Half Moon Over Koenji

If I were a memoir teacher seeking work here, I might starve to death. The idea that one has his or her own unique life story is alien. The Japanese move in unison. They are, compared to Europeans, small, modest, polite, considerate, and never rude. Even the smallest gesture, such as staring at a foreigner for one second, would be considered rude.

But they must watch one another, though I can rarely catch them at it. The women here favor designer jeans and black jackets, or tiny skirts or wool shorts over sheer tights. They wear boots, heels or (in a few cases) high top Converse tennis shoes. So they show a lot of leg, which you would think would cause at least an occasional head to turn.

But no! I'm not sure, but I think they have must have a highly developed skill of employing peripheral vision, utilizing reflections in windows and scanning each other as they feign interest in the items on display all around these crowded alleyways. How else do they gather the information about each other they must so desperately seek?

Rarely do strangers speak to one another. In traffic, horns never honk. If someone should stumble, everyone catches his or her breath until he regains his step. He blushes, smiles awkwardly, and makes a motion with both hands that indicates he has regained his stability, that there is no reason for concern.

This is a society that worships little girls, which is fine, but as they become teenagers, it becomes problematic. I managed to walk through the Koengi red light district last night. It is immediately apparent: tall, garish signs of every color advertising each club's unique qualities and what appear to be Polaroid photos of the actual girls within. One club advertises girls dressed up as nurses; another presents "school girls," in their pleated miniskirts. Yet another features policewomen; hmmm, this would go over well in San Francisco.

The girls in the photos all look to be about 14. Now, my friends tell me you can as a rule of thumb subtract 5 years from any female's age in order to discover her age here, so I will assume these prostitutes are more like 19.



But still, this open trade in the comforts of human flesh raises questions about Japanese society, though no more than it does in our own, since the world's oldest profession thrives all over the U.S. as well, of course. In this tiny neighborhood red-light district, those on the street are mainly men and most are drunk, weaving slightly, or standing in clusters, openly drinking beer from cans.

Now and again, the Yakuza make an appearance. These are the mobsters who control the prostitution rings, the drug trade, gambling, and other illicit businesses in Japan. You can easily recognize them because they are big, scary men in black who travel in a pack, conveying to everyone in the area that the bosses have arrived.

Oddly, however, they are much more Japanese than mobster. Thus, they are extremely polite and modest individuals, prone to bowing and speaking politely if addressed. They love ceremonies and often gather for special meals in local restaurants. But they come and go in a respectful manner, not wishing to disturb the neighbors.