Everywhere we turned in Tokyo felt otherworldly. It was perhaps the Asia of our television stereotypes, at least when it came to LED to person ratio (10,000 LED lights to 1 person). Ironically, I don't have a single picture capturing the oxymoronic horrific splendour of this phenomena.
In Shinjuku we were haunted by tall buildings that went up, up, up in a way that put even New York City to shame. And a world existed in every floor of every building--'sleep booths', karaoke booths, multi-story arcades, restaurants, seedy clubs. Our hotel was a short walk from the Robot Restaurant, featured on Anthony Bourdain's show, Parts Unknown. It was an epileptic's nightmare.
In Shibuya we paused for brief repose at the world's busiest Starbucks in front of the world's busiest pedestrian crossing. Repose may be the wrong word in this context but watching the world briefly converge before separating into little universes was almost meditative.
And then we turned two streets down and we were ambling down a pedestrianised lane of markets. Cute ones. Quiet ones. With beer halls and flowers and trendy furniture.
Unfortunately, we made our way to Harajuku, the world of pierced, baby doll clothes wearing world after most of the shops had shut. As a consequence, we were witness to a very limited amount of punk fashion, if that's what you can call it.
My dad lived in Tokyo for a three-month stint back when I was at university so I had some context for all of this. But, much like living in China, I got the impression that tourists are unable to fathom the cultural complexities that have created the scene in front of our eyes. We get Tokyo on a superficial level but to understand Japanese culture must take some time. I appreciate this complexity and I know that every place must be like this to an extent. Tokyo seemed to exude it in spades; how wonderful to be more than meets the eye, to live or travel to a place and discover layer after layer after layer.
In my best Arnie voice: Tokyo, I'll be back.
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