The Story Begins

Welcome to my blog post about my first experience in a Japanese bar (part 1). This story starts in the westerly prefecture of Okayama, Japan. Okayama Prefecture also happens to be known as the prefecture of sunshine, due to its particularly good weather throughout the year. In addition, it is also widely known for delicious fruits such as peaches and grapes, and is the birthplace of the tale of Momotaro, the boy who was born from a peach and went on to slay a bunch of demons with his pet pheasant, monkey and dog. But I think I will write a separate post one day covering some of the great Japanese fairytales.

While Okayama Prefecture is not the main focus of this article, I will be highlighting some of what I think are its best points throughout, as it is one of my favourite areas of Japan

Peach Boy travelling alone in Japan

I was a young and clueless man at the very young age of 21, employed in the British armed forces and had become obsessed with the Japanese language. This led me to visit Japan a number of times by myself to tour the country and visit as many different areas as I could. One of the areas I stopped on my travels was Okayama City.

I would also like to mention early on that at this point in my language studying journey, I had probably only just started approaching the level of super low intermediate, which really limited my ability to have affluent conversations with the people around me (not that it stopped me trying!).

I still look fondly back on the days where I felt nervous and started sweating profusely before trying to talk to someone I didn’t know in Japanese. A feeling I am sure we have all experienced when continuously attempting something we are less than proficient at. But you know what they say, practice makes better.

Alone and on the hunt for some friendly company

 Returning to the topic at hand, one evening I had no particular plans and wanted to engage with some locals for a bit of good old fashioned cultural exchange. I was out for a peaceful walk when a small bar, or should I say the small neon sign of the bar caught my eye. It read “Charlies” and I thought to myself, Charlie sounds like a strange Japanese name, but it piqued my interest.

In all honesty, I have never really been a drinker. Nor someone who likes to socialize out on the town, so the thought of entering a bar in a foreign country alone was a little daunting. I stood outside trying to eye up the place, the vibe, the prices etc. as much as I could without looking like a lonely stray dog who wanted to come inside. I learned a little bit about myself that day. It turns out I am a little shy and my personality falls closer to caution, than oblivious daredevilry. A bit of a shocking revelation, but you know, everyday is indeed a learning day.

Although it had probably been only around 10 seconds, it felt like I had been standing outside this bar for a good minute or two, frozen by my lack of ability to make a decision. To my good fortune, one of the customers from inside the bar came to save me from my peril. “Hi, would you like to come inside?” She asked. Before I had a chance to reply she followed with “Everyone is really friendly. So come in for a drink if you want!”.

I was surprised. Firstly, by her kindness, reaching out to a stranger who may not be able to even understand what she was saying. Then secondly, the courage she showed coming out and talking to me. The flowing alcohol may have helped her, but nonetheless, that was the same courage I struggled to muster in the first place. She was like the figurative human torch freeing me from my invisible ice trap.

Walking into Charlies

A kind invitation from a stranger is all it took for me to reply with a smile on my face and follow her through the door into Charlie’s Bar. She quickly introduced me to the owner (and the only person actually working in the bar) and he welcomed me and pointed me towards the counter to join a few other customers already sitting down.

Everyone was friendly and welcoming and the owner talked to me in a unique blend of Japanese, English and the local regional dialect, which was both hilarious and confusing. Just the right balance to get relaxed and order a bevvy.

There must have only been around 6 seats or so at the counter. Towards the back of the bar were a few low riding square tables which could probably sit 2-3 people each. To give you a good feel of the size, I would say the bar would be jam packed with 15 people. With 20, you probably couldn’t move around without rubbing a few cheeks (face and ass).

Let me introduce one of the many small but fantastic differences between the English and Japanese language. In Japanese, you generally call the owner of the bar “Master” or マスター in Japanese. While this feels pretty foreign in English, I think it has a great ring to it and comes with a level of authority and respect that you just don’t get anywhere in the English-speaking world. (Though after some thought, “Bar keep” does have a bit of class to it.)

As I talked more with the Master of the bar (who was not called Charlie by the way), I learned two things. The first was that he had incredible communication skills. Now I am not referring to his English, but the way he interacted with all the different customers. Making sure they were comfortable, engaging them with appropriate conversation and connecting conversations between customers or groups that he had noticed shared common interests. Being able to positively affect the environment through communication like this is no easy feat, and I was impressed.

Real life Pervy Sage of the Hidden Bar Village

The second thing I learned was that the master was without a doubt a massive hentai, or pervert. Though I don’t really care for that word as it comes with negative undertones. In the male world, having a strong fondness for women of all types, shapes and sizes is far from taboo, and if anything is the norm.

Now let me just clarify that this particular master’s “fondness” was off the charts. Hearing about some of his sexual adventures from his youth made for great conversation and gave me a chance to peer through the peek hole into popular Japanese sexual dalliances from a different time.

Drinking the Night Away

Aside from the master, there were a few local patrons at the counter who I enjoyed talking to. The older gentleman to my right whose demeaner and facial expression brings the image of sleepy from the Seven Dwarves or the Pokemon Drowzie (pick your poison) to mind, was generous enough to buy everyone a few rounds of drinks in celebration of the young foreigner (me) appearing into their lives. I enjoyed my first ever glass of Makoli, a creamy Korean beverage with a few slices of pizza and we laughed long into the night.

After a full night of drinking, eating and listening to the adult rated tales of the bar master, I was ready to head home with a smile on my face and a large excess of calories in my stomach. The bar was also reaching its closing time and I needed to pay the piper. I got out my wallet and began to ask for the bill when all of the local patrons around me erupted in refusal. “We were happy to have you as a guest today, no need for you to pay!” They shouted.

Before leaving, I made a promise that I would return. Bringing a bottle of something nice from the UK as a thank you for a fantastic night and everyone’s kind hospitality.

This was indeed not the last time I saw master Charlie, so to continue reading this story please stay tuned.

This brings an end to part one of my first experience in a Japanese bar blog post. I will upload part 2 soon so make sure to frequently check back! For those who have any heartwarming or even gut-wretching experiences of going to a bar abroad, leave a comment and share your story!