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Shibuya welcomes me in her Womb

Shibuya Travel Blog

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Random Observation/Comment #80: Techno clubs all sound the same, yet some places can charge $40 for the entrance fee while others only charge $20. It seems like the only difference is the size of the place and the different lightshow techniques. I wonder if they pay hot girls to cycle at the entrances to attract more people, or if their reputation just allows them to overcharge everyone.
I promised RJ a fun time with squeaky-voiced Japanese girls from the start of the trip. Unfortunately, our previous nights out had either been taste tests of all the cocktails in the bar, or drinking competitions between RJ and the bottom of the glass. This was the night to stick to my promise – just three guys (plus a random Australian guy we met at the hostel) exploring what Shibuya nightlife has to offer.

Chris was the designated drinking tour guide since he had been in Shibuya for the longest time out of the entire group (which is not difficult to do when no one else had ever been to Shibuya). This privilege of choosing a bar in a bar-filled town comes with a lot of pressure and obligation to please your guests. The choice of the bar and the events that follow for the night become your responsibility and will completely be used as judging criteria for your future employment in this field. In some way, it’s like ordering the wine at an Italian restaurant – you order the wine for the table and you get the smallest portion with the sediment from the last few drops of the bottle. It’s because you’re suggesting the wine to a large party so you’ve most probably already tried it.
Note to self: Don’t be the one that orders wine at an Italian restaurant.
Needless to say, Chris f#%ked up. We left the decision to his guidance, and we wound up at sausage-fests and loud bars with rats. To prove that the bar had cute girls and interesting conversation, Chris talked to girls and tried to introduce us. It was a series of innocent conversations where all the girls wanted to touch Chris’ blue eyes and blonde hair. I followed along and asked questions, trying to pry the right topic. It was an act on both ends.
Isn’t it nice to be whoever you want to be when you’re talking to a stranger at a bar? “Yeah, I’m a model from New York“. “I’m a multi-millionaire born from a prestigious porn website.” I never lied, but I never told the whole truth.
I wonder how many characters I could create with ridiculous stories. I’d probably need a different name and nationality too. Mmm, trust is so hard to earn.
After some drinking at one bar, we went to a club called “Womb.” Apparently it’s one of the top 3 techno clubs in the world. $40 per person – what a rip-off! The music was definitely better than the first techno place I went to, and the special effects kept me entertained for a good hour. The club used a lot of smoke and lights in a tasteful way. The strobe lights were used appropriately and the large laser that pans the room similar to a sci-movie defense system that scans the room for enemies. I loved it when they did the vertical planes and then swept them outward. It reminded me of the perspective drawings I used to do in middle school when drawing a town with a single road in the middle.

I think this place was popular because everyone there was under some type of influence. The sweaty masses bounced around the dance floor and bobbed with the repetitive beats. The only words in the songs would be “Put your hands up in the air like you just don’t care.” As with most clubs, I just observed my surroundings while keeping some type of head-bob-and-sway. I wrote my personal review of the atmosphere as I surveyed the area.
Energy was off the charts and everyone looked like they were having some type of fun. The rave dancers rave-danced, while the creepsters creepster-stared. For some reason, I craved some good Beatles music, but had to settle for that bass beat and chicky-chicky-tsee-tsee sounds. Sooner or later, I was enjoying myself and meeting new people. The night changed to morning before I knew it, and we had to follow the drunken stumble home on the first train. Good times.
~See Lemons Relax

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Shibuya
photo by: g1jacket