Tokyo Travels (part one)

Going to Japan has always been a dream of mine. As a kid, I watched Cartoon Network’s Toonami, a television programming block that focused on Japanese anime shows like Dragon Ball Z, Rurouni Kenshin, and One Piece. I think I speak for a lot of kids of my generation when I say these shows embodied something more than their bland American kid contemporaries that ran on T.V. at the time. They had serious stories, violent fight sequences, unique characters, and pushed the boundaries of what a “kids” show could be. They didn’t talk down to their audience. They were cool.

Japanese culture seeped through my screen every weeknight from 5:00 to 7:00 as Toonami brought the “East” to my television in good ol’ Cedar Park, Texas. Like any eleven-year-old boy in 2006, I would have given an arm and a leg to try the Ramen in Naruto or wear a Kimono from Bleach. And that was just the beginning. For me, that first peak behind the window alerted me to the existence of other cultures, media, and art. I was introduced to the magic of Japanese cinema through films like Ghost in the Shell and Princess Mononoke. I fell in love with Japanese video games because of Zelda and Soulcalibur. I learned about Japanese history through James Clavell novels and samurai movies. I developed a passion for Japanese food thanks to episodes of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations. It’s seems like half of everything I’ve ever liked has come from Japan.

Now, I don’t watch as much anime or play as many JRPGs¹ as I used to, but I still keep a certain reverence for all things Japanese. I was nervous, therefore, that the Land of the Rising Sun would disappoint, that the arcades wouldn’t be mind-numbingly bonkers or that the ramen wouldn’t transcend the idea of gastronomy or that the trains wouldn’t run with the punctuality of a watch-makers wedding. It was too good to be true; there’s no way Tokyo could deliver upon Anthony Bourdain’s hyperbolic praises. Boy, oh boy, was I ever wrong to worry.

My trip to Tokyo started with… difficulty. I stepped out of the Ueno subway station to a gorgeous scene of Hanami, the Japanese tradition and cultural experience of enjoying the cherry blossom season. On that beautiful Sunday, thousands of families and friends sat underneath the Sakura² taking pictures, eating lunch, and enjoying each other’s company. It was a truly fantastic welcome to the country. It was also the moment my phone stopped working.

It’s hard to imagine how anyone traveled internationally before cell phones. I guess, based on first-hand experience, that it probably involved a lot of wandering. But, at that exact moment, sitting under the blossoms and eating an onigiri³ from the local konbini⁴, I wasn’t all too concerned about the logistics of “disconnected” travel. It wasn’t until I decided to find my hostel that I hit a few snags. The first and most pressing issue was that I had no idea how to find my hostel. I remembered it was north of the Ueno station… and that’s about it. The second, and complimentary, issue was that I wasn’t sure how to find out how to find my hostel.

A quick side note on why the place was so difficult to locate. The hostel, a place called Toco, serves less than 30 guests and is situated in the most unassuming alley in Tokyo. I’d call it a speakeasy if it weren’t for the tiny sign out front. Thankfully, what it lacks in findability, it more than makes up in quaintness. More on that later, though.

After walking around the neighborhood for an hour or two, I thought it might be a good idea to try my phone again. I sat criss-cross in the shade of a nearby house – which would prove an awkward decision when the owner arrived home to find me and my stuff sprawled out on their drive-way – and somehow finagled my phone into temporary operation. Google maps worked long enough for me to do two things: learn how lost I had become and provide the opportunity to draw a map a toddler would be embarrassed of on pen and paper.

An hour and two stops to ask for directions later, I arrived at Toco. The place was something out of an Asian fable. The lobby, decked out with wooden floors and a rainbow staircase, also served as small bar in the evenings. Past the lobby was the traditional style garden, complete with Buddha statues and a holy mound of stones. From there, after swapping my shoes for slippers, was the hostel proper, consisting of only 3 dormitory and 3 private rooms. I’ll tell ya’, I experienced something close to nirvana as I slid open the wooden door, slipper-clad and most likely with a stupid grin, to step out of that idyllic garden and into my 1920’s era accommodation. Some boyish fantasy was fulfilled in that moment.

To be honest, I wasn’t all that upset about the loss of my phone. I was in Japan, during the most beautiful week of the year, sitting in a garden straight out of The Last Samurai, and preparing to soak up the sights and sounds of the city. I also knew that getting to my accommodation would be the most trying task without directions, and I’d already done that. Sure, replacing my phone once back in Korea would be a pain, but for the time being, Tokyo was no less accessible to me. And anyways, I had taken too many orientation classes in Boy Scouts to get too lost. No, I was determined to make it the old-fashioned way.

More to follow in part two

-JCP

¹ Japanese Role Playing Game

² A rice ball, usually with grilled seaweed and some sort of filling

³ Cherry blossom tree in Japanese

⁴ A convenience store, AKA the life-blood of Japanese culture