Much like many of the university “module journals” I remember trudging through – often a few weeks behind when they should ideally have been written (oops) – I write this blog 17 days into my Japan venture. For the reader I’d try and make an excuse about why its taken so long, something along the lines of; “this place has been so full of activities, I just haven’t had any time to stop” or “I’m really finding myself here, no time to reflect yet eh”, and whilst both of these excuses are somewhat valid, the reality is that this average joe has simply been enjoying her time free of responsibility and expectation, as was intended when I set out to do this over a year ago now. But then I had a moment in my pod this morning after the big american man next door broke the hostel silence with a fart (christ I love hostels).
I remembered that this trip was, in so many ways, a duty and responsibility to myself. To enjoy this experience to the full – of course – and to shirk some responsibility before I enter the looming social contract we all enter one way or another; of the 9/5 (ish), monthly rent and student loan repayments inevitably waiting for me at the end of this road. But also to document that with as much detail and care as I could summon, for the me that ten or twenty years down the line (wishful thinking given my frivolous road-crossing tendencies and mild alcoholism @ 23) may not have the ability to be so carefree and selfish again (equally wishful, if you know me I’m a self-confessed selfish bastard). ANYWAY, I want a record with more depth than an Instagram account and one that I may be blessed to look back on long from now. One in which I can indulge; that I worked hard and took a plunge against my own internalised judgements of how things “should be” and what others deem successful post-university activity aka. that old narrative of what I “should be doing”, and just lived, on my terms. That confession/precursor out of the way, here goes.
The title may be an exaggeration, but every conversation I’ve had on the phone since getting here has, in one way or another, forced me to utter the words “this country is trying to starve me” like a crazed James Stewart character – think me running through the streets of Hooverville screaming things like; TONKOTSU REALLY ( pig bone broth, v populaire here). Pork is in basically everything, great for my boyfriend – bad for vegetarian (predominantly vegan) me. The first week was a lean one to say the least, soft pizza buns, rice balls with seaweed and and overpriced vegan meals, when possible, were my go to, compounded by an resultant emotional break in the book district of Chiyoda on the second night. There I stood, my phone shaking in my hand, the screen fixed on a google maps search for “veg-friendly meals” and tears streaming down my face as Fraser (boyfriend/willing victim, will feature a lot throughout) reverberated “its up to you, where do you want to go?”, for me to sob pathetically; “I don’t know, none of them specify whats in the broths or anything” – the privilege, I know. Defeated, I gave in to a small place nearby, and finished my noodles trying not to think about what they were stewed in and handed over my “bejitarian” gyozas to Fraser. Already full, he ate one and mixed the plate around a bit for the sake of my ego before throwing up in the restaurant’s bathroom. Something had to give.
Fraser, pre-spew. No reflection on the food quality, he ate too much saving my ego.
A few days in, after discussing the issues of overpriced vegan food, the longevity of funds needed for this trip and the want to throw myself into the culture, food included, with Clara (wife and emotional lover, will also feature frequently despite geographical differences) I came to the conclusion that I had to compromise to some extent – by day three I was going to bed and waking up hungry. So I’ve chosen to adopt a pescatarian diet, allowing fish in an otherwise heavily vegetarian/vegan lifestyle. The first result was a quiet sushi bar experience up a few flights of stairs in Nippori on the 4th night, where each individual piece was prepared before my eyes from a thick wooden box lined in green leaves. Three thousand + yen (literally £20 yikes) for eleven pieces that I clambered at messily with my chopsticks, the sushi chef smiling at my dumb ass as I apologised for my clumsiness and stuffed each consecutive piece into my pale gob. Mildly embarrassing and pricey, but I didn’t care. It was my first night with a full meal – almost – and it was very very traditionally Japanese, several boxes ticked. And admittedly it tasted lovely, each piece so differently textured and seasoned. Maybe I could manage this after all, albeit I needed cheaper options! In response to that ramen has since become a big part of my time here. Two days ago in Shinjuku – the most competitive ramen district in Japan with over 3000 places to chose from – we hit up a cosy place with a small bar and 3 tables. It was dimly-lit, quiet, traditional and dare I say -highly cultural. Confidently, I ordered the spicy fish-broth ramen and a pint of my new favourite beer; Kirin. It was gorgeous. My chopstick skills by now had greatly improved and the broth was so spicy that I finished the beer before the food. Nonetheless, I joined the locals and slurped up the broth remains and damn, how filling is ramen!? A winner of a cheap meal in Japan – please take note. A second damn: holy hell Udon is gooooood. These thick-ass noodles in a steamy miso soup are also fairly cheap, filling and VEGAN with the added bonus that more often than not you will see the noodles being handmade before your eyes as you sit slurping at your own bowl. By now however, a young server had eyed me up for the basic bitch I am when it comes to food, handing me a vegan map of Tokyo in Asakusa, revealing the locations of various places I could eat guilt-free. I felt relieved at first to get this but have found myself not as heavily reliant upon it as I believed I would be. Truth be told, veganism is expensive in Japan for its lack of frequency and my confidence with searching for/ordering from smaller local places is growing, I haven’t wanted to stifle it.
Basic summary of my Japanese food adventure in week 1
When all else fails however, the next best thing has been the 7 Elevens. Here, there’s one on every second street with various cheap food options (rice balls being my favourite) and often seating options and microwaves on site. We’ve saved a fair amount using these, but they’ve also become a point of mockery for Fraser and I. Every store we’ve been in to date has played these no-word, “elevator toned” version of various western 80’s songs on a loop, and to the point where we’ve only heard 3; The Human League’s ‘Don’t You Want Me’; Barry Manilow’s Copacabana and Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely”. Its so bad we’ve taken to humming these in everyday life or singing them to one another, breaking into random dance whenever we do so. I’m so sorry for this kind of Scottish representation in possibly the world’s coolest city, we’re trying.
Finally on to the actual activities that have kept me from this wordy indulgence. It’s insane but we have managed to do so much in the first week, without even really trying. On day one we wandered the Imperial Gardens, a mere 5 minutes from our hostel for a few hours, taking in this refreshing dollop of green amongst the centre of urban Tokyo. The bends of the trees and the brightness of the greens and pinks, the place was stunning and complete with a pond full of giant Koi – like something from a Spirited Away dream. Thereafter, we jumped on a metro to Shibuya – another big district in Tokyo and went to Fraser’s beloved Freitag store, Loft (an 8 level Ikea-type place, but better because its full of gadgets for every problem you’ve ever had in your life.
The Imperial Gardens are lush.
Finally we wondered to the Meiji Jingu Shrine – another gorgeous architectural success for religion, shock. Its peace and physical beauty made for a fulfilling 40 minutes or so, but this was swiftly dampened during my attempt to write my “wishes for the world” on a sheet to be read during the temple’s morning prayers. Neither pen set aside for this activity worked and on a final attempt to find my own pen my sheet blew away. I took this as a sign, live now bitch. Reaching dark, we headed to see the bright lights and scramble crossing of Shibuya – a rather claustrophobic experience for a small woman but nonetheless the image you think of when Tokyo comes to mind. Much Like Las Vegas, this place is at its best when its dark. In the days that followed we went to a – FREE – samba festival in Asakusa and sapped the energy of the crowds and dancers, ours previously claimed by a 34 degree heat, visited Sensō-ji Temple and tried some Daifuku at the Nakamise Market. I now love bean paste sweets, I’m a convert. Additionally, we went to a Shiba Cafe, which as Fraser correctly stated was the “most tourist-y thing we have done so far”. Indeed while the dogs were cute, they were tired and what made it a tad less satisfying is simply that they weren’t my dog… by now I miss Max and his quirks thoroughly, sigh. If you have lived with a dog like I have for the majority of your life, you’ll know these feelings well.
The Asakusa Samba Festival and me in several peaceful states at Sensoji, Namakise Market and the Shiba Cafe.
Finally we spent the rest of our time in Shibuya ciruclating through the various secondhand stores that the fashion district had to offer. Aside from Amsterdam, Tokyo is now the best place I have been for secondhand stores. So much option and choice and and so many so clustered together in Harajuku, we must have hit nearly twenty within 2 hours, and with that I reached peak white gurl purchasing a teal/black and purple Columbia jacket for the next big venture Fraser and I were planning after a few nights crammed in a pod with our laptops; Mount Fuji. That said, the highlight may well have been finding a pin with bloody Rick Astley’s face on it; which after some research made sense because he was the FACE OF A DAMN JAPANESE CIDER BRAND HAHAHAHhaha.
Rick Astley knowledge I’m glad to have.
So, if you’ve made it this far you may be wondering, what are my first impressions of Tokyo, am I managing? Well truthfully, they’ve taken a while to form and there’s been some struggle. The first week saw us out everyday wandering select districts whilst nights have been split between planning for the days ahead and trying to catch some Z’s after completing those tiring days we plan, how monotonous right? It’s not been wild per say, but I’m not a fresher anymore and this trip is about longevity and experience. If I wanted to go on the lash every night I could have just stayed home and lived for the weekends like anyone else. These first impressions have however been rich. I’m getting to grips with a few basic phrases for public use, finding my way with food without having to fully cancel my morals and I feel like I’ve caught my breath a bit. Now just to manage the humidity, because honestly if you could smell me through a screen you’d have divorced yourself from this blog a few paragraphs back. Not even daily showers make this manageable and I don’t really wear makeup anymore, there’s just no point. Disgust aside, because I’m human grow up, the city is clean, the people are friendly and so willing to help. I’m grateful for the vitamin D, despite having had a minor panic at the mosquitoes that saw me literally slapping bloodied bugs across my legs and running from the coolest little graveyard (Yanaka) for a pharmacist.
Legs heavily sprayed with repellent on most days, I now wander each new district looking up and wondering when this is going to stop feeling like just a holiday, instead of my life for the foreseeable future. I’m not homesick yet, its a weird limbo for now, but I can hardly complain, can I?
Pasty bitch, signing off x
p.s. This is my first personal blog, there will be mistakes and god will there be clichés but I’m learning. Bear with me.
Fu***ing off; a personal tale of travels, triumphs and travesties. 