On my way out of Taipei, I was stopped by security at the airport. I was not sure why until they pointed to my ScotteVest pockets on their x-ray monitor. On that black and white screen, they saw a wad of cash and wanted a closer inspection. Having traveled to Cuba, I knew that going to Communist countries later would require having crisp, clean, and whole dollar bills. If you think having a ragged bill at a vending machine is aggravating, try paying for a meal with it in a naturally suspicious country. The security official demanded I take out the neatly stacked $400 bundle in a hidden jacket pocket. I asked if we could go somewhere more private as I did not want to be flashing my money around. She guided me behind a pillar, and I showed her. Satisfied that I was not going to be leaving their country in worse financial shape than when I arrived, they allowed me to pass.
I got on the plane and was ready to head to the land of the Rising Sun for two weeks. I was here before, fulfilling a life long dream I had in the third grade that culminated at the tender age of 18. This time, however, I had no family and would be meeting no previously known friends. I made it to the airport with no problem. I then took a bus to downtown Tokyo.
I forgot how big this city was. It was also much colder than I thought it would be. I arrived at the city center and then needed to try and find my way to my hostel. I did not know that the bus would take so long to get there, and I had arrived in the middle of rush hour. I tried getting help from the service desk to get my MetroCard, but unfortunately, they spoke no English. I took a breath, reoriented myself, then tried again at one of their machines. I got my ticket, headed to the metro, and crammed myself into a packed subway car. I did not know how far of a ride it would be. Passing what I would later learn would be Love Hotels, the Japanese version of No-Tell Motels that charge by the hour, I arrived at my station.
Given the confusion of trying to purchase fares in a foreign language, I misjudged the amount it would take for me to pay full fare. Luckily for the Tokyo Subway, their ticket readers, as well as all the subsequent ones in the country, would let you know precisely how deficient you were. I had to take my ticket back to a conveniently placed pay machine, insert the correct inadequate amount, then go back and insert the ticket again, which would allow me to leave the station.
My iPod in hand, I used it as a guide to get to my hostel. It took about 30 minutes walking as I got turned around a lot in the tiny streets of Tokyo. I finally arrived at the hostel, where I was told that I would need to pay for my stay in cash. This would end up happening a lot on my trip, even though I specifically chose places that said they would accept credit cards. Anyway, not to lose my reservation, I headed out into the night to find an ATM. It took a bit, but I saw an old familiar friend, 7-11. I had forgotten that Japan had the most of them in the world. I found the ATM in the back, got my money, then headed back to get my bed. This would be another capsule situation, which I loved! The storage locker was a little weird as it was an individual room which was the same size as the capsule, but vertical.
After depositing my things, I headed back out to grab some dinner. I came across a Yoshinoya, which is basically like a Japanese Denny’s. I went inside, and an accommodating waitress waited as I picked the picture that looked most appetizing. She smiled, brought me water, then my food. Honestly, I had no idea how hungry I was. I was also something spectacle as I noticed everyone in the restaurant was looking at me with curious eyes. They knew I was not from around these parts. I paid for my food, then headed back to my hostel to settle in for the night.
As I was getting to the elevator, a young woman joined me and got off on a separate floor. I noticed different signs advising the men staying in the building that this was a women-only floor, that we were not allowed admittance, and that police would be called if we did not respect women or the rules. Like Swedish safety manuals directing users not to stop chainsaws with their genitals, I wondered what happened to make these safety notices necessary. But that was to be for another day. I went to my pod and fell asleep.
The next day, my first full one, I headed over to the Asakusa market for a little trip down memory lane. It is a giant shopping complex filled with souvenirs, everything from origami knickknacks to Samurai katanas. 
At the end of the market is the Asakusa Buddhist Temple, whose trademark is a giant red lantern. I went into the temple, washed my hand in the supplied cool fountain water, and made my way among the worshippers. They cleansed themselves like I did like Muslims do before entering their mosques, and like Christians do when there is Holy Water available. I drew in the sweet, sticky smell of incense as I walked around the grounds of the temple, finding beautiful arrangements of plants, statues, and water. One of the things I had not planned on was being in the country for the Cherry Blossom season. This was to be one of my many brushes with kismet.
As I was leaving Asakusa, I was approached by these sweet Japanese girls that needed my help for a school project. They wanted to know my name, where I was from, what I was doing in Japan, and what Japanese culture I had experienced in Japan. They gave me some origami and keychain for my help after we took a selfie. It was an enjoyable experience. I headed back to the hostel, grabbing some food from the 7-11 along the way, and took a nap.
I then headed to the Yasukuni Shrine. Now, while this Shinto shrine is dedicated to their war dead, it includes a lot of what many historians in the global community would call war criminals. It always makes a stir with the prime minister comes here. They had statues that paid homage to the kamikaze, the brave Japanese women that took care of the children during times of war, and surprisingly, a museum. Now, given my stance on these issues, and the fact that I was traveling, I have no qualms about what I did to see their version of history. I told a half-truth about being a student for reduced admission. I bent the truth as I consider myself a perpetual student, even though I currently do not matriculate at any institution. I did this too because I knew what I would see. This museum blamed Japanese militarism on the West, the Manchurian campaign on terrorism, and the rape of Nanking on Chinese factionalism. No mention of the Tanaka Memorial (a secret plan of world domination) or any one of the many, many atrocities perpetrated by the Imperial Japanese during the war. They even got the date of Pearl Harbor wrong. It made me angry, and I left fuming.
I knew I needed to clear my head, so I headed over to one of my favorite movie locations, 
the Park Hyatt Tokyo. The film Lost In Translation has always held a special place in my heart. I first saw it when I was living in Spain, and ever since, it always brings a bittersweet smile to my face. I found my way to the New York Bar, on the 52nd floor, and had myself a drink. I needed to jockey for space as it was Happy Hour but managed to scoot myself up close to the panoramic windows. I drank my drink, thought about the movie, the loves I had had, the loves I had lost, and the hopes of love to come, and what more I would do in Tokyo. I still could not believe I was there. After about an hour and a half, I headed back to my hostel.
The next morning, I was able to sleep in for a bit before I headed out on a bus tour. I learned that I can now sit for a Masters in Urban Planning as I was able to figure out Tokyo’s light rail, metro, subway, bus, and long-distance rail systems. My first bus tour route took me to the Tsukiji Fish Market. My good friend Shanna suggested I visit possibly the best fish market in a world, and I certainly obliged. I know that a lot of people are not into raw fish, but I had been eating sushi since before I was a teenager. I was able to get a cup of tuna for 1000¥, which is about $10. Expensive but worth it. I walked around and took it all in. They had everything from the sea you could imagine: urchins, eels, tuna, squid, octopus, clams, oysters, EVERYTHING. I knew I would go broke if I stayed, so I then got on my second bus and cruised around the city.
I then decided to go to the Akihabara District. This place started after the war as a kind of a Miracle Mile for electronics, the one place in the city where everyone went to get their supplies. As Japanese electronic grew in prominence around the world, so did Akihabara. While it is still the epicenter of electronic goods in the city, it has now become the mecca for all things gaijin. There are arcades, pachinko parlors, manga shops, and even people dressing up as Super Mario characters and driving in go-carts through the streets. The other and much darker side of the local and gaijin delights include hentai (manga and anime pornography) stores, sex shops, and the ever infamous used panty vending machines. However, there was something I found even more unsettling, the maid cafes. For the uninitiated, maid cafes are places where barely legal, scantily clad young women ply their guests with almost anything they want. Walking through the streets and alleys, my arm was grabbed a few times by young women begging for them to serve me. I did not like it. I walked from Akihabara to the Imperial Palace grounds, where I got as close as I could. I then caught the metro back to my hostel and went to bed after I got some Cup o’ Noodles to cook as well as a frosty Sapporo.
The next day, I was a little late pushing off, but still managed to see the things I wanted. I headed out to Shibuya to see the two big things on my list for the day, the first being the Hachiko statue.
Hachiko was a Japanese Akita dog remembered for his remarkable loyalty to his owner,
Hidesaburo Ueno, for whom he continued to wait for over nine years following Ueno’s death. In April 1934, a bronze statue based in his likeness was erected at Shibuya Station. The statue was recycled for the war effort during World War II. The new statue, which was constructed in August 1948, still stands. The station entrance near this statue is named “Hachiko-guchi,” meaning “The Hachiko Entrance/Exit.” It still is an incredibly popular meeting spot.
The Hachiko statue is also directly next to Shibuya Crossing, the busiest crosswalk in the world. When the light turns green, up to 3,000 people, try to cross the street at the same time from 6 access points—madness and order at the same time. After crossing the road, I hiked up to the overlook located in the Starbucks across the street. It was indeed something to behold. Like watching a huge flock of birds in the sky or a school of fish in the sea; everyone knew where to go. After, I headed over to the Ueno park.
Ueno was packed with people for a few reasons; the first is that there were cherry blossoms for as far as the eye could see. The second is that the baby panda at the zoo just had its first birthday. Tourists were going nuts for both.
After a packed day, I headed back for a little nap and to get some work done. I had a fabulous cup of noodles at the hostel. The thing that Asian countries do that Western does not has a variety of packages within the cup of noodles containers. While they have the standard powder for flavoring, the Asians add two more packets; one is oil for additional seasoning as well as a sealed packed of tiny vegetables. They are amazing.
While I enjoyed my dinner, I realized that I had had a total of zero sake in my already considerable time in Japan. I headed out to a local restaurant and sat down. Of course, they got me the English menu, to which I replied that all I wanted was sake. The three people that said they knew English did not, but the fourth told me that I could not just buy alcohol, and I would need to order something. I looked at the menu and saw a bowl of rice for 500¥. I pointed, and they brought me my sake and my rice.
For my last day in Tokyo, I first took a dry run to the Shinjuku bus station to make sure I would know how to get there at my early hour. After I assured my place, I headed to the Kasai Rinkai Park, which was right next to Tokyo Bay. I stood on the sand, looking out on to the water and remembered when I stood on the deck of the Mighty Mo, the USS Missouri, in Hawaii, looking down on the plaque that commemorated the exact spot where the Japanese surrender was formalized in this very bay, decades ago. Walking amongst the families enjoying their cloudy day at the beach, I walked back to the metro station.
I decided to head back to the Tsukiji Fish Market for lunch, where I happened to find possibly the best deal of my life. I walked around looking for things to eat that would not break the bank. Off the street, deep in the middle of the market, I found an older woman selling cups of raw tuna. I asked how much and she said in very broken English 300¥, roughly $3. I have never, ever, ever, ever had tuna as good as this. I also found some inari (soy encrusted rice dumplings) for the same. I was one happy camper. Fueled by carbs and protein, I decided I would walk the 2 hours back to my hostel, taking in all that Tokyo had to offer. I got some more cup of noodles for dinner, some supplies for the road, packed, showered, and got ready for bed at 9:30 pm after 11.5 miles of walking.
