Tokyo and the Emperor of the Night

Christine and I meet up at 10 a.m., catching the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to Shibuya. Today is once again warm, and all traces of Christmas Day are gone. There are no longer decorations outside shops, and the music of the festive season has been replaced by Taylor Swift, Oasis, and, of course, AKB48. Inside Shibuya Station, we spot another random horse.

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We head outside and into the scramble of people as we cross Shibuya Crossing. My opinion of the crossing remains unchanged; it’s just a road. Many tourists are gathered here, taking photographs of people walking along the intersection. This once again demonstrates the power of the guidebook — a simple mention of any place, and tourists flock there.

We wander through the chaos of Shibuya, passing bright lights and television screens practically shouting at us to buy things. However, there isn’t the usual post-Christmas shopping frenzy going on here; this is just a normal day in Shibuya. We decide to explore a building shaped like a castle, which turns out to be the Disney Store. The place is filled with stuffed toys and Italian puppets.

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With nothing worth buying and a planned trip to Tokyo Disneyland later this week, we leave the Disney Store empty-handed. Next, we walk to Harajuku Station and take a stroll down the trendy Takeshita Street, full of teen fashion and crêperies, before heading over to Meiji Shrine. While waiting to cross the road, I notice the monk who tried to scam me almost six months ago is still here, attempting to lure in tourists. I simply laugh at him and shake my head as he tries to hand me his gold Siddhārtha Gautama card

We wander into Meiji Shrine, a serene Shinto shrine dedicated to the spirit of Emperor Meiji. As we stroll along the path, absorbing the tranquil atmosphere, a friendly Japanese person notices us and begins to wave, their warm greeting adding a touch of local hospitality to our visit.
“Hello, welcome to Japan,” he says enthusiastically. “Are you American?”
“No, from England.”
“Ah, England! Where in England?”
“Close to Manchester,” I tell him, avoiding the need to explain the location of my unknown town.
“Ah, Manchester United,” he says, “Soccer.” He makes a kicking gesture, emphasising that soccer means football. The man modestly plays down my remarks about his English ability before going on his merry way.

We pass through wooden torii gates and by massive barrels of donated sake before heading to the main shrine.

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The cleansing ritual has become second nature to me now, and Christine manages it perfectly, despite having only done it once before. We wander around looking for a place to get our fortunes, hoping to rectify the ‘Bad Fortune’ from yesterday, but it doesn’t appear that this service is offered here.

We wander the length of the shrine and exit on the other side, finding ourselves amidst the vibrant carnival that is Shinjuku. We stroll through Shinjuku Park Tower, the building that houses the Park Hyatt Hotel, famous not only in its own right but also well-known for its feature in the movie Lost in Translation.

We head to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, only to be unexpectedly attacked by a masked assailant inside.

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The oni, a demon in Japanese folklore known as a ‘Blue Devil,’ surprisingly works for the Japanese Government. Guiding us, he directs to the lift, and we swiftly ascend to the 45th floor of the building.

From the panoramic observation deck, I can see Mount Fuji in the distance. Its snowy white peak blends seamlessly into the clouds, and if you didn’t know where the mountain sits on the horizon, you would never know it was there. Huge office buildings sprawl in every direction, making Tokyo look endless from this height.

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I check out the tacky souvenirs and discover that my name in Japanese kanji can mean ‘Lapis Wings Eternal.’ However, given the multiple meanings kanji can have, I opt for a more impactful name. From the available possibilities, I decide that my name actually means ‘Nine Immortal Dragons.’

We leave the government building and make our way to Shinjuku Station. After queueing at the ticket office for about ten minutes, we hand over the tickets from our Narita Express debacle yesterday. We successfully manage to get ¥3800 of our ¥6780 refunded, a welcome bonus. With a sense of triumph, we decide that the Japan Railway Company will be covering the cost of our tempura lunch.

We wander through Shinjuku for a while before deciding to head back to Asakusa. I consider buying a coffee but can’t decide whether I want black coffee, black coffee, or black coffee.

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Back in Asakusa, we meet up with some of the other people staying in the hostel, Jeff and Ajitan. The four of us head out for a quick drink at Nui before taking a taxi over to Ryogoku. We find ourselves at a bar called ‘Popeye,’ a delightful place boasting seventy-four different craft beers on tap. Following the bar, we return to Asakusa for some affordable Chinese food before ending the night with karaoke and all-around merriment.

Ticket to (almost) Ride

Today is Christmas Day. I wake up at 4 a.m. with a Christmas party hangover. It is too early to think, but I have things to do. Today, my friend Christine is arriving in Japan from England, and it is my job to act as a tour guide for the next few days. I walk to Nippori Station and arrive a little too early for my train. In order to kill time, I wander over the tracks to witness my second sunrise in Japan, the warm winter sun silhouetting Tokyo Skytree. My photograph is ruined by a smudge across my lens.

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Inside Nippori Station, it’s business as usual. Today might be Christmas, but for Japan, nothing changes. Salarymen dash to make their connections on the busy trains, Seven Eleven workers look exhausted from a heavy night shift, and ‘Let It Go’ blares from every speaker, as usual. It’s a normal business day here in Tokyo.

I take the Keisei Skyliner to Narita International Airport and wait. Eventually, my friend appears wearing a knitted Christmas jumper and a Santa hat. Despite seeing her in festive garb, it never really feels like Christmas. No trees and no snow; in fact, another clear warm day. There is no Christmas music in the airport either, just the constant drone of nonsensical announcements.

We take the Narita Express bound for Shinjuku Station. The Narita Express describes itself as ‘fast, convenient, and pleasant to ride,’ but never has a quotation been so far from the truth. On the train, Christine makes an offhand comment about whether things ever break in Japan. I tell her, ‘This is Japan,’ which translates to mean, ‘Things never break here.’ No less than five minutes later, our ‘pleasant to ride’ train crawls to a halt outside Sakura Station.

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We sit on the train for what seems like an hour before an announcement in Japanese tells us all to get off. A kind Japanese man sitting one row in front of us explains to us in English what is happening. We have to take a Sobu Line train from here to Chiba before continuing toward Shinjuku on local trains. For some unexplained reason, the Narita Express and the rapid line are out of action. Apparently, our ¥3390 tickets can be refunded in Shinjuku.

Not wishing to spend all day sitting on trains, we decide to get off close to Asakusa. We wander to Senso-ji Temple to get our fortune, something that I very much enjoy doing. Christine receives a ‘Bad Fortune’ and leaves it for the gods. We eat sushi at my favourite standing sushi restaurant before taking the train to Akihabara.

In Akihabara, for reasons that can’t be discerned, Ultraman is seen riding a horse.

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We hop on a Yamanote Line train and get off at a random station. Her choice is Nippori, my fourth visit to this station this week. We wander across the tracks and explore the many temples and shrines. Passing through Yanaka Ginza Street, we stop off at a small park. Tired and with feet hurting from too much walking, we take a breather at Zenshoan Temple. As we enter the temple grounds, in the distance stands a huge gold statue.

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The statue of Kannon is impressive, but what is potentially even more captivating is the Ghost Museum. Sadly, the museum featuring silk scroll paintings depicting ghosts and macabre ghost stories is only open during the summer months. There’s something about horror stories warming your blood, which is the reason for the seasonal opening hours.

With all this talk of spirits, we take a wander through Yanaka Cemetery. I have visited here once before and found it incredibly peaceful, and do so now. There’s something about the perfect rows of decorated graves that is somewhat calming. Perhaps the quiet all around adds to this feeling. For some reason, the unfinished sign doesn’t display how winter should look here. The row of sakura trees and blossoming primrose jasmine in spring is a reason to once again walk among the dead next year.

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We head back to a hostel in Asakusa, the same one I had previously stayed at for eighty-two days. Tonight, the hostel is having a Christmas party, and Santa Claus will be arriving at half past eight by subway train. Exhausted from a long day and in need of my own bed, I decide to give the party a miss and head home.

Back in Minowa, I dine on Domino’s Pizza (four seasons) and a New York Cheesecake. I could post a photograph of a Japanese pizza from Domino’s, but it really isn’t any different from anywhere else. Instead, here are some instructions for Christmas decorations that I saw earlier today:

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Merry Christmas.