, and where we get on the bus for our tour. The day was a dismal rainy day with the added torture of violent humidity. Evidently this season is called ‘Ume no Ame’ which means Plum Rain. The technical part of it comes from this season being plum season and also being Japan’s rainy season (much like April in States), but with the added bonus of torturous humidity. Every time you step outside it’s like stepping into the locker room at an indoor pool, or standing directly in front of a heater. And it makes you sweat something terrible.

So, we arrived at Tokyo station, the largest station in the city, and wound our way around to the South Marunouchi exit, which is where you have to exit out to find the bus terminal. We had a little time to kill, so we wandered through the many sweet shops within the station, forever debating on what to buy for one of my mom's friends (as it was her birthday we were celebrating by going on this tour). We debated over some banana baumkuchen, which is only sold at that station, but eventually through what seemed to be shrewd rationalization, my host mother decided against buying anything. That killed about 45 min. and we plunged out into the rain, found the various bus’ leaving points and then waited inside a small shack area on benches with other tour patrons for the rest of our party to get there.

When it hit 4:55, an announcement sounded and we all piled back out into the rain, springing our umbrella’s to life, and found our particular bus at #2. There were actually quite a few people with us on the host club tour, somewhere around 35 in all. Our party was seven, there was a party of four younger girls who had dressed up for the occasion, and then a bunch of older ladies ranging between the ages of 50 and 70.

We set off.

Passing the Imperial Palace and the Diet building, our young guide girl tried desperately to keep our attention with her explanations of the Tokyo sights, but no one was listening, finding their own party’s conversation to be much more lively. We wound through busy streets into Roppongi, shops on either side of us springing to life as their signs all lit up for the early dinner rush. We pulled into a covered maze that was half-road, half-parking garage and then we took a turn into a small alcove that opened onto the Grand Hyatt hotel. There were no parking spaces in this small area paved with bricks rather than cement. Instead, there were about 8 cars reclining at their leisure in the space: BMWs, Rolls Royce, Jaguars, all manner of sleek, expensive cars.

We hopped down the steps of the bus and into the marble-floored side entrance of the Hyatt where the wooden walls extended up two stories and glass vases as tall as myself boasted reed-looking plants or muted-colored stones. We made our way past elite looking men in suits to a staircase and found ourselves at the front desk of the restaurant. It seems that the perk of the tour is that you get to dine before the restaurant even opens, so we were immediately led inside by a smart looking woman with short hair and a black suit. We walked past a luscious bar of mahogany or some such other wood, where the bartender in his vest and tie was getting ready for the dinnertime rush. Our party was seated at a long dining table at the back beside a window, though with the rain pouring down, there wasn’t much to see. The wall facing me had three tall square niches with a glass shelf and a tall glass vase that held a reed and limes, playing to the modern, minimalist fashion of the whole hotel. Off to our left were two massive glassed-in wine coolers that stood a story tall, such that a stainless steel ladder was built to slide across from one to the other, should one need a bottle at the top. There must have been over a hundred bottles of wine in each, perhaps two.

We all ordered drinks, the bulk of us asking for beer and in short order a waiter in a black suit and tie, like all the others, came out holding a frosted glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. Our dinner started with a long, thin, diamond-shaped roll, then the appetizer which was a small bit of salad and three slabs of some cold meat concoction that harbored pork, dark sausage and was ringed in chicken skin. I wasn’t a big fan. Next came a cup of cold soup that was orange, but tasted rather like cream than anything else. Then was our main dish of a grilled scallop and grilled Tai (which is a Pacific Sea Bream eaten in Japan, usually for times of celebration), with some cut vegetables and a small dollop of mashed potatoes. Then we had coffee and dessert, which was raspberry sorbet and a cake filled with raspberry cream and mango (or passion fruit, not sure which). All in all, it was pretty tasty and quite fancy. You know as soon as you sit down and see an assortment of forks, knives and spoons, that you’re in for fancy fixins.

After that we went in search of the bathroom and finally found it, after having to stop a lady passing by in a rush to ask where it was. Because there were 7 of us, it took us some time to all get done and we were late getting back to the bus, but nothing was said of it. Again, we took off, back into the rain, toward Shinjuku and Kabukicho. It was 7pm when we took off, and the prime time for traffic in Tokyo, so despite the distance between Roppongi and Shinjuku not being all that far, it took us about 45 min. to get there, and after unloading onto the sidewalk of the busy main street in front of Kabukicho, our chipper little tour guide led us through the winding back alleys for about 15 min., to Club Ai.

I am convinced that one can see Club Ai from outer space. The shop is like the Vegas Strip, beaming neon blue lights and glitter. If one were to imagine that Vegas ate a particularly old piece of confetti birthday cake and then threw it back up, you would have Club Ai. That’s the unofficial origin story of the place, at least as I tell it.

I was urged to go first and thus took the lead in going down the steep, straight stairway past mirrors and gold random things and all other manner of knick-knacks, to the man waiting below who asked for the number of our party. Then some host who I didn’t even get a real look at led me through into the club, past a standing line of 10 guys who rang out the customary ‘Irasshaimase’ (Welcome) as I jaunted by. Now I am going to try to compare/contrast Club Air (the one I’ve been to before), and Club Ai for you.

As the man held out a hand for me, showing me which were our seats, I was confronted with old, 70s or 80s fashioned sea green leather sofas, the sort that you can no longer buy anywhere because they went out of style about 10+ years ago. We piled in, myself and the birthday girl sitting at the end, and in due time, our hosts (six of them) sat down opposite, an old, gnarled wooden table, scarred and stained, sitting boldly between us. Above, behind, beside, beyond, the place was covered in mirrors and neon Christmas lights and plastic chandeliers and random knick-knacks (we’re talking picture frames that still have the picture of the married couple in it that came with it). And the place is lit up like the waiting room in a hospital, the florescent lighting killing any and all ideas of mood lighting. So, the interior was a main topic of conversation as our host sporadically filled our soju glasses with tea from a plastic pitcher that you can get at a dollar store (literally, cause I have the same one). I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, I know it does.

But…

In contrast, when you walk into Club Air, everything is sleek and black and eloquent. The lighting achieves a romantic glow, light enough to see everything but dark enough to make the atmosphere intimate and away from prying eyes, such that you feel like you and your little group is the only one in the room. The walls are either black wood or obsidian tiles, the seats that the customers sit in, an upholstered black and you’re served out of decanters.

Likewise, the hosts themselves are different. At Club Ai, our host, Yamato, was remarkably young in comparison to the majority of his co-workers, though there were a few that seemed to still be in their twenties. Most, I would guess, are somewhere around the mid-30s mark, and not many that would make you stop and stare after their good looks. In following with this, their overall images didn’t seem to me to be nearly so sleek or trendy, most of them having normal hairstyles, little to no accessories, and all of them wearing the typical black suit like you’d wear to a wedding or a funeral. No silk suits or perfectly spiked hair like you see at Club Air. So, moving on.

We sat down and just as a conversation started to get rolling between my host mom, myself and our host, Yamato, someone came to interrupt, though his appearance was a pleasant surprise.

Back 1970 (as this year is the club’s 40th anniversary), Club Ai was founded as the very first host club in the world by a man named Takeshi Aida, evidently a mattress salesman at the time (ironically). Now, even to those who know next to nothing about host clubs or the mizushobai (businesses like those of Kabukicho), still know this man’s face. With the big sunglasses, the cheezy mustache and being dressed like an old-timey mobster, it would be hard no to recognize him. All he’s missing is a fat cigar between his bejeweled fingers.

And it was he that came wandering up to our party, plopping down in the middle of us and posing for the cameras. Meanwhile, upon his approach, all of the hosts stood up from their stools and, almost as one, stepped back into a line formation as if giving him the spotlight. They obligingly took our cameras and snapped photos of him with us, laughing uproariously at anything he said.

He started down at the other end, then wobbled over to sit between me and the birthday girl, my host hurriedly dragging the heavy, scarred table out of his way as he ambled over and plopped down, placing a lecherous hand on both our legs. When he heard it was her birthday, he called for someone to bring us a free fruit plate, which was very kind, and then presented her with a small Dom Perignon cake thing in a tiny pink box (though later she said it was nasty to the point of being inedible). We took a few more pictures with him and he tried to talk to me, at first in English, then in Japanese. I’m not sure whether he was horrible drunk or just senile (he’s not a whippersnapper anymore after all), but everything he said came out slurred and barring on incomprehensible.

Eventually he wandered off and our hosts resumed their seats and things continued on. I talked a little to our host, asking how long he’d been doing it, how many hosts worked there (100), and maybe one or two more questions, but he spent most of his time trying to draw my host mom into conversation (picking up, I'm sure, on the fact that she has a lot more money than me).

His talking to her made up the bulk of our visit, though there was one interlude, a trip to the bathroom. My host mom and a few of the ladies voiced that they needed to go, and when I declined the offer, Yamato insisted eagerly that I should go and at least look at the bathroom. So I agreed and followed him past numerous tables, over a scarred dance floor, before the live band with a crooning woman at the microphone (yes, they had a band and a dance floor), past other tables where hosts sat by themselves looking bored or reclined along the booth, taking a nap, and I entered the bathroom where I found more chotckies, mirrors and pictures of the owner with various celebrities and other well-knowns, only one of which I knew.

I went back to the table with the others and before long, a rotund man in a suit with a booming voice announced that it was time to go and we all piled out and made for the front staircase again. There was a traffic jam at the bottom of the staircase, and the gaggle of idle, waiting hosts (about 10 of them), standing around, didn’t help. They all thanked us and one guy pushed his card into my hand as I was trying to make my escape.

Somehow we got past the wall of men and I started my ascent back out into the drizzly, humid, night-studded Kabukicho, Yamato following close behind, every so often warning me to watch my step. We all poured out of the opening like a damn breaking, and reassembled on the glittering pavement, Yamato and one other host following us out and chatting a little longer with us as the rest of the tour followed behind. When we were all back together, everyone said their last round of ‘thanks’ and ‘goodbyes’ and then we started wandering around the back alleys of Kabukicho, getting lost.

Eventually we hit upon the now-familiar pachinko complex/karaoke place where my host and I went that night a few weeks ago, and I realized where we were and how to get out, so I took the lead. And eventually we were going under the famous Kabukicho lighted, red gate and across the main street.

Now to my reflections/opinions about Club Ai. As far as a host club, I have to admit that I'm glad I went to one of my own choosing, on my own rather than relying on this experience to give me a good representation of what a host club is. I'm far from an expert on the matter (having only been to 2), but from things I've seen (heck, even from the host scouts on the streets), I think its fair to say that most other host clubs are like Club Air, to varying degrees, what with their cooler-than-live looks and attitudes. As I explained it to my mom, Club Ai seems to be where you go to chat and have a cocktail and complain about the stuff that bothers you about being a Japanese housewife. Club Air is where you go to fall in love, or rather, to enter into a fantasy, perfect relationship (whether it be love or friendship), with your perfect host who becomes whatever sort of person you want him to be. And I suppose, that difference shows why Club Ai is so different, yet still popular. As my mom put it, Club Ai is probably geared for ladies of an older crowd, older than the 20 or 30-something OLs (office ladies). The women who go to Club Ai are probably in their mid-40s or older and they want somewhere where they can drink and have a nice guy listen to their woes about their husbands and their children and all the other hardships about being a Japanese wife (I'm not being sarcastic here, it is tough for them as I've seen). And they want a place that's over-the-top, with older music where they can cut a rug. And being such a space, the hosts don't need to look like models, and have every hair perfectly in place, their eyebrows drawn on just right. Women of a certain age aren't usually coming to Club Ai looking for a love affair, they're coming to let there hair down and talk to someone who does, or at least pretends to, care. These ladies aren't impressed by bling.

Club Air is the opposite, as is reflected in the age of most of its patrons. So, while I'm glad I got to go to Club Ai, I wouldn't recommend going there if one wanted to go to a host club, especially through a tour because I don't feel it's a good representation of what they're like. But, that's just my two cents.

Club Air ~Grace~

So, an American friend of mine came to Japan on a college field trip this past week and just so happened to have a few days of more or less 'free time,' and she wanted to go to a host club, so I bit the bullet and took her.

On Sunday morning we’d gone to Kabukicho around 10, hoping to get into Club Air ~Precious~ for the morning shift (Sunrise to 11 it turns out). A handsome receptionist greeted us dubiously, then asked if we could wait there a moment while he went into the actual club to check on something. He came back basically saying in the politest way possible that “it would really help us if you’d come back some other time,” which more or less meant they were about to close (which we didn't realize at the time). So, we left the club and as we were walking out, we were immediately confronted by another host/scout who waved a coupon for his club at us and somehow or other engaged us in conversation. He was a nice enough lad, probably younger than myself, and average looking as far as hosts go. We talked for a short while (he wasn’t pushy at all, which I appreciated immensely), and then I said we had to go and he wished us a safe trip.

So, fast forward to Monday night and we’re determined to try it again. Thankfully, we’d learned our lesson the day before and didn’t have much trouble locating the club this time. Step-by-step going down the black staircase, my heart started to pound. I’d already had severe doubts about this whole venture, not sure that my Japanese was good enough to be able to converse for 2 hrs (hers either as she's behind me in Japanese class levels). Even so, she was determined to go, and I’d given her my word that we’d give it one last try.

Down the winding black staircase, like Alice through the hole, a wonderland awaited us. At the base of the stairs, all but one wall a solid black, their was a massive two way mirror, where you touch a panel on the left and it slides open to admit you into the dark reception area. Nothing but the black, wooden reception desk to the right adorns this vestibule, and as we walked inside, three men, deep in conversation, look up at our approach. The one leaning over a budgeting book was fairly good looking, but no host, that much was clear. Beside him, towering over all of us at well over 6 feet, was a thin young man in a suit with black hair falling into his eyes; he was no host either.

I ask if they’re busy, they say no. I say we’re first time customers (as if that wasn’t obvious enough) and we’re asked politely to show some ID (you have to be 20 to go to the club, as 20 is the legal drinking age in Japan). When we’ve done that, the staggeringly tall young man produces a menu-like book, opens it, and asks which service we’d like. For first time customers at that club there are two choices: 2 hrs. or Free Time. The 2 hrs. cost about $50 and you get 2 beers, unlimited soft drinks and a half a bottle of soju. If you go over two hours it costs $15 ever extra half hour. The Free Time costs $100 but gets you a bottle of champagne and there is no overtime. I thought (naively, as it turns out), that 2 hrs. would be more than enough time, so I chose that and then, without further ado, he let us through another passageway and into the club.

Club Air is one of the classier, and thus more expensive, clubs you can go to, but the quality is immediately noticeable as you enter inside. The interior is primarily black, the seats black, the floors black, the walls tiled with shiny obsidian that are so clear you can see your reflection in them. In places along the walls, silver, curling designs of mirror break up the dark colors, streams of crystal chains hang like curtains to separate individual booth-like tables from each other, almost hiding those within from any outsider’s view. There is a small disco ball hanging off to the right, surreptitiously, near the pyramid of standing crystal champagne glasses that are lit from below in a glass case. To get a better idea of what the place looks like, you can watch the end of the first episode of the drama Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge (starring Kame from Kattun), as the end of that episode takes place in this actual club.

So, we’re seated in a corner and there is a guy waiting for us. He asks us what we want to drink first and I order soju, then he hands us ‘the book’ and acts us to make our first selections. ‘The book,’ is a binder full of all the pictures of all the hosts that work at the club (28 to be exact). You sift through them and choose which one you want to meet first. At host clubs (any host club), your first visit is different than any repeat visit. One difference is that it’s much, much, much cheaper. Another major difference is that you actually get to meet pretty much all the hosts. The reason for this is so that you know which one you want to choose on your second visit. Starting on the second visit, you pay more for the table charge, you have to pay an unholy amount of tax, and you have to pay what they call a ‘nomination fee.’ The nomination fee is meant to appear separate, but is in fact mandatory. On your second visit, you choose which host is to be ‘your host’ from them on, and you cannot change, no matter what, regardless of if you start to like someone else better or not. The nomination fee is so that the club knows who to accredit your money to, which in turn raises your particular host's status in the club, helping to further him in his attempt at hitting the #1 rank.

So anyway, we picked our guys and in no time, mine was right there and with him came another, tall but young kid. Mine was very energetic and of course, handsome, looking sort of like the lead singer of The KIDDIE. He tried to teach us a game having to do with numbers and thumbs, which failed miserably as I couldn’t quite work out the rules, but his main purpose was to get us drinking, one which he succeeded at (after about the first 30-40 min, they stopped trying to get us to drink). As far as the drinking goes, you have a regular-sized glass and the hosts have small glasses, which they fill up with ice. Some of them did drink alcohol, and always asked if they could, but I would say that most of them just kept to water. When they would sit down, they would say ‘Cheers’ and clink glasses with you, and they would do this again when they were about to leave, thanking you for your time. Another side note: every one of them asked the same two questions. 1) Do you have a boyfriend (I’m assuming this is to figure out if you’re there because you’re lonely/want a fake relationship) and 2) What type of guy do you like (so they know what to act like). I was also often asked how old I was.

So, after my first guy (Natsuki), I got Hikaru (aka Handsy), who, despite being my anti-type, the sort that I deem my very opposite, turned out to be the one I begrudgingly admit that I liked the best. But we’ll get to that later. Up until he came, the hosts had been sitting across the tables from us, but he bounded right over, moved the cushion out of the way and slid in right beside me. Two other guys came over, presented their cards (they all do this before they sit down), and made a few feeble attempts to get my attention away from Hikaru, but to no avail, as he somehow managed to have my undivided attention. But, in my defense, he started off with a magic trick. How is a girl supposed to win against that? He then started down the path of blatant lies and flattery, telling me how beautiful I was, how soft my skin was, etc. (you get the picture). Then he showed off his muscles and his extremely expensive accessories, and again, you get the picture. Hikaru is, in short, the stereotype of a host. He was the only one that went on and on with the compliments and flattery. I mean, he even did the old ‘let’s compare hands’ thing, for crying out loud!

After him followed the Yamapi look-alike, and then a steady stream of guys who each stayed at least 20 min., sometimes more before 'changing' out. Some were higher ranking hosts, some were ‘helpers,’ and it was usually clear which was which. Of the string of guys that were my hosts, only about four stand out of the mix after ol' Handsy, though I hardly even spoke to the ones who were more or less my friend’s. One was a very nice, probably quite young guy who had a boy-next-door feel. Like the others, after about 10 min. he made the excuse of ‘Japanese hosts sit over here,’ and moved in beside me, but he was rather unthreatening and we had a very long, intelligent conversation. He said he usually worked at a club in Roppongi, and I asked him about being a host, and he said that it had it’s hard times, but that on the whole it was fun because he got to talk about all different kinds of things with different kinds of people. We also talked about the economy, about the strength of the yen against the dollar and how most countries seemed to be in a slump.

Then there was the Oguri Shun kid. He really did look just like Oguri Shun at about 16 years old, with longer red-and-blond streaked hair. He said he was 23, but man he looked young. He stayed for a long time with us and we chatted about American bands (he’s in a group as a drummer that plays covers of American songs), and about him being a host. He said that at the club, they don’t have janitors or anything, but that they all stay after close and have to clean the place top to bottom before the morning shift comes in.

And then there was Michi, my second favorite. He was the spitting image of Hee Chul from Super Junior, red hair and all, but with the exact opposite personality. He was quite reserved, but seemed markedly intelligent to me. Whether he was typically that quiet or not was hard to tell because the cutey that came with him for my friend was rather loud and rambunctious. We didn’t talk about a whole lot, but he said he’d been told that he looked like Shou from Alice Nine, which I didn’t entirely see, though perhaps a little in the eyes. When I mentioned/explained about him looking like Hee Chul, he laughed and proclaimed himself ‘global.’

One random anecdote is when I had to go to the bathroom. If you have to go, you tell them and whoever's with you will walk you to the bathroom and open the door for you (the guy I was with jokingly asked if I wanted him to stay), and then they wait outside (not directly outside the door, mind you), for you, and when you come out, they hand you a warm hand towel and walk you back to your seat.

Anyway…

Certainly the language thing was an obstacle. There were times when I spent a lot of my time talking more to my friend’s host than my own simply be means of being a translator, though the boisterous kid mentioned above was clever, taking out a napkin and writing what few English words he knew on it (like ‘example’) and then, in the conversation, when he’d say those words in Japanese, he’d point to the word on the paper. You’re probably curious about what we talked about in general. Of course I was asked where I was from and a little bit about America (what a typical American date is like, for instance), we talked a lot about language, about music, about food, things we like to do in our private time, where we like to go, but also about things like the economy, politics, etc. There was (which I found surprising), very little fawning over me, which was just fine, and I thought it was interesting and slightly unexpected that they would actually talk about their personal lives, their hobbies, where they live. And you could ask them anything and they would answer you (like my asking about their work as a host). But on the whole, the conversations were as different as the guys themselves.

Our last host came in around the last half hour. He was a half Brazilian/half Japanese guy named Gin, who could speak some English, and we talked with him about the peculiarities of Japan, and how Westerners typically think that Asian men are effeminate. There were a few champagne calls and, as the lights dimmed, he would leave to join the group of hosts surrounding whoever had ordered the champagne. The would sing, waving huge red fans that read ‘Festival’ on them until the champagne was poured and then the woman would make a comment into a microphone. At around 12:15/12:30 (bear in mind, the shop ‘closes’ at midnight), the #1 host was given a microphone and , as the lights dimmed again, the words to a song came up on the various screens hanging from the ceiling around the club and he sang the Last Song. (This was the first and only time I ever saw the #1 host, except watching him go back and forth with his arms slung around various girls. Strangely enough, he was the only one dressed casual of all the guys, as everyone else looked sharp in trendy suits whereas he was wearing a printed T-shirt, jeans and a vest.)

When I asked Gin about why the place was still open, he said that they officially stop business at midnight and the customers have to be out by 1, otherwise the cops will come in and arrest people (as there’s now a law against host/hostess clubs, and other business of the Mizushobai [as these sorts of businesses are called] being open between 1 am and sunrise). This had to be true, because on the taxi ride back, I saw a few cops lazily meandering the streets.

So, our bill came and we were asked who we wanted to escort us out. I chose Michi (the Hee Chul guy), and my friend picked Anji, who it turns out is actually #2 at that club and one of the bosses. So, we were led back to the vestibule where Michi and Anji were waiting, and we ascended the staircase together. Michi offered me his arm and then asked if he could give me a hug, as we reached the top of the stairs. Of course, I obliged. Then, as they wished us a safe journey home, we walked about 10 feet to a waiting taxi and started back.

Now, I have to apologize for my stupidity. See, you’re allowed to take a picture with up to three people and, foolish as I am, I totally forgot, so I don’t have any picture to offer you except of the handful of business cards I was given. If I go again, I promise to take a picture to show you, and my friend has one of the outside of the club, so I’ll upload that too, when she sends it to me.

Anyway, so there’s a quick course in host clubs. I would encourage you to go, but would have you heed this advice: First of all, if you’re going to go, you need to be able to understand about 80% of Japanese conversation. If you can’t, it’s not going to be that much fun because at a host club, 99% of it is talking and only about 1% is drinking. So you’re going to be talking, non stop, for about 4 hours. It may not be the most intellectual conversation you could have, but it’s still going to require some Japanese language skills. If you can’t do it, it’s going to be boring for you and hard for your host. Secondly, and lastly, I would caution you to go only if your visiting, not living in, Japan, or if you only have a short amount of time left. Because these guys make a career of getting women to fall in love with them, and inevitably, one of them will succeed with you. And host club going is a VERY expensive hobby/addiction. You need to have limits on yourself so you don’t go broke. I’m just sayin’. But it is a blast, not gonna lie.

Here’s the page of hosts for the club I went to ‘Club Air ~ Grace~,’ which is owned by a company called Air Group (which owns all the other clubs on this page [at the top]). As you can see, there’s the top 5 hosts ranked for this month at the top, then all the others below, with the last three being staff/not hosts. Have a look around the site and enjoy, but fyi, they look nothing like their pictures (not better or worse, just different). http://air.air-group.jp/staffg.html

Host Club Blog on the Horizon

So, last night I did in fact fulfill my silly girlish desire to go to a host club. Naturally, the whole getting in at 2 am and waking up at 7 for classes has left me soundly bushed, thus I come only bearing promises of a LENGTHY blog quite soon. Forgive the laziness and fatigue, I beg. Soon, my friends, soon.

Projections to the Future

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...

So, I know that once again I have fallen behind in my blogging duties, but you have to believe that there really hasn't been much to blog about so far. This is my 'off time' I suppose, where I have to deal with classes and homework and all that perfectly horrible, mandatory nonsense that is, at it's base, the very reason why I am here.

However, there is a shadow of more interesting things to come. This week is the week of fending for myself, as the greater part of my host family is taking a week vacation to Hawaii. While this seemed novel at first, a chance to stay up late and sleep in, I see now that, in fact, it is my school schedule, not my host family that holds me back. So, no sleeping in for me. But, this week, a friend from my American college is coming on a school field trip, and it just so happens that Sunday is her 'free day' to roam around Tokyo, and she's asked me to give her a whirl wind tour. She, like me, is interested in Jrock, so I will, of course, be taking her to the few Jrock stores that I know exist here, as well as going to a very fancy, reservations only Butler cafe in Ikebukuro, called Swallowtail. Our plans are to round out our time together by, oh yes, you guessed it...going to a host club. I'm slightly anxious about this venture, as any reasonable person would be, I think, considering it's expensive, founded on conversation (in Japanese), and not in the best neighborhood. But, you only live once, right?! And, failing that, my host mom and some of her friends are planning a bus tour to a host club next month, myself included. So, one way or the other, I will leave Japan having been to a host club. The video below is a clip of some event planned by the host club I'm hoping we'll be going to, and all the guys in it are hosts that work there. Well, one way or the other, it shall be an adventure and I will certainly have something to report! Til Sunday!

First Sub Job in a Long Time

Hey there night owls! So I sat down to my computer today and did something I haven't done in a really, really long time: sub a video. I heard Yuga's Club Prince cheezoid song on my iPod and it was just so cheezy that I had to sub it. It'll give you a nice, exaggerated slice of what hosts are all about. To give you some info about the man behind the magic, Yugastarted out in a boy band similar to some of the Johnnys bands, but after hardly any time at all, the band busted up, and not knowing what else to do with his life, he turned to host club for his livlihood. Within 3 months, an unprecedentedly small amount of time, he rose to Number One at his club and split soon after saving up some cash to set up his own club. He founded Club Prince, and has since branched out to own several different sorts of highly successful business throughout the entire country, stretching all the way up to Hokkaido, and including host clubs, maid cafes and other businesses. I believe he is now 23, my age, and owns all these businesses and is raking in millions of yen, hand over fist. Part of what sets him apart from other club owners is that he has put his foot down on the intervention of the yakuza in club affairs, which is a common occurence at most clubs. He also refuses to allow his boys, even the best of them, to accept gifts from their customers, instead encouraging them to give it their all and buy for themselves. So anyway, there's a brief synopsis for you, and now, if you're ready for the cheezefest, here's the link: http://www.megaupload.com/?d=YWQ4X6ZN

Here's the website for his club(s). Have to admit, not the best looking bunch of all I've seen
http://www.united-prince.com/main.html