It’s 9:31 a.m. and the bar in my hostel is open for business. Japan are playing their opening World Cup game in just under thirty minutes; much to the delight of the staff here. Samurai Blue, a ¥300 cocktail named after the Japan squad is being sold. ‘Free’ soft drinks and bar snacks are also available. Almost everyone is wearing Japanese football shirts, face paint, and bandannas. Fans are waving megaphones and flags.

Yesterday a fifty inch television was installed in preparation for the ‘big game’, and signs advertising the match were strategically placed around the hostel. The football is finally here. TV Tokyo are here again too; filming ‘foreigners’ in the hostel who are watching the match. After a good start from Japan, the game ends in a disappointing defeat, but everyone remains upbeat.

I apply for some jobs before deciding to leave the air conditioned hostel and get some breakfast. I go outside to check if I need an umbrella today or sunscreen. Outside clear skies and 30°C; so much for the rainy season. My breakfast consists of a crustless egg sandwich and a British stereotype in the form of Royal Milk Tea; I’m anemic royalty! It is one of many satisfying moments to my day.

After breakfast I have no plans, so I take the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to a random station. At Shinbashi Station I walk past a Porsche showroom, a broadcasting tower, and an advertising museum. I keep walking until I eventually find an information board with a map; ironically the advertising museum isn’t advertised on the information board. I see a place nearby that looks like a park and decide to check it out.

On the way I pass a drunk man in a Japanese football shirt, randomly singing the names of football players. He slurs his words and staggers as he drinks from a can of Kirin Beer. I arrive at the park, which isn’t actually a park. I pay the ¥300 entrance fee, and enter a place called ‘Hamarikyu Gardens’.

The Hamarikyu Gardens were once the family garden of the Tokugawa Shogun, but were later donated to the City of Tokyo by the Imperial Family in 1945. They are now designated as a Special Place of Scenic Beauty and Special Historical Site of Japan. I wander the lush gardens for a while finally free from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo; however, my tranquillity is somewhat spoilt by the tall office blocks that scrape the sky in every direction.

Back at the hostel there is a poster pinned to the notice board for a gyoza party tomorrow night, offering free dumplings. There is also an advertisement from broadcaster NHK. It is looking for volunteers for a TV program I am familiar with called ‘Tokyo Eye’, which is broadcast worldwide via satellite and the Internet. It’s for a short documentary to film tourists experiences in Odaiba. I sign up.

On Tuesday morning I am to take part in a televised bike tour featuring local foods and activities as part of the ongoing TV Tokyo documentary. On Wednesday morning I am involved in a feature for Fuji TV at Cafe Byron Bay; the English bar I have mentioned many times before, and my local drinking establishment here in Asakusa. It has been voted number 1 out of 2,136 restaurants in Taito on TripAdvisor.

Japan has been kind to me so far, and I consider myself lucky to be featured in three different television shows in my first three weeks of being here.

I swing by Cafe Byron Bay for a quick Suntory whisky highball (whisky and soda). A few highballs later and it’s time to eat. I am still exploring the thousands of restaurants in Asakusa; today I decide on Indian cuisine. I order a vegetarian set meal for ¥980. At the time of ordering there’s a lovely little scale ranging from one to five chilies. I ask for three and the waiter says, “Three! But three is really really hot!” I change my mind and choose ‘two chilies’.

My food arrives. It includes a salad, a lentil based Daal, a nondescript ‘vegetarian curry’, the smallest portion of rice I have ever seen, and the largest naan bread I have ever seen. It tastes great, and the photograph probably doesn’t do the food justice. The Daal is so hot that it causes my eyes to water; I somehow manage to eat it though. It is so hot that I hate to think what would have happened to my eyes had I ordered the three chilies option. Presumably the five chilies option was off the Scoville Scale and on fire.

After my meal, the chef personally comes out of the kitchen and asks me in English how my food was. I tell him that it was very good and I would return. I actually would return and had already been eyeing up the Tandoori Fish option on the menu.

Back at the hostel for a few cans of Suntory whisky highball. I end up in A.S.A.B. drinking with a Swedish guy who’s friend looks and sounds exactly like Steve Buscemi. After a couple of drinks here I take the two minute walk from the bar back to the hostel for a relatively early night.