No Regrets!

Dave did not sleep last night. Well, he did, but only for three hours. He tried everything, from sleeping aids to listening to his meditation music. He counted to 10,468 before giving up. Every siren from the streets below found a way to pierce through his noise-canceling headphones. Nothing worked. And then his mind started worrying about not sleeping, which of course set him spinning and produced more anxiety and made it worse. Turns out his worrying about the dinner in Tokyo Skytree, which is what he thought was keeping him up for the first couple of nights, was never the issue after all. Something else is afoot. Is he still struggling with the time difference?

Dave emerged from his blacked out bedroom in the morning with the look of a zombie and ears red from a full night of ineffective headphone use. We headed out into the gray skies and rain to see more of Tokyo. Dave was motivated but dragging a bit, so we decided to visit our local 7-Eleven for a snack breakfast to get some energy. I grabbed a hermetically sealed banana and a package of sandwiches. We quickly munched them down in front of the 7-Eleven, a practice we have seen others do and have learned is acceptable.

In an effort to burn some calories and do good for our bodies and maybe whip Dave’s biology into shape, we took a brisk walk in the rain. Even when walking in Tokyo, there are no main thoroughfares. Even walking feels like driving here, with endless zigzags through alleys and oddly shaped blocks. It’s a little tedious, but navigating with a phone makes things easier.

Our first stop was Meiji Jingu Shrine. Once you’re on the grounds, it’s a long, forested walk to get to the actual shrine. Less impressive than I had hoped and closed off to public entry. Dave threw some coins into the offering box and prayed his ass off for a good night’s sleep. On the grounds surrounding the shrine, there is an embarrassing amount of souvenirs for sale and the chance to pay money to make your prayers come true.

Next, we headed to nearby Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. The attendant checking us in handed me a map and asked me where I was visiting from. When I said “America”, she immediately directed me to the Starbucks on the opposite side of the park.

Dave and I walked the very green and expansive grounds. The space reminded me of Buchart Gardens on Vancouver Island, but not nearly as impressive. The rose garden was mediocre, and it was still too early for fall colors, which is usually one of the main draws. With the gray skies, the place didn’t really pop. Maybe it’s prettier in the sun.

Then into a stuffy taxi for a ride to the Ginza district for our sushi lunch. All the taxis are cute electric vehicles that have “oh shit” handles that look like ejection seat pulls. And the drivers are always so courteous with us and with pedestrians and even with other drivers. I haven’t heard any taxis or any car at all honking their horn here.

For a place so highly rated and exclusive, Ginzu Iwa is a hole-in-the-wall so unassuming from the outside that we couldn’t even find it when the taxi dropped us off right in front. As we nosed around, one of the chefs saw two tourists with perplexed looks on their faces and ushered us inside and into a tiny room consisting of eight empty seats around a small sushi counter. Dave and I took our seats and waited for a few minutes in silence as the chef began preparations for our omikase sushi lunch. Our chef, who did not speak much English, obliged with photos and descriptions of each fish he served in a book or on his iPad. The sea bream was amazing, the tuna was exquisite as usual, and even the cuttlefish with lime was surprisingly good. Things livened up a bit when we were joined by a couple visiting from Seattle and a group of four Japanese women who were dressed up for an Oasis concert later in the evening.

For the next few hours, we wandered around the neighborhood of Akihabara, a few city blocks lined with huge neon signs, flashing lights, and video screens. It’s an area dedicated to retro-gaming, anime, and comics. After I made a quick purchase of raspberry and matcha Kit Kat, we popped into a store called Radio Kaikan, several floors of anime figurines, trading cards, modeling kits, and toys. Then into another store called Mandarake, several floors of tiny cramped rooms lined with adult comics and manga graphic novels. All of these storefronts have tiny, unassuming entrances and narrow staircases that lead inside and up to eight floors of madness. For anyone who loves gaming and anime, this area is heaven.

Then off to the Owl Café Akiba Fukurou, an attraction that I grabbed some tough tickets for several months back. We found the cafe tucked away in an alley. After waiting outside a few minutes with others in our small group, we were led inside the white room and told to quietly take a seat. It took a moment before looking around and noticing that there were owls perched all over the cafe, some larger than others, some looking more pissed off than others, and some looking half-asleep. Each was secured in place with a clip around their ankles, and each had a card with a name on the wall behind them. Our host came out and gently whispered instructions for engaging with the owls, explaining that they were gentle creatures and that they needed to be handled with great care. “They love it when you rub their heads,” he said. It was when he demonstrated this and extended his arm to reveal bloody bandages from his fingers up to his elbow that Dave and I almost lost it. The classroom factor of not being allowed to audibly laugh, of course, made it funnier.

Eventually, each person was offered an owl to bond with. When asked if we wanted a small one or a large one, we both answered that we wanted a “friendly” one. Dave was given a cute, little owl named Pineapple, who sat on his wrist and looked at him lovingly. Dave had gone in there with some animosity towards birds in general and a promise that he would put one of the owls in a headlock, but I could see him falling in love right in front of me. I was given a slightly larger owl named Sushi. Beautiful and loving, he calmly sat on my shoulder, patiently posing for pictures and looking me in the eye and sharing with me the deepest secrets of his owl mind. Dave and I continued to make wisecracks about the owls in an attempt to make the other laugh when Sushi decided he had had enough, crawled up on my head, and produced a giant dump of poop. Sushi took a Sushit which ran down the length of my shirt. My dri-fit pants, great for absorption and breathability, eagerly sucked in the pool of liquified owl shit that had collected around my crotch area. Dave and I lost it, stifling our laughter with tears, made painful with the knowledge that giggles and shaking might set off the owls off into an angry frenzy. After releasing our owls to the host, and I aggressively tried to rub the owl shit stain out of my crotch in a motion that made even our modest Japanese host giggle. As I finished, the host had a small card ready to give me to commemorate the moment, which explained that “the owl had chosen me” and being defecated on by an owl was a mark of good luck. This provided belly laughs for Dave and I for the rest of the day.

A few more stops in Akihabara, including the legendary multilevel variety store Don Quijote for som giftse and Super Potato for several floors of retro video games. At this point, Dave and I parted ways. He went back to the hotel for a scheduled massage that he hoped would help him relax and find some sleep tonight, while I remained in Akihabara. I was curious about these maid cafes that we saw in the area, and I wanted to pop in and take a look.

I found the unassuming sign for the MAID MADE Cafe next to unassuming elevator door. I took the elevator up to 10th floor, where the doors opened to bright light, bouncy music, and even more bouncy young girls costumed as maids with heavy make-up. They were so glad that I had finally arrived! One of them came over to check my passport for reasons I don’t understand, then I was cheerfully led over to a table and told to take a seat. The girl insisted that I give her my bags and place them into a plastic container for storage under the table before kneeling down next to me, opening a book, and flipping through the pages to tell me their “story” in broken English. The only bit that I got was that they are from the distant future. Then came the pitch, where she said that I had to pay up front and commit to the experience for an hour. When I tried explaining that I didn’t have an hour, she escorted me out as cheerfully as she had escorted me in, leading me to the elevator, wishing me a wonderful day, and enthusiastically waving goodbye as the elevator doors closed between us. A very odd experience.

From there, I headed to Shibuya Sky, a building with an observation deck over one of the busiest districts in Tokyo. This was, as you might imagine, an activity Dave had no interest in joining me for, so I was on my own and had a single ticket purchased in advance. Rain and fog had sabotaged my first attempt to go here, and it would be a bust again on this evening. I canceled my ticket and wandered around at ground level, including a stop at iconic Shibuya Crossing, a massive intersection where a thousand people enthusiastically cross the street every two minutes.

Still covered in owl shit, I headed across town to meet up with an old friend for dinner. Haruka is a Japanese girl I met on a trip through Croatia in 2016, and as luck would have it, she was in Tokyo and available during our visit. A freshly massaged Dave joined us, and Haruka had Rui (pronounced “Louie”), one of her nursing student friends, also join us. Together, we caught up, enjoyed a teppanyaki dinner, shared a few bottles of sake, and had some laughs. Props to Dave, who slung around some Japanese phrases and shared food knowledge that impressed everyone at the table.

After dinner, we took Haruka and Rui back with us to Kabukichō, where we shared a few more drinks at the hotel bar and impressed them with 45th floor panoramic views over the city. As if to prove a point, Dave grabbed a seat right next to the window! He is a new man.

Dave and I ended the day completely spent. The phone indicated that my full day of walking around amounted to 25,000 steps. Dave’s body was tired and drunk, and we both hoped that was the trick to a full night of restful sleep.

Five hours is what he got. Not a full night’s sleep, but a step in the right direction. Dave emerged this morning somewhat refreshed. Opening the curtains on our full-length windows revealed a Tokyo cityscape free of fog and haze, clear all the way to the horizon, with the sun poking through the clouds and Mt. Fuji greeting us in the distance. Dave and I could finally experience the land of the rising sun. Under the right circumstances, it’s amazing how clear the air can be in a city as large as Tokyo. Even through the ever-present fog and rain, air sensors inside local taxis measure air quality and have always indicated “good” or “excellent”.

Still feeling a bit worn out from the day before, Dave and I were off to a slow start. After putting ourselves together, we began our day, as usual, at our local 7-Eleven for some sandwiches. Dave religiously goes for the egg sandwiches, but I prefer the 3-pack of tuna salad, ham with lettuce, and egg. The bread has the crust cut off and is impossibly soft, and the sandwiches go down quick. They are the perfect start to our action-packed days in Tokyo.

Our first stop today was the Senso-ji Temple, a shrine awkwardly nestled in middle of the city on the other side of Tokyo. A bit more ornate and colorful than yesterday’s shrine. We walked through the incense to get to the center of the temple, where Dave approached the prayer box and threw in a few more coins in the hopes for better sleep. On the temple grounds are more souvenir stalls than you can imagine and more pay-to-pray options, and the place was overrun with throngs of tourists packing the temple and connected souvenir stalls, giving the whole place a frantic flea market vibe.

We took a walk through the streets of Asakusa and headed to the nearby Kappabashi Kitchen Street, where Dave enjoyed popping into knife shops to view their impressive collections of carbon steel blades and kitchenware. By then, our stomachs were rumbling, and an on-the-spot recommendation from ChatGPT sent us to nearby Ramen Yoroiya for a wonderfully delicious and satisfying lunch of soy ramen and pork dumplings.

The second half of our day was reserved for the Ghibli Museum, a highly rated attraction and one I was excited about given my love for one of the Ghibli movies in particular, Princess Mononoke. Though it’s barely seven miles outside of Tokyo’s city center, it seemed like a real effort to get there, requiring me to confirm through an intermediate translator on his phone, perhaps his wife, that we did indeed want to go that far and did indeed want to get on the highway. We had a timed entry tickets for the Ghibli Museum, so out of an abundance caution, we got there way early and had some time to walk around the adjoining park several times. A nice opportunity to get some fresh air, get some more steps in, and watch some of the senior locals happily working out in the park and playing tennis. The old people here seem so fit and gentle and happy, and I think eating healthy and staying active are a big part of it.

The outside of the museum is indeed a vision of Ghibli, with its Gaudi-ish curves and playful colors. The exterior could do with a bit of cleaning, though. Filth is not part of the Ghibli aesthetic. After killing almost two hours, we finally got in line for entry inside. I did my best to give Dave a quick education on Hayao Miyazaki, the creative force behind the Ghibli movies and designer of the museum and grounds. Ghibli themes are always the playfulness and spirituality of nature, and the animation, while alternating between playful and horrifying, is always beautiful.

Walking inside, we were told that no photos are allowed (annoying!). As expected, the inside of the museum is cute and charming, with more of the quaint Ghibli aesthetic and kid-sized passageways and exhibits. Two of the rooms were wonderfully dense with inspiration, original character and story sketches, animation cels, and fun movie projection equipment.

On one side of the museum is a small theater, where we were led in to enjoy a 15-minute Hayao Miyazaki featurette exclusive to the museum. The film, called Mr. Dough and the Egg Princess (Pandane to Tamago-hime), features a grotesque, winged witch creature with warts, giant boobs, and an appetite for eggs and mischief. One of the eggs that she fails to crack turns into a cute, little creature who she promptly enslaves, and this little creature befriends a large batch of dough that morphs into a floppy and sticky man-creature. Together, they escape from the witch, and the rest of the story follows the witch searching for and confronting her escapees as a local community of rabbit farmers looks on. The climactic ending features a dramatic showdown between the witch and the fully baked and now giant man-creature. Good times. The film showcases the perfect mix of cute, quirky, and grotesque that Ghibli is famous for.

But after all this, there wasn’t much else. Most of the museum is empty space, and it took us barely an hour to get through it. I had expected to find detailed information about each of the Ghibli movies, but aside from a few plaques marking the production date of each, there really wasn’t much. The museum is sorely lacking in content, and as beautiful as the space is, I feel like they could have done much more with it. I had hoped to find some Princess Mononoke figurines or art in the gift shop, but even there I was let down. And all of this after great investment in time and money to get out there. A disappointing experience for me, for sure.

After the Ghibli Museum, we found ourselves in the suburbs of Tokyo after dark, with some slight panic about finding a taxi back to the city center in time to make our dinner reservation. Uber to the rescue. We gave it a shot, and it worked a treat, delivering us a taxi ready to take us to our destination already typed in.

After a quick change at the hotel, we headed to the other side of Tokyo for dinner at Nobu. Dave is something of a Nobu expert, and this was my first experience. As expected, we were treated to an exquisite meal of shrimp tempura, fatty tuna, wagyu beef, a salad to address what I felt was a lack of vegetables in our Tokyo diet, and green tea mochi for dessert. Coincidentally, Donald Trump arrived in Tokyo for trade talks this evening and is staying in the hotel right across the street from Nobu. Security was posted on streets all around the restaurant.

Today ended up being a much-needed change of pace, pretty chill with some laughs, great food, and another 17,500 steps. We’re working it. We made it an early night, and ten minutes after closing his door, I now hear Dave snoring like a champion. Sirens are blaring down below, motorcycles revving their engines. But Dave is sound asleep with a big smile on his face.