In my mind, I had a plan for Day 1. Given our hotel's location and our wonky Circadean- rhythm, I thought that we would:
Get up at 4am
Go to the Tsukiji Fish Market (a *must* for any first time visitor to Tokyo)
Go to my favorite wacky onsen, Spa-Fairgrounds.
But.... It was Sunday.
And the fish market was closed (which I learned before I went to bed).
And... I had, somewhere in the previous couple of days, acquired scores of insect bites all over my back which made me look a little... um... poxy, and therefore, not someone you want to see in a very naked, communal-water environment.
So... We awoke to a wedding. Sounds like Chuck Mangione on the trumpet outside the window, bell chiming, clapping, a flock of balloons released into the breeze. We hastened to the window (rushing to put on window-friendly attire first), just in time to catch the tail end of it all. Harrumph.
Resumed getting ready, grooming and tidying, when.... bruuup-bruuup-bruuuuuup.... more trumpeting.
This time we were on the balcony in time to see the finale of the ceremony. The bride in a lovely, satin, fluff of a gown. The groom with his hands on the bell rope, waiting to ring it. The guests, balloons in hand.
How festive! Right by the neo-Statue of Liberty and the waterfront.
And 30 minutes later, it was pretty and fun again. As was the ceremony after that.
Somewhere, downwind, are a hundred thousand balloon corpses.
I tried to get us to eat in or near the hotel imagining that the relative difficulty of traveling here (as opposed to a place where we can even read signs to sound them out) would slow us down. But it didn't happen.
We packed up. Left our luggage with the bellhop. And consulted with Guest Relations on a recommendation for a Japanese breakfast place near the United Nations University. There was a farmers market I hoped to visit there, so it seemed like a good place to start.
As I wrote, we are less agile here in Japan.
We left the hotel at 10:30am (breakfastless) and went to work out public transit to get to the breakfast spot near the farmers market.
The station for the Tokyo monorail was close and easy. Done.
We bought a Pasmo card - which is a T-pass or Metro pass w credit loaded onto it)- assuming we could share it. A few mishaps. A few times blocked. A few times slipped through. Some sympathy from the Metro guards. Some redirection.
Time to transfer from the monorail to the JR subway/el train. Bought a new kind of ticket (still a little unclear.) It worked. It failed. We got stuck in between stations. Our stop was closed for repairs... and we had to reroute... but the kindly Metro guard had taken my ticket/receipt, so I was again stuck inside the terminal.
'Round and 'round.
And finally, we were told that we needed our own passes. Bought a 2nd Pasmo. O.k.! It works for all regular transit here. Hoorah!
Made it to our destination and out of the station, and h/angry I asked a man on the street where the restaurant was. There are frequently no street signs here. If there are street names or addresses written... I cannot tell because of they are written in Japanese (natch). So... it's an exercise in creativity, patience, interaction, and reliance on the kindness of strangers.
The kindly man to whom I appealed, left his station (he was working) and walked us around the corner and a few doors down.. where we found the place CLOSED.
Time: 12:30.
Now, decidedly irritable and short-tempered, we tromped through the lovely neighborhood of Omotesando to Harajuku. Admittedly, there were moments when splendid architecture, wacky shops, or doted-upon dachshunds jolted us from sullenness and made us exclaim with delight and wonder.
Trends here include cuffed pants and long-haired mini-dachshunds... two things that I can 100% get behind. The doxies are especially pleasing. They are dolled-up in dresses, capes and coats. Ruffles and pleats of tulle and tweed. They are strolled in prams or Snugglies by proud cooing parents. And it never fails to make us smile. There are a few poodles and aussies and chihuahuas here and there, but doxies are the thing today.
Right... foiled and famished. We found a new place recommended by a discerning food-lovers book, Food Sake Tokyo, for ramen. Again, the problem of finding the address... and sometimes places are on the 2nd or 3rd floor. Stomp stomp stomping away. We turned back in frustration and wheeled around again, to find that we were immediately under it, Kyushu Jangara.
We queued up in a blind stairway, barely 2 people wide, and twisting every 6 steps (but cool and clean) we just trusted that we would someday arrive at the entrance and surrendered to look at pictograms and graffiti. 30 minutes later, we were in.
Time: 1:30pm.
The thing to order, says our book, is tonkotsu, ramen in a rich pork broth garnished with a soy-marinated boiled egg, pork belly (bbq'd), thin slices of other pork, scallions, and another veg. I ordered the all-pork broth. Kirk had a mixed broth medley of pork, chicken and miso with a lump of tomato-soup red, salted cod roe. They were both rich, restorative, silky and delicious. Mine had a creamy consistency. Kirk's was a little salty, tangy.
Revived, we realized that we had missed the farmers market.
We strolled Harajuku looking for the cool kids and other delightful peculiarities. (could write a whole installment about the Harajuku kids and trends here, but that'll have to wait for another time)
I have included photos of a couple of Harajuku girls, a selection of my favorite weird t-shirts with English, and a trio who may have been a Japanese version of PETA. They gave us a recipe for "cat curry" and were cacophonous, dancing and performing atonally on this bridge before the shrine grounds.
Across the street and around the bend there's a beautiful shrine and gardens. No longer stomping, we strolled with a stream of dachshunds, tourists and locals, up a wide, gravel-floored and tree-lined path toward the shrine. Kirk asked if we might see animals... but aside from birds and a girl in a cat mask, we have viewed no wildlife. Not even a beetle or a spider. Not in LA anymore.
The Meiji shrine was rebuilt (after destruction during WWII, I think) and the new one is considered to be quite an excellent reproduction.
I took Kirk through ritual hand-washing before we entered.
Explained what little I know about the architectural elements of thresholds and courtyards.
And then, another rush and hush. A wedding! A shinto wedding. The silent recessional through the arcades and across the courtyard. Bride in white padded robes and a large white cap, flanked by her parents (?). A parasol-bearer follows her. A priest leads the group.
 |
| Shinto wedding procession in Meiji Temple, Tokyo |
***
We also bought ema (wooden wish cards), fortune sticks and poem fortunes.
For me, Emperor Meiji says:
Should you but resolve to climb
That peak towering to the heavens,
You will find there is a pathway
To its very summit.
(and for the dim, it summarizes, "Where there's a will, there's a way.)
The Empress Shoken says:
Ever downward water flows,
But mirrors lofty mountain;
How fitting that our hearts also
Be humble, but reflect high aims.
**
Back by 5:30 to pick up our luggage.
Beard Papa cream puffs (in molasses-flavor), purchased at the subway station mall, as a treat for successful navigation.
Pick up our bags. Worked out public transit to our new hotel. Much smoother this time.
Arrived. Checked in to great fanfare (which I'll tell you about next time). And lay down for just a moment.
And so, at 7pm, Kirk was asleep for the night.
Which was just as well... because I have an early morning planned for us.
No comments:
Post a Comment