From Osaka to Kyoto
Konnichiwa everyone, greetings from Kyoto.
Apologies to everyone having withdrawal symptoms from my posts. I know they’re absolutely mesmerising and insightful, but I have to be true to my word and not become a spam bot. Less is more.
I have spent a lot of time recently researching how to grow my ‘brand’ online from a social media point of view. If you were to tell me 10 years ago this is what I would spend my time doing, I would have laughed in your face and probably thrown up all over the floor.
Rightly or wrongly, in the early age of social media and the ‘rise of the influencer,’ I was the biggest critic of these people. GET A REAL JOB, I would often post on my own social platforms. I now find myself navigating that very world I once criticised so much, with the desire to carve a career for myself in the digital world. I even have a social media posting schedule that I hope will help me grow my presence online.
I have come to the realisation that, as humans, we are incredibly lazy. Posting on my Instagram to let people know I have a new Substack post up, but then requiring that person to click through to my page - click a link in my bio - read a post that will take 3–8 minutes - then subscribe to my page - it’s all too much.
It’s all too much for the mammals that dominate this planet with the most advanced brain of any species, ever. Even I know that if any webpage offers me something that requires me to enter my email, I let out a sigh. It takes three f***ing seconds to type it, and I see it as an inconvenience.
What I’m basically getting at is that we, as humans, are despicably lazy creatures, and for me to increase my digital presence, I need to learn the blueprints of social media. How can I grab someone’s attention while showcasing my incredible talents that will allow me to earn money, all while having that person use their thumb as little as possible and their brain even less?
When you put it like that, I may as well retire again and get myself back to the call centre.
Anyway, I still have your attention even after that rant, so you must be in the top tier of humanoids. You have displayed a level of brain function and attention not many have. Well done.
I’m now in Kyoto after spending four weeks in Osaka. We arrived here five days ago, and we adore it. A plethora of exquisite coffee shops and eateries, low-rise buildings, and old-world areas lined with the narrowest of streets. It really has a traditional feel about it that sets it apart from Osaka. Its population is 85% less than Osaka’s, which is perfect for anyone who thinks significantly fewer people are better for the soul. Me.
A term my wife and I have found ourselves saying on many occasions since arriving in Japan is ‘levelling up’. It’s become a running joke now because Japan literally does that in every way possible. They level up every single thing that exists - products, service levels, and convenience. I’ve probably mentioned this four or five times in previous posts.
I took myself for a haircut a few days ago. The skin fade I was blessed with in Osaka meant I didn’t walk into the barbers with any worry that I could walk out looking like Ross Kemp. The path that lay ahead of me was one of luxury and care - neither of which I set out looking for. I was just looking for a decent skin fade. Nothing less, nothing more.
Barber Higuchi Grooming & Spa was my destination of choice. Now, I know what you’re thinking, you said you were only looking for a trim with no faff. I was simply looking for the traditional barber pole. I found one and walked in. I was not aware of any ‘spa’ element.
However, once I entered, I was greeted with scents that blessed my nostrils in ways that only a few could. As a man of taste, I noticed the array of Aesop products dotted around the shelves. It was then I knew I was in safe hands and was about to embark on a harmonious experience in every way, shape, and form, apart from the bit at the end where I tapped my bank card.
The floor was immaculately clean of any strand of hair while at the same time looking like it was decades upon decades old.
Two other customers occupied the chairs at the rear of the establishment. One was getting his hair washed, and the other had his face covered in towels while his barber shaved the back of his head with a blade. Both barbers were dressed in long white shirts, a mix between lab coat and fashion-functional.
A silence blessed the large room, only to be broken by a young gentleman calmly walking towards me to welcome me into the store. After advising that I did not have an appointment and wished for a skin fade, he promptly ushered me towards the empty chair at the front of the store and politely asked that I wait a few moments.
A few moments passed, and he reappeared in a similar white shirt, shorter in length but equally as clean-cut and cool. In broken English, he asked, ‘low, mid, or high?’ This is barber language. No matter where you are in the world, if you’re looking for a skin fade, you know you’re in safe hands when asked this question.
‘Mid,’ was my answer. I sat back and relaxed, knowing I was not going to leave looking like Ross Kemp but more like Brad Pitt (he wishes).
As a well-travelled gentleman, I have sat in barber chairs across many continents. Hello, goodbye, thank you, and very nice are usually my core snippets of language while getting a trim. I would never pass judgement on any barber that lacks the ability to converse in my native language, and more than likely, I’ll quite happily sit in silence. It’s relaxing and pleasant.
However, there is one topic of conversation that transcends all languages. It transcends religious beliefs and any other differences we humans may have.
Football. The language of love, the language of friendship, the global language of football.
Ten minutes into my fade, I was asked, ‘Where are you from?’ The moment I responded with ‘England,’ - ‘YES, Premier League football!’
That was it. No looking back. The rest of my time sitting on that soft-leather chair was spent in joyous conversation.
We chatted about the Japanese players who have graced the Premier League: Kagawa, Mitoma, Minamino, and Endō. I showed him a recent Instagram post I had sent my brother about ‘King Kazu’, Kazuyoshi Miura, who is currently the oldest playing professional footballer in the world and a Japanese footballing legend.
I opened my Apple Wallet and showed the two tickets I have for FC Tokyo vs. Kawasaki Frontale in a few weeks’ time. We went back and forth with chit-chat like friends in a pub on a Friday night. But this was the first time we had met, and neither of us spoke the other’s language very well. Football transcended all of that in this moment.
The cherry on the cake was when he mentioned he was a Liverpool fan.
We paused my impeccable skin fade and scrolled through my collection of photos and videos of my many Anfield visits and videos from the Champions League final in Kiev. The noise of passionate Liverpool songs broke the tranquillity of the barbershop. We laughed and smiled over a mutual interest.
I sat in the chair as a stranger from another country. After our conversation ended, I was treated to a neck shave and a hair wash with the finest-smelling Aesop products one could wish for. I stood up -
not as a stranger, but as an acquaintance to my new friend, my fellow lover of football. And I also smelt absolutely incredible.
The skin fade was a work of art, and the smile on my face reflected exactly that.
It may have been the most expensive haircut I had ever paid for, but I’d have paid double with no hesitation.
Football transcends every language, as does a cracking haircut.
Be kind and spread love. See you on the next one.