Night stalker

A guy in Tokyo sold me his 4-year-old Olympus a few months ago. My Panasonic's touch screen stopped working in 2016 and in Lisbon it developed a million vertical lines. It never had an electronic viewfinder so composing a photo in Portugal was like looking through a shower curtain.

An all-day rain stopped around 6 p.m., giving me six hours of nighttime shooting. The trains stop running at midnight. I can't think of a better place to practice. I'm getting better with my f-stops but have a long way to go. Above, a JR East train speeds west on the Ueno-Tokyo line.

Pictured below is an izakaya (small bar serving drinks and snacks) outside JR Nippori Station.

Here's Nombei Yokocho ("drunkard's alley"). After the war, unlicensed street stalls sprang up around the city's train stations. They were removed in 1949 but entered into a lottery system. The winners were assigned to relocation districts like this.

The alley has more than 30 bars averaging less than 5 square meters. Most can seat three to five people downstairs and the same number upstairs.

Tourists head to the Shibuya Scramble.

Below, kids congregate outside Family Mart, the beloved convenience-store chain. Have you tried the Famichiki? At the front counter they sell bags of the juiciest boneless fried chicken in the universe. I suggest bending 45 degrees from the waist while eating it; otherwise it's like visiting Disney's Splash Mountain. Japan's convenience stores are palaces of discernment and good taste. Around the corner from this store is a third-floor all-you-can-drink bar where you can hit golf balls.

A train glides past Uguisudani Station.

Everywhere you go in Tokyo you see jugs of water placed near buildings and sidewalks.

I email Hideki. He responds in five minutes. It's like having your own concierge. 

"It's meant to repel cats, but since it's such a common sight in Japan I didn't really pay much attention to it."

He attached this link.

It's late and I hunt for more Nepalese food. Biren has been in Japan for 12 years but isn't a Japanese citizen. 

I point at a picture on a menu. He nods and goes to work.

The small bowl at upper right contains achar, a spicy tomato and mustard chutney. I check my phone for flights to Nepal. 

There's another guy here just hanging out who identifies himself as Biren's best friend. Says he's a grocer who has a shop near Mikiwashima Station. He also immigrated from Nepal but unlike Biren is a Japanese citizen. I ask him what he thinks of the Japanese people.

"Rules, rules. Quiet."

Would that everyone had such an economy of language.