Tokyo breath away
Tokyo, Japan
(27 March 2025) Tokyo: There were a few shreaks as the plane dropped suddenly. The turbulence had been unrelenting all flight. Upon landing an airport worker grudgingly ushered me towards some landing cards. Using the back of my book as support I filled one out whilst walking. I trudged along to an archaic - by modern standards - immigration area. My sister had met me in Japan. There was a natural confusion over which was the correct train ticket to buy. A decision we ultimately got wrong. Using the naïve tourist routine we feigned our innocence to a rather disgruntled train conductor. He let us of with a warning.
As soon as we stepped onto the platform we were swept along with the current of people. We had arrived in Shibuya. Famed for its busy crossing and bright lights. Like pack mules we dragged our luggage to the nearest exit. It was overcast, but still, a slight chill in the air but nothing my English blood wasn’t used to. Cherry blossoms lined the road down to our hotel. They were not yet in full bloom. Although the sporadic early flower was teasing us as to what was to come. We tardily arrived at the hotel reception. Around 3pm local time. It was a quick turn around before heading out to find some food. Sushi beckoned. A sushi fever has gripped London over the past few years. However, the authenticity of Japanese sushi is unparalleled. We gazed at a screen. Hunger had rendered us inarticulate and indecisive. Like Pavlov’s dogs our ears pricked at the hum of the restaurant conveyer belt. Conger eel nigiri and cucumber maki filled the void until dinner time. We pottered up to Shibuya crossing post meal. All the roads were flanked by tourists ready to pounce at the sign of a green man. Mariokart characters whizzed around the streets in go karts. Neon signs flickered. Colourful billboards stood tall atop every building. The man turned green. Chaos ensued. An elderly Japanese lady fell over. Caught in the on rush tourists engrossed by their Iphone cameras.
Ramen was another food item to tick off the ‘to eat’ list. We stumbled upon a restaurant nearby our hotel. It was small and narrow like a corridor. An open kitchen (as is common in Japan) was on the left with a few small tables hugging the wall to the right. We sat waiting for someone to take our order. No one came. My eagle eyed sister noticed that everyone was going up to a vending machine in the corner. Upon closer inspection it mimicked the menu. We pressed a few buttons before feeding it some cash. Out printed a ticket with our order. Moments later a steaming bowl of brothy noodles was parked in front of me. Semi submerged seaweed danced in the steam. Breaded chicken was neatly segregated to one side.
Enshrined
(28 March 2025) Tokyo: We emerged from the underground rail. It was sunny. The streets were still damp from the overnight rains. A cartoon blue catfish donned overhanging street signs. Namazu is a mythical representation of earthquakes. The signs are used as guidance during natural phenomena. A backlog of tourists clogged the entrance to a nearby street. Each attempting the perfect Instagram photo. Shops flanked the narrow and crowded street. Music blasted from left and right. Like man-of-war frigates firing cannons at each other. A micropig cafe caught the attention of the masses. A sign on the door suggested a 2 hour wait. We soldiered on.
We were confronted by traditional torii style Japanese gates. It occupied a liminal space between the city and dense forest. We transitioned into the otherworldly park and joined the march of the tourists towards the Meiji shrine. The walk was pleasant. Thick vegetation acted as a natural sound barrier from the cities noise pollution. Sunlight edged passed the canopy where it could. Fountains spurted water before the shrines entrance. We rinsed our hands and mouths in the water. As the locals do. Other tourists followed suit. Most of whom anxiously looked around as if they didn’t know the routine. The shrine brimmed with tourists. Flag bearing tour guides fronted most of the larger agglomerations. Like a master leading loyal dogs. Typically Japanese sloped roofs. Emerald green trees surrounded the courtyard. Spring was in full flow. We passed up the option to buy tokens for an offering. On our way back we passed by the imperial palace. Amazed by the contrast of modern cityscape and old fortress we took a 5 minute break. Some strawberries had caught our eye in a supermarket earlier in the day. Each strawberry had a perfect pinky red hue. It almost seemed artificial. We supplemented the strawberries with a few pastries we had picked up French bakery before heading back to the hotel.
That evening we strutted through the neon glow of Shibuya. A friend I had met in the Philippines was also in Tokyo. We met up for a quick bowl of ramen before exploring the area. We zigzagged through side streets gawking at the alien nightlife. Suddenly my sister furiously tapped me on the shoulder. She tilted her head towards the man in front. At first I thought she shocked at his bright yellow corduroy jacket. Then I saw it. A translucent plastic bag was draped over his shoulder. The fine details of a snake could easily be made out. It had a long white body and a dark head. Species unkown. We eventually found ourselves in a Don Quijote store. A statue of its iconic purple penguin stood guard outside the entrance. On the other side of the entrance was fish tank. It was unassuming at first inspection. A few tropical fish aimlessly swimming around. As I turned to head into the store I saw movement. Out of its coral layer a large green moray eel poked its head out leisurely. It halted and looked around as if it was on century duty. After 30 seconds it dragged its head back into its cave. Almost methodically. It was chaos inside the store. The flows of people traffic could sweep you away like rip current. We found relative peace and quiet one story up. You could buy anything from makeup and cosmetics, tea, biscuits, kitkats, crabs, and toys. None of which was organised by theme. It was multipurpose. We called it quits shortly after. Our senses were overloaded.
Did you know?
Shinjuku station in Tokyo is the busiest train station in the world with 3.5 million daily passengers.
(29 March 2025) Tokyo: My room might as well have had a revolving door. People were coming and going all night long. It was hard to get a full 8 hours. Gloomy skies were burdening us heavy rains. Gratefully, we had chosen to visit a department store in the day. It was a stationary department store. Something my sister has an affinity for. Whilst not an affinity I share it was still impressive. I picked up some origami sheets. Something to pass the time on the many long journeys that awaited me. After a quick cup of tea we braved the rains and headed to another shrine. I had seen it on Instagram prior to the trip. The shrine itself was small. Two monkeys in red capes guarded the entryway. Bored, we swiftly left. The exit was the most impressive part of the shrine. Lining some narrow stairs was a continuous tunnel of red torii gates. It was like descending into the underworld.
The rains carries on and continued into the evening. Tempura was next on the food bingo card. Our other sister had kindly booked us into a smart restaurant. The entrance was unassuming. A light flickered over a deprived staircase. A rusty metal door, akin to a fire exit, was centred onto a bland and unloved wall. There was not a sign post in sight. It was dark inside restaurant. A long bar had chairs facing into a live kitchen. The restaurant was narrow. It could only hold 6 people at most. At hip height a dim white light lined the wall. It was the only source of light outside of the kitchen. Pink flowers in a plain vase were centred behind the kitchen. Our places had been set with military precision. We each had a mahogany wooden tray in front of us. Wooden chopsticks were lined horizontally at the bottom. We cheersed glass of rice wine to celebrate my sisters impending birthday. Every 2 minutes we were presented with small tempura dish from a set menu. Between which we snacked on pickled ginger to cleanse the palette. The waiter talked us through each dish whilst his colleague cooked calmy next to him. Easily the best tempura I have eaten. As he escorted us out the waiter mentioned he was from Taipei. ‘Shea Shea’ I said whilst dutifully waving. He smirked and bowed. It was back to the hotel after dinner. The next day we were off to Kyoto.
I’m going at the end of Nov - very excited. Let me know if you have any must dos!