Land of the Rising Sun

"The city is not a concrete jungle. It is a human zoo."

- Desmond Morris.

I often cannot tell if I am more a fan of the city, large and livley, or of the country, small and serene. One is full of peace, and the other energy, though in both you can find all things needed, if looking in the appropriate places. When I visit and pass through small towns and countryside I am awed and frozen still at the beauty. I am quieted and content and connected with nature and her creator. When in a city I am alive in my energy and connected with this world's other creations, and I watch, observer that I am. I love big cities. I love to visit them. I love walking the streets and staring high in the sky at tall buildings. I love the lit up signs and the skyline at night, jagged and raw. Perhaps after reading Ayn Rand's novel "The Fountainhead," I will look at skyscrapers differently, though I know I have always looked at them differently, and know that I have always looked at them, and not just glanced them over. I love watching the people, those on crowded streets or in busy parks to perform for coins, those making statements to stand out, and those giving equal effort to blend in to their own obscurity. One can never think of a city without thinking of her people, for if nature is God's altar to himself, then cities are man's altar to himself.

Yes, I love visiting these concrete jungles, and some I have always wished to visit more than others. One such city is the bustling megalopolis of Tokyo, the largest of them all. I can now say I have walked her streets. I have smelled, and felt, and heard, and touched, and tasted, and seen Tokyo, what little one can see of her in a mere weeks time, but the blisters on my feet will tell stories of her that the weakness in my words will never say.

I flew in to Tokyo's Narita airport and somehow managed to navigate the subway system and find my hostel. I spent the fist few nights in a capsule style hostel. Capsule rooms are just like they sound. You do not rent a room, or a bed, but rather a box, or capsule, in which you sleep. They are popular among Japanese businessmen or partygoers who miss the last train home at night. They are also becoming popular with backpackers, and I could not pass through Tokyo without a night in an enclosed box, covered on all sides, dark and private.

I don't really know what to tell you about Tokyo. I didn't do any tours there, nor in all of Japan, like I did in Bejiing, but I walked Tokyo and scabbed my feet, the thongs of my flip flops cutting in to my skin, already blistered from China's travels. My first few nights were in Shinjuku, a popular spot in Tokyo for shopping and nightlife, and as I arrived on a Friday night I ventured down to the heart of Shinjuku to find the fabled nightlife. I discovered firsthand, and later re-confirmed through books I read that most of Shinjuku's nightlife is more sexual in flavor. Seductive voices on speakers beckoned passers by in to video lounges or bars. Sex shops donned most streets, hostess bars donned every street, and each corner was crowded with men acting friend to every other man who passed offering sweet deals on women inside his club. Sexy Asian temptresses stood on corners, walking advertisement for massage parlors, and at the sight of foreigners would speak one of the few English words they know, "massagie." Yes, Asians don't seem to grasp the concept of the silent "e."

While I didn't venture in to any of the hostess bars, or maid bars, or theme bars, or strip clubs, or massage parlors, or sex shops, or video lounges, or arcade halls, I didn't try to rush out of the area either. It wasn't really temptation that kept me, nor even curiosity to enter, but the thrill of the moment, watching and listening to the people pass me by, and came back again to that part of town another night, to feel the energy again and eat in in street side noodle stalls, and the men working the clubs just couldn't seem to understand that sometimes all a man wants is a bowl of noodles, and not sex. But how fun it was trying to convince them and their well wishes when they let me pass.

Tokyo is an interesting blend of modern city and traditional Japan, and nothing exemplifies that as much as do the people. While people are not anxious to speak English, even those who can speak English, they are friendly, and if you look lost for long enough, someone will invariably come to assist you. For the size of the city, it is clean, with little litter, which I find surprising due to the aggravating lack of garbage cans everywhere in the city. Cab drivers are all dressed in collared shirts and ties with clean cabs, and store employees genuinely act like they are trying to help you, quite the contrast from China where you know everyone was trying to rip you off for all they could. It was also amazing to me in Tokyo, with as large of a city as it was that not only were drivers very conscientious of traffic laws, but so too were pedestrians. Even if no cars were coming on a small side street, a crowd of people would stand and wait for the walking light to turn green. Most cities, pedestrians rush in to intersections at any chance and weave in and out of cars like Frogger. There was definitely a sense of hospitality in Tokyo, in all of Japan, and I tip my hat to her politeness and propriety.

Not only did I walk the streets of Shinjuku, gazing out at sin and gluttony, but I walked through the temples of Asakusa, spending a few nights there and my days on her small streets lined with small shops that have been standing for decades unchanging. I partied and shopped in Shibuya, and club hopped in Ropongi. I walked the whole city, staring up at the Tokyo tower lit in darkness on the one night I was without a camera. I walked through parks and rode subways and saw the imperial palace, and clothed myself in smoke and ashes from burning incense and washed my hands from holy fountains at Buddhist temples. I people watched everywhere I went, and Tokyo rivals any place I have been for people watching. Modern Japanese goths skulk about in boisterous groups, pink girls dressed like giant dolls with bleach blonde poofy hair parade around, and fashion divas, both women and men, strut the streets. I thought some Korean men looked feminine, but wow, some of those Japanese boys really take it to a new level. Their hair, their fashion, their walk, any one of which would be a bold and brave plea for a mocking and beating back home in the states is in Japan the newest fashion trend, and on Sundays in Harajuka, everyone comes out on full display to show off their costumed creations. It is a thrill to see. I will also boldly admit that after only a short time in Tokyo I quickly and finally found myself attracted to Asian women. There were such beauties walking the streets, though most too short, and many with horrible teeth, but Japan, and Tokyo in particular, did have beautiful women, and even in coming back to small Yeosu, I found myself much more interested in the women here, and my eye has been much more active since returning.

Oh, Tokyo is a crazy city, the largest metropolitan area in the world, near 35 million people within the surrounding areas. I walked across the busiest intersection in the world, passed through the busiest train station in the world, and in general lost myself in the madness that is Tokyo. I walked, and shopped, and ate, and went out most nights, often with whomever I met at the hostel that day, and my last night in Tokyo I came back to the hostel I first stayed at. There I met a small group of people who invited me to a professional Japanese baseball game. Six of us went out to the game and cheered for the home team Giants, who won that night. Four of us were Americans, and we taught our Australian and Irish friend, as well as a few of the Japanese people sitting around us how to sing "Take Me Out To the Ball Game" after the 7th inning stretch. No baseball game is really complete without that song, and the crowds around us looked and stared at the funny foreigners singing loud in English. After the game we met up with more people from the hostel and went around the city looking for places to dance and party. Our group slowly grew larger and we finally found a place we all enjoyed and danced and raved and let all our energy crash out of us till 5:00 a.m. I returned to the hostel and dared not sleep, knowing I needed to check out and catch a train to Kyoto hours later. It was my favorite night in Tokyo. The group I was with that night was awesome, cool dudes, and sexy girls from places across the globe. It was a great way to end a great adventure and send me off on yet another.

I know I haven't written as much about Tokyo, a city deserving novels. I have always wanted to see her, and now I have, and though I did not take any grand tour like I did in Bejiing, from Tokyo I got exactly what I wanted. I wanted only to people watch, shop the stores, eat sushi and noodles, walk the streets and loose myself in the craziness, and that I did, and did it well. In a week there, I touched only the surface and left much undone, but what I did do will stay deep in me in memories.

All that a city will ever allow you is an angle on it -- an oblique, indirect sample of what it contains, or what passes through it; a point of view. Peter Conrad