It was a Wednesday night , but Kabukicho in Shinjuku was humming. Even the cats in Golden Gai were on the prowl. I was headed through Shinjuku Station to the Yamanote line to take me homeward.
A cardinal rule of coexistence on the trains in Tokyo (and trains are central to life here) is that you don't look at anyone directly. You may have your nose pressed up against the cheek of the person next to you, but you never 'notice' that they are there. Well, as a gaijin and a person whose life is about looking at the world, I do look, and on occasion take a picture. Usually everyone goes along with this and pretends that they don't see me.
This night I nabbed a seat and casually pointed the camera across the aisle. I snapped a few exposures of the people across from me, then glanced to my right. A young woman was glaring at me - sort of a scowling evil-eye expression combining disbelief and disapproval. I innocently gave her a look back - like the French bof expression meaning something like, 'it can't be helped'. She kept giving me the same look, with emphasis. No one else on the train pays any attention to either of us.
So I lift the camera (a Nikon dslr - not exactly a spy camera) and take another picture. I look back to my commentator and see her covering her face with her hands, squirming with the effort of keeping herself from laughing out loud. She catches my eye and goes into another paroxysm. I get off at Shibuya to transfer to the Toyoko line, that takes me to my home.
