We got to the airport with time to spare. We checked our bags, exchanged some currency, got a cash refund for the missing bags fiasco, and made it to the United Business Lounge. I’ve been in several United Business Lounges in my day, but never one that had free alcohol. They just had bottles sitting there for you to drink as you please. Whiskey, vodka, rum, you name it, they had it. As I’m a light-weight these days, I partook of the free white wine. I partook a lot. I made one or two rounds to the smoking lounge (which is the nicest and cleanest I’ve ever been in) and partook a little more in the free booze. Free Saltines too. By the time we started boarding the plane, I was pleasantly tossed. Of course, Business Class, being much nicer than coach or economy plus, they offer you Champagne before the flight takes off. Naturally, I had some. From that point on, the 10 hour flight was a blurred menagerie of in-flight films, XM-Radio (which, mind you, plays excellent music), more free booze, and a great deal of sleep. Apparently, not only was I dancing (arms waving) in my seat, but I also spilled my drink on my boyfriend. I was still asleep when the plane landed and the last person to leave. Drunken stouper, not anything flight attendants haven’t seen before and probably not the worst.

Somehow, I made it through customs and somehow we got our bags. I imagine that had it not been for the care of my boyfriend, I might still be on the plane. Out to the street, I was pushing the cart with the bags and talking to the girl that was waiting for us at baggage claim. I accidentally dumped the luggage into the street. It was at that very moment that I began to feel sick. Really sick. Luckily, I didn’t puke in the car ride home. I slept some more. Once we got home, I ran to see my kitties. My head in a fluff and in an awful amount of pain. I said “hi” to the babies and flopped down on the bed. Hard. The next 24 hours was a puke-fest that rivaled the pie-eating contest vomit scene in Stand By Me. Dry heaves a’plenty and that feeling that you’re on a merry-go-round that just won’t stop. When I finally stopped puking and had a sense that I was coming back to life, I slept for real…except, I kept waking up. Around 5am, I woke up for good. My darling of a boyfriend made a run to the store for some dehydration provisions (crackers and Gatorade) and I shoved a bowl of rice down. I felt better.

Today however, the aftermath of the aftermath. I tried to stay awake most of the day, but ultimately fell back asleep in a deep slumber. I’m still a little light-headed and too tired to sleep. I’ve eaten and I feel like myself again. I can now truly appreciate being home.

Before any given flight, I can’t name names, but I’ve been told that the best thing to do on long flights is get wasted, sleep through the flight, wake up at your destination, and voila! Problem solved. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it or not, but I’m not a good flyer. I get anxious, restless, can’t sleep, sometimes I get motion sickness, and I tend to be easily upset. It must be the confined spaces, the recycled air, the sub-par food, and the inability to move around as you please. Either way, after several bad flights, I decided to take the “get wasted” advice to see what would happen. I think I can safely say that getting wasted on a flight is NOT the answer. Experiment? Failed. Looking on the positive side, I guess now I can say I know the difference. I was also not aware that the altitude makes the effects of alcohol intensify. Who knew? Not me. So, take it from me. Don’t get wasted on the flight…that is, unless you’re Keith Richards…which, for a few hours…I was.

I am glad to be home. It feels weird. After living in a hotel for more than a week, it’s nice to be back amongst my own things. This also means that now I can get back to the real world and do real world things. I don’t have to wake up and sight-see tomorrow, but I do need to get my career off the ground. Back to all the miscellaneous tasks of everyday life.

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We’d planned on seeing the Metropolitan Museum of Photography yesterday, but we got all the way down there and it was closed. I probably should have checked my guide book – which clearly indicated the hours of operation. A friendly American ex-pat tried to help us, but alas we wasted his time when I read the book entry. Thus, we settled on Shibuya. My boyfriend hadn’t seen it and it’s a fitting way to bid farewell to Tokyo. What better place than the city’s central nervous system? We walked under the neon lights, weaved in and out of foot traffic, gazed lovingly at the larger than life advertisements, took more pictures, and found a 5 story “department store” – although it wasn’t so nice as to call it a department store. They did, however, have anything you could ever want. From cosmetics to gold watches and furniture. I bought a great deal of Pocky and Pretz. We then looked for a place to eat.

We found the most wonderful place in all of Tokyo – the kind of place I’d hoped we’d find. On the street, we were lured in by a boy with an eye-patch to a dark little place, one level under the street. With about 6 tables, a bar, and old wooden beams supporting the roof. A mix of darks and reds, Japanese lettering filled the walls and only one waiter spoke English (but not very well). Everyone was extremely nice and accommodating. I finally had a delicious vegetarian meal. In this place, it’s sort of like Korean BBQ. They bring you a big plate of food and you cook it yourself right on the table. We drank tea, talked about the day to follow, and ate like fiends.

I banged my knee on the table, re-injuring it from the crash. It’s alright now, but last night it was really hurting, so we decided to call it a night. Back to the train, back to the hotel.

We should have packed, but we ended up watching YouTube and ultimately falling asleep. With every intent to pack first thing in the morning, it never, ever, goes that way. We’re always doing things last minute and rushing like crazy. I should be packing now. We leave in two hours. Hard to believe that it’s all come and gone so quickly. Sure, a week feels like a month, but now that I’m leaving, it feels like it’s over all too quickly.

I really am going to miss this place. I’m going to miss so many things. The shows 4 times a day just outside my window, the noise of Disney Sea and the accordion music looping throughout the day. I’ll miss looking out my window and seeing Italy in Japan. I wish I had time to go through the list of things I’ll miss. I just don’t. Perhaps I’ll write a Japan Retrospective when I get home.

Ah home. Kitties and my own bed. I’ve gone through most of my image and I’m trying to upload them now. It’s taking a really long time…for some reason. It still has 45 minutes. I’ll post the link when I get home.

Goodbye Japan. Perhaps we’ll meet again.

Harajuku is like SOHO meets 80′s Melrose Ave. meets CBGB’s meets Comic Con. If you don’t know anything about Harajuku, it’s basically where the cool kids hang out. For (apparently) decades, the kids in Japan, of various scenes, hang out on a bridge near the Harajuku train station. They just hang out there. The bridge itself overlooks the train rails and that’s about it. It connects to a beautiful park, but the area specifically where everyone hangs out is just a bridge. A decade or so ago it was the 50′s kids who dressed like greasers and wore poodle skirts – they’re still there, they’ve just moved down a bit. Today it’s several intermingling scenes made up of Cos-Play, Visual-Kei, and Gothic Lolita. From what I can tell, they’re all sort of into the same music and Gothic Lolita is not the same as Gothic. Visual-Kei and Cos-Play are sort of the same thing. It’s where the kids dress up as they’re favorite Japanese rocks stars. The music itself is a bit difficult to understand and I’m not into it enough to describe it accurately. I do know that boys look like girls and are often very beautiful. There are elements of Goth and Punk, but it seems to be a complicated mix of genres. Like I said, I don’t really know enough about the music. I’ve seen the magazines and I’ve heard some of it, but I’m just not all that into it.

That said, we spent several hours perusing the bridge at Harajuku. The teens were out in force due to a large concert taking place at a event hall down the street. A band called “Pulse Wriggling To Black” are, apparently, a big deal. Swarms of strangely dressed teenagers walked the bridge, stopped to say hello to their friends and continued on. The ones that stayed hung out in groups, sat on the ground, talked on their cel phones, took pictures of one another with their cel cameras, and goofed around. Many were jolly while others simply stood there and looked cool. Most kids were happy to pose for pictures, while some couldn’t be bothered. It’s an odd mix of wanting to stand out and wanting to be left alone. It’s something I understand completely. In my hey-day (yes, I’m that old) I recall not wanting to be bothered even though I had purple hair and dressed all in black – which, once upon a time was weird and not easily accepted as it is today.

Harajuku attracts tourists in droves. I hate to be associated with the “Wow! Look at the weirdos!” crowd, but even I was fairly amazed. Amazed at the amount of effort it takes to put their outfits together, amazed that this is what they do every Sunday…they stand on a bridge and pose for pictures. The strange thing is that these kids are the antithesis to typical Japanese society in so many ways. Not just because they dress differently, but because they don’t appear to have the same worth ethics, they litter, graffiti, and have a general disregard for the rules. They are, in essence, the true punks of Japan. After a week of being thanked, thanking, and being proper, it’s actually sort of odd to see kids blatantly disregard the structure. I guess that’s the way things are going. As Japan becomes more and more Western, they will undoubtedly face the same problems we have in the States. Who knows, maybe they have them already. Being a tourist, it’s hard to get a full grasp of what life is really like here.

After Harajuku, we walked the park. There was a large Earth Day crafts faire going on, but it looked boring. We stopped to watch the Rockabillies get tossed and dance. I looked up Harajuku on Wikipedia and there are pictures of the very same Rockabilies we saw yesterday; taken in 2006. My boyfriend estimates that these are most likely the same kids, now a little older, who invaded Harajuku 10 years ago. Still going to Harajuku on a Sunday, still getting drunk, and still dancing in the street. Many of them were old by Gothic Lolita standards, well into their 30′s, but still partying like it’s 1999. They are very entertaining. They pose like James Dean, sit on their Kawasakis, and with drunken intensity, slide across the gravel, do hand-stands, and dance like mad. I wonder if in 10 years the Gothic Lolitas, well into their own 30′s, will continue to show up at Harajuku and pose for pictures. They’ll have a new name: Mama Lolitas.

It started to get dark and we were hungry. While there are more vegetarian restaurants in Harajuku than anywhere, we didn’t think to look any of them up. We found a dive called Jonathan’s – a place we likened to Denny’s. The food wasn’t all that good, but it was cheap and the coffee was strong. After that, we walked back down towards the station and looked for the alley that had all the cool stores. Hardly mentioned in my guide book, we had to guess. We finally found it, but shops were closing for the night. We made it into one of two. One in particular, a sub-level punk shop. The sales guy (or owner) asked us where we were from. When we told him “California” he proudly showed us all the US punk bands that had visited his store and signed the wall. He was particularly proud of his Rancid and Social D. signatures. How cool.

In general, it was sort of a lazy day. I’ve been non-stop for the last week and it’s hard to maintain this sort of momentum. We stopped in a few more stores, had some coffee, and then made our way back to the hotel. Beaten down, backs aching like old people, we ordered massages. The only openings they had were at 1:45am – so we waited. I fell asleep for a few minutes, started the major task of going through Kyoto images, and then got abused by a large Japanese woman. You see, Japanese massage isn’t anything like American massage. It’s really about working those pressure points and boy did she! For half an hour, I withstood the pain – mostly because my muscles are so very sore and tired that any pressure is bad. In the end, it was all good and this morning I awoke feeling better than I have all week. Now I can say I’ve had a traditional Japanese massage. I might not ever have another one.

Alright. So today is our last full day in Tokyo. I’m sad, but I’m also glad to be going home. I’ve only been here a week, but somehow it feels longer. It feels like I’ve done a month’s worth of activities…and maybe I have. I miss my kitties, I miss American TV, I miss eating food I can eat, and strangely, I miss hearing conversations in English. Not that I necessarily want to go home. I do love it here. I love so many things about Japan, but it isn’t home. I like fast paced, I love travel by train, but oddly, I also miss the comforts of home. Sofia Coppola got it right…there is this sense of solitude even in a city of millions of people. I don’t speak the language so I’m innately closed off. Even though Japan is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, I have felt like I’m in someone else’s house. And I guess, to some extent, I am. For the first time ever, I’m feeling perplexed about going home. Usually on trips, I hate the idea of going home. For some reason, I don’t feel that desperate need to stay. Perhaps it’ because my home life is actually pretty good. I’ve got a great house, I’m working on my passion, and I’ve got two of the cuddliest kittens you ever did see. Life back home isn’t all that bad and perhaps it’s why I miss it. Then again, I feel like I could live here. Walking around, I wonder what it would be like to live here, to have a small apartment, learn the language, and try to fit in. If you ever wanted to be in a place where individuality absolutely has to come in the form of outlandish costume, this is it. If you want a place you can get lost in, Japan is where you need to go.

I have even more pictures to go through. I estimate tonight will be a little less intense, so I’m sure I’ll have time later. Three days of pictures. Can you dig it? I knew that you could.

04.20.08 – Everyone told us we couldn’t see Kyoto in a day; that you have to spend (at the very least) two days there. Well, since we don’t have that kind of time and paying for two hotels simultaneously is reckless abuse of cash, we decided to see what we could in one day. We got up early yesterday, were out of the hotel by 9:30am, and on the Shinkansen by 10:40am.

Let me tell you about the Shinkansen; also known as The Bullet Train. They call it The Bullet Train for a reason. A machine of sleek, aerodynamic design, like a white dolphin zipping through the countryside, the Shinkansen reaches speeds up to 188 miles per hour. In 1996, it broke the conventional rail record and reached 381 mph. Considering most conventional trains go about 60 mph, 188 is pretty amazing. Furthermore, it cuts the travel time to Kyoto in half. In half! I repeat, in half!! Not to mention, the ride itself is so smooth, it actually lulls you to sleep. As you gaze out the window, the Japanese countryside melts into small towns, mountain views, farmland, major cities, and industrial areas. The smoking car recalls the era of elegant travel, where train rides were important means of getting around. In order to appreciate it, you have to keep reminding yourself that you’re moving more powerful than a locomotive and faster than a speeding bullet. The Shinkansen boasts a most impressive view of Mt. Fuji, but either because of the weather or our seating placement, we missed it.

When you arrive in Kyoto, you’re greeted by one of the most astounding feats of architectural design; that is, where train stations are concerned. It looks like a giant Erecter Set, reaches up 10 floors, has a hotel, a theater, restaurants, very confusing ATM machines, shops, and the hustle and bustle of Japanese travelers and tourists.

After taking in the amazing train station – which deserves a separate trip of it’s own – we found the foreign travel department and inquired about temples, shrines, and/or tours. The lady behind the counter was sweet, but chided us for only having half a day to see Kyoto. She pin-pointed two places on the map; the must-sees. We ventured back to street level and hailed a cab bound for The Heian Shrine – which, coincidentally, was the same shrine Scarlet Johansen visited in Lost in Translation.

Beyond one of the largest Torii in Japan lays an ancient Shinto Shrine built in…1895. By most accounts, not all that ancient, but remarkable nonetheless. I’m American, after all, and anything 100 years and older is pretty cool. A major tourist attraction for sure, the quiet solitude portrayed in Lost in Translation was not present. However, above the clatter and the constant snapping of pictures is a gorgeous orange structure of historical significance and prayer. We paid 600 yen to see the gardens behind the entrance and walked around in what the Imperial Gardens should have been. This is what you imagine a lovely, quiet, Japanese garden to look like. Trails winding underneath cherry blossom trees, green plant life hugging ponds, cranes and koi harmonious in this lush environment. We stopped at a tea hut and indulged in (what we were told was) a traditional Winter sweet: Green tea, mushy sweet bean curd, and salty/sweet seaweed. It was ever so pleasant. The clouds washed over the sky opening portals of sunlight that cascade through the colorful leaves. The air was cool. After a moment, we walked to a long bridge that overlooked Japanese buildings. I felt like I was in a movie.

Sighs of joy. Happiness and utter contentment. We left the Heian Shrine and found a little restaurant around the corner. I had spaghetti with mushrooms and my boyfriend had chicken, french fries, and corn. Somehow, I don’t think this is what Japanese food is supposed to look like. Regardless, it was good and we were starving.

Onward to the Kiyomizudera Buddhist Temple. Now, this place…this place you feel like you’re in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (except not in China). It’s nestled within a forest that you wish you could fly over and just about do. The temple itself is supported by hundreds of sturdy beams that elevate it above the tree tops and gives one a spectacular view of Kyoto below. Kiyomizudera was built in 1633 and is, apparently, still in use. It contains several shrines, numerous stairways that lead down to walkways surrounded by 400 year old mossy walls. Shades of green surround you and calm you. For a Buddhist, this must be a wonderful place to worship and commune with nature. Nature itself is ever present among the ancient buildings and even though the place is flooded with tourists, you can still find harmony. I would like my backyard to look like that.

Alas, I am not a poet and doubt even poetry could properly describe Kiyomizudera. I doubt even photographs can convey the mystery and tranquility. What must this place look like early in the morning when the sun is peaking out over the trees? I can only dream. Because we arrived late, the temple closed and we were ushered out onto a winding alley-way filled with shops and restaurants that were also closing. The sun had gone down and it was dark in Kyoto.

Kyoto isn’t glitz and glamor like Tokyo, but it is a major city. Because the city is filthy with temples and shines, there is an overall laid-back quality to it. If Tokyo is New York, Kyoto is Seattle. It’s seems much more normal and life there appears to be very average – that is, compared to the high-paced rat race of Tokyo. There are high rise buildings, neon signs, and millions of people, but the feeling is different. Hard to describe exactly what it is. Perhaps because temples and shrines are a part of everyday life, it seeps into the general conscience of it’s residents.

Homeward bound on the Shinkansen. There isn’t much to see at night so I gazed out the window at nothing and dozed off here and there. We arrived at Tokyo Station, made our way to Maihama Station, and then back to the Disney Monorail. Sleep was a good idea. It was a long, amazing day. Many parts of it were whirlwind, others were calm and quiet. It was a lovely day. It was the best day.

Today I’m going to try and hit Harajuku and see me some freaks. I have about a million pictures from Kyoto, but can’t go through them now. The day’s a wasting.

Akihabara is also called “Electronics Town”. If you’re a tech-geek, an internet-geek, a Manga and Anime Geek, this is where you want to die. This is your Nirvana and it’s also your Shangri-La. This is where you’ll find electronics that haven’t even been invented yet. Yes, I like these things (maybe not so much the Manga), but overall, this is Techie Heaven. It was also the center point of a most miserable day. It rained like hell all day long. I underestimated the cold and thought (for someone reason) those white rain coats would have been enough. Fiddling with a plastic wrapper over my camera, dealing with the coldness and the wetness, I was pretty unhappy most of the day. Not unhappy, generally bummed out. My white rain coat kept flying open from the wind, I was damp, freezing, and miserable. I tried to get it into my head that “a bad day in Tokyo is better than a good day in Los Angeles”, but it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t take pictures all that much because the rain sleeve I’d installed on my camera was too big and just got in the way. I was also paranoid of getting my camera wet. I can’t replace it if I break it, you see. After about an hour of withstanding the elements, I was ready to go back to the hotel and pretty unhappy about that. I wanted to see more, take more pictures, but it just wasn’t happening.

Tokyo dwellers are used to the rain and they still manage to come out in droves no matter what. I, on the other hand, am a light-weight and even though I love the rain, don’t necessarily enjoy being out in it. I like snuggling with kitties, drinking coffee, and sitting by a window watching the rain cascade off the roof.

I’m pressed for time. I’m about to jump in the shower and then we’re off to catch the Bullet Train to Kyoto. More later.

Yesterday is was raining. Today it’s really coming down. Yesterday I’d planned on getting up and going out. At first, I was hesitant because I was all sore. I wrote a bit, went through images, rested up, ordered room service, and then decided to get off my ass. I jumped in the shower and started to get ready. My boyfriend called, said he was done with his big presentation and that I should come down to the hotel restaurant. I did, but as I was walking passed one of the hallway windows, I noticed that it was raining. By this time, I was already after 2pm. After meeting at the restaurant, I was all gung-ho about going to the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Photography – which apparently has a huge surrealist exhibit going on now. I was already tired and anxious to spend time with my sweety after being on my own all week. He still had some stuff to do and since it was raining, I cacked out on the museum and ended up getting some coffee at Ikspiari – which I’m getting to know pretty well. We had dinner at a Pan-Asian restaurant – which was alright – I don’t know, I guess I just wasn’t in the mood. We called it an early night.

And today it’s absolutely pouring. I guess we’ll shower up and head over to the museum; that’s a rainy day thing to do. Otherwise, unless the rain lets up, we’re sort of stuck to indoor activities. The sun’s peeking out a tad, but the rain is still coming down. And I mean, it’s really coming down. A constant down-pour. Why is God crying? I mean seriously, why? No, I don’t mean seriously. God isn’t crying. There is no God.

Arg. I love the rain, but not when I’m on holiday and want to do outdoor-like type things. On a side note, I bought some Japanese cigarettes yesterday. They’re vanilla flavored and are actually quite delightful when you first take a hit, but after a few, they start tasting like chemical flavored vanilla cigarettes – exactly what they are. There are, however (along with beverage machines and food ordering machines) cigarette vending machines all over the place. It’s weird. It’s like going back in time…or rather, going to Vegas. There’s something comforting about cigarette vending machines and I know it has everything to do with my childhood. I was always so fascinated by them. Maybe it’s because the little colorful boxes look so cute all lined up in rows. Vending machines, in general, are pretty awesome and this town’s got it down.

Alright then. I’m out. Rain or not. Everyone around here wears this clear/white rain coats. I need to find me one of those and get this party started.

I went back to Ginza yesterday to see the Imperial Palace. Well, it’s not really all that exciting. There are a couple of really nice bridges, some old houses, and the Imperial Gardens. The Gardens were free, which I’m glad for, because I would have been upset if I’d paid for it. It’s just a big lawn, some trees, one fountain sculpture, and some plants. The Japanese area at Huntington Gardens in Pasadena is much nicer. You expect more from the Imperial Gardens. Not to mention, it’s a whole crap-load of unnecessary walking with very little pay-off. I spent a few hours there (cause that’s how long it takes to walk around) and then sat on a bench, looked at my Lonely Planet guide book and figured out my next move. I was tired, but it was still early. There’s a moat around the Imperial Palace, in which hundreds of Koi Fish live. I watched them for a while and waited for one to grant me three wishes. It didn’t happen.

I was hungry by this point and looked around for food. In Tokyo, a lot of places have these machines that you choose your meal from. They have small pictures and a description in Japanese. After you choose, a slip pops out and you take that to the cashier for your order. I couldn’t figure out what anything was, so I walked back to Tokyo Station which has a food court – or rather “Kitchen Street”. Again, I couldn’t find anything meatless and what you have to understand is that most people here don’t speak English, so you can imagine how well I do asking for vegetarian options. I managed to find an Italian spot with a great deal of vegetarian food, had an authentic Italian panini and was happy. The owner of the restaurant was Italian, didn’t speak English, but spoke perfect Japanese. He asked me where I was from and when I said California, walked away. He later explained that his English wasn’t so good. OK.

I felt better after I got some food in me and a cup of real Italian coffee. I’m so glad I’m able to sample the local cuisine of Japan. Thing is, along with countless seafood restaurants, another thing you see a lot of is Italian joints. The world loves Italian food. I mean, can you blame them? I smoked my cigarette, drank my espresso, and was off to Shibuya.

Now, Shibuya is Tokyo. What you imagine Tokyo looks like, this is Shibuya. The neon signs, the larger than life advertisements, the relentless onslaught of traffic and people, the noise, the smells, the shopping, the loud music…this is Tokyo in every sense of the word. Shibuya is like the crossroads of the city. You can’t even imagine the amount of people that pass through this area. After disembarking the Yamanote Line, I stood in a corner plaza near the Hachiko dog statue and just watched people walk by. It was intense. I mean, seriously. Words can only hope to describe the sheer volume of people. The non-stop, continuous, never-ending, ocean of thousands and thousands of people. In Hong Kong, you get that same experience of feeling swallowed alive by the crowd, but if Hong Kong is a great whale, Tokyo is Monstro. I just watched people. I walked around the plaza and checked things out. I needed a moment to let it all sink it. At one point, I stood there and let the crowd walk around me. Like a rock in a stream. The water just flows around you. In my delightful guide book, one of the first paragraphs talks about “your Tokyo moment”. I think that was it. If ever there was one true moment where I truly felt like I was in Tokyo, that was it. You see, even though Tokyo is crazy, many parts of it are very Western. The financial district is a lot like New York. The buildings aren’t anything special, but Shibuya…now that’s what I’m talking about.

Amidst the main streets and beneath the neon lights (which could fool you into thinking it’s day time) there are millions of people. The diversity is mind-boggling. Every kind of person of every sort passes through Shibuya. You’ll find a lot of tourists, but you’ll also see business men, office girls, families, J-Rockers, punks, righ girls, and best of all, you’ll find Japanese Hip-Hop gang bangers. Uh huh. Yep, like they have in the US, only Japanese. Gold bling and everything. I was shooting pictures and some kid flashed the “West Side” symbol at me. I was like, OK, you know you’re Japanese, right? And this ain’t the LBC. He was trying to be tough, but even when they’re tough, they’re just so darned adorable. I wanted to pinch his little cheeks.

I stayed several hours and waited for the sun to go down. The neon lights flashed, the unending flow of people continued. I walked the streets, ducked into alley ways filled with shops and restaurants, stopped in at a crane-machine arcade (and won some tiny stuffed hamsters), grabbed a coffee, but mostly I just watched the people and took pictures. I met a filthy alley cat which I didn’t realize was filthy until I pet him. He was sweet, but I ended up buying handy wipes to clean off the alley muck and fur. I could see the train station from the main crossroad and it was jam-packed with people, so I waited it out. I stayed until about 8:30pm. I boarded the Yamanote Line, transfered to the Keiyo Line, got on the Disney Monorail and was back at the hotel by about 9:30pm. My sweety met me, I had some udon, looked at the day’s images, and soaked my feet. I had a bloody toe from all the walking. It didn’t hurt and I couldn’t figure out how it happened, but a bloody toe means I did some serious walking.

As the days go on, I’m systematically bandaging most of my feet. I’d already gotten a callus from Disneyland and Disney Sea – of which I puposely popped to drain the fluid. It was gross. I don’t think I’ve ever walked this much in my life. It seems like I have, but when I return with bloody toes and calluses, I realize just how far I’ve traveled by foot. But you know what? It’s worth every sore muscle, every callus, and every bloody toe. Yesterday I finally got a grasp of the the rail system and understand it a lot better. Yes, it’s easy to read when you know where you’re going. Maps help. Even though everything is clearly labeled in English, you can’t just read about how to get there…you have to do it. Not all trains have automated station information.

Today I feel rather tired and a little broken. I ache. I’m trying to decide if I want to go back out or just stay in. I feel like I should get the most of my trip and head out again, but I still have 3 more days. Wow. My trip is almost half over. It’s hard to believe. I really have no concept of time here. My computer clock still reads California time. Just think, in 5 days I’ll be home. Or is it 4 days? I don’t want it to end. I could stay here. So this is Tokyo. It’s everything I hoped it would be.

>>> Images from Imperial Grounds and Shibuya

Today was a particularly frustrating day. I woke up early, eager, and ready to see Tokyo. I got out around 9am and headed to the Disney Monorail station. From there I made it to Maihama Station, but once I got there, the hustle, the bustle, and the lack of clear direction made me feel like giving up. Already? I asked for help and tried to buy a 5-Day Rail Pass, but ended up with a 1-Day Pass. Now, this didn’t make sense, but I bought a ticket to get into Maihama and then another ticket from Maihama to Tokyo Station. Initially, I figured I’d head over to Shinjuku, but it seemed complicated and involved switching trains. Urg. I got onto the train alright and decided to end my journey at Tokyo Station. I didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what was over there, and had no idea where I was. The train station is buried under various levels (I counted 4). When I finally submerged, I was greeted by tall buildings and what looked like a financial district. Alright. I figured I was there, I didn’t want to deal with the trains, so I started walking. I’d keep to the main street and see what I see.

I walked and walked and walked. Eventually, it looked like some interesting things were coming up, so I continued to walk. I started seeing signs for Ginza, which sounded promising. Look, all I know from Tokyo is what I’ve seen in movies. Other than that, I’ve got a guide book and that’s about it. I didn’t even take the guide book with me today. Lost in Ginza. I felt pretty hopeless. I felt like an idiot tourist and an oafish American. I continued to walk and started to get hungry. I didn’t really see anything that look inviting – nothing looked like you could just pop in for a bite. At long last, a familiar sign: Starbucks. When in doubt, go with what you know. I purchased a fat American latte and sugary cinnamon roll. I sat outside and smoked. I watched as office girls and boys in business suits walked by. Signs indicated that I was in an area called “Ginza Corridor” which is off the main street and laced with pubs and bars of every variety.

I felt a lot better after my caffeine and sugar injection. I started walking again, but by that time, my feet were starting to hurt. I walked, took pictures, and sat. I walked, took pictures, and sat. By early afternoon, I was done. I knew I was missing something important in that part of town, but I was tired, hungry, and needed water. Tokyo is filled with vending machines selling every kind of beverage you could ever want. They’re everywhere…until you really need one. I knew I was heading back towards Tokyo Station and couldn’t decide what to do. It was still rather early in the day, but I finally made up my mind to go back to the hotel. I was done.

I stopped at Ikspiari, had a bowl of udon, and bought two large jugs of water. I got back to the hotel feeling battle worn and a little sore. There was some walking down a long hallway to the room and then some major collapsing on the bed. I awoke an hour later and watched Japanese television. I sat through a few hours of children’s programming which is totally twisted and can only make sense if you speak the language. There was an anime show about a kid with a wind-up mechanism on his head who hangs out with a mini-ninja. Apparently, when he helps people, this little fan appears over his head. On this fan is a meter that goes either up or down. At one point, he helped a foreigner find a restroom. He saved the day. Then there was a show called “Gotta Quintet” of which the song goes something like this “You like my music! You like my music! Gotta quintet!”. It was a puppet show with little musicians, one of which was sometimes a human, sometimes a puppet. They sing songs and play their instruments. Another anime show seemed to be about a bunch of kids trying to find or make mayonnaise. At the end of the show, the cartoon characters turn into puppets and show you how to make mayonnaise. There was a song about mayonnaise as well.

Since then, I’ve been going through images and struggling with what to eat. It’s not easy to come by vegetarian food in Japan. You have to seek it out and I’m too tired to work that hard. Many times, people just don’t understand what you’re talking about…even if they speak English. I’m currently listening to an Orange County radio station online called Indie 103.1 – which is usually pretty good at normal hours, but is rather exceptional between 3am and 5am California time. Dang!

I looked at my map when I got back to the hotel and realized that the Imperial Palace is only a few blocks from where I was today. Yep. Gonna take that guide book with me tomorrow. I’ll go back to Tokyo Station and look for the Imperial Palace. I’m so tired. Tokyo is kicking my ass. It’s harder when you don’t have someone to bounce complaints off of. It also doesn’t help when you don’t speak the language and don’t eat seafood.

>>> Images of yesterday’s excursion to Tokyo Disneyland

>>> Images from Today

…Disneyland in Japanese. As you know, Disneyland is one of my most favorite places in the world. Without going into the “something magical” speech I always tend to ramble into, I’ll simply recognize that you get the picture. Yesterday, after blogging about the previous day, I laid down on the bed without the intention to sleep and knocked out for 4 hours. Groggily, I awoke, showered and made my way to Disneyland Tokyo at the dawn of their 25th anniversary.

OK, so Disneyland Tokyo is Disneyland in Japanese. It is also Disneyland of Disneyland’s past. There are elements in the park that hearken back to younger days and it’s as if no time has passed. Fantasy Land appears to have never changed and looks the way it did when Walt was alive. Pirates of the Carribean, although has incorporated Jack Sparrow, hasn’t bothered to remove the controversial “pirate rape” scenes – horny pirates chase purchased brides around columns…when you get the end, a big fatty bride chases a pirate with a rolling pin. It’s pretty great to see that again. I don’t, however, condone pirate rape, but it’s nice to see a small portion of my childhood alive and well. It’s not like Disney condones rape, but hey, it’s what pirates do…they rape and pillage. The Japanese, apparently, get that it’s a joke and not meant to defame women. Americans say that the Japanese are uptight. Sheesh.

The Haunted Mansion is, although I’ve never been there, a lot like the one in Florida. It’s weird to hear the “Ghost Host” in Japanese and not the typical Paul Frees version I’m so used to. It’s got a lot of the same gags and is just as fun as the one in California.

The thing about Tokyo Disneyland is that even though there are a lot of the same California/Florida elements, it’s bigger and better. My brother will appreciate when I say, “it’s even MORE better!”. And it is. The streets are wider, the line queues are longer, but more intricate and everything looks a little more authentic. The place is consistently jam-packed with visitors and there are parades about every hour or so. I spent about 6 hours wandering around and taking pictures. I got on all my favorite rides several times (Big Thunder, Haunted Mansion, Pirates) and a few I just wanted to check out the Japanese version. All the ride dialog is in Japanese and even though I didn’t understand the language, I knew what was going on having been on the American versions countless times. The Jungle Cruise was particularly interesting because even though I couldn’t understand a single word, I knew the guy was hilarious. He was making everyone laugh, which made me laugh. I probably looked like an idiot laughing when I didn’t understand, but hey…it was cute.

Once again I encountered an un-vegetarian environment and was starving by the time I got back to the hotel. It was raining in the morning before I left. I slept through it and spent a clear sky evening in the park. It was a nice day and I’m glad I went. Today, I think I’ve officially kicked jet lag and will head into Tokyo proper. I have no idea where I’m going, I just hope I can get back. I expect I’ll do a lot of wandering, a lot of getting lost, and lots of picture snapping. Today is the day I really see Tokyo and I can’t wait.

I’ve got a million pictures from Tokyo Disneyand, but haven’t had a chance to sort through them yet. I’ll post later, maybe tonight. My boyfriend will be gone all day and most of the night working late. No Bill Murray yet.

Walt and Mickey welcome you to this happy (Japanese) place.

When you travel, the one thing that is painfully clear is that the United States is essentially living in the Dark Ages in many respects. I recently had an awful customer service experience at a Sears in Pasadena. Most places in the States, it’s hard to get good customer service. Most times, you can tell the person hates their job and doesn’t want to be there. Worst yet, they don’t give a shit about your problems. In Japan, awful customer service doesn’t appear to exist. Everywhere we’ve gone the service people are BEYOND friendly and absolutely helpful. Even when they’re tired. They hardly ‘t ever say “no” and no matter what, they attempt to make the situation pleasant, even if you ask for something they can’t do. Why is that so hard to come by in America? I asked for vegetarian food at Tokyo Disney Sea yesterday and the little girl behind the counter jumped through hoops asking everyone there if they had anything without meat. Even as I was leaving (I thought she’d abandoned me), she chased me out and told me they had a shrimp and pasta platter of which I could remove the shrimp. No thanks, but nice of her to offer and follow up. Why does she care? Because it’s her job and the Japanese take pride in their work – even what we would consider menial labor. You see them running around, hustling, and getting the job done. When I left our room yesterday, the house cleaners were actually running from room to room. Have you ever seen that in America? Hardly.

I spent five good hours at Tokyo Disney Sea yesterday – a place I never knew existed a year ago. Unlike Disneyland, Disney Sea is various quadrants of real life places, not make-believe. It has it’s elements of fairy-tale, but mostly, it’s authentic looking replicas of real places or…at least realistic replicas of places from literature – for example, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (the highlight of my day). I took a great deal of pictures, looked around, rode one or two rides (there aren’t a whole lot of rides), and enjoyed a cup of coffee and a custard pastry in the Mysterious Island.

Tokyo Disney Sea is hard to describe. It’s beautiful and expansive, but there isn’t a lot to do. They’ve got The Tower of Terror (which you won’t find me on any time soon) and Indiana Jones (I discovered later), but otherwise, it’s like this huge walking museum. Every nook and cranny has the most intricate detail and you can’t even imagine the amount of money it must have taken to build this place. It’s simply mind-boggling. As I said, I spent five good hours meandering and taking pictures. When I couldn’t find not even a smidgen of vegetarian food, I came back to the hotel. I ordered room service, took a five minute nap and started watching Lost in Translation on a Japanese movie bootleg site. I always forget how much I love that movie. It truly captures being in Tokyo on your own.

My boyfriend showed up a little later and we headed back to Ikspiari for dinner. Kono Pizza is pizza in a cone and it’s good. Like Hong Kong, it’s hard to find food without meat or seafood. I’ll have to turn a blind eye once or twice, but as they say “when in Rome…” or rather, “when in Tokyo…” We ordered Starbucks – because Japanese coffee comes in tiny cups and I needed a big fat American sized latte. The girls behind the counter sung the orders in unison and I just about died from the cuteness. On the Monorail back to the hotel, my boyfriend and I made faces as the tinest baby you ever saw. It laughed and we laughed and I wanted to adopt an itty bitty Japanese baby. We came back, my boyfriend worked, we hung out a bit, I finished up Lost in Translation and then crashed out cold.

It’s raining today and I guess I’ll gear up and head out to Tokyo Disneyland. It’s paid for and it’s close. I can’t NOT see it, so today is just as good as any. Someone is whistling while they work below my hotel room. The Italian accordion music has been turned on and the day is starting.

>>> Pictures from Yesterday are here.