I come from San Francisco and go to school in Portland. My whole life, marijuana has been illegal enough to slightly inconvenience would-be smokers, but barely more. The consensus tends to be that it’s much less harmful than alcohol, an excellent appetite-inducement tool for those going through chemotherapy, and a good alternative to opiate painkillers.

This is not the case in Japan, where four students at my school were just arrested, and will likely be imprisoned and later deported, for marijuana possession. I received an “urgent” email from Waseda in my inbox today, and on clicking it, I was presented with the following on the student web portal:

Warning Against Illegal Drug Usage

As has been widely reported by the mass media, many people have recently been arrested
for involvement with illegal drugs. For the younger generation, especially university
students, there is a great temptation to engage in drug-related activity. This has become
an extremely serious social issue, partly because the smoking of cannabis (or marijuana)
is so easily done, no special devices or equipment being necessary for its recreational
use – it is simply smoked like a cigarette…..

…Tempting words are often used to lure people into drugs: “Recover from your
fatigue,” “Refresh your mind,” “Take the easy route to dieting.” Such encouragement is
vicious and despicable, first of all because the information is based on falsehood.
Secondly, and far more importantly, those who are foolish enough to fall for such lures
all too often end up physically and mentally ruined, perhaps leading lives of crime.
There is no “innocent” or “harmless” way to take illegal drugs. In Japan, possession
alone is sufficient to lead to the most dire of social punishments. Engaging in drug-
related activity is utter stupidity.

DO NOT BECOME INVOLVED IN ILLEGAL DRUGS!

Does this memo represent a wholly ignorant, paranoid viewpoint on marijuana? Of course. On the other hand, I have little sympathy for the smokers- they knew what they were getting into, and risking imprisonment, a permanent ban from the country, and a crippling impediment to future job searches is pretty stupid, too. For more info: Waseda Weekly article on the incident (were this America, the student paper would be a pro/con piece, if not an outright rebuttal to the administration). Good article at Japan Probe about “Japan’s Growing Marijuana Problem.” Asahi Shinbun article on the arrests. This is a cross-post from Shack in Japan

By day, Ginza is Tokyo’s ritziest shopping district, a boulevard of “burandohin” (name-brand imports) flagship stores, tourists and Japanese dressed to the nines, and depressingly expensive restaurants. It’s got some cool stuff, to be sure- the Sony showroom is geek heaven- but not really the sort of place I care to (or could afford to) hang out.

Last night, however, I got to see the real Ginza. By night, Ferraris and Maseratis pull in front of lavish hotels, and valets take the keys from scowling, middle-aged, designer-suited businessmen.  These aren’t the stoic salarymen of the morning commute, nor the tipsy new-hires I run into on the train Friday nights, trying to fit binge drinking with both classmates and coworkers around a 10-hour workday. The denizens of Ginza hanging out on the street (at least the ones I got to see) are assholes: loud, raucous, scornful pricks, enabled by their lucrative salaries to not care the least about anyone or anything. I heard one group loudly mocking my friend’s English, something I’ve never run across in this country, and saw another group break into a fight that ended up with one guy (and the $5000 of clothes on him) in a hotel fountain. あぶない.

(I know that not all the people in Ginza at night fall into this mold; these guys were just the most noticable as I walked down the street. Inside the restaurants and bars, the customers and staff are all polite and classy, though the men are still much colder than, say, the ones you would find in a normal Izaka-ya)

My host was a very nice guy, however, a well-off man whom, by way of a complicated chain of connections, ended up taking my friends and I out first for the best hamburger of my life, and then to a Ginza club for drinks. There’s not much to say about the hamburger, save that it was mind-blowingly delicious. We ate in Akasaka, near my internship at SAKK.

The Ginza club, however, was something else. I wish I had photos, but it just didn’t feel right- I already felt like I was privy to a sight not meant for outside eyes, and I didn’t want to mark myself as a tourist any more than I already was (picture dressing to meet an old friend for drinks at a bar by a train station, and then ending up at a board meeting). The club was extravagant, from the gilded and art-laden walls to the private reserve bourbons filling the crystal cabinets. Everything screamed opulence. The tables are scattered around a carpeted floor, surrounded by posh leather sofas and chairs.

When you order drinks at one of these clubs, you don’t just get tasty liquor, you also get beautiful women to serve and chat with you. These ladies are dead classy, from the mid-twenties up to the mid-thirties, and wear either kimono or gorgeous designer dresses. They’re not prostitutes in the least- they do nothing more than pour drinks for the customer and keep him company- but it’s still unlike anything I’ve run into before. Nightlife moguls may get similar treatment in American lounges, but the spectacle of sitting down at a restaurant and having several beautiful women immediately come over and pour drinks, light cigarettes, talk with you, and pretend you’re the most interesting person they’ve ever met was just odd.

(Japanese people are into this sort of thing- from maid cafes to host/hostess bars, men and women alike pay premiums for institutionalized companionship of the opposite sex, even when there’s absolutely no chance of interaction outside the bar or store)

I think that one part of the oddity was that it didn’t seem like something special enough to pay for. Yes, everything was the height of class, but going out drinking with friends, women included, isn’t something hard to do in Tokyo, at least for a college student. The conversation I had with these girls could be substituted in for any number of first-time meetings. While I got what was so special about the location (the decor, the alcohol, the manners and clothes of the staff), I didn’t really get the “pay a girl to talk to you” thing. I guess if you’re rich, but have bad luck with women, it would be kind of nice, but most of the businessmen I saw in there looked like they would have no problem finding a nice girl to take out. The idea of paying to flirt with girls whom you’ll never see outside of the lounge they work in just doesn’t quite come together in my mind. I’ve heard the same sentiments from many non-Japanese, unable to reconcile the idea of non-sexual (or at least, not-leading-to-sex) paid companionship, and  one of the better-written explanations I’ve found comes from an article in The Standard titled “My Month as a Poor Man’s Geisha”:

It was their job to try to touch us, our job to not let them. It was all a part of the game, the knowing laughter, the glow of mischief, the moment they nearly crossed the line just to make us draw it again. In many ways the hostess bar recreated the atmosphere of childhood, a space devoted to pure play and indulgence, but with the boundaries that allowed it to be pleasurable. The fact that the female manager of such a club is called mama-san is no coincidence. Taking care to mark the limits of the customers’ desire relieved them of the responsibility to control it…

…After all, hostess bar customers weren’t really looking for a lapdance or a peep show, they could have easily gotten those elsewhere and for far cheaper.

The question remains - why were they here? What were they looking for?

Yes, they wanted the fantasy of sex, but also they wanted the fantasy of
romance. Of the perfect girlfriend, who is always ready for drinking, flirtation and fun, but who disappears at the end of the night, no strings attached. They wanted a world apart from the daily cares of the working world, where they could be simultaneously be children and kings of the castle.

This bar wasn’t a hostess bar per se- there was no groping, no karaoke, no raunchiness- but the fantasy of romance, the escapism and the idea of a perfect, flawless evening, persisted. No matter what they drink, how they drink it, what they care to talk about, or what their mood, the customers can expect nothing but the pleasant buzz of quality alcohol and meandering conversation, an atmosphere of relaxed decadence, and affirmation by beautiful, elegant female companionship.

That said, I can’t remember the name of the 30-year old whiskey we drank, but it was the best liquor I’ve ever had. I never saw a menu; I get the impression you ask for what you want, and it tends to be there. If it’s not, the problem is probably less their selection than your poor taste in alcohol. They brought champagne and cake later (both incredible) for one of the girls’ birthdays, and we all sang her “Happy Birthday,” which I found hilarious. My friends and I shared “What the hell is this place, and how did we get here?” glances, and our host seemed pleasantly bemused at our disorientation. It was an amazing time, and I savored every minute of it, partly because I never expect to end up anywhere like that any time soon.

I had a date that night, and we had originally planned to meet up at Shibuya around 11:30. When we got to Ginza, I told our host that I probably needed to cut out to go meet my friend, and he told me to just have her come here instead. She was a little confused when I told her to go to Shinbashi instead of Shibuya, and more so when I led her down into a tucked-away businessman’s club, but I explained the odd set of circumstances that put me there, and she joined in enjoying the weird, wonderful situation. Our host dropped us all off in Shinjuku later, and we hung out at an Izakaya until first train.

(cross-post from Shack in Japan)

Foreign finance fees can be killer- on top of the bogus 1% Visa/Mastercard foreign transaction fee for using anything with their logo on it, it’s not uncommon to see 1-3% conversion fees and $2-5 transaction fees for purchases and ATM withdrawls- from your own bank! The guy that owns the ATM can charge you whatever he wants on top of that. I’ll be in Japan for a year, so keeping these extra charges to a minimum is worth some effort. I’ve poked around a few different sites, and figured out what seems like a pretty good three-prong approach to not going broke because of bank fees.

First- securing no-fee ATM withdrawals. With fees from both an ATM owner and your own bank, you’re forced to either carry a lot of cash, pay a bunch of money, or use plastic and pray that your credit card company doesn’t decide your activity is unusual and freeze your card. Additionally, word on the streets is that the Japanese use cash a lot more than we do. Getting access to cheap cash is essential.

On a recent trip to Yosemite, I met a traveling young woman that pointed me to PNC, a regional bank with completely online sign-up (you have to print out and mail in a form, but besides that, you never need to set food in a branch). What makes PNC special is that as long as you keep a $2500 balance with them, they refund all atm fees, anywhere, ever (I’m foregoing about $100 in interest income over a year, but ATM fees would most likely exceed that by a pretty good amount) . There are other banks that promise no-fee cash withdrawls, but their reimbursements are usually bounded by an upper dollar limit, or the United States’ borders. PNC promises reimbursement worldwide. Cash access? Check.

Next: paying with plastic. While PNC lets you do withdrawls for free, if you use their check card for a purchase, it ends up costing you 3% on top of the 1% standard fee. This is pretty common for credit cards, but Capital One (the company with the hyperbole-laden “No Hassle” commercials) not only waives their own fee, but also eats the 1% fee from the credit card companies. The result? You can use it just like a normal card. They do have a steep APR, and I wouldn’t recommend them if you don’t pay your balance every month, but otherwise, it’s a great deal. Note: I couldn’t figure out which card(s) this applied to, so I called them up, and told them to give me no transaction or annual fees, and cashback instead of bogus “rewards.” The support staff were very helpful, and saved me a bunch of sorting through the fifty different cards they offered.

So I’m set for withdrawing money and buying things, but PNC is pretty useless for saving any money: you have to have a ridiculous balance to get interest rates anywhere above 1%. That’s where ING comes in, an all-online bank with awesome across-the-board savings and CD rates, and cool features like free e-checks and paper checks you can mail from the internet. While they do have some cool investment options, their basic package is a no-nonsense, no-risk way to make a little interest income.

Short story short, if you’re traveling abroad, withdraw with your PNC card, spend with your Capital One card, and toss everything besides your minimum checking balance in an ING account. Score one against bogus fees!

A few sites were very helpful in sorting this situation out, and if you’re not going abroad, there might be better packages of financial institutions out there.

BankRate.com keeps up-to-date information on rates and fees at banks across the world.

FatWallet looks out for great deals and promotions in personal finance (and everything else)

and Consumerist just loves to expose sketchy financial companies.

====cross-post from Shack in Japan.