The next morning, on the way to the train station, I pointed out the cafe entrance that stumped me on my first day in Japan. I still remember that moment every time I walk by, and I've only been back since once, of course making my friend go in first. After we laughed about my embarrassing moment, Dad decided to make me feel better by upping the ante in the bakery next door. We had already had breakfast, but Japanese bakeries are fascinating places and we just wanted to breeze through and look at the selection. Dad spotted a platter on a pedestal stacked high with small domed shaped little brown cakes, about an inch in diameter. He asked me what they were, but I didn't know. I have since learned they are called dorayaki どらやき, brown sugar sponge cake with sweet bean paste in the middle. Dad wanted to try one, but didn't want to buy a dozen, so I asked the baker if it was ok to buy just one. He said yes and gestured to the stack using the word 'sample'. Unfortunately, he meant 'display' but before I could explain, my Dad had already snagged a cake and had discovered it was wax the hard way, with his teeth. We had a good laugh while the baker wrapped a real cake in paper behind the counter. I don't feel so bad about that cafe's sliding door now.
Cracking up after the wax cake incident
And now to try a real one...After strolling around the shops in my neighborhood for a while, it was time to take them to the real Tokyo and introduce them to the neon charm I have come to love so much. We hopped around a few places that day: the palace grounds, Ginza and the Sony building, but of course they were mainly interested in the trains. After living here a while, you forget what really blew you away in the beginning, but having guests in tow really brings it all back.
First they were shocked by the sleeping on the trains. In the States, people doze on the trains from time to time, but here, it is full on, knocked-out, mouth open, draped over the stranger next to you, nap time. The Japanese are notoriously over-worked, and in many cases their commute is the only respite from the day. It's not uncommon at all to have someone fall asleep on you, and the upside is, it's OK if you use someone else's shoulder when you are knackered. Take a look:
They were also stunned by the immaculately shining subway entrances. I got used to those a while back, which I fear will contribute to the Michael Douglas in Falling Down style freak out I will inevitably suffer when I return to Philadelphia. Dad said sarcastically "Do they scrub them with toothbrushes every night?" Sign #47 I have been living in Japan too long: I didn't understand the sarcasm in his tone. It seemed like a completely reasonable thing to expect. Of course the subway stations should be pearly white, well lit and smell like soap.
Take note, Philly.Once the sun went down we made our way to Shibuya, one of the two busiest and neoniest places in Tokyo. I purposefully exited at Hachiko crossing for the full effect. Dad and Cheryl had two days previous, been on an island in remote Indonesia where the only form of transportation was horse drawn cart. Now they stood before the busiest intersection in the biggest city in the world. Hachiko crossing must be seen to be believed. You line up with a few hundred other people heading in the same direction, meanwhile on the other side of the street a crowd with the same numbers is forming to face you. For a few brief seconds after the cars clear the intersection and before the little green man blinks the go signal, you stand in silence staring down the mob on the other side of the street, and then on cue, the masses move toward each other and somehow, unbelievably sift through each other without so much as a bumped shoulder. Dad said it reminded him of a scene from a civil war movie just before someone yells 'Charge!', and if you watch the video below, I think he draws a good comparison.
Dad and Cheryl in Shibuya, TokyoThe drinks must have been good, because by the time we left, I had the email address of all the other patrons and my father had granted the bartender permission to marry me. One of our new friends climber halfway up the ladder to the second story and then held the camera awkwardly over his head into the corner to get a wide enough angle for this shot. Thanks Andrew!
What you see is quite literally the extent of the bar, the rest of the people were standing in the doorway, half in the street. And to think I once rejected business plans on the basis that 700 square feet was too small for a bar. These guys do it in 49. I salute you space planners.
Close-ups are your only option in this bar.
