More on that later. So I showed up in the train station, met up with Dockett, and wandered around looking for interesting sights in Shinagawa. It seems that the only interesting sight in Shinagawa is a water reclamation plant. Yech. As expected we had to find somewhere else to have dinner.
After dinner and a short stint at the local yakitori joint, we returned to Dockett's charming one-room closet-sized apartment, and called it a night.
The next morning, shaken awake at 7:30 by the Rising Sun (guess that's where they got the name), we staggered to the McDonalds for a pick-me-up in the form of a Egg McMuffin. These things are the same in every nation, and in every nation they're delicious. Then we went to the Tokyo Metropolitan Building, and got to see the whole city from the air. It was, unfortunately, smoggy. So not a whole lot of love there.
In the name of absolute tourism, we decided to wander into the Park Hyatt Hotel. This was the hotel, by the by, in which the movie "Lost in Translation" was set. We saw no Bill Murray, but I assure you that it looks entirely the same as the movie- in fact, should you want to get a good glimpse of the areas we bumbled around, go rent that movie. Warning- it is a bit of an acquired taste.
After our movie-tastic wanderings- which included a park full of homeless people, photo shoots, baseball practice, and Yakuza getting their hair cut (yeah. Really. I wouldn't lie about that)- we headed over to Jimbo-Cho, which is A) Not very Photogenic (sorry) and B) Mecca.
Jimbo-Cho is the bookstore district of Tokyo. It's city block upon city block of really cool small used bookstores that look as if the backstacks of the Library of Congress had been persuaded to yield up their dead in great burgeoning piles. Yellowed stacks teeter from floor to ceiling, and they gleamed with possibility. The only downside to this is that it's a giant district of Japanese used and new bookstores, and as such nigh impenetrable to me. I can read a lot. I can piece my way through everyday interactions. But I cannot, for the life of me, pore through 16th-century tomes of literature in Japanese yet. It actually makes me feel a little sad- there's a vast storehouse of knowledge that I can't really access.
After that slightly sobering and wonderful experience (it was real close to religious, let me assure you) we caught a light lunch and sojourned towards the Imperial Palace. It's closed up, pretty tight, but we got to see a lot of sturdy-looking gates, armed guards, confused tourists and marathon runners (who I honestly wish would have worn some more modest pants- there are things you just can't UNSEE) which on the whole was pretty interesting. The walk, however, was an undertaking not to be entered into on a whim. It was crazy. I'm sure there are subways in this city- I've heard of them- but we scorned the subway in favor of the good, healthy, bracing walk.
Which continued all the way up the hill to the National Diet Building (governmental, not gastronomic), the National Theatre and Library, and a strange, wondrous block of artistic-looking concrete. We had no idea what it was- there were no signs, no guidance- so I stopped some folks on the street, put on my best Japanese, and asked 'em. They told us that this:
Is the Supreme Court Building. It is exactly the kind of building I would expect from a Ministry of Justice. No stodgy, staid Department- oh, no, it's a Ministry, with all the cool architecture and possible Orwellian overtones that suggests.
After basking in the shadow of Justice for awhile, we decided to bop over to Asakusa, which is a few looooooong rows of souvenir stalls buttressed on both ends by giant gates bearing huuuge paper lanterns. Pretty cool. There were also some crazy-costumed folks awaiting the giant fall festival that was due that day, but no matter how long we wandered around we couldn't quite find it. So we decided to bail on that, and descend into Tokyo's seedy underbelly in search of icecream.
Evidently, the Roppongi district has a bad reputation. Evidently, it's a wretched hive of scum and villainy not entered by people of good taste or breeding. It is a fine thing that Dockett and I aren't the type to believe rumors. We wouldn't have found this:
It's a giant shopping mall! In the mall, there was this store- you can see it above- that is, I kid you not, named "White Trash Charms." It sells jewelry, and a hearty dose of culture shock. The mall itself is surrounded by embassies. We found the Chinese embassy, the Spanish embassy, and the American embassy all after we found dinner- but I get ahead of myself. First, we grabbed a bite to eat in a 2F diner- all the cheap eats in Japan are either on the second floor or in the basements of buildings, as groundfloor is too expensive to rent out to mom 'n pop places- and then decided to test our stamina.
In the mall, there is Japan's first Cold Stone Creamery. Those of you who have not yet walked this enlightened path of deliciousness, go now and find one- it's worth whatever means you employ to get there. Our means included a forty-five minute wait in a line that stretched around the block- which, evidently, is a short line for a Saturday night at the most popular fad in town. Like the McMuffin, in every nation it is delicious.
Full of ice cream and a sense of deep spiritual wholeness, we wandered past the American embassy and back to the train, and decided to go find some music. There's a district rather well-known for it's jazz houses and college-band venues, and so we decided to try and find it. We did, but only after enlisting the help of a very friendly and helpful family of young women (hey, do I ask the creepy guy for help? No. I ask the ladies. Will you blame me?) who in fact didn't just TELL us, they LED us all the way there through two train transfers and other assorted mass insanity. Their work was nearly for naught- it's a very cool, quirky, Ann Arbory kind of district, but it also closes pretty early on a Saturday night- not a whole lot was open. We did find some interesting signs, though...
After wandering around a bit, we called it an early night and SLEPT.
The next day, we explored the Imperial Sports Grounds- there was a festival that day, and it was pretty nuts. There was an a capella band singing "Someday my prince will come" in immaculate English- impressed the heck out of me- and enough people to conquer a small nation. Afterwards, we strolled through an upscale shopping sector (not Ginza, some other one), and I got this artistic picture of Dockett looking like he just strolled out of an episode of The Prisoner.
He is not a number. He is a free man!
That silliness exhausted, we wandered by the Secondary Palace, and came across a disturbing phenomenon. Hung parallel to the Japanese National Flag on all the lightposts was this...
Pentagrams. I'm disturbed, and a little afraid, but it turns out there's a good reason. Perhaps someone from that constitutional monarchy was visiting this constitutional monarchy- they've gotta stick together, and all. Kings and kingmakers unite.
After the fun at the palace, we decided to grab some quick curry at a fast-food curry place (they're everywhere- it's like heaven- and they serve quail egg curry...) and then it was time for me to get back on the bullet train and bid Dockett a safe trip home. He's coming back to you, the English speaking-world, next week- so go check his blog and wish him a fond farewell, or welcome, or however the heck your personal prepositional phrase will go. I myself think that this island is just a bit shorter for his leaving- though when he's gone, I get to be the tallest guy here. As I understand it, there's a crown involved, and parades.
Bye, Dockett. We'll miss ya.
pax
Pentagrams. I'm disturbed, and a little afraid, but it turns out there's a good reason. Perhaps someone from that constitutional monarchy was visiting this constitutional monarchy- they've gotta stick together, and all. Kings and kingmakers unite.After the fun at the palace, we decided to grab some quick curry at a fast-food curry place (they're everywhere- it's like heaven- and they serve quail egg curry...) and then it was time for me to get back on the bullet train and bid Dockett a safe trip home. He's coming back to you, the English speaking-world, next week- so go check his blog and wish him a fond farewell, or welcome, or however the heck your personal prepositional phrase will go. I myself think that this island is just a bit shorter for his leaving- though when he's gone, I get to be the tallest guy here. As I understand it, there's a crown involved, and parades.
Bye, Dockett. We'll miss ya.
pax
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