Big in Japan: A Night Out at Tokyo’s Gas Panic

by Matthew Firestone on

There is a house in Tokyo.
They call the Rising Sun.
It’s been the ruin of many a poor foreigner,
and me, o’ God, for one.

If I had listened what Mamma said,
I’d ‘a’ been at home today.
Being so young and foolish, poor boy,
let a pretty Japanese girl lead me astray.

The only thing a drunkard needs
is a night out at Gas Panic.
The only time he’s satisfied
is when he’s out on a drunk.

Fills his shot glasses to the brim,
passes them around
only pleasure he gets out of life
is chasing girls around Tokyo.

Let’s clear something up right off the bat. If you think Japan is all about order, cleanliness, subservience, minimalism and restraint, clearly you’ve never been out in Tokyo on a Friday night.

Although I’m an American (one of the few who has a passport I might add), I consider myself to be fairly well traveled. And, being that I love a good drink from time to time, I make it a point of exploring the night life in virtually every country I visit.

Truth be told, and feel free to disagree with me to your heart’s content, Tokyo’s raging nightlife bests New York City, London, Paris, Hong Kong and just about any other city that I know. Of course, this shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, given that 35+ million people working 100+ hours per week need to let out some steam from time to time.

If you ever do find yourself in Tokyo, make a point of stopping by a little place in Roppongi known as ‘Gas Panic.’ I promise you that you’ll never look at Japanese people the same way again.

Gas Panic is one of the most notorious clubs in Tokyo, particularly because it’s a mixing ground for foreigners on the prowl and Japanese ready to give it up. It’s a bastion of cheap liquor, sultry beats, loose women, hungry men and enough dancing space to loosen up the legs as well as the drawers. It also serves as a classic introduction to the dirty underbelly of Japanese culture, which sits at the opposite end of the spectrum from raked pebble gardens and silken kimonos.

Now, I know there are a healthy number of resident foreigners and self-respecting Japanese who won’t go near Roppongi, let alone the den of sin that is Gas Panic. But, I’ve always believed that in order to fully understand a culture, you need to experience its best and its worst.

And, let me tell you – Gas Panic is arguably Japan at its worst.

But of course, a little booze and some casual sex never hurt anyone, which is why Gas Panic has reached the heights of fame amongst those in the know. It’s the kinda place where you can forget your name, forget your identity, forget all about life’s little troubles, and most likely forget most of the night if you don’t go easy on the booze.

Sure, it’s sinful, but a little hedonism never damned anyone…

To reach Gas Panic, take the Hibiya Line to Roppongi or a taxi to Roppongi Crossing. The club is located off of Roppongi-dori just past the Don Quijote department store.

Band on the Run: Farewell from New York’s Chinatown

by Ember Swift on

Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, has been keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. This is her final post in this series. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), this series offers a musician’s perspective on road life.

My final post for “Band on the Run” fittingly brings me full-circle. I started blogging for Gadling with my trip to China in April and then I came back to North America and hit the road with my band again while simultaneously starting this series, “Band on the Run.” Now that I’m planning my return to China in just under a month, it seems fitting that my last post for “Band on the Run” be about the largest Chinatown in North America: New York City’s Chinatown.

Founded in the 1970’s by Chinese immigrants, this is one of the oldest neighbourhoods in New York. It is located on the East Side of Lower Manhattan and easily accessible by car or subway. It’s full of life and colour and interesting juxtapositions of culture and architecture and smells.

I loved it!

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We had the afternoon to wander around and the day was beautiful and sunny, like a rush of summer in September. Having been in and out of New York at least once a year over the past decade, it’s amazing how little time I’ve actually spent there. We rarely have the down time to actually hang out in the city and check out new neighbourhoods. It’s often just a quick arrival after fighting traffic, load-in, set-up, sound check, play, tear down, pack up and drive out (because accommodations are so expensive in the city.)

I had never seen New York’s Chinatown and I was eager to walk around, use my Mandarin and see if I couldn’t find some “su baozi” or steamed veggie buns like I’d enjoyed so much in Beijing. And, well, I was also looking forward to just enjoying the late summer sunshine and feeling like tourists for a moment.

Lyndell and I pulled up and found parking (with our big white van – that’s sometimes tough in New York!) just on East Broadway and Straus Square. We happened to find a broken parking meter, which is the equivalent to striking gold in a big city! That means that we had the right to park as long as we wanted — liberation from having to feed the parking meter all day!

We weaved around the streets and poked our heads into bakeries and shops. I had a few conversations with strangers about baozi and realized that I was saying it wrong when everyone thought I was asking about a newspaper. I corrected my tones and then mostly had conversations about why I was a vegetarian and how hard it is to find Chinese buns that aren’t meat or sweet-filled. In the end, I got no information about where to find them, but I did discover a great supermarket that was considered the center of Chinatown by several different people: the Hong Kong Supermarket.

Lyndell and I went in and I was rocketed back to Beijing. The smells, the action, the way the products were displayed, even. I found the entire environment reminded me of the shops I frequented in Wudaokou. The products were also very similar but also included products from Thailand and more American products than I ever saw in China. Still, it felt like I was back there somehow, and what a joy it was to introduce that experience to Lyndell who has yet to see China on her own.

We slowly walked through the store and I bought some necessary items to kick out my head cold (like ginger and sinus tea) and also some glutinous rice cakes and tofu products that I had never eaten back home until I’d been in China. (Lyndell was excited to try them as well and she has officially fallen in love with the sweet rice cakes.) What’s more is that two bags of groceries later and we only spent twenty-five dollars, which included a huge bottle of sweet chilli sauce that I normally find is overpriced in non-Asian grocery outlets.

We headed back to the van after that to put the groceries away and then ducked into a small bar for happy hour. Y’know, it’s been ages since I was at a bar during happy hour and it was great! This little bar, Bar 169, also hosts live music and had several old-fashioned games like a bowling game that required a small puck, pinball and a rickety old pool table. The graffiti on the walls in the bathroom marked years of philosophy during occupancy. I love these kinds of places, the small bars tucked away but opening you into a rush of history when you stumble into their warmth.

When we emerged back onto the sidewalk, it was my (tea-drinker) turn to do the driving (!) and I glanced up as I was about to pull away and finally noticed the beautiful park on the corner that we had been parked beside the whole time: Straus Square. Huge trees and wide gates marked the entrance and seemed like a shaded nature retreat from the bright afternoon sun sparkling off the city traffic. (As this area shares a lot of history with the Jewish population of New York, I mostly found information about this park through sites advertising Jewish history walking tours of Manhattan.)

I smiled then, at the perfection of the afternoon, the chance to see this part of the city and the chance to share this image of China, if only an off-shore reflection, with the person I love the most in the most in the world.

One day, we’ll do a full tour of China. I’m headed back there to try to put those contacts in place as well as to continue my pursuit of fluency in Mandarin. Until then, you’ll definitely hear from me while I’m there . I’m looking forward to digging up some interesting layers from the Beijing underground world. And, of course, I’ll share my stories.

Thanks so much to everyone who has supported this series. “Band on the Run” has reached its finish line.

Take care,

Ember Swift

Today’s Bad Eng(r)ish

by Matthew Firestone on

Here at Gadling, we try to keep our eyes to the ground in search of amusing English the world over. Truth be told, sometimes we can’t please everyone, but let it be known that our intention is never to offend.

With that said, I would like to bring you this photo advertising a yakiniku (grilled meat, ??????) restaurant that I scoped out this week in Tokyo. As an aspiring vegetarian, I try to avoid eating red meat whenever possible, but I just couldn’t pass this one up.

After all, roast meat does give you more power…

Big in Japan: Swish-Swish Goes the Shabu-Shabu

by Matthew Firestone on

In one of the pivotal scenes in the movie Lost in Translation, Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray’s characters get together for a lunch that is wrought with sexual tension. While staring blankly at plates of raw meat, and reminiscing about the previous night’s indiscretions, Murray wryly comments, ‘What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?’

The answer Bill is simple: shabu-shabu (????????????).

The Japanese onomatopoeic sound for ‘swish-swish,’ shabu-shabu is a type of Japanese hot pot involving plates of thinly sliced raw meat and pots of boiling broth.

Needless to say, the potential for either ingesting uncooked meat or burning your hands beyond recognition are two of the pivotal reasons why shabu-shabu hasn’t caught on outside Japan.

Truth be told, there are a few places in America where you can indulge in this Japanese delicacy (albeit in a closely watched manner), especially in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles and in Chinatown in New York.

Of course, nothing quite equals the actual thing.

Traditionally, shabu-shabu focused on thin slices of raw Japanese beef, though these days Australian beef and increasingly American beef is popping up on the menus. Needless to say, I’m partial to the Kobe variety, but since I’m not rolling in the yen, I’m happy to settle for the cheaper, less marbled meat.

Shabu-shabu is usually served with blocks of hard tofu and a healthy smattering of vegetables. Although these vary depending on the restaurant, the staples are Chinese cabbage, mushrooms, chrysanthemum leaves, seaweed, onions and carrots. It’s also fairly common to be served a side of udon noodles, which are excellent for soaking up the broth and providing a bit of carbs to the feast.

Here comes the fun part!

With your chopsticks in hand, pick up a single slice of meat, and swish it (or better yet shabu it!) around the broth for a few seconds. Depending on the quality of the meat, you’re going to want to leave the middle pink if it’s Kobe, or cook the hell out of it if it’s of unknown origin.

Next, dip the meat in one of the accompanying sauces, which are usually either ponzu (ぽんず), a sweet, citrus sauce, or goma (ごま), a creamy, sesame sauce.

Now that you’ve got the hang of it, you’re going to want to spice up the broth a bit. Although the broth is made by boiling dashi (だし) or flaked bonito, get creative by tossing in a plate of vegetables, tofu and noodles. After a few minutes, the broth will darken in color and thicken in texture, which will make the beef taste even more delicious.

Finally, once all the meat, vegetables and noodles have been eaten, the broth from the pot is customarily combined with a few bowls of rice. After all, you wouldn’t want to waste any food, now would you?

** Special thanks to my fellow restaurant goers, ‘Bakka-sugi’ Will and ‘I’m too cute’ Maho-san ***

Video: Train Cuts Through Crowded Bangkok Market

by Justin Glow on


This video is classic. And by “classic” I mean “awesome.” So why didn’t he just say awesome? you may be wondering. Because it’s classic too! As in Citizen Kane classic. The method acting, use of deep focus, low-angle shots — it has everything!

Anyway, somewhere in Bangkok, there is a market with a commuter line train running through it. The beginning of the shot seems normal enough for any major Asian city, but it’s what happens at the end to really set it a part. I wonder how many times the train comes through per day? Insane.

Now, savvy Gadling readers… dig up some more info on this market! Is it really in Bangkok? What’s the story behind it? [via]

Update: Gadling blogger Jamie digs up some details on this strange Thai train.