Oh, number 3. Nothing is locked. Everyone just leaves their bikes in the street. No locks. Tokyo has no bike thieves.

So I spend midday searching the web for jobs and homes.
Stressful. I hate looking for jobs, because it’s like you look for a good one and it’s maybe too good and you wouldn’t qualify so you go for an easy one and then you can’t survive.

But, I trawled Metropolis and sent off a few emails. I also phoned the e-mix guy and I have an interview on Tuesday. If I’m on a wage of 1,000/h, I’d have to work a 35 hour week and I dunno if he’d let me do that. There are other part-time jobs, I guess. I might try again at the WHM office on Monday.

Places to live: I found a place in Nishi-Kawaguchi for the low low price of 25,000/month, though it is on the outskirts of the city. Applied anyway. They said they’d get back to me on the next working day, by which time I’ll be homeless. Decided to go down to Shinjuku to find the Sakura House people, to see what they could offer.

Shinjuku is the business district, but it’s also the young people district. A very different feel to, say, Suidobashi:

Walked around. God, the skyscrapers are huge!!

Eventually tracked down Sakura House office (kudos to them for good signposting). Went in, had a chat, and… long story short, I move in to Uguisudaui A on Monday. Conveniently placed, good facilities, reputable company… and 49,000/month. Ouch. Well, it’s cheap for where it is, and I can’t really hang around waiting for Nishi-Kawaguchi to get back to me. I can cancel after a month, too.

And it always seems to me that if it sounds too cheap to be true, it probably is.

So I thought I might head then:

…to Harajuku to find this place that apparently wants extras for a film. It’s a short hop on the Yamanote line. I get off, and already the place is full of the young peoples. I spot an inviting street, catch my breath:

…and dived in.

Harajuku. It’s about twenty times crazier than you’ve heard. There really are gothic lolitas and five-inch platform shoes and guys with insane hair and tons of weird clothes shops and you can’t stop, you just get drawn along in the crowd.

I walked around looking for this agency place but couldn’t find it. Stopped to take a breath, and a man came up, placed a cat on the subway entrance, and began combing it.

And so I left Harajuku with the sun going down, and a cold can of cheap Calpis. A man played guitar. Oh Tokyo, you crazy place.

Think I’ll head to Roppongi. Or the “‘Pong”, as the local ex-pats call it. Apparently.