BeerattheSobaShop

    byHarukiMurakami

    TranslatedbyChristopherAllison

    ThethingthatbotheredmethemostwhenImovedfromthecitytertothesuburbsinthesummerof1981wasthattherewasntanybodyhangingaroundduringtheday.Themajorityofthepopulationbeingwhite-collar,theyleftearlyinthemaurheevening.SinceImakeitaruleonlytoworkmsandnights,Ihangoutintheneighborhoodiernoon.Itsthestrafeeling.Theneighborsalllookatmesuspiciously,soIstarttofeellikeIveactuallydonesomethingwrong.

    ItseemslikemostofthepeopleintownassumeImacollegestudent.WhenIwasoutforawalkretly,thisoldwomancalledouttome"Hey,areyoulookingforaroom,";taxidriverssaythingslike"Studyingmustbereallytough,huh?";andtheclerkattherecord-rentalplaceaskedmeto"PleaseshowyourstudentI.D."

    Granted,Iliveinjeansandtennisshoesallyearround,butIm33yearsold,andIdontthinkIlooklikeacollegestudent.ButIsuppose,tothepeopleintown,anyonewanderingaroundiimelookslikeacollegestudent.

    IdidnthavethisproblematallwhenIlivediy.IwasalwaysmeetingpeopleoutforwalksiernoononAoyamy-dori,justlikeme.Inparticular,IoftenranintotheillustratorMizumaruAnzai(whose

    workapaniesalloftheessaysinthisbook--Chris.)

    "Anzai-san.?"

    "Um,errr,Imean,youknow,kinda..."

    Andtherewereothersimilarinstances.PeopleintheareacouldellwhetherAnzaiwasreallytotallyunoccupied,orwhetherhewasactuallyverybusybutdidntshowit.

    Anyway,forwhateverunknownreasons,thereareplentyofpeoplewanderingaroundiimedo