Day 14: part 2 - Fourth butoh dance class

After seeing the dance performance the previous night, I was even more excited to see what this night's class might hold.

Yoshito Ohno sensei started the class with a squeezing exercise. The same cloths as last time were handed out, and the first words that I heard him say were that Obama is squeezing a cloth for Syrian suffering, for the children who are suffering. I suppose this means that Obama must be agonizing over the suffering in Syria, yet must further know and understand that his own powers to solve the world's crises are limited. What should he do? What is he going to do? When I practiced this exercise, I squeezed the cloth. I thought it was important not to necessarily try to pull the cloth apart, though that was my first inclination. Instead, just squeeze the cloth in my hands. Furthermore, in order to squeeze my whole body, I flexed every muscle that I could feel: my abs, chest, arms, legs, feet, neck, face, and head. If my hair could flex and squeeze, I would try to do that, too.

Then Yoshito showed what it means to squeeze. While the arms are squeezing the cloth, the shoulders want to move forward, to go somewhere else. However, the shoulder says, "I won't go, I won't go." It is as if someone holds you from moving. We should squeeze our hands and our body as counter to each other. The body turns and twists away from the hands that are squeezing so much; trying to turn away, but cannot, "I won't go, I won't go." He illustrated this by holding one dancer's shoulder back, while the dancer had to try to push through, but couldn't. That is how our shoulder should move, as if someone were holding it back, but it wants to move forward, move away. But then it breaks through, and lets loose when it is free. So we exercised with that idea.

He then showed us pictures of painting by a Japanese painter I had never heard of, Leonard Foujita. Yoshito said that he painted many kinds of workers and children, suffering children, children crying. Kodomo, kodomo, kodomo. Dance.

The next lesson Yoshito began by talking about Hijikata. Hijikata asks us to practice sleeping. What is it like to let your body go. It might be a little unbalanced. Feeling will follow when unbalanced. Being a little unbalanced is very important. He then reminded us of crying children. Dance.

Ohno sensei then recalled the dance performance from the previous night. He noted that I was there, along with a couple of other students. That made me feel good. He told us that Mana san has special eyes. She can't see, so we can't see her. Be a crying child; watch me; watch my eyes. He said that it is the same in Kabuki. This is very important. He then reiterated a comment from the previous class, that even for opera singers, singing pianissimo is the most serious, and the most difficult thing. Tamete: store everything, hold yourself like a spring that is ready to burst.

He then brought out tissue paper. Kazuo said that the soul is first; Hijikata says that life is first, then form and body follows. Were Hijikata and Kazuo saying different things? Were they saying the same thing? Yoshito claimed that young people cannot express themselves, so one purpose of theatre is that we should teach them how to express themselves, and show them how to do it. Use the tissue to make a flower. What is beauty? What is kind in you? He reminded us that I do not make the flower, but I bring it out. Think about the blind dancer who cannot see. Doesn't that mean that we see too much? Afterall, she seems to live wonderfully, and express herself perfectly. How does she see, then? We should try to see with the heart.

After bringing out flowers through the material of the tissue, Yoshito then brought out buckets of water. He said that he was inspired by Mana san's reference to Helen Keller the previous night. Usually, he said, he does this exercise during the winter, when the water is nearly frozen. However, he was bringing it out today so that we could try to relate to the example of Helen Keller. Paper soaks in water; we should make our body soak in the water in the same way. Make your body soak in the air; make your body soak in the music. Then it is your music; Chopin's music becomes Kazuo's music. So it was with tango and La Argentina for Kazuo. Be like Helen Keller: this is water... this is water. When I put my hands in the water, and tried to tansfix my mind on the experience, Yoshito came to me and adjusted my pose. This is the second time in these classes that he has given me personal attention to try and make my exercise and practice more effective. I appreciated it.

Yoshito then spoke of Hijikata again. He said that their first butoh dance was in 1959. Hijikata was strong, with bronzed skin. Two years later he returns, and he was weak, and cold and white. Instead of a strong dance, he danced a bone dance; he didn't need muscles. Kazuo was in the war for 9 years. Life has an effect on psyche, and thus on dance. Water soaks in. This is water. How cold is it? The senses are delicate. Let them be delicate and soak in life.

A little girl. Her mother. The tsunami. Aaaahhh! Dance and soul come out. Dance as if the soul comes out. Angry... with pain. When Kazuo dances, people hear his soul screaming out. We better practice this. Aaaahhh! Let the soul come out.

Kazuo knew that the end was the most important, always thinking of difficult matters. But he picks music without meaning. Like life, we should keep struggling and wrestling with this. This resonated with me. I have often said that in time based art forms, like story telling and music, that the end is the most important. It was good to hear Ohno sensei say the same thing. I also like that he pointed out that music is meaningless. This must mean that we bring meaning to the music. How do we do that? Where does meaning come from? What justification do we have for bringing such meaning to music?

The next exercise was a revisiting of the cotton bunch. Yoshito said, "Strong," and pulled the cotton apart without breaking it. Indeed, before this class, I never realized how strong cotton was, yet how soft it was, and how easily it could be broken. He pulled it apart. Strong. Delicately. Stretch it out. I am a baby now. Soft, so with a baby's body. This time he played music by Antony Hegerty, whom he frequently referenced over the last couple of weeks, but whose music didn't play (while I was there) until today. The reason that Yoshito talks about Antony a lot is that Antony and Kazuo had a performance together soon before Kazuo died. Antony's music turned Kazuo into a little girl. When he transformed into a little girl, and Antony saw this, Antony then realized the power of his music, and now tries to imbue his music with the power to transform.

Become a little girl, with an audience of 1000 people, with an audience of 10,000 people. The little girl stretches cotton, and searches for mama lost in the tsunami. But remember that in Japanese culture, Yoshito says, that a little girl is shy to meet guests, then curiously approaches, mysteriously. It is very important to be mysterious. But first you must have space; it is because of the space that you are shy. This reminded me of my friend's children in Shizuoka. Are they shy? They certainly stayed close to mama and papa when I first came, but they opened up quickly. Why? Was it because of me? Or was it because of them? Or was it because of the intangible relationship, the invisible connection, the unknowable energy that somehow existed between us? Think about performing in front of 10,000 people. It is no different, and no less magical than performing for just one person.

Then Yoshito told us to become stone. But everyone's stone is different. I am happy that he said that last part. For me, the connection is made with the gently smiling Jizo statues made of stone found throughout Japan. They are almost always childish looking. But then I also make a connection to the Jizo from Soseki's "Third Night." This was a heavy stone Jizo that weighed on a man and reminded him of his guilt. Experiene stone.

But before we were dismissed from my last butoh class, Yoshito surprised us with a completely different exercise. Someone asked him (or Kazuo) what butoh is for him? There are many different answers, with many different goals. He showed us a picture of a Salvador Dali painting. I don't know that that meant, or what connection that Yoshito was intending. Perhaps this was related the the previous class's comment that butoh was surrealism (or was it realism?). In any case, Kazuo's response to the question followed. What is butoh for you? Yoshito said "pray." Or was it "play?" Both interpretations seemed relevant. Either way, is play different from pray? Then he told us that he would play Vivaldi's "Spring," "Primavera." Spring brings skipping. Children jump and skip during spring. Store it all in your body, and then like a spring, let it out! Run and skip all over! Skip low, skip high. Everyone was running and skipping around the studio. Everyone seemed so happy and envigorated, which contrasted with the typical notions of butoh, and most of the exercises we had been performing.

That was how the class ended. Afterwards, like all the other classes, tea and sushi rolls were set out to eat and drink and socialize. I spoke with some of the other students who could communicate in English, and got contact information for some folks. I hope to keep in touch with these wonderful artists and new friends. I finally spoke with Yoshito Ohno and told him how much I learned, how inspirational it had been, and how much I appreciated the class.

Day 14: part 1 - Tokyo Sky Tree

Yet another morning came, and I didn't know what to do with my last full day in Japan. I knew for sure that I would go to the butoh class tonight, but that wasn't until 8 o'clock. What was I supposed to do until then?

The sky outside was beautiful, and as usual from my Asakusa hotel, I had a great view of the Tokyo Sky Tree. This reminded me that about a week ago, or so, my friend had taken me here, and I had thought about coming back. The reason that I wanted to come back to the Sky Tree was because I enjoy taking photographs and creating panoramic collage images by stitching the photos together. When I was in Tokyo six years ago, I went high in the Mori Hills Tower in Roppongi to create a similar collage. Since this place was so close, and I have made other such collages (Vatican City comes to mind), I felt like I should take advantage of the opportunity and try to create another such collage of Tokyo, from a far different perspective. (Also, I didn't want to bother my friend with me taking several hundred photos all around the observation deck, so I couldn't do it before, but this time would be perfect because I was alone.)

When I got to the observation deck, it did not seem like the day was as clear as it had seemed from almost 400 meters below. There was a lot of haze in the atmosphere, and the far away buildings could not be seen as clearly as I had hoped. Eh, well these are the ways that things happen sometimes, but the project would have to get done.

So I started snapping away photos from each of the windows all around the Sky Tree observation deck. Because there were so many people, this did make it a bit challenging simply because I would have to wait for a people to leave a window that I needed to shoot from.

At one point, in the rush to sneak into a space where I could get the shot I wanted, I accidentally brushed against someone's leg. I quickly apologized, and he seemed to have no problem with the matter. In fact, he and his wife began to talk to me, and ask me questions. We ended up having a conversation for about 30 minutes about travelling, America, Japan, family, and cameras. This conversation happened in a some sort of pidgin language that incorporated my own broken Japanese, their broken English, and a lot of hand gestures. I really enjoyed the conversation that I had with these folks, and almost didn't want it to end. However, I had pictures to take, and they had to go get lunch, so that was that. Before leaving, the lady insisted on giving me her business card, and appreciated it. I hope to email all of the people I've met here in Japan after I return home.

In any case, I finished snapping all the pictures, but before I left I had to take a shot of the uniform that the Sky Tree staff were wearing. I loved the little designs on the shirt, and only later realized they are stylized trees. But the best part of the outfit was the scarf that the men had to wear around their necks. Men don't wear kerchiefs like this anymore.

Day 13: part 3 - Mana Hashimoto

(Although there was a photographer taking pictures during the performance, I believed it was her personal photographer, so I didn't feel comfortable taking pictures myself.)

My first day in the dance classes, the manager of the studio was happy that I had come all the way from New York for the class. There certainly seemed nothing special about that since there were so many other international students there as well. She was very happy to pass on some information, however, about a New York based Japanese dancer who was going to perform tonight in Shibuya, Mana Hashimoto. So, in addition to taking some dance classes, I could experience a dance performance as well.

Despite my coming here the previous night, I still got lost. But because I knew where I was supposed to be, and what landmarks I was supposed to pass, I found my way back on the right path fairly quickly.

When I got to the place, I was happy to see some of the students from the dance class. It was the one guy whom I thought was the best, and the most serious, along with what seemed to be his dance partner and/ or girlfriend who also attends the class. Because he speaks a little English I tried to start a conversation with him, but he didn't seem very interested for whatever reason. It might be that he is one of those artists who is always very serious and in dance-mind mode, or perhaps he was just shy, or insecure about his own English language abilities. Either way, I didn't mind too much.

The space was rather small, simply an open space with a wooden floor on the fifth floor of this building. It reminded me of any number of small spaces in which I have seen independent productions in New York City.

I was also very happy to see our dance teacher there, Yoshito Ohno. I didn't want to invade his space too much, but we did exchange nods, acknowledging each other. He seemed to be the superstar that I had envisioned him to be, because when he walked in, everybody seemed to realize it. Many of the people from the venue rushed up to greet him, and introduce him to other people. They laid out circular cushions so that everyone could sit on the floor comfortably, about three rows deep. Along the back wall, there were chairs or stools where people could sit. Mostly these seemed to be reserved for the older people in the audience. I think that before the performance began, there were probably about 50 people in the audience. Along with the 500 yen (five dollars) admission fee, a free drink was included, so I started off with a beer. I felt that I might need to be a bit intoxicated to really get the most out of whatever I was going to see.

While I was waiting alone for the performance to begin, I read over the performer's bio and program notes. The performance was called "Presely" after Elvis Presely, and the spirit of the show was to somehow acknowledge or communicate with or honor her father, who passed away in the 1980s and loved Elvis Presely to the point of even being a bit of an impersonator. Furthermore, she had moved to America in 1993 to study music composition. In 1998 she became completely blind by some previously undiagnosed defect in her optic nerves.

Mana Hashimoto began the performance with a long monologue. I suppose that she was trying to explain what the performance was supposed to be about, and what she planned to accomplish with the performance. Or something. Because it was all in Japanese, I didn't understand a thing, so I just sat quietly and stared. Because she became blind later in life, here eyes looked like they were normal, except that they seemed to be staring off into a space very far behind us.

When she began to dance, there was no music accompaniment, but she simply sat on a fur covered stool in the middle of the room and moved her arms and legs. She really used her hands and feet when she danced. She then stood and violently threw the stool aside after seeming to analyze its texture.

A man came in and rolled up like a bug on the floor in front of her, holding up a blindman's cane as if it were a tree, and he were the rock it was growing from. She felt her way towards him, and crawled on him, almost in a loving manner. After a few moments, the man threw her off and walked away. She then used the cane, and seemed to be convulsing with it. I couldn't quite make sense of it, but I wonder if I was supposed to.

When she stood up with the cane, it seemed as if she was using it as an oar, and rowing an imaginary boat upon which she was floating. Was the boat on the ground? In the water? In the air? Before I could answer that question, she seemed to stab herself in the throat with the cane. She fell to the foot of the audience, who all seemed to be startled, and scooch back, even moving their drinks so that nothing would be spilled.

When she finally makes herself stand back up, I she seemed to walk with the cane as one might imagine a blind person walking with a cane down the street. She then folded up the cane neatly and carefully, and then uses the short prod to analyze and feel the texture of her face and neck. She then used her hands and fingers to feel the silk texture of her shirt, along the jewel studded collar, before she took it off, and folded it neatly, wrapping the cane with it and setting it down nicely. (I forgot to mention that earlier she had taken off her pants, and threw them off to the side.) Now she was wearing only a sports bra and sports underwear. After turning her back to the audience, she then pulled her bra off over her head, set it down, and walked towards the wall, all while her back was to the audience. That means that we never got the opportunity to see her naked breasts while she was dancing against the wall and before another attendant came in and dressed her in a cream colored blouse and pants, a contrast from the red blouse and black pants she was wearing to being the performance. Perhaps this was to signal a significant transition in the performance. What we were transitioning from or to, however, I could not tell you.

She then stood straight up and approached the audience and began to speak to the audience with another monologue. I supposed that she was saying something about Elvis and her father, and the relation he had with Elvis. Again, I could not understand much of it at all. This monologue seemed to reflect the openning monologue, and I guessed that it might signal the end of the performance. It did not. While the openning monologue seemed long and lasted several minutes, this one wsa shorter, and lasted only a few minutes.

She then returned to dancing, and remained in a pose with her back arched backwards, and arms behind her while looking to the ceiling. It seemed that she purposefully kept herself from blinking. Perhaps this helped bring a single tear to drop down her face as she remained in the statuesque pose that was supposed to represent some deep emotion that usually illicits tears.

She the seemed to dance with the spirit of her father for several minutes before falling to the ground. When she got back up, she seemed to hug her father in a caressing and loving manner. Even groping for his legs when she was still on the ground. After she embraced him for a hile, it seemed that she was thrown back, by what, I don't know. Was it supposed to be her father pushing her away, or some other force that was seperating them forcefully?

She then danced to the Elvis' song "I can' Help Falling in Love With You." (In fact, I am fairly sure that is not the name of the song, but that is the line that stands out most in the chorus.) To be sure, though most of the performance was unaccompanied by any music, there were a few spots throughout where some Elvis song or another was playing. However, these were few and far between, and the music only lasted for a couple of minutes. When the music was playing, she seemed to dance responding to the music, but her movements were not very different from the movements she performed when there was no music. The excerpts she selected seemed to be about some emotion that perhaps she felt for her father, but what Elvis song does not express such common emotions?

After the song finished, she stood straight up and announced that she was done. She then spoke for several minutes about Helen Keller and her essay "Three Days to See." I suppose that Mana Hashimoto, being blind but still wanting to participate in the world find some affinity with Helen Keller and the struggles she overcame.

I have my own feelings and opinions about the performance, but I can leave that for a later time. I have already talked for long enough. I will make a serious effort to see her perform the piece again in New York City in December. I introduced myself to her, and asked some questions, and I was very happy to be in the audience for this performance, and meet her.

Day 13: part 2 - Kamakura

I wasn't sure what to do with the rest of my day before the concert later that night. I had supposed that I could go to Kamakura either today or tomorrow before the class. It might actually make more sense to go tomorrow sense it was closer to Yokohama, where my dance class would be later that night. Since I couldn't really think of anything to do with my time, I decided that I would go today. Since I was already in Shinjuku, and a direct train to Kamakura left from Shinjuku, it was convenient enough to head out now.

If I were honest with myself, I only went to Kamakura because I felt obligated to go. To be sure, nobody was forcing me or expecting me to go, but I just felt that since I was here in Japan, I should take advantage and see all the typical sites that guide books say I should see. I wasn't very excited to see more Buddhist temples of Shinto shrines, but there was one thing that was unique about Kamakura.

For one thing, it was the administrative center (call it the capital of the country, if you want) during the first shogunate. Military warlords took control of the government in Japan in the late 12th century, and made Kamakura their capital, while the emperor stayed in Kyoto, basically relegated as a spiritual leader of Japan. However, over the past 800 years, little remains of the Kamakura shogunate.

One standout site that does remain, however, is the Great Buddha bronze sculpture. I figured that I should see this. I didn't want to be such a spoil sport, though, and so I went in the opposite direction to see a couple of the other sites on the map, as well. The first site was a Shinto shrine. They are all starting to look the same to me, and this one was not too exciting, except that it had a lily pond of to the side. That was interesting enough to see. Then I went to explore more of the shrine, but I saw that there was an entrance fee. Last week I would have been willing to pay the fee that was the equivalent of a couple of dollars. But not so today.

Looking at the map, it seemed that there was a fancy Buddhist temple further up the way, so I made my way up there. The signs that I saw on the street said that it was only a kilometer or so, and that didn't seem like it would be too far. One thing that maps typically don't show, however, is that the kilometer walk was all up hill. The heat was starting to get to me, and my clothes were already soaked with sweat, but before I had a chance to quit and turn around, I was there, and not a moment too soon. I walked up to the temple, and snapped some photos of what I could see from the outside, but again, I wasn't willing to pay the entrance fee, so I quickly turned around and walked back.

Basically, to make it to the Great Buddha sculpture, I would have to retrace my steps all the way back to the train station, then go another mile or so to the temple with the big Buddha. One thing that I've noticed about this trip is that nearly all of the big tourist attraction sites are accompanied by long streets filled with vendors trying to sell souvenirs, or food, or whatever they can to make a buck on the tourist market. To be sure, I don't think that this is a uniquely Japanese feature; places all over the world have been taken over with folks who are trying to make a buck. Even more, I don't think that this is a new feature of human civilzation. I am sure that people were trying to get whatever they can from whomever they can since the beginning of time, and since travel is not a new thing, I am sure that souvenir salesmen are not new either.

By the time I made it to the Great Buddha sculpture, I was exauhsted, but this was one site that I was willing to pay for because it was something different. Again, it was only the equivalent of about three dollars, so it didn't break the bank. I was very tired and worn out when I got there, but I found a shade under a tree, and was able to appreciate the sculpture quietly. I don't know why some things bring a peacful calm over me, but this did, and I felt a bit better. Maybe all this walking was worth it. Even still, though, I did have an appointment in Shibuya tonight to see a dance performance, so after a little bit of rest and relaxation in the Buddha's shadow, I made my way back to the train station to head back to the hotel, take a shower, and go back out.

Day 13: part 1 - Shinjuku

I started the day intending to go to the Japan War Responsibility Center. It is a center that was established by the Japan-China Friendship Foundation, and I thought it would be a good place to research and discuss and gather ideas about how different attitudes in Japan are trying to reconcile with actions perpetrated during World War II.

After my success in finding the performance space the previous night, I thought I would be adventurous, and see if I can make it two for two in finding Japanese addresses. I looked on the website for the location of the space, and even wrote down a couple of phone numbers just in case. That part should have had me a bit hesitant, that there were two phone numbers to write down. One was from their English website, and the other was from the Japanese website. Furthermore, the English website had an address, but the Japanese one did not. I suppose a more intelligent person would have first called to make sure where I was going, and if the place was even open. Well, I'm not a more intelligent person, so I just set out.

I got out at the proper train station and supposed that the location was nearby. I experienced the same troubles finding the address as I did the previous night. But I had time to kill, and I was up for a fun adventure, so it was fine. After about a half hour hunting from here to there, I finally found the address. The ground floor was a grocery market, and I looked up to see if there was a sixth floor; luckily there was, so perhaps I was in the right place.

When I went into the lobby of the building (behind the grocery market), I asked the guy if there was anything in suite 607, but he said there was no suite 607. He looked at the address I had written down, and supposed that it might be the next building over. I wasn't confident that would be the case, but I went anyway. Indeed, it was apartments, and again, there was no suite 607.

Perhaps I had interpretted the address in reverse order, but after finding the other block, I saw that the numbers didn't match up, so... I decided to call it quits, and found an off the kilter bookstore. It was fun to see alternative books and comics and toys that weren't prominently displayed (if displayed at all) at the big bookstores. I found a comic by one of my favorite alternative manga artists, and bought it. I picked this one because it was perhaps one of the more recent ones, and the clerk informed me that it was signed by him. Cool.

Trying to give the Japan-China Friendship Society one more go, I found a payphone near the train station and called one of the numbers. When the person answered the phone, I first asked if she spoke English. She didn't. It is a lot easier communicating with someone face-to-face if they don't speak too much English, and I don't speak too much Japanese, but over the phone, I had no idea where to begin, so I just repeated my decision to quit. I had already found a very informative museum in Osaka that expressed ideas from a similar side of the spectrum, and I wondered if they would be able to give me material that would help my research much, anyway, seeing as how I was illiterate in Japanese.

Day 12: part 4 - Address Hunting in Shibuya

I am still trying to get a hang of how Japanese addresses are situated. It seems that they pick out the city, then the neighborhood in the city which is demarcated by a chome number, then they number the blocks within that neighborhood, then buildings within the block, then the suite number within the building. Perhaps it seems easy enough when I say it like that, but it is challenging to figure out what chome number you are in, and even what neighborhood within a city that you might be in. There are very few signs that actually give this information. What makes it worse is that when you look at buildings, the address is not very prominently displayed, that is, the block number along with the building number.

Looking for the dance venue, I caught a break when I noticed a sign that said that the neighborhood museum, Shoto Museum was this way. That means that this must be the Shoto neighborhood then, right? Well I had nobody to ask or give me the answer, so I just continued on as if it were. The challenge was figuring out what neighborhood number I was in. I was looking for chome 1, but this could just as easliy be chome 2 or 3. I figured that since we were close to the main road, maybe this was chome 1. (Is that how these things are decided?) Then I kept looking for building addresses that might tell me what block number this is. Again, this seems like it would be straight forward, but if you just start numbering across a piece of paper, when do you decide to stop one row of numbers, and then continue numbering on a different row? This is part of what makes this block numbering system rather difficult for me to manage. I am willing to bet that to be a letter carrier, one must study the maps and numbers for quite a long time before he is able to pass some sort of test that makes him eligible to deliver mail. I can't imagine ever passing such a test. (From past experience, it seems clear that taxi drivers are not hip to the system, and cannot even help me find a place that ends up being across the street.)

In any case, I was proud of myself because I finally found the place, and figured out just a little something about the Japanese address system. Very interesting. I looked at my watch and realized that I was more than an hour late for the performance, which probably only lasted an hour anyway. All's well, though, becuase this means that I know exactly where to come tomorrow, right?

Day 12: part 3 - Back in Tokyo

There is going to be a dance performance tonight in Shibuya, but I am not sure that I will be able to make it in time. First I have to leave Yokohama, where the class is. Because of the time I arrived and left Shizuoka, I decided to leave all my bags in a coin locker in Yokohama. That means that I have to pick up all these bags, and then take them to my hotel, check in, drop off the bags, clean myself up, and then make it to Shibuya by the time the show begins at 7. This probably won't happen, but I will try.

I am staying at the same hotel that I was staying at last week while I was in Tokyo. Because of my experience with a private room in Osaka, I was hoping that I would be able to uprgrade to a private room here. In the hotel in Osaka, it was not too much more expensive than staying in the dorm style rooms. Maybe it would be the same here. When I asked, the woman at the front informed me that the private rooms are significantly more expensive than the dorm style rooms. I was considering it for a second, but I decided against it. However, if the same sort of loud people are here this time, I might reconsider. It looks peaceful enough now, though.

Checking in and dropping my stuff off went faster than I expected. Maybe I would be able to catch the dance performance tonight. I took a quick shower and figured that it should only take me about 30 minutes to get to Shibuya. That is not the problem. The main problem is not getting there, but is finding the place. After getting ready, I realized that there was no way that I would make it in time. I was still riding high from the dance class, though, so I decided to go to Shibuya anyway. I figured that even though I would not make the show, I could still find out where the venue was so that I would be able to make it tomorrow. It certainly isn't an exciting adventure, but it is something to do.