Project Hitchhiker | travels, stories and adventures in lifestyle design
welcome to my blog
Project Hitchhiker is the online creative outlet of Mike H.
Mike’s adventures have taken him across 3 continents, including driving a motorcycle for 6 months across Southeast Asia, hitchhiking across Canada and Japan, and walking 1000 miles along the coastline of Nova Scotia.
Mike’s passions are music, travel and motorcycles (in that order).
Mike’s dislikes include writing about himself in the third person.
This site is a collection of his travels, stories and adventures in lifestyle design.
Jules is the most Japanese white guy I know. Not your predictable J-pop loving, Anime-watching, AV Idol-obsessed Japanophile. No, Jules is the exception to the rule. After four years of living in the Kanto region, he speaks near-perfect Japanese, and uses a dialect unique to Osaka — one used by many Japanese comedians. He works at a host club — an industry found only in Japan — where wealthy, lonely women pay exorbitant sums of money to sit and drink with charismatic, fashionable and conversationally skilled young Japanese men… and one white guy named Jules. All of his co-workers and customers are Japanese and none of them speak any English. He is the antithesis of the ESL teacher in Japan.
In the past few years, Jules has had a number of encounters with the Japanese mafia – the Yakuza – from jealous husbands of host club customers, to low-level gang members drunk on the streets of Tokyo. This story is maybe the most bizarre and interesting.
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The story takes place about a year ago, as Jules was whiling away an afternoon at a sento — a kind of urban onsen (Japanese public bath) – in Osaka.
The bath house goes silent as three Japanese men walk in wearing towels. The men are heavily tattooed in the style of the Japanese mafia. The important-looking middle-aged man walks to the hottest bath, unwraps his towel, and slowly lowers himself in the water, letting everyone in the room know that the water is hot. “Ach, ach, ach ach….”
The other two men sit down on the wall of the pool on either side of him, their eyes scanning the room. Jules is intrigued. He walks over to the same bath and sits across from the middle-aged guy – let’s call him Mafia boss for now. The two presumed bodyguards give Jules severe looks, but he pretends not to notice. “Hey, that’s a pretty fuckin’ nice tattoo” Jules says to Mafia boss, in his harsh, informal Japanese. He looks up and examines Jules, holding eye contact for a few long seconds — as if trying to see his true character – before answering. “Thanks,” says the boss, then showing a half smile. “I got this one,” he says, pointing to a golden carp and a set of waves on his right shoulder, “after I got shot with a nine millimeter in ’85… to cover the scar”. The two start talking and soon Jules has Mafia boss laughing with his charisma and his many stories. “And so I dumped the girl and started dating her mom! Man, she was pissed!!”
The boss offers Jules a beer. “Damn….” Jules says, thinking how there’s usually no alcohol permitted in sentos. He smiles. “I’ll have two.” The boss slaps the meaner-looking bodyguard on the shoulder. “Oi! Stupid!” the boss yells. “Go get us some beers at the convenience store!” The bodyguard looks confused. “Go!” He yells, and laughs. The diminished guard quickly walks to the change room. At this exchange, the few remaining customers also quietly slip into the change rooms to leave. Jules relaxes into the steaming bath, knowing he is in for an adventurous afternoon.
People have been emailing me, telling me that I don’t post regularly enough, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to do a short post a week with a couple of photos (in addition to when I actually have something to say, rather than just reminiscing). Just to get me in the habit of posting something (however brief) every week. I’m just going to include random photos that I like or that have a story behind them.
An article I wrote about six months ago was published in the June issue of Japanzine (an in-print magazine for expats in Japan). And it’s the cover story, so that’s a first.
Cosplay: Corruption of the English Costume Play; To dress up in character (maid, schoolgirl, anime, furry animal). A cultural expression of socially awkward Japanese. Also a popular genre of Adult Video.
Karaoke: From the Japanese Karappo meaning empty, and the English Orchestra (oke); A worldwide phenomena wherein people who can’t really sing are encouraged to sing publicly.
A few friends and I went in November. This is the video that wasn’t supposed to get out…
“It’s like, if your life were a movie, this is the turning point, this is where you hop on a plane and say ‘Fuck yeah. I’m gonna do this shit’.” He pauses.
I’m at a Mexican restaurant having dinner with two famous pickup artists that I had interviewed recently for an article. They have since become good friends.
Allusion continues, “That, or you act like a scared pussy, ignore the opportunity, and pretend like nothing ever happened.”
It was true, but I didn’t need convincing. I knew what my choice was and I had already made it in my mind. One week notice at my job. Plane ticket reserved.
This was two days ago. Earlier in the day I had been contacted by a (here unnamed) Canadian/International Non-Profit Organization for a job interview that I had wanted since I realized I would actually have to work a “real job” after university.
The problem is I have a pretty sweet life going here in Osaka. Great friends, great lifestyle, decent (read: mindless) job… But even if I statistically have only a 40% chance of landing this job, I know that I have to do it. Not only do it, but give it 150%, which means cutting ties in Japan and planning as if I will be the next international field worker for X international organization. (You may say, what a cocky bastard, but in actual fact, I believe my chances to be closer to 90% based on my awesomeness and drive to achieve this goal).
So, back to Halifax it is.
I hate winter. I hate cold. And I really hate snow. But this is my movie moment, and I’m determined to direct my own film.
Hali: See yall soon. I’ll be intently focused and preparing until after the interview on the 11th of March. Then, the celebrations.
Below, a video of my roommate Erika, singing an improvised song about me leaving. (She doesn’t know it’s to the tune of Tenacious D’s F#$% Her Gently…)
Christmas in Japan is for lovers. In Canada, people enjoy special time with their families, going to church and such. Here in Osaka, the streets are lined with couples going to movies, shopping for couture, and lined up to eat fried chicken. Yeah, apparently KFC has done such a good job at marketing in Japan that most Japanese people think it’s what North Americans do. Another point for capitalism (although it’s not like it’s difficult, here in Japan).
This holiday season, I decided to go in search of the famed Santa-themed Love Hotel, Hotel Chapel Christmas. Again I enlisted the help of a research partner to join me. First, we did one of my top 10 favorite things to do in Japan: Kaiten Sushi bar hopping (the restaurants where you pick your sushi from a revolving conveyor belt; each plate costs about a dollar). This is basically going a sushi place, eating two or three plates of their best/freshest sushi, then picking up and doing the same at the next three or four sushi restaurants.
In keeping up with the accountability list I posted the other day, I decided to go in search of the “Gang Snowman” Love Hotel. This hotel is kind of underground-famous in Osaka for its Cadillac-converted spa on the roof (the headlights flash and horn honks when the car shakes…) and it’s extreme S&M themed rooms.
First step was to enlist a research assistant (who shall remain anonymous…) and then head to the love hotel district: Tanimachi 9-cho-me.
My research assistant and I came across a few strangely named love hotels, but no “Gang Snowman”…
We found this one for kinky Vegans:
And this one that was a little slightly more appropriately named.
We went and checked out the pictures of the rooms, but there wasn’t anything too exciting, so we kept on.
