Toast and Jam

March 23, 2012

I started waking up at 5am but was so exhausted I couldn't move.
Tim woke up around 6am singing "Mr. Roboto bring me some nachos."
We opted to try breakfast at one of the three restaurants in our swanky business hotel but the only vegan options were toast, salad, coffee, and kiwi.  I think it cost 100,000,000 yen.  Tokyo is expensive.

My fatal flaw. My Achilles heel. 

When I travel, I pretty much can't stop being hungry. And when it hits, it hits hard. And I need food now. Right now. Which is almost always problematic. Vegan food on the spot in countries where nothing is labeled in English and everything looks like it came from the deepest depths of the ocean is not an easy find. So here I am at the National Museum, in desperate need of food with only an apple to curb the pangs (did you ever notice that eating apples when you are hungry makes you hungrier?). What to do? I left Tim to hunt for food.  The main cafe looked like they didn't have anything suitable for my needs and since the women behind the counter didn't speak English, I sat at a table and sulked.  I then noticed a long chain of vending machines (Japan LOVES vending machines) and went to scout it out.  Still nothing I could understand so I bought a hot tea.  Well, I bought a cold tea, but not on purpose.  

I put on a smile and walked around the Museum to find Tim.  And then walked around again, and up, and down, and completely around.  Where did he go? I sat on a bench in a tiny vestibule with large glass doors looking out onto the garden.  The walls were clad in metallic tones that complimented the gray sky and the tinniness of falling rain.

Tim was finally hungry too and we sought out a well known vegan ramen restaurant, T's Tan Tan, located in the heart of Tokyo Station.  Tokyo Station is a city within a city; world within a world; boundless, endless, and completely flooded with people.  As our history here has already shown, we walked in circles trying to find the restaurant before giving up.  The woman at a help kiosk spoke enough English to understand "T's Tan Tan," whipped out a map and drew us a path.  We found the restaurant, a bright sign in English at the entrance and a menu completely in Japanese.  What could have been a complicated interaction proceeded smoothly, thanks to the generous use of pictures in menus. Since everything was vegan, we just pointed and were served.  The ramen was amazing (twirl and slurp), as was the pudding, and the fake chicken tofu gluten nugget things.

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Everyone (minus Ashley) arrived that night and we shared our war stories of time travel exhaustion.  Tim, Al, and I went to get dinner at the Vegan Healing Cafe in Shibuya.  The website said it was open until 9pm with last orders at 8pm. After getting lost for awhile (the map on their website was wrong, really, it wasn't our fault) we got there at 8:01. Closed. We stood in the rain and laughed. We didn't map out another restaurant before we left the hotel and I didn't bring the paper city map. Al suggested that we ask the guy cleaning up inside if there is another vegan restaurant around.  I hadn't even noticed anyone inside and before I could weigh in on the question, Al knocked on the the window.  The guy opened the door and Tim tried to ask if he knew of another vegan restaurant in the neighborhood. The man didn't speak any English and Tim does all sorts of wild gesturing. The man smiled, said "ok ok ok" and motioned us inside.  He scrambled to set up a table as we awkwardly approached the chairs, uncertain if we should ruin his evening for the sake of our grumbling bellies.

I genuinely think he thought Tim was pleading with him to let us out of the rain.  But we ate fried soy meat and dal curry, and as much as I wanted to, Tim told me I wasn't allowed to ask for dessert. Boo. 

On our way back to the hotel, we walked through Shibuya Crossing, the busiest place in Tokyo? Japan? The Universe?  Based on a tip from the Lonely Planet Guide, we went to the second floor of the Starbucks in a building overlooking the intersection and watched colorful orbs of umbrellas fly across the street.

Expeditions and Eternal Good Luck

March 22, 2012 

The alarm went off at 6 am this morning and although I woke up immediately, I was by no means awake. My fight with Jet Lag was brutal, with black circles around my eyes to prove it.

Weeks ago, Tim and I bought special World Heritage passes that covered transportation and admission to several shrines in Nikko.  We needed to get to Asakusa Station in order to pick up those tickets, which, was not the easiest station to get to.  It should be said that while the Tokyo Subway map looks exactly like an electrical wiring diagram for a Honda Motorcycle, a similarity that is surely not a coincidence, the subway system is rather easy to use.  Like, I can navigate the subway system but I can't assemble a motorcycle.

A few stops in, an older lady drops her bags down on the seats facing us and proceeds to unpack her lunch.  Her silver hair is in a loose french braid with a few bobby pins holding the strays.  She takes out a tiny tupperware container that has small compartments: white rice, some green seaweedy stuff, and something pinkish brown (unagi).  She starts talking to us, but I can only make sense of her smile.  Following the traditional rules of the "I Have No Idea What You Are Saying" game, we used gestures as our means of communication. It's Charades, expert edition.

The train took a little over two hours, riding through flats towards mountains in the distance.  Once there, we hopped on a bus to take us to the shrines. There are no English signs, which is surprising in a popular tourist destination. There is also snow on the ground, which is also surprising.  When we got off the bus, all I could see ahead was a very tall box-like building with a giant image of a shrine on the front. So ...  this is it?

Turns out they were just doing renovations and boxed in the ancient shrine with a protective shell.  The shrines were all beautiful, ornate but not flashy, delicate and enduring. Considering how much red is present in their architecture, the structures blend together with the forest in radiant harmony.  After touring through all the shrines, Tim took out the Lonely Planet Guide and asked someone about this trail mentioned as an essential Nikko experience. We had seen many trails that were closed due to snow and ice (I suspect), but were pointed in the direction of an unmarked trail that climbed uphill to an unclear destination.  There were mossy rocks lining the trail, and in typical Jess and Tim travel fashion, I jumped with excitement, grabbed my camera, "Pretty!!!," and Tim forged ahead without pause.  As I was running to catch up to him, I noticed he had stopped on the path.  You might think he was waiting for me, but no, there suddenly appeared a gray deer leaping across the path ... followed by another.  It was quiet.  Just us and the deer.

After climbing for about twenty minutes, we came to a crossroads.  Obviously nothing was labeled, at least not in English.  Tim ran ahead to see what would happen if we continued to climb uphill versus the detour that would take us back downhill.  I stood there, overlooking a snow covered valley, complete silence except for the sounds of falling twigs.

When Tim came back, we decided to keep on the main path downhill which eventually brought us to a waterfall. After climbing around, taking photos, and laughing at a man wading through the water, we continued on through a Torii towards a lesser known shrine.  According to legend, before you can walk under this particular Torii though, you have three chances to throw a rock through a tiny hole on the top of the gate.  If you are successful on this mission, you are granted a lifetime of good luck.  The guy who was wading through the water and a maintenance man gave Tim three rocks.  I know you know what I am going to say next, but you MUST understand the impossibility of this feat.  IMPOSSIBLE.  So of course, Tim made the shot and now he has good fortune for life.

I was urged to pick up the pace since we still had a zillion things to see and so little time.  Yes, the famous Nikko famous bridge is sacred, but it is also less than exciting.  And, you need to pay to cross it. What is exciting though is that the Nikko Bridge crosses the Daiya River.  Daiya! We walked along the crystal river water to find a place called the "Abyss." I mean, who wouldn't seek that out?  The Abyss is a short stretch of the river walk lined with stone statues of Jizo, the Buddhist Saint of travelers and children.  You are supposed to count the number of statues on your walk in and again on your walk out.  Apparently, they are not the same number which in turn, proves the existence of ghosts.  I forgot to count on the way in so I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of the supernatural.

We ate at Hippari Daku, a teeny tiny restaurant known to have vegetarian options. We ordered soup, noodles, and tempura but the owner told us we ordered too much and talked us down from the tempura. Too much food? Never. The food was great and the moment we left, it started to rain, we started to run and just made the train.
The stupid train.
The stupid train ride home took nearly four hours and there was a thermostat issue that was causing this car -- and every car -- to be about 110 degrees. Celsius.  Such an amazing day now scorched with misery.  No one else seemed bothered except for Tim and me, and I just wanted to open the doors and jump out. The only thing to drink was a bottle of hot tea that the woman from Hippari Daku filled up our small water bottle with before we left. Hell. 

Once we arrived at the Asakusa Station, it was still 40 minutes by subway back to the hotel. We grabbed a vitamin water, showered, and promptly went to bed.

Renovating the shrine by encapsulating it in a giant building.

Nikko Shrine.

The Three Wise Monkeys: Hear no evil, Speak no Evil, See no evil.

Nikko Shrine

Sinking Shrine

Nikko Strolling Garden

Nikko Shrine

Tim in the trees.

Deer in the trees.

Steps to the waterfall.

The exact moment that Tim threw a rock through the hole in the top of the Torii and was granted a lifetime of good fortune.

The Nikko Bridge

The Daiya River

Statues of Jizo along the Daiya

Hippari Daku Restaurant, wrapped in notes from visitors around the world.

kind of like a turtle

Post post

March 21, 2012

I found it hard to sleep last night despite feeling [and looking like] a zombie [do zombies sleep?].  After waiting at LAX for 4 hours, traveling across the Pacific Ocean on a 12 hour flight, riding the Narita Express for 53 minutes, walking confusedly around Tokyo station for 30 minutes, squeezing into a tiny cab for 10 minutes, and checking in at the hotel for about 5 minutes, plus many minutes in between all those other minutes, I think we went to bed at the equivalent of 6am PST.  Staying awake for 24 hours hurts my eyes and makes my head unstable, bobbling around like my spine is slack. The hotel is big by Japan's standards, which means that Tim doesn't quite hit both walls when he spreads his wings.

Besides having a toilet bowl from the future with seat warmers and an array of electronic buttons, our hotel is perfectly located next to one of the most popular running spots in Tokyo: a 5k loop around the Imperial Palace.  Although there were quite a few people on the course, I only saw two other women when I went running in the morning.  All the men are very fashionable, decked out in track suits, but they also shuffle [heavy feet] even when they are moving fast.  I had a great run in the freezing cold, clearly though, I was obnoxiously out of sync with my fellow runners. 

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Tim and I walked to Shinjuka Gyoen, the first destination on my long list of things to do specifically related to the sensational Cherry Blossom season.  We zig zagged through the city, wandering the streets of this big little foreign country.  Everything is big and everything is small; a lot of small pieces crammed into a very big city.  The side streets lack sidewalks and cars like to drive fast; Japanese businessmen are dressed in black or navy suits layered beneath a long black overcoat.  All of them.   

The gardens were beautiful even though we were there a little too early in the season to see peak cherry blossoms.  So. Everything was dead, even the grass was brittle and tan, but there was something about the golden glow of winter passing and spring starting, trees bending and paths winding, that made the few early blossoms impressively stoic.

After the gardens, we hunted for lunch and found Pure, a vegan cafe connected to an Aveda Salon.  Yes, everything smelled delicious, everywhere.  I got a soup, salad, and sandwich AND a sake muffin. Yum. 

We then walked through the shopping district to the Meiji shrine. This is about the time I started going downhill, not literally, although it might have been easier than walking up the hill to the shrine. My foot was hurting, bummer, so we took the subway back to the hotel. Under the guise of letting my foot rest, I lay down on the bed and promptly fell asleep. After all, it was 4am ... 

A few minutes later Tim, without concern for my sleepiness, asked me a few questions about dinner. Apparently I didn't answer them well, as in, not at all. 

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Our dinner destination was off the Shibuya stop, which is the busiest intersection in Japan, which means it might just be the craziest place in the world.  We wandered.  And stopped.  And wandered.  Tim kept pointing to our destination on the map, a vegan restaurant called Nagi Shokudo, which was sadly located about 1/2" south of the map's edge.  I don't know how we found it, but we did, something about a red fire engine hydrant post office? The food was okay, basil potatoes, yam and tofu, fake meat and peppers.  It was more like a cafe than a proper restaurant, small, with books and music for sale.  The kid at the table next to us was clearly into music, carefully opening several records he must have just purchased.  In no time and with a little broken English, Tim was outed as that guy from Dangers. It was funny to hear them talk about music since the language barrier is pretty severe, it was mostly band names and gestures.  And just like that, Tim made a friend!

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Convenient stores are a huge deal here: 7-11, Lawson, FamilyMart, Circle K, and many others.  There are multiple shops on every block, it is completely excessive but definitely convenient.  I ate Oreos; Tim had a highball in a can with pictures of cherry blossoms on it.

The Shape of Things to Come

I wrote everyday while I was in Japan.  Typed, actually.  Those words, floating in the cloud between my phone and my computer, waited [a very very very long time] for me to take action.  This morning I stuck my hand into a neglected folder called "Notes" and this is what happened:

March 20, 2012

I get pretty excited about telling a story: 

I have something so totally awesome to tell you!!! 

But then I usually trail off midway because I forget what I was going to say or I get tired of my own words.  You catch my drift ...

In the beginning:

Before Tim left for work, he told me to be packed and ready to go as soon as he got home.  I managed to do to the opposite; stuff piled neatly throughout the house when he walked in the door at 3:00.
Why aren't your bags packed?
I don't ... know.  Tim laughed in that, you're crazy, kind of way.  I was forced to throw my things into a few bags [to be sorted later] and we drove down to Los Angeles.

We left the next morning, on a United flight from LAX to Tokyo.  I usually opt to sit on the aisle but in this section of two seats, the tallest won the draw and I got stuck with the window.  A child behind us kicked and screamed from the moment we got on the plane until the moment we took off.  I feared that Tim, in all of his exhaustion, might punch this kid.  He didn't, and was surprisingly less bothered by it than me.  The child's parents must have drugged him because he was eerily silent for the next twelve hours. 

Twelve hours.

Twelve hours.  And.
No television.

WHAT?!?! 
Who's the child kicking and screaming now? 
Yes, me.

In the past 365 days, three of my longest flights [10+ hrs] have all been without televisions/broken systems.  Is that legal? Do the airline companies understand that my sanity inside this metal box rests entirely upon my ability to distract from the fact that I am defying gravity, manipulating the forces of nature, and sitting 30,000 feet above ground?

Because we left LA at noon and crossed the international dateline on our flight, nighttime never comes. And yet, suddenly it's tomorrow [I just finished reading Umberto Eco's The Island of the Day Before which deals with almost the same confounding experience, but differently].  The flight attendants walk around and make everyone close the shades for group nap time, an activity I would rather not engage in, and a request I find disturbing and disorienting.  I pull the shade down nearly all the way but let the slightest glow of light bathe just my seat.  Every so often I peak outside, dense clouds with an occasional glimpse of the dark blue Pacific.  What I didn't realize was that our flight route took us as far north as the Aleutian Islands ... vast snowscapes, crystal blue waters, and icebergs.  As I was taking in one of the most interesting landscapes I have ever seen, the flight attendant yelled at me to shut the shade.
BUT DON'T YOU SEE WHAT'S OUT THERE?

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Narita Airport is easier to navigate than I expected and of course, the Narita Express train was spotless. Easy.
Not easy.
We arrive at Tokyo Station and found ourselves in a labyrinth of sleek corridors, high ceilings, grey marble floors, no English signage, and no station exists.  With so many people, how can there be no exits?  Either Japanese people have figured out teleportation [it's possible] or this is all a dream [also possible]. We see people disappear into distant corners of the station, follow them, but not a staircase to be found. Tim is lugging his bass, a huge duffle bag of band stuff, and his backpack. Poor guy.  Honestly, it probably took a half hour to find our way out, eventually letting drafts of cold air bring us to salvation.  We got into a cab, a retro Toyota, flaunting seats adorned with doilies.  Although no proper English or Japanese was exchanged, the driver took us to our hotel.

It is finally nighttime.

Flying over the Aleutian Islands

From snow to ice to water

Frozen patterns

Welcome to Japan!

Narita Express

Hm, dried squid or dried scallop?

Tokyo Station x infinity

View from the hotel

The next day ... Shinjuku Gyoen ...