Eesh, I'm a bad blogger. I promise "weekly" updates, and it's been almost a month since my last post. Apologies are, once again in order.
The most exciting thing to happen to me since then was the Tokyo trip, which I'm guessing most of you have already seen the pictures from. But a picture's only worth a thousand words, and I could spill millions on Tokyo. It was a long trip, and I've got lots to say, so here's how we're going to recount it.
Today, I'll tell about our first day there. Over the next couple of days, I'll tell you about days two through five, presumably in order. Since our fifth day was a short one, there will also be a wrap-up discussing why Tokyo is awesome, and why you should go there. There's a lot of ground to cover, and I'd rather write five longish posts instead of one massive all-encompassing one.
So, we begin : For those of you who don't already know, Devon and I recently had five days off for the Korean Thanksgiving holiday Chuseok. We elected to fly to Tokyo with two of our friends, Sam and Stephanie.
We arrived in Tokyo at the reasonable hour of one in the afternoon on October first, but had left Gwangju at the completely unreasonable hour of 12.30 the previous morning. Why so early? Since our flight didn't leave until 11am on the 1st, it was a combination of impatience, and fear of the Korean Chuseok traffic that compelled us to shuffle onto a red-eye bus and sleep on a cold airport bench until our flight departed.
(It should be noted that I slept for only about half of the bus ride, and none of the six hours we were in the airport. Instead, I wandered around the Incheon airport, suspiciously alone and bewildered as I waited for Burger King to open. I read a day-old Herald Tribune, and I looked for softer places to sleep. By the time I found a perfect set of big, round cushioned benches, Devon, Sam, and Steph were fast asleep on the benches. Oops)
We arrived in Tokyo's Narita airport on time, sailed through customs, and somehow found our way onto the right train to take us into the city. An hour and a half and a subway transfer later, and we emerged from underground in the part of the city that we'd be calling home for the next few days: Asakusa.
The guidebook we had said that Asakusa was the closest thing Tokyo had to an "Old" section of town, that it still retained much of the charm of "old Edo" (I guess there wasn't much left after we firebombed the living daylights out of Tokyo in WWII). On first impression, the bright lights, wide boulevards, and abundant arcades didn't seem particularly "old," but a strange quiet sat in the air.
I've been in quiet cities before – usually at three or four in the morning, when the city stills itself before the onslaught of rush hour traffic that daylight brings. When the only thing moving is the occasional taxi bringing someone home from a late night out or a jogger out for an early-morning run.
It's quiet...too quiet
At three in the afternoon, Tokyo could hardly be considered "still," but an undeniable hush hung in the air. Cars and buses drove by, but without the roar of rubber on pavement I've come to associate with almost getting run over. It was as if the Japanese had figured out how to turn the volume down on everything or, more realistically, made some sort of magical sound-absorbing pavement.
We wandered through back alleys until we miraculously stumbled on our hotel. After checking in and dropping our bags off, we headed out to grab something to eat and see some of the local sights.
It ain't much to look at, but it's comfortable
It being our first night in Japan, we naturally went for sushi. It also being Asia, pretty much anything found in the ocean was served raw. I saw things go by on that conveyor belt (yes, it was that kind of sushi place) that I thought existed only in horror movies with names like It Came from the Deep, and Bloody Tides.
I saw a bowl with some sort of spiral-shelled creatures that I'm pretty sure were still moving as they slowly shuffled past. There were these little things that looked kinda like transparent gummy fish, except they had tiny black eyes. On one plate sat nothing but a big, black, knobby shell with peach-colored flesh inside. A bowl of octopus suckers the size of nickels watched me as they slithered past. I shivered as I thought of the size of the octopus that lost those, and how angry he would be if he discovered I had them. He'd probably want them back.
I did see plenty of familiar things too. There was your standard sushi fare – thick slices of tuna, yellowtail, and salmon. Orange and red fish roe glistened in little seaweed cups.
With the full oceanic hodge-podge circling the bar in the middle of the restaurant, I was learning about all the wonderful delights of the deep. But it's only fair if I share with you the single most important piece of information I learned that night: That strange green powder in the jar in front of you is not some sort of secret Japanese purified wasabi powder. It is in fact powdered green tea, and you mix it with hot water from that little faucet in front of you, not with the soy sauce. I bet they're still laughing about that now…
At the end of the meal, they pointed a magic box at the stack of plates, and told you how much you owed. I don't know what technology they were using, but I imagine it's the same technology used in the Sorting Hat.
After dinner we wandered around Asakusa until we reached Senso-ji, a huge 1300 year old temple at the end of a long street crowded with vendors hawking Japanese souvenirs to the throngs of tourists and residents. The temple itself was under renovation, so a big grey tarp covered the whole building, but the square it sat in was peaceful and calm – perfectly suited to a night of quiet reflection and photography.
Relaxation and photography at a temple
Along the way to the temple, we discovered the single greatest technological marvel of the 21st century: the beer and sake vending machine. Get this: for a couple of bucks, you can buy a tall can of beer or a cup of sake, like it's a can of Coke! I know in the States you can buy an ipod or some headphones from a vending machine, but nothing can compete with the feeling of cracking open an ice cold cup of sake pulled from the mouth of a soulless machine.
A crowded arcade. This is where we found the glorious beer machine.
After a while of walking, talking, taking pictures, and drinking, the four of us decided to head back to the hotel and get some rest. We had to get up early on our second day for one of the most anticipated parts of our trip: the Mt. Fuji tour.
Down an alley near Senso-ji
Tomorrow: I know she's a shy mountain, but this is ridiculous!
