(Slight language and concept warning, like, probably ‘PG’ rated. Post contains the ‘S’ word.)
Today we went to Tokyo, and stopped at an incredibly trendy café Starbucks, bought a coffee and mooched off of their free wireless internet. Dana discovered that there was apparently a ‘Record Fair’ on in Ginza. Ginza didn’t look too far on the map, so we decided to leg it (for those of you who do not understand my colloquialism, I mean, we walked).
I felt like we were on an adventure to find Emerald City. Dana was so excited all morning at the prospect of going to a record fair. His little face gleamed with happiness, and he had a spring in his step the entire way. It was so great to see him so happy. Like a little child on Christmas Eve. We spend the morning fantasizing about the record treasures we might find in a place like Japan.
I love that familiar musty smell of old records, the way your fingers get so dusty trawling through all of them. Old records make me sneeze. There is nothing like the feeling of bringing home a new found record for the first time; Gingerly placing it down on the turntable and gently lowering the needle. All to hear that beautifully warm crackle, and slightly muffled sound. In that instant, I am home. I could lay on the floor and just listen whilst staring at the ceiling all day (if it weren’t for the fact of me having to get up and turn the damn thing over every 20 minutes).
So, we arrived in Ginza, after walking for about 40 minutes. Ginza is home to many flagship designer stores – everything is really larger than life. I was pretty excited to make a pit-stop into a shop that sold hosiery – Anna Sui and Vivian Westwood. I bought way too many a couple of pairs.
FINALLY, after our morning of anticipation, we discovered our Nirvana – the Ginza Yamaha flagship store. Seven levels of bliss; or so we thought.
We floated in, awestruck, in amazement, in a daze of wonder. Dana excitedly went up to the information lady (who was dressed in the loveliest little sailor-like uniform – complete with bow-tie and everything), and asked for directions to the ‘Record Fair’.
He was met with a slightly confused look, followed by a, “Oh, yes, thank you veddy much, I show you, dis way please!” The lady directed us to the fifth floor.
As we got into the elevator, I noticed a sign saying, “Recorder Fair”. “Haha, what a funny translation”, I thought. I bent down closer to focus on the picture.
It was a picture of wooden recorders all neatly lined up on a shelf. You, know, the kind you learn to play when you’re in Grade two? Oh. Shit.
“Dana, I have some bad news for you”, as the elevator went up. (I nervously bit my bottom lip)
“Yeah?!” (still excited)
(motions hand towards sign)
Dana’s face dropped, like I’d never seen it drop before. I was faced with the saddest boy in the world. Robert Smith was wrong in saying that “boys don’t cry”, I know that they definitely can.
SO… we decided to continue on to the recorder fair regardless. I must admit, we were slightly intrigued, wouldn’t you be?
As we the elevator doors slid open, we were greeted by a myriad of friendly toots and pips, made by many a recorder enthusiast. I must say, the combination of this sound and the sight of it all was quite comforting. Dana and I burst into laughter. It was difficult to stifle. I slyly took these photos, just so I could show you.
It was good, after all of this orienteering, to make our way back to Harajuku, to meet up with some trusy friends (yet again Daniel Joy and Duffy), and have some belly warming crepes. We also went to a place called, ‘Kiddie Land’ and I bought some presents for some little people I love. All before going back to our bunk beds, and falling into bed, asleep before my head even hit the pillow.