I Investigate a Strange Noise at Night

Since I’ve moved up to Gifu, I’ve left the quiet Ajimu countryside nights behind.

I’m still not in a dense urban area, but I’m no longer in the countryside. Instead of being surrounded by rice fields, my apartment building is right on top of a Yakiniku (Korean style Barbeque) restaurant.

Also sharing the same parking lot as my apartment is a “Philippine club.” And unfortunately this doesn’t mean a place where people come to learn about Philippine culture. The benevolent Japanese businessmen have decided to take advantage of the poverty in the Philippines by bringing Filipino girls to Japan to work in the sex trade.

When I first realized I was living next to a Philippine club, I thought, “Oh oh, this is going to be trouble.” But on the contrary, I hardly notice it’s there. The place is very secretive, with two guys in business suits standing in front of the door at all times to guard the entrance. I never hear any noises from it. I never see any one go inside. And in over a year of living there, I’ve never once seen the girls who work inside, despite sharing a parking lot.

What causes a lot more trouble is the “izakaya”or Japanese bar. Very late into the night I can hear people coming out of the bar. On a summer night with my windows open I can hear their footsteps, and can tell who is wearing high heels.

Most of the time it is just the usual singing or good-byes being shouted across the parking lot that wakes me up. But lovers’ quarrels are not uncommon either. Sometimes angry shouting matches. Sometimes just the sound of the girl weeping in the parking lot. Once I was awakened at 3 in the morning by someone loudly professing his love. “Asuka, I love you!” It’s good that he loves her of course, but I don’t know why he had to shout it so loud.

So although I’m not in what the Japanese people would consider “the city”, the tranquility of the countryside is definitely gone.

Besides my apartment, there are several other apartment buildings around the same parking lot. Last week, as I was returning home and walking into my apartment, I could hear loud cursing and the sound of breaking glass from one of the neighboring apartments. The Japanese equivalent of “You son of a bitch! You goddamn son of a bitch!” sound of breaking glass, something smashing, etc.

Because it was the neighboring apartment, it was a bit far away and not quite so loud that it was disturbing me, especially now that it has gotten a bit cooler and I sleep with my windows closed. But if I stood by the window I could still hear the loud cursing.

I thought someone should go and say something, so I went out of my apartment, walked down the stairs, walked all the way across the parking lot to the neighboring apartment, and then suddenly decided that I didn’t really want to get involved, and walked all the way back. After all, what was I going to say? I was a foreigner here, and I could barely speak the language. If there was a domestic disturbance it was not my place to straighten it out.

But the yelling and smashing continued. Someone one has got to do something, I thought. And Japanese people are notorious for just ignoring problems like this. That’s why there is such a big problem with train molesters in Japan. On a crowded train, usually not a single Japanese person who will make any move to help the lady, and the molester is able to act unhindered.

I thought I would call the police, but I wanted to see what was going on first so I didn’t sound stupid on the phone. So, I went back to investigate. I walked back to the other apartments, and there was a man standing outside. I just watched him to see what he was doing.

He noticed me and yelled the Japanese equivalent of “What the hell do you want?”

I immediately lost all nerve, and just kind of stuttered out in my poor Japanese: “Um, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you sir, but it’s just that I live in that apartment over there and I couldn’t help but hear some of the noise, and I wanted to see if you were alright and if there was anything I could do to help.”

He suddenly became very friendly. Given his sudden change in attitude, I can only guess that he hadn’t noticed I was a foreigner until I spoke in my accented Japanese. It was dark out at the time, and we couldn’t see each other well. (Although you would have thought my height would be a dead give away, but I was standing at a distance).

“What country are you from?” he asked. He came forward and extended his hand and I shook it. “I’m sorry about the noise,” he said. “I’m just upset about all the garbage here.” And he indicated all the garbage lying around the place. I realized that the smashing and crashing sounds I had heard was just him smashing up the various garbage lying around. For what purpose and to what end I couldn’t say. I was happy to realize he was smashing garbage instead of people, but he might still have been threatening someone inside the apartments. But after he assured me there was no problem, and he said he would keep the noise down, I could find no other reason to stay around, so I returned to my apartment.

And true to his word, I never heard any more noises again. Once again my being foreigness seems to have difused a tense situation. So I like to think I helped the whole apartment block get a quiet night’s sleep. But I still don’t know what all the noise had been about in the first place. Maybe he really was just upset about all the garbage.

Links of the Day
Ordinarily I try and only read the blogs of people I know. But sometimes I find myself following links and end up reading and getting addicted to blogs of people I don't even know. From Phil I found this Whisky Prajer blog, which, as Phil says, writes better reviews on movies and TV than most any professional reviewers I've read.