New Year's Eve, Japan-style

We ventured out at 11pm to empty streets.  I comment to my son, "I've never seen Tokyo so quiet" and we all ponder this for a few minutes.  We have the sidewalk to ourselves.  Twenty minutes later, we hit the crowds. 

Food stalls line the sidewalk.  People are lined up ten deep at the local shrine.  We walk by the scents of food--chicken, beef, and pork on skewers, noodles mixed with vegetables, octopus pancakes in small balls, pastries, candy, sweet sake.  It's a good thing I ate little during the day.  My stomach grumbles.

Hungry and ready to eat, we stop at a chicken stand.  We ask for a variety of chicken bits on sticks, and the father-son team behind the grill talk to us in English.  Dad puts his hands together and says, "Pray?  Japan-style?" and I say, "Yes."  He grins.  "Thank you."

Ten minutes later, the line in front of the shrine is now over 100 deep and I look at my phone, noting we're ten minutes away from midnight.  Another ten minutes and the line is now out in the street, cops and firefighters directing traffic away from the worshipers. 

We make our way to another bunch of stalls, this one set up in a park.  My son looks at grilled fish on a stick--whole--and says, "I want one."  He smiles and I grin back. 

I pass the stalls selling cartoon masks.  "I wanted these when I was a kid!"  Then there are the candy stalls.  "These, too!"

At each stall, I peer in to see who's behind the stove, grill, counter.  I look at my husband and say, "Here's another way Japan has changed.  These stalls used to be run by the yakuza guys.  These people aren't."

They're around, of course.  The chimpira, yakuza wannabes (guys lower down on the totem pole) stick out by their outfits and tightly permed hair.  That they don't mind being seen in public wearing outfits their mothers would cringe at is a tell-tale sign of who they are.  They swagger.  Really.  It's a sight to see.

Sumo wrestlers, very large men in traditional yukata walk through the crowds and people part to let them pass.  People stare and then look away, a mixture of awe, respect, and just a bit of fear, as we all pretend to look and yet not look.  

We eat ourselves silly, pay way too much for street food, and are happy and content as we make our way back to our apartment.  The streets are now buzzing with people.  Gone is the quiet from before.  Taxis weave in and out.  We can hardly walk through the crowds on the sidewalks going this way and that.  A most perfect way to spend New Year's Eve in Tokyo.  May this be the beginning of many more.