Red Bull, Red Meat, and Febreeze.
Our last night in Tokyo was to be spent back in the hip Shi BOO YAH neighborhood. We were to meet Tim’s Red Bull Athlete Manager in Japan, Arnie Ueno, at the Hachiko Dog statue again and we would be heading to dinner somewhere in the neighborhood.
When we got to the statue we immediately heard Arnie calling for us and he introduced us to his co-worker, Ai, pronounced “Eye.” Or “I,” eye suppose.
As we walked our way through the neighborhood everything seemed all too familiar. We were no more than two blocks away from our late night Ramen establishment.
Something I found interesting about Tokyo was how everything existed on the vertical. On every business sign hanging on every business you would find 1F, 2F, 3F, etc. As you could probably guess, these number/letter combos indicate on which floor you could find your preferred establishment.
The street level of each building rarely housed more than a hallway to an elevator. Into the elevator you would go where you would press the button for your desired floor. Depending on the establishment to which you were patronizing, you would step out of the elevator into a place much more desirable than the street level entrance.
In our case on this evening, we stepped into a small rock garden and then through sliding doors into an ultra-contemporary foyer where customers’ shoes lined the wall.
I hoped my feet didn’t stink.
When we turned the corner, we were greeted by multiple women in what I would guess were Kimono robes. They walked us down a central, dark-stained wooden walkway to a low-laid table. My first thought was, “I can’t sit on the ground for an entire meal. Hips. No. Good.”
Luckily, the seating was actually recessed in the floor. Tim appeared to be sharing similar concerns to me as he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw there was a place for our feet below the seat.
As with every meal in Japan, we were greeted with warm towels to wipe our hands. If you are a man, you can also wipe your face. I did.
Ai, who had reserved this dinner, explained that the meal we were about to have was Yakiniku, meaning, literally, grilled meat. Grilled meat we would have.
Before we got to eat the meat, Tim and I were each greeted by three of the kimono-clad servers who, ever-so-delicately, placed bibs around our necks. For this we said, “Arigato.”
Ai’s reaction to the three-person bib application:
Tim’s reaction:
Then came the meat.
There were small cuts of beef.
They became this:
There were large cuts of beef.
I don’t really know what that cut was, but the best Arnie and Ai could do to describe it was as a rib or back strip. Either way, it was the best piece of meat I have ever eaten. When it reached a certain point of cooking, the server would come to the table and use those large scissors leaning against the grill in the photo above to snip it into smaller pieces.
After a few rounds of seemingly standard beef cuts, Ai upped the ante by ordering some beef tongue.
While this wasn’t my favorite, it was worth trying. It was, for lack of better description, chewy.
I should mention that after each selection of meat was grilled and eaten, one of the servers would come to our table with a fresh grill top. There would be no tainting of one meat’s taste by the last. Luckily for me, the used, hot grill top was precariously lifted over Tim and Arnie’s heads each time.
After receiving our fourth fresh grill top, we were then thrown off our game by what appeared to be white meat.
False alarm, this wasn’t white meat. It was the cow’s “first stomach,” Ai had said.
It curled on the grill as it cooked, and was also chewy. Again, not my favorite, but you know what they say, “When in Tokyo…” Right?
We had some vegetables. Arnie said he hated cucumber with a passion, so he had none.
A surprisingly tasty treat was the fried garlic.
We finished off the meat session with some hot soup which, obviously, had beef in it. The broth reminded me, ever so slightly, of the double spice Ramen broth I had drunk on our first night out.
As was customary with every meal we had in Tokyo, we were also offered miso soup and hot green tea.
To compensate for having eaten a bowl full of fried garlic, we were each given a piece of gum.
Filled to the brim with red meat, we all stood from our sunken table and made our way to our shoes we had left in the foyer. With our shoes back on our feet, we stepped back into the rock garden that had first greeted us at the elevator where one of the servers offered to spray us with a glorified Febreeze. They really thought of everything.
I kindly obliged the offer to be rid of grilled meat, tongue and stomach scent, took my small Valentine’s care package they were offering, and I stepped into the elevator with my other no longer smelling of meat friends and headed back into the downtown Tokyo night life.
Karaoke?
Rice Balls, AKB48, and Raw Coffee.
After an awesome morning spent betting on bikes, we got back in the Cannondale van with Hiro and Ichi.
It was lunch time, and we would be eating on the road.
“McDonald’s or Rice Balls?” Hiro asked.
Tim and I both replied “Rice Balls” without hesitation.
Hiro shook his head and said, “Crazy Americans. They eat squid but not McDonald’s.”
Rice balls are purchased at 7-11 and they are really like rice triangles wrapped in thin seaweed. You can get salmon, sweet plum, or tuna with mayonnaise. They come double wrapped in plastic with special instructions.
First, you pull the plastic from the top of the triangle, straight down, and around the back. This unwraps the seaweed that has been kept separate to stay dry. Then you pull the plastic wrapped around the rice triangle directly to the side, almost like Mr Wizard pulling the tablecloth out from under the dishes on the table.
Mr Wizard. Hated that guy.
What you are left with is a deliciously sweet rice meal wrapped in fresh, paper-thin seaweed. From 7-11.
After lunch, we headed into the Akihabara neighborhood, otherwise known as “Electric Town.” Also known for gifting the world with the current female idol group, AKB48.
Aitakkata, aitakkata, aitakkata, yes!
There are 57 members in the group. They have their own theater in Tokyo where they perform daily, and they have pop-up shops that sell only their merchandise.
Back Street Boys? What Back Street Boys?
In Akihabara, Ichi took us to a shop where he said he would shop, with the types of items he would buy. Tim and I purchased gifts for our wives and I took a picture of a robot.
The shop was located in a cool, little complex that sat beneath the above-ground train.
There was bike parking.
And there were toilets.
There was a store that only sold items made of wood.
I nearly cracked around 6 pm from an already long day. Knowing we had dinner with Red Bull reps in a few hours, and who knew what after dinner, we needed some coffee.
We found good coffee.
Tim and Ichi enjoyed their “coffee of the day.”
And I acted like the weird guy taking pictures of raw coffee beans. By “acted,” I mean, “was.”
I really regret not buying this espresso grinder. Such an idiot.
After a few cups of coffee, Ichi walked Tim and me to the train so we could meet two reps from Red Bull Japan in ShiBOOYAH at the Hachiko Dog again where we would be dining on meat products.
On the train, where no one speaks, I told Ichi I loved him as he walked through the doors for the last time. He did not reciprocate, but I didn’t take it personally.
Red Bull, Red Meat, and Karaoke coming up next…
Betting on Bikes
The day before our trip to Tokyo ended, Hiro and Ichi surprised Tim and me with a trip to Keirin racing in Omiya.
Ichi was pretty pumped for the trip.
But Tim was concerned for his health.
It was close to a one hour drive, and from what I could tell, the Japanese were not accustomed to driving such a long distance. Tim and I didn’t care, as we just tried to repeat the Japanese commands coming from the GPS Navigation.
Hidari. That means left.
Upon arriving, we found the Keirin track situated in a relatively large sports complex, where they also hold soccer and baseball events. We parked in a surprisingly crowded parking lot and walked to the track.
It felt a little like going to a NASCAR event.
We had been told that Tim was a special guest at the event, so we were walked down a private hallway where we were given special passes that afforded us our own private suite looking over the track.
There were TVs to watch replays. The rider on the ground was taken away by ambulance, we were told.
Before we got down to business, Tim presented Hiro with a team jersey for the Cannondale Japan office. I suspect this jersey is in Hiro’s closet and he is waiting to wear it in his next race.
The name of the game in Keirin is gambling. According to Hiro and Ichi, many people in Japan have made careers of gambling on Keirin, but the younger generation is less interested, so Keirin is a dying sport.
Like we have for horse racing in the US, there are all sorts of statistics available for betting on Keirin. Every 20 minutes or so, there is a race with anywhere between 7 and 9 racers, all in easily identified colors. The colors always match the same number, and the racers only do one race a day. The odds are displayed on screens in the suite and the newspapers offer their predictions that typically match the odds on the screen.
You have a few options for how to bet…again, this is very similar to horse racing in the US. You can pick the exact finishing order of the top two or three or just the top 2 or 3 at random.
You mark your predictions on what looks to be a mini SAT sheet.
Before their race, the riders do a few laps, slowly, to let you take a look at them. They ranged, in age, from 20 years old all the way to 48 years old. According to our host, we were not to be discouraged by the age differences, as Keirin was as much about brains as it was legs.
Once you had decided on your bets (up to five on one sheet), you took it down the hallway to the automatic machine that would process your bets and provide you with a ticket that could be used for payment if you won.
“Big Gamblers!” as Hiro liked to call us as we bet $.75 per race.
After placing my bet, I needed to use the bathroom.
We went back to the suite and waited for the first race to start.
Tim started a ritual the Japanese had never seen.
When the race started, there wass a pace setter (we called him the rabbit) who led the racers around the first two laps. He was there to break the wind so no one was stuck leading.
At some point in the second lap, the riders began to attack and fight for position and when they heard the bell at the start of the third lap, it was no holds barred. Using elbows and your body to fight for position is standard practice in Keirin.
While we each won at least one race, we all still lost. Maybe next time.
How About Some Hardcore
Before the Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012 race on Saturday, we were introduced, by Daisuke Yano, to the owner of Bonsai Cycle, a special bike shop in Tokyo.
Upon meeting the owner, he told Tim Johnson he made “replica helmets.”
“This one?” Tim asked, pointing to his Red Bull helmet?
“Yes,” he replied, “This one is very difficult.”
We were intrigued by this and looking forward to the opportunity to meet him at his shop, especially since we had also been told, via THE INTERNET, to visit this shop for it’s coffee. Coffee, mmmmmmmmm.
Two days later, our hosts, Hiro Ito, Hideyuki Suzuki, and Koichiro Nakamura, brought Tim, Kaiko Shimura, and me to Bonsai Cycle. It would turn out be a more amazing experience than we could have ever expected.
I am pretty sure that says, “Bonsai Cycle.”
When we had first met the owner, he was dressed in street clothes and a traditional cycling cap. He looked like a bike messenger. When we met him again, this time in his establishment, he was dressed to the nines, in a fine white shirt, sweater vest and bow tie. The pride he took in his business was obvious.
Upon entering Bonsai Cycle, we were welcomed to cyclocross-themed muffins and espresso drinks made by the shop’s barista.
In broken English, the owner explained that, to him, cyclocross was all things brown; Mud, Coffee, and Chocolate.
The muffins were tasty. And brown. And chocolatey.
I am a fan of hyperbole. I do not use hyperbole when I say that I had the best macchiato I have ever had at Bonsai Cycle. The Barista was more skilled than I have ever seen, as was evidenced by her cappucino art.
After sitting with our muffins and drinks, the owner then gave us a tour of his shop.
He then led us to the replica helmets he had made. BY HAND.
First, we saw his Jeremy Powers Team Rapha Focus Edition helmet.
And Tim tried to steal it.
Then he led us to the Tim Johnson Red Bull Edition helmet.
We saw the inspirations for his creation.
And the materials he used to create it.
The visit to Bonsai Cycle was yet another amazing experience in this visit to Tokyo. After finishing off what remained of our coffees and muffins, we headed into the streets of the small neighborhood that housed Bonsai Cycle with Koichiro and headed to Shinjuku for Tempura with Kaiko.
Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012
I didn’t realize this, but this was the first ever Cyclo Cross Tokyo, and to say it was a success is an understatement.
We all woke up early to be at breakfast in the hotel by 7am. We were at the course with bikes, wheels, trainers and other supplies by 8 for the 40 minute course inspection, since Tim and Erik had not yet ridden the course.
There was still roughly 1.2km of sand on the course, so there was that. Knowing that, I took great pleasure in not racing.
Crowds were already starting to fill in and there were tents already raised for manufacturers and vendors.
The guys were immediately bombarded by requests for autographs, photos, interviews and introductions.
The prevailing mood for this event was excitement; not just for the fans and spectators, but for the competitors as well. The local, Japanese racers seemed thrilled at the opportunity to race along side some of the World’s elite cyclocross racers.
Cannondale’s Japanese MTB rider, Kazuhiro Yamamoto, and the local Cannondale guys offered their tent, tools, and anything else we needed to make the race go as smoothly as possible. Here, Kazu has his number pinned by his wife, Erina Yamamoto.
Our hosts from Champion System were very busy with the days duties, particularly Ryoji, who was promoting his first ever cyclocross race!
Chiharu was also busy and kept us on task with where we needed to be and when, since we understood none of the instructions and information sent out over the loud speakers.
Before we knew it, it was time to race. Hiroki Ito, Watase Yoshiki and the Cannondale crew helped out immensely by running the spare bikes to the pits while I met the guys to take their gear at the start.
The whistle blew, and the guys headed down the start stretch, immediately into a double set of barriers. On the pavement. Tim almost killed himself, but didn’t, and it was off to the pits for me.
I have some video of the race, but that will have to be posted later since internet speed at the hotel makes uploading video very difficult.
To quickly summarize, a local Japanese racer, Yu Takenouchi, took off like a bat out of hell and put a sizable gap into the entire field, making Ben Berden, and every other racer say, “Oh S***!”
Ben eventually caught Takenouchi, who appeared to have gone out a little too fast from all the excitement of the huge hometown crowds.
In the end, only five racers finished on the lead lap, with Tonkin being the first lapped rider. The final results were Berden, Johnson, Heule, Takenouchi, Driscoll, and Tonkin.
After the race, I caught some photos of the women’s podium awaiting presentation.
Spectators.
And the fun on the podium.
Champion System threw an amazing race, and the fact that this was the inaugural event is extremely promising for the future of cyclocross in this great city. This event proved that cyclocross is more than just UCI races and World Cups and SuperPrestige. Cyclocross is what you choose to make it and Tokyo has made something special with this event.
Enjoy these final, few images I think best summarize this great race:
