tokyo – Adrian's Got The Moose

Tipsy Tokyo

Drinkers are spoiled for choice in Tokyo, the drinking culture being well established before it ever became a tourist hotspot. My capsule hotel is a two-minute walk from the famous Golden Gai. Golden Gai is a small collection of alleyways, full of tiny bars, some seating no more than five people. Before being mentioned in every travel guide, BuzzFeed article, and blog post about Tokyo, locals flocked to it, often choosing their own favourite bar. Some functioned as private clubs, with entry only permitted for members. It was especially known as a haunt for writers, which, of course, helps my fascination.

Apparently I only took a single photo — Golden Gai

Many of the bars have their own themes and have become famous in their own right, such as Open Book, filled with bookshelves and noted for its excellent lemon sours, and Deathmatch in Hell, a heavy metal-themed bar. Due to the popularity of many of these famous bars, I only ended up drinking in Golden Gai once, at a place whose name I never quite caught, hosted by the vivacious Suki. I drank alone until a group of beautiful Dutch youths showed up. On asking for the bill and finding it less than I expected due to the absence of a cover charge (very common in Tokyo, and sometimes described unfairly as a scam), Suki asked if I could shout her a shot, and of course I could not let her drink alone, and thus I had my first Tequila since the exit of a certain South African from my life.

It was the logical thing to do. — To be fair, I was a little besotted by Suki.

I found my regular drinking hole a little further away from my hotel, past the touts of Kabukicko, the holographic cat, and past a common spot where buskers plied their trade.

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Omoide Yokocho, which translates to Memory Lane, is another collection of small alleyways, better known by its earlier nickname, the less salubrious Piss Alley. When the bars here were not entirely legal post-war, there were no bathroom facilities, and punters would simply relieve themselves on the nearby train tracks. Since then, the alley has been largely gentrified, with very nice toilets hidden in between the bars, but it’s still a lot of fun. The atmosphere is great, with the smoke from the cooking meat, the hanging lanterns, and fake tree decorations; it’s a great, if difficult, place to photograph.

Also, crowded — Apparently, I didn’t take a photo of the entrance.

As well as copious draft beer and sake, the main focus here is meat skewers, cooked on a grill on the bar. The first bar I entered here became my regular place, and I became a big fan of their minced chicken skewers.

meat on a stick and beer, what more could I want? Apart from female company, of course.

The staff were fantastic and attentive, and took a genuine interest in their customers. And were happy to pose for some photos for customers.

At least I was wearing a different shirt than in my Golden Gai photos — And hamming it up!

I drank there for half an hour on my last night before catching my flight onwards to Cairo, and I felt sad that I wouldn’t see these guys again. Hopefully, I’ll get back to Tokyo sometime soon, as I found it almost as addictive as Istanbul.

A Tourist in Tokyo

Perhaps because I had trouble navigating the public transport system, I never felt like I was massively successful in visiting Tokyo’s historical sites.

The Meiji Shrine is surrounded by vegetation with minimal undergrowth. The shrine is dedicated to the spirits of Emperor Meiji and his wife, the Empress Shoken, who are most famous for the Meiji Restoration. They were both transformed into gods after their death.

At the time of my visit, the shrine was hosting a festival to honour dolls, which are often considered to have their own spirits. I couldn’t help but think sadly of my old teddy bear, stored away at my parents’ house.

I should not be shocked that there is an association.

I was definitely missing much context, as I know little about Japanese history and little about Shintoism. But at least I didn’t have to pay for the privilege, something I should have appreciated more at the time. The original complex was, as much of Tokyo, destroyed during Allied raids in World War II. It was rebuilt from publicly raised funds.

Much of the outer features of the shrine were either closed or not readily accessible, and having hiked to the Treasure Room, and finding it closed, I ended up swapping the change in my pocket for an iced tea and some chocolate from a conveniently nearby bank of vending machines, and sat under a tree and read for an hour, which seemed to be a popular choice. I lingered longer than I intended, as a group close to me seemed to be getting ready for some kind of photoshoot, but it took too long to get started, and I moved on.

Making my way back through the shrine grounds, a Canadian lady who gave her name as Mary thought I looked put together enough to ask me for directions. I walked her back to the main building before leaving her to it and making my way back to the train station.

Asakusa Shrine I found to be more interesting, perhaps because it was positioned in one of the older parts of Tokyo.

Thunder Gate, yes, it was that busy everywhere. Is that a Willow Tree to the left?

Between the main gate and the main shrine building are hundreds of small shops, selling tourist tat, traditional foods, and handicrafts, including hand-made Buddhist scrolls. I was tempted by a katana letter opener, but it seemed like the kind of thing that Customs back home would have questions about.

The Treasure House Gate is two stories high, with the upper story containing many of the shrine’s treasures. The entire area was packed with people, and I struggled to gain any type of understanding.

Some women, tourists and Japanese alike, choose this place to have photoshoots in traditional kimonos, accompanied by professional photographers or lucky boyfriends. The Japanese women here put most of the Western women to shame, perfectly poised and made up in their multitudes, like ordinary angels, routine and mobile works of art.

Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to view Tokyo as a whole rather than a bunch of train stations with their surroundings, or perhaps it was some monkey-brain need to find the tallest thing around and claim everything I could see as my own.

Whatever my motivations, I found myself waiting in line for half an hour, passing through a rigorous, but entirely polite security check, and rode in an elevator for fifty-five floors to get to the Southern Observation Deck of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. This proves that while close to a billion US dollars were spent building the skyscraper, they spent five minutes in a committee naming it before heading to an izakaya.

The view was impressive, and the gift shop was lovely. The cafe seemed delightful, but the price for a latte were as high as I was. This may be to compensate for the free entry to the observation deck, the Japanese being oddly principled and pragmatic in that way.

On my last day in Tokyo, I decided I should see the Imperial Palace. Unfortunately, I discovered that it was only open on seemingly random hour-and-a-half blocks, so I never ended up inside the walls. I did, however, take some nice photos in the nearby Hibiya Park, which had lakes, tennis courts, and scattered historical places of interest.

The Trouble with Tokyo

Tokyo is vast and filled to capacity with both locals and tourists. The small percentage that is not filled with skyscrapers are roads, historical sites, and small, underfunded parks- That last may be unfair, but the parks I visited were poorly maintained compared to my own fair city.

The size of Tokyo, unrestrained by geography, meant it was hard for me to get a proper understanding of its soul. Wherever I went, hordes of people were moving in every direction. Personal space is mostly academic here, as every shop, elevator ride, and street is jam-packed.

I was not the only person taking selfies at the famous Scramble Crossing that day.

Tokyo’s train stations, which 99% of locals and tourists will use multiple times a day, are a confusing mess, even to the Japanese. A single station will have multiple sections within it, functioning as separate stations in their own right. Google will send you to an entrance, and ten minutes later, you discover that you cannot get to the platform you need, and you have to exit the station, walk to another entrance, and try again. I barely ever sat down in a train in Tokyo, and often struggled to even walk through the corridors without colliding with people. Perhaps because of how extensive the public transport system is, or because of my own bloody-mindedness, I managed to not resort to Uber, but I did walk a great deal, resulting in sore feet, the purchase of a cheap pair of sneakers from an amused elderly man running a hole in the wall shop in Asakusa, and the abandoning of an expensive pair of well-worn hiking shoes that had survived my entire three month SE Asia trip.

I found the Japanese to be faultlessly polite, and often highly reserved unless alcohol is involved. Many people online have mentioned that Japan has a deeply conflict-avoidant mindset. Often, bad behaviour will be ignored, rather than have more attention drawn to the behaviour, Which may explain why serial pests like Johnny Somali managed to make so much content in Japan. In many ways, this leads to a harmonious society. I don’t think I heard a raised Japanese voice in the five days I was there. However, I suspect that the same conflict-avoidance prevents their society, both people and government, from addressing the homeless and disenfranchised youth.

A Coffee Tour of Tokyo

Having managed to escape the airport and get the Limo Bus to Shinjuku, I promptly got lost and ended up in the heart of Kabukicho, which at least let me take a photo of one of the prominent landmarks.

I was very glad I knew about this, and was entirely sober.

Once I got myself geographically sorted, I arrived at my capsule hotel. Predictably, they were in the process of kicking people out rather than letting people in, so I dumped my bag with the big pile of other luggage at reception. I had barely slept on the plane, and my central nervous system was making unreasonable demands for sleep, intimacy, and stimulants. Only one of those things was practical and readily available for purchase. It was time for coffee, and what better way to start getting my head around the place than a coffee tour?

Lawsons, Shinjuku.

My first caffeine hit needed to be convenient, immediate, and no-nonsense. I managed to find a Lawsons just around the corner from the hotel. It tasted like you would expect coffee in a can to taste, overly sweet, a little metallic, but had the intended effect. Mostly, I choose it because Suntory makes some excellent whiskey. While I was there, I also managed to withdraw some cash from their ATM. 6\10, iced coffee might be the only thing Australia does better than Japan.

Tomato Cafe, Shinjuku

A short walk from my hotel towards Kabukicho, this place reminded me of Dome back home, only with Italian pretensions. The place was showing a lot of wear and tear, but the cappuccino was quite decent, and by now I was feeling human enough to read my Kindle. 7\10, loses points for the chipped furniture.

Maid Dreamin, Shinjuku

I should stop being in selfies with people cuter than me.

Maid Cafes are common, with various franchisees and concepts, Maid Dreamin being a more generic form as far as I can tell. For a considerable sum, I enjoyed a fairly bland coffee, which featured a magical incantation, and from a distance (courtesy of a group of Americans) a dance performance. I felt ludicrous, but did enjoy the attention, specifically non-sexual, as it was supposed to be from my maid. While I am certainly not immune to kawaii, the whole experience was a little too close to some boundaries I have. 7\10, a fun but one-time-only thing.

Warhammer Cafe, Akihabara

I am a big Warhammer 40K nerd, I read a lot of the books but don’t play the game, as soon as I discovered they had this in Tokyo, I knew I had to have a look. The cafe was really just a counter, and I had to take a seat at a bench set up for painting miniatures, and it did take quite a long time to get my latte. While I waited, the manager sat next to me and had a chat, mostly about the hobby and maid cafes, which he informed me about a cyberpunk-themed maid cafe around the corner, which sounded interesting, but I never ended up visiting. I enjoyed some people watching, noting with interest that quite a few couples were walking in and having a look around- proving that indeed some 40K fans have known the touch of a woman. But after a quick look at the displays, there was nothing to keep me here, and I departed. 6/10, would not go out of my way to have coffee here again.

Glitch Coffee, Ginza

“Staff will wear black, customers white, no exceptions”

Down a side road just off from the main shopping area, my Google searches often resulted in mentioning this place as the best coffee in Tokyo. I had to line up for half an hour outside the shop. At first, I enjoyed the wait, listening to the Russian spoken by the couple in line in front of me, and trying to start a conversation with a Japanese man wearing a vintage Nick Cave shirt walking past with his friends. This turned to frustration when it became obvious that the Russian couple gave every indication that this was their first outing without supervision, having a lengthy and ultimately one-sided argument with the staff about their payment policy ( I thought everyone knew by now that having both card and cash is always a good idea when travelling?). Then I was allowed in and able to sniff some beans before ordering. I ordered a short machhiato and selected Catubba Bourbon beans from Colombia. Rather than be seated near the Russians, I sat at the bar and within a few minutes had my drink in front of me.

The average person has between two thousand and ten thousand tastebuds, I now know I have six thousand, six hundred and three. Each tastebud in my mouth started singing Accidentally Kelly Street by Frente! as soon as the crema hit them. When I finished my coffee, they started sulking, knowing that they would never be so happy again. I didn’t linger after my drink and headed back to the train station. When I checked my banking app I realised that while that drink was pricy, it was still cheaper than what I paid for Maid Dreamin, so I felt further justified in going out of my way for this experience.