5/26/14
Tokyo, Japan (Asakusa)
“When in Tokyo, do as the…”
Wait, that’s not right. When I
travel, I take great pains to make sure I can experience as much local culture
as I can. From the food to the modes of
travel, I like to do what the locals do.
More often than not, it means eating foods I would never dare to taste
in New York. Sometimes, it’s awful. Othertimes, I discover great new foods. To me, travel is about more than just
sightseeing, even more than just check boxes off my list. It’s about experiencing new cultures and
truly exploring the world.
Certain trips,
like the WWI trip, are a series of Munich Runs.
Other trips, like the CA-4 trip, are a “If it’s Tuesday, then this must
be Belgium” type of trip. Then we have
the hub and spoke trip. In order for a
trip to be a proper hub and spoke trip, I need to stay in the same hotel each
night and base my adventures from the central city. Mexico City was like that. When I plan a trip like that, I can include a
very special day, one that I call the city day.
While any of the other trip types can implement the Copenhagen or
Istanbul protocols, a proper city day is different. I had one in Moscow, and I had one in
Tehran.
Today, here in Tokyo, is the
proper city day. It is the first proper
city day that I have done entirely on my own, without a tour guide. The great thing about a city day is that you
can choose half a dozen sites and hit them all in one day, oftentimes even
leaving time for cigar shop and/or a nice meal.
On the list for today was the National Diet, the National (Olympic)
Stadium, the Imperial Palace, souvenir shopping, the Tokyo Skytree, the Cigar
Club, and, if time allowed, a nice meal.
I did not set an alarm clock last night, choosing instead to wake up
naturally. Without my sleep machine,
however, I have constantly waking up between sleep cycles, so it was only an
issue of deciding at which 90-minute increment I wanted to get out of bed. On the way back from the cigar bar last
night, I realized that I still needed a Sunday newspaper for my collection. Tokyo was too major of a city not to get the
newspaper. I asked the driver to stop,
but he didn’t understand. It was
okay. I figured that the hotel would
have a paper. I was right. In fact, one had also been left in my
room. I was shocked by the level of
service provided by housekeeping, except for one thing: they didn’t replace the
soap. That seems like a minor thing, but
my reader will know that I collect hotel toiletries, and I cannot collect a
used bar of soap. They had left my
half-empty cup of sake, and they even folded my dirty shirts and socks. I knew that it would make packing much
easier.
I headed down for breakfast a
little behind schedule, but I knew that the limiting reactant, should I choose to
do it, would be watching the sun set at the Tokyo Skytree. It would be quite easy to do everything else
on the list before then. I got the same
thing I order for breakfast every morning in New York, along with undercooked
bacon and overpriced coffee. When I say
overpriced, I mean 4 times the price of a coffee at Starbucks. It was almost as much as I paid for the
double espresso in Moscow and more than I ever paid for drip coffee.
I decided to stop at the concierge to get the
dope on the Olympic Stadium, since the information available online was
unclear. I also considered asking her to
make me a reservation at a nice restaurant.
From what I understood online, tours were offered of the Stadium from
the Sports Museum, which was technically instead the Stadium. I was not sure if tours were available to the
general public or only as part of organized groups. She called the stadium, and the sound of
conversation seemed off. When she hung
up, she uttered the dreaded word, “Sorry.”
The rest of the sentence didn’t matter.
The stadium was not accessible to the public, only for concerts and
sporting events, of which there was not one tonight.
Okay, but what about the sports museum? If I could go into the museum, I would
technically be inside the stadium, and that would be okay. Where was the access to the museum? Would it be open today? Closed for renovations. I asked when the renovations would start, and
when they would end, but it didn’t matter.
I was under the impression that the demolition of the Stadium was slated
to begin in July. Surely they would not
be renovating it in time. It didn’t make
any sense. I was devastated. Was there any way around this? No, I could not afford another vacation
day. Could I trade this trip with my
birthday trip in September? No, the
demolition would begin by then.
Determined
not to lose heart, nor to let this ruin my day exploring Tokyo, I decided I
would just go and see what could be done.
Maybe I could plead with or bribe a guard or construction worker. Maybe I could show my USOC Sixth Ring card
and make up some story. Maybe I could
find an open gate. Maybe I could somehow
get close enough to be able to say that I was “inside the stadium.” Meanwhile, I had lost my desire for a nice
meal, but I did not lose my desire for a cigar.
I want to the cigar store in the lobby and got an overpriced El Rey del
Mundo Exclusivo Asia Pacifico.
I lit up
my Ashton ESG and made my way towards the National Diet. I knew that whatever happened at the Stadium,
if I got home and did not like the picture I took at the legislature, I would
be disappointed. There was no point
being disappointed about two things.
When I finally got to the Diet, it was all closed off, and I had to go
across the street to take a decent picture.
I could walk up to any legislative building in the United States at any
hour of the day and touch the front gate.
Well, maybe Congress requires some security checkpoints, but you can get
an unobstructed view of it from the National Mall. It made me realize just how true “We the
People” is. I am always shocked in other
countries when the building is either behind a gate or even blocked from public
view. My only conclusion is that those
countries do not truly have a people’s government. In a true republic, affairs of the government
are a matter of public concern. My
making the legislative buildings open to the public, it emphasizes that
point. I believe that almost every
legislative session in the United States at every level is open to the
public. That is certainly not the case
in other countries. At least I was able
to take a good picture here.
Oh, I
forgot to mention, the non-smoking signs, I looked at them more closely. They clearly said in English, in block
letters, that smoking on the street was prohibited. I passed plenty of cops, but none of them
said anything. It was over an hour from
the hotel to the stadium, in the heat, in my suit, lugging my heavy bag. None of that mattered. I was a man on a mission. However, a bathroom emergency changed
that. After I ditched my cigar, I
stopped at a 7-11. Yes, they have them
here. There was no “you need to buy
something” or “customers only.” In the
end, I did buy something, two much-needed bottles of diet sports drink, along
with using the ATM. I made my way to the
Stadium, and I was ready for anything.
The place was teeming with cops and locked gates. My plan was to walk around the Stadium in
search of an unmanned, unlocked gate.
Alternatively, I would use my USOC card to try and make up some
story. As I was walking, I saw that
there was a soccer match at the Stadium.
Fuck! I should have planned my
trip around attending that soccer match.
Oh well, it was too late. As I
walked, I realized that I was underneath the concrete of the uppermost seats
and, worst comes to worst, I could call that being in the Stadium. But, wait.
There’s no one at this gate. And,
look. It’s unlocked. Throwing caution into the wind, I opened
it. It made a terrible screeching sound,
and there were guards and construction workers not far away. Surely they would notice. They either didn’t notice or didn’t
care.
I made my way to the seating area,
but there was another gate, locked. It
didn’t matter. I was most certainly “inside
the stadium at that point.” I started
laughing in triumph. I couldn’t believe
that I did it. I like to say that there
is a story behind each Olympic Stadium visit, and there certainly is for this
one. After I took my pictures, I didn’t
get the hell out of Dodge. I got the
fuck out of Dodge. I walked a few blocks
away, not caring if I was going in the right direction, not checking my map
until I was out of sight. I did,
however, stop at the open gate to the museum and asked the guard if it was
closed. It was. I might have been able to use my USOC trick
with him, but it was unnecessary. I had
did it and managed to get away with it.
I lit up the Trinidad I had been saving as my triumphant cigar and
walked towards the Imperial Palace, which was also closed to the public. It was a huge cigar, and it was starting to
burn my fingers by the time I got to the gate.
There was no view of the Palace, but I showed the guard a picture, and
he told me where to go to take a photo.
It’s a great trick that I learned.
You download pictures of all the sites to your phone, and you can show
them to people when you ask for directions.
Andrew had told me that there wasn’t much to see at the Palace, and he
was right. The only picture I could take
was of an ornamental gate. I had
finished my cigar by the time I got to the gate.
At some point, I had decided to put on my headphones,
and, with Avril Lavigne blaring into my ears, Tokyo was no different from
Moscow or Manhattan. I decided to take
the subway to Asakusa, where the main souvenir market was. I had to transfer, but the subway system in
Tokyo is just as good as the one in Manhattan and even more reliable. When they say the train is at 13:51, it’s at
13:51. I stopped for lunch when I got to
Asakusa, treating myself to some Tempura.
As I ate the appetizers, I realized that I was properly using the
chopsticks to pick up the pieces of squid.
It only took my 26 years.
Once I
got to Nakamise, the main souvenir street, I lit up my El Rey del Mundo. This time people told me to stop
smoking. The first person was a lady who
sold me some souvenirs, but she waited until after I made my purchase. The second lady was the one next to another
vendor whom I was offering my custom. No
one wanted to risk a sale by telling me to stop smoking. I got everything I needed and realized that,
other than coins, I all I had left were the banknotes I had withdrawn at the
7-11. They wouldn’t go to waste. The street led to a famous Shinto shrine,
which was quite impressive. I definitely
like the Shinto shrines better than the Buddhist ones. After I saw the shrine, I saw a sign for a
smoking area. Thinking “When in Rome,” I
headed there. After a bit, I found a
seat, and, sitting in view of the Skytree, I proceeded to write this entry,
which I will now close so that I can head over there.
Tokyo, Japan (Akasaka)
So, my idea of getting to the Skytree simply by looking up and walking towards
it was not as simple as it seemed. There
was a river to be crossed, and I had to find a bridge, but I got there in due
time. From a distance, it seemed huge,
and it just kept get bigger the closer I got (That’s what she said). I don’t think that I found Burj Khalifa that
impressive. When I got there, I saw a
convenience store at the base that sold replicas of the right size and color,
but I knew there to be a few official shops inside, so that would be the first
choice. As I made my way up, I saw a
Denny’s which I did not expect to see in Japan.
I got to the plaza outside, and I was absolutely floored looking up 2000
feet to the top of this tower. I went
inside, and I saw the dreaded words: closed due to high wind. I took a sigh of relief and headed to the
gift shop. Technically, I was inside the
tower, but then I remembered. It was not
any kind of goal to scale the tallest towers in the world or even to be inside
of them. I stood at the bottom and looked
up in wonder. That was enough. I also asked myself if I had to choose
between going inside the Stadium and going up the tower, and the choice was
clear. Unfortunately, the gift shop did
not have any good replicas. It was Burj
Khalifa all over again. I fell asleep at
the top of Burj Khalifa, and they wouldn’t let me up the Tokyo Skytree. What will happen when I go to the Canton
Tower? The last tower that was a real
success was the one in Tehran. Even the
CN Tower was a bit of a letdown. I got a
keychain and some shitty replicas. I
then saw that they had these “grab bag” sealed balls that each continued a tiny
replica. The ones that mattered to me,
other than the Skytree, were the Asakusa Shrine and the National Diet. The question became the most economical way
to do it. I bought three, knowing that I
needed at least that many. The first one
was the shrine, but the next two were the Skytree. They saw me opening them with my fey look and
got a kick out of it. I told them that I
was going to get more, but I told her to only ring me up after I opened
them. Three more, no National Diet. I paid and went to get more. The manager walked over, and I wondered at
point they were just to going to offer me the display one. Fortunately, the next batch had the National
Diet. I left happy and left them very
confused.
In re: me not wanting the
Skytree, the manager had said, “You’re different from everyone else.” I walked away carrying that very
proudly. Yes, other people do not travel
the way I do. I decided to stop Denny’s
just so I could say that I did, and I got lost along the way. The menu was in Japanese only, but it looked
like they just had hamburgers accompanied by two choices in starch. I got the cheapest one since I would not have
more than a bite or two of the starch.
While I waited for my burger, I read different people’s takes on what
they will and will not miss about Japan, which will be the theme of my
reflective entry. I then went back to
the convenience store to get the replica, along with getting a make your own
replica at the shop next door.
I took
the subway to the ANA Intercontinental where the Cigar Club was, finally
getting to experience the traditional Japanese rush hour, though it was not as
bad as I had heard. Granted, I probably
was not on the most crowded line, and I got on at the first stop. As I was entering the hotel, I saw a very
elegant buffet set-up, and I considered that I might get my dinner there. However, I knew that I would want to have a
cigar at the Cigar Club and another one after I ate. I did not want to eat first, and I did not
have time for a meal and two cigars. It
turned out that Cigar Club was just a small cigar store with no smoking area,
but they said I could smoke at one of the bars.
The cigars were overpriced (double), so a box was out of the
question. I just decided to get one of
each of the Exclusivo Asia Pacifico cigars.
After the first four, he realized what I was after and pointed out one
that I missed. Each time I picked out a
cigar and handed it to him to put in the tray, he thanked me and bowed. I’m not sure whether or not I will miss the
obsequious service.
I walked back down
to the buffet and looked it over. There
was some good stuff, so I asked the price.
It was very high but less than I would have spent on a three-star. I was hungry, and I was here, so I decided to
do it. Between the cigars and the meals,
I used up the rest of my banknotes and most of my coins, but I should still
have enough to take the subway to the airport, and I have plenty of time should
something go wrong. I headed up to the
bar to have my cigar, and they had an amazing selection of high-end
liquor. I probably would have gotten
more pleasure out of spending what I spent on dinner on a high-end drink, but
my budget for the trip had been expended, even over the original budget, so I
decided I would just have the cigar.
I
wondered if she would give me a hard time, and I erred towards having to her
into it. I was right. She said, not in so many words, that I needed
to order something. I showed her my box
from the Cigar Club and told her that I bought the cigars downstairs and that
they said I could smoke up here. She
went to check with her manager and came back with matches, a cutter, and a
cigar ashtray. I chose a Juan Lopez, lit
it up, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can
publish it, upload my photos, and begin the long Journey Home.
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