Coffee Jelly, Mexican, Akihabara, Department Store

On Sunday morning I stopped by one of the many coffee shops trying to keep Starbucks from world domination. This particular shop had one of my favorite desserts, coffee jelly (gelatin), for a mere 210 yen. Coffee jelly is a simple concept: take the prior day's leftover coffee, add gelatin, chill, and top with soft serve ice cream just before selling. Sounds strange, but I like it. Durgin Park in Boston has the same dish, albeit with whipped cream.

My boss, his wife, and I spent the better part of Sunday in Akihabara, Tokyo's electronics district. There are few bargains, but there are some unique gadgets available, including high-tech toilets with more buttons than my dress shirt. I was mainly interested in finding a mobile phone, but since I'm only scheduled for six months in Tokyo it didn't make sense to get a contract with Willcom, NTT DoCoMo, KDDI, or Vodafone. Vodafone and KDDI offer prepaid phones, but apparently only the companies' own stores sell them, so I'll have to make a special trip. I think I also might need a resident alien registration card in order to buy a mobile phone, and I can't get that until I move from the hotel to an apartment. Mobile phone rates tend to be expensive, but at least incoming calls are free (because the caller pays).

The most puzzling gadget I found was a tiny dishwasher that can handle perhaps five teacups and saucers. What's the point? Wouldn't it be trivially easy to hand wash that small number of dishes?

Sunday night we dined at Fonda de la Madrugada, an excellent Mexican restaurant (best in Tokyo, supposedly). The watercress salad had too much dressing for my tastes, but the lentil soup was sublime.

On Monday I was back in the office around 8:30 a.m., and I (finally!) had soba (buckwheat noodles) with vegetables in a miso (soy) broth for lunch. Lunch was a bargain: about $3.75 for the noodles, a hunk of tempura vegetables, and something resembling cherry Italian ice. I had lunch with a senior IBM manager (one of the corner office people), and we talked a bit about his visits to Connecticut, the same state where I grew up. During the afternoon I arranged for three apartment visits tomorrow (Tuesday, January 31st). I also spoke at length with many of the technical staff, including my direct counterpart (a mainframe software architect). We talked especially about scheduling architectural workshops with some of our customers.

On the way home I visited the lowest floor in the Mitsukoshi department store. That's where they sell gourmet food, and it's wonderful. I bought a loaf of French onion bread for about 230 yen. Every counter is immaculate with all the food items beautifully displayed. For special occasions I'll be sure to return.

Not a Casual Friday. Walking on Saturday.

Friday's forecast meeting went a little smoother, but that's hollow comfort because Thursday's was so distressing. I managed to insert my giant size 9 Yankee foot into my mouth by extolling the virtues of an IBM project office that's been doing great work in the Americas. But now I'm 95% sure it just doesn't exist in Asia. That probably means I've got to figure out how to start the program in Japan from nothing.

Somebody decided I should get a manager's desk along the edge of the cubicle area. I went from no walls to three walls, and I now face most of the mainframe software staff. My office assistant introduced herself, too, and....

Wait a minute! I have an office assistant? (An undetermined share of one, anyway.) A desk on the edge of the room where I look onto the mainframe software technical staff? Somebody's singing the theme song to TV's "The Jeffersons." Nah, there's no pressure — none at all.

Today I decided to walk all over the place, and I chose two neighborhoods: the area around Harajuku Station and my hotel's neighborhood. JapanGuide.com suggested my first target would be full of Japanese teenagers and interesting shops, and it was. I observed what looked like the shooting of a TV soap opera scene: the young actor walked out of a restaurant storefront with a menu placard, positioned it on a stand outside, admired his efforts briefly, then turned toward the camera and gazed skyward, pondering something. The director yelled the Japanese word for "Cut!" I assume, and two production assistants rushed toward the actor, one with a coat to prevent the actor from suffering a moment's extra cold air, and the other with a water spray bottle and a brush to adjust his hair. I couldn't really tell the difference between hair before and hair after, however.

I spent a lot of time in a discount book and music store browsing the sale items, but ultimately I decided I didn't need the 1997 Eagle Eye Cherry CD I discovered, even for 250 yen (assuming I could find one other CD to get the discount — that "Rico Suave" guy's CD could have worked in some alternate universe). I passed by a store called Condomania that sells you-know-what. Looks like Japanese teenagers have ready, nonjudgmental access to STD protection. Great idea.

My hotel is right next to a shrine. I simply couldn't figure it out, so there's not much I can say about it except that it was a beautiful and peaceful oasis. If anyone knows why roosters live at the shrine feel free to post a comment.

Is Tokyo Expensive?

Here's a chicken sandwich, vegetable salad, and a pint of 100% grapefruit juice from 7-11. So how much did this fresh and tasty meal cost? $15? $20? $40? Actually, it cost just a little over $4. Which leads me to conclude provisionally that Tokyo isn't terribly expensive, contrary to popular belief ("most expensive city in the world") — or at least that high costs are mostly avoidable.

That said, there are wide variations in price, and some items are much more expensive here than in the United States. (Some are less, notably lunch items.) For example, dine at a fancy hotel or restaurant and the sky's the limit, especially if you see lots of company men on expense accounts. Here's a list of some prices I've seen (in yen):

Subway (one-way, short trip with transfer, no commuter pass): 160
TGI Friday's draft beer (medium size, about 12 ounces): 650
Apple (one) from a grocery store: 98
Cup of tea at a coffee shop: 180
Potato patty sandwich at a coffee shop: 230
Curried rice entree at IBM cafeteria: 250
Bag of unknown salad greens (looked like watercress, tasted like clover, about 8 ounces): 100
80s and 90s music CDs (extensive sale rack) from Book Off: 2 for 500
Japanese books (all) at Book Off: 105
Grilled chicken skewers over rice at TGI Friday's: 865
Aquafresh toothpaste (regular size, about 6 ounces): 148
Whole grain (brown) rice (5 kilos) from grocery store: 1270
Bag of muesli (standard size) from grocery store: 900
Multi-course lunch at Indian restaurant: 1000

Not too bad, really. Fresh fruits and vegetables are indeed expensive, at least when purchased from a grocery store. In fact, most grocery store items seem expensive. On the other hand, dining out can be extremely affordable, especially if you like noodle bowls and rice dishes. Note that there is no tipping in Japan, and the posted prices include all taxes.

Housing is reportedly quite expensive, although fortunately I will never see that bill. Oddly enough, hotels can be quite affordable. Cars are expensive to purchase and operate, but you don't need them. My guess is that most people come out ahead with subways and trains versus paying even U.S. rates for car loans, insurance, and gasoline. Clothing seems reasonable, although there are plenty of ultra high-end brands if you want expensive clothes.

First 24 Hours

January 26, 2006, 11:13 p.m. (edited January 27, 8:14 a.m.): Wow, what just happened? I didn't have time to catch my breath before my new manager whisked me off to a dinner with the new mainframe software sales leader, some of his staff, and some visiting sales managers. I jumped in the shower as fast as I could, grabbed the first clean shirt from my suitcase, then bounded downstairs to head off to a Brazilian restaurant in Tokyo. I think the restaurant is called Tucano. This all-you-can-eat meatfest, with two or three drinks per person, ran 6,600 yen each. There's no tipping in Japan, so the bill is the bill.

We rode the Ginza subway line to get there. That experience was a minor confidence builder because it's pretty simple to navigate. Each station has a letter and a number. For example, the Capitol Tokyu is at station G06 (Ginza station #6). Subway lines are also color coded, and most signs are bilingual. Each exit is numbered, and the exit-related signage lists major buildings, such as IBM's (at Z10). I bought a 1,000 yen fare card, and, like Washington, D.C., you use the card both to enter and to exit the system. I think London is similar. Fares are based on distance traveled, but all the rides so far are just 160 yen each way, including the transfer between two lines. Riders jam themselves into the cars during rush hour, so it can get tight and pretty stuffy — buildings and trains seem all overheated by American standards. Piece of cake, really.

This morning we had an "all hands" meeting and, in contrast to IBM Americas, practically everyone works in the branch office and so there was a large auditorium full of suits. Two younger employees (one male, one female) had the honor of announcing each executive speaker. The Japanese are extremely punctual, and the speakers did a respectable job sticking to the published times. Each speaker followed a standard introductory greeting, with the audience responding in unison (with gusto). Most of the meeting was verbalized in Japanese, so I didn't understand too much, but most of the charts had English text. My manager lead the closing clap exercise: everybody stood up, and, after some Japanese phrase (which again I didn't understand), everybody clapped once in perfect unison (after one or two rehearsals). I guess I'm learning how to become a "company man."

The branch office is extremely hierarchical. Worker bees have open cubicles in the center of the floor area. Supervisors have larger work desks on the edges near the doors. General managers and vice presidents get the walled corner offices with assistants sitting close by. Today most people seemed to arrive around 9:00 or 9:30. Most people left around 8:00 p.m., but there were several who stayed at least until 9:30 p.m. More on that in a moment. I seem to be classified as a senior worker bee — or maybe just an oddball case.

I attended a series of meetings today, but the longest was an internal sales forecasting meeting. It's not normally my sort of meeting — I'm not a software sales representative (SSR) — but today's was fascinating. This sales team had a bad day, quite simply, because they just didn't have as much information as they should have about their potential customers. Software SSRs aren't at all happy about how the client teams seem to act as rigid gatekeepers with customers, although I've heard that one lots of times. The second half of the forecast review meeting will be tomorrow, so I'll be curious to see whether they do a better job.

In the meeting we discussed one customer that's so backlevel in their mainframe software versions that any updates would still not get them much support. IBM takes a good long time to drop support for older mainframe software versions, but this customer is in really rough shape. Please, please, don't do what this customer did! Mainframe applications — at least the well-designed ones — age gracefully. Middleware and operating systems do not age as gracefully. You have to stay "reasonably" current, otherwise it hurts your own business (or government agency). I'm sure I'll be elaborating on this point in future entries to explain why, but a variety of problems surface when you allow mainframe infrastructure to get too far behind. It's just basic maintenance, like changing your car's oil periodically.

I know many of the SSRs stayed up late tonight. I stayed until 9:30 p.m. trying unsuccessfully to get my computer to print to a strange Japanese printer, and I noticed that most of the zSeries SSRs also stayed while most other people had left. My theory is they stayed because I did. Ooops. I hope it was just because their manager deftly chewed them out.

Bon Voyage

January 25, 2006, 4:56 a.m. Tokyo time, somewhere over Canada — It begins. A few hours ago I finished packing the last two items (an umbrella and my nephews' pictures). Japan Airlines allows 70 pound bags when flying internationally, as all airlines should. Two months of Tokyo living weighs about 140 pounds total.

My manager sent me an eight page document containing common Japanese words and phrases and their English equivalents. Oddly “thank you” is missing, so I have some research to do. I have a few words memorized: soba, odon, ramen, Tokyo, sushi, sashimi, sake, sayonara, origami, Godzilla, and konichiwa. So basically I have the vocabulary of a young, alcoholic Japanese toddler.

Yes, I'm in business class, but who knew it would stretch back into row 40 and beyond? However, the most important aspect of any flight is service. It's amazing what a simple smile can do. The three lunch choices included two “Western” variations (steak and fish) or the Japanese set menu. I decided to start with the Western fillet of sole and then graduate to the Japanese dinner later on. I almost went for the “Squid Julienne 'Sashimi' Style” — that'd be raw squid. Almost.

My disembarkation form asks, “How much money in cash do you presently have in your possession?” In the age of yen-yielding ATMs I felt like writing “Not very much, thank you,” but I dutifully reported my vast $172 fortune.

I'll be meeting a slew of managers instantly upon arrival. (Several of them are in Tokyo this week.) We shall see if it is possible to turn a 3:45 p.m. scheduled Narita arrival into a 7:00 p.m. dinner appointment. I have my doubts.

Good night for now. Or good morning. Or... whatever.

Hello and Welcome

"The New Mainframe" is open for business! Tomorrow I fly to Tokyo. Check back for updates over the next several days. In the meantime, enjoy this lame introductory blog entry.