Fish don’t fry in the kitchen, Beans don’t burn on the grill
Catchy tune, ain’t it? Anyway, it’s old news by now, but in January of this year Judy and I moved to Tokyo. This marks my third residence here in Japan, and her fourth (running from the law is tireless work). Previously, I lived just outside of Tokyo in Saitama prefecture, otherwise known as the “armpit of Japan”, and before that, in the inbred wasteland that is Ibaraki prefecture.

Needless to say, compared to my previous two cities of residence, Tokyo is — to borrow a phrase from the Brit I met at the pub the other night — the dog’s bollocks. No longer am I exposed to unsophisticated cousin-marrying plebs sporting tweezed eyebrows, bleached orange mullets and oversized cartoon character-emblazoned track suits with matching Hello Kitty slippers. No longer are the only forms of entertainment in town a run-down arcade and the local convenience store parking lot. No longer am I stared at simply because of the amount of melanin in my body (or lack thereof). Yes folks, in Tokyo I am free to carry on my existence in relative anonymity, surrounded by relatively “normal” people (although that is still debatable). And even though the cost of living in Tokyo is expensive as fuuuck, the city has a lot to offer.

The new place may not be a de-luxe apartment in the sky, but it’s far nicer than my previous dwellings (read: utter shitholes) and I’m far happier here. Yes, we finally got a piece of the pie.

Anyway, I finally took some photos of the place, as promised months ago, and they are now up. Won’t you be my neighbor?