Trip to Tokyo (Part 1)

Friday (12/21) -- Waking up before the sunrise in my chilly room, I made a quick bowl of oatmeal, drank a cup of hot cocoa, and suited up. I gave my little dorm room a last glance, took a deep breath, and I was headed out the door around 5:40AM to try to catch the 6:15AM train from Sapporo Station to the Shin-Chitose airport. Strapping my dufflebag to my shoulder and glancing at my watch, I was so nervous about making it in time I decided to call a taxi to save myself the stress. In retrospect, this probably took more time than had I just speed walked, but I was taking no chances. I jumped out of the taxi and hurried into Sapporo Station. I had never bought train tickets departing Sapporo city itself, and certainly never to the airport. When I first arrived in Hokkaido,  I was lucky to have two of my labmates/my supporter pick me up. I was nervous about figuring out the train platform and buying the correct ticket fare from the machine. But I located the machine, bought a 1200yen ($14) ticket, and it printed out successfully. I grabbed it and hurried in through the gates about 6:12AM. I was relieved to notice people with luggage, clearly headed for the same destination as I. Lines formed, and the train appeared. Unlike regular subway trains, which have simple benches such as those on the L in Chicago, this train had rows of separate seats. I was surprised, and mildly confused by the system of "reserved" cars (how do you reserve a seat besides buying a ticket, I wondered?) and by the fact that the backs of the seats actually swiveled both directions for when the train itself went in the opposite direction. At first I sat the wrong direction, before noticing everyone else and switching it around. It was still completely dark outside, and although my eyes were wide with nervousness, they were sleepy otherwise. I enjoyed looking out the window nonetheless, at the twinkling lights in the sea of dark. Faintly, blue crept into the horizon. Reaching the airport stop at about 7AM, I exited the train and followed the signs up to the airport entrance to locate my airline name. I took out my precious printed boarding pass, and after observing a few others, stepped up to a table to ask a question but instead they just stamped my boarding pass and ushered me through security. I was apprehensive about sending my bag through security because I was not certain if it would be too big to be carry-on (it wasn't, as it turns out, because I saw folks with bags twice its size), and also because I was harboring two jars of peanut butter in it. In Japan, domestic flights are far more relaxed than in the U.S., and people sometimes even travel with such items as sake bottles! But I was not certain of the rules for peanut butter. Sure enough, it was no trouble at all! I wound up through security, puzzled by the ease. I hadn't even taken off my shoes! The Shin-Chitose airport is quite small, and I found my gate a minute's walk away. I had been so nervous about arriving on time, I had ended up about an hour earlier than necessary. I probably could have arrived 45 minutes before hand and been just fine. But I felt proud--I had made it through, made it to the airport, gotten my bag through, and had not caused any international incidents. I was wearing numerous layers of clothes to ward of the Sapporo winter, but in the airport (as in most buildings in Hokkaido) it was quite hot. I waited for the plane to arrive, listened closely to the announcements, and got on board. To my surprise, I had all three seats in the row to myself since the flight was not crowded. I looked out the window at the snow and ice, and hilly horizon now in the sunrise. As the plane took off, I bid them farewell, curious to see if I would feel the same separation I had felt upon leaving behind my home. Instead, I felt a growing sense of excitement and accomplishment. I napped a little on the short flight (about an hour and a half flight). I looked out the window watching the cities of Honshu whiz past on the ground below, thinking back to the very first time I had seen the ground of Japan on my first flight to Narita 3 months prior. Before I knew it, we had landed. I collected my bag, and exited. The friend that I was planning to meet would not be arriving until about 5PM, which I had not fully realized when I purchased my ticket. So I found myself with quite a bit of time to spare, but not quite enough to wander too far. I figured out how to take the connection bus between Narita Terminal 2 and 1. My first goal was to scope out where my friend's flight would be landing and where she would be exiting. This was rather overwhelming at first, because I did not want to miss her or lose her in the airport so I wanted to be exact. Fortunately, as I slowly gathered, all flights are funneled through the same exit. I checked her flight and airline multiple times, just to be safe. Afterwards, I explored the "airport mall" of the airport, then decided to try to attempt a little exploration. It was only about 11AM, and so there was considerable time left and I did not want to spend it all in the airport twiddling my thumbs. I asked at an information desk about seeing the city of Narita, which is only about a 15 minute subway ride from the airport. I decided to try this. I checked my duffle bag for safekeeping at the airport, pulled out my backpack, and filled it with maps and pamphlets. Regrettably, my fear of trains and subways near Tokyo did not fail me. Everything was so complicated and fast paced, I tried my best to sort things out but it was so overwhelming and unfamiliar. I did my best to follow the directions I had been given, bought a ticket, and tried to decipher the correct train. When it arrived, I got on, but while trying to catch a glimpse of the blurred signs as they past, I second-guessed my self and hurriedly got off after only two stops thinking that it was going in the wrong way. In fact, I had only traveled back from Terminal 1 (international flights) to Terminal 2 (domestic flights, primarily)--the very same thing I had done earlier on the connection bus! I felt like a fool. I stood waiting for another train, but when I could not read what train it was I was to nervous to jump on (as I later realized, there are "normal" trains, "local" trains, "express" trains, etc. Local means it goes to all stops, express means it skips some. I had assumed these all meant they were bound for different places entirely). Gradually, the platform became empty. I was standing all along, except for the train security worker keeping an eye on the tracks and doors when trains arrived. At this point, after becoming so turned around by the trains, and realizing how absolutely on my own I was--how far from everything I knew, and how there would be no one at all to help me--I was distraught and scared. I didn't want to seem so incapable. But I was on the verge of tears at the knowledge of just how intimidated I was. Noticing that I was standing all alone at the tracks and knowing the schedule better than I, he asked where I was trying to go. When I told him sheepishly and shakily, he apologetically informed me that the last train had left a few minutes ago and another would not arrive for about 45 minutes. Tears started to betray me, gathering in the corners of my eyes despite my efforts, and when the worker was distracted by a different train, I ran away, jumping into an elevator to try to collect myself. I tried to re-orient myself and to figure out the next train. Sure enough, it was about 45 minutes wait. I decided to wander once more in the airport mall and try to calm down. I bought a little snack of yogurt-covered cranberries (a real treat in Japan), looked around, and tried to pass the time calmly. The cranberries did me good. It is odd what little things can do to cheer you up. Then I headed back down to the subway for my second try. This time when I got on, even though I was not 100% certain, I decided to stay on the train and just see where I ended up. The worst case is that I would get off again, and come back. Luckily, it seemed to be correct and I was encouraged when I began to hear announcements for Narita. It was not a long ride, but I watched with fascination as green bamboo and trees passed by the windows. The weather was in the high 40s, and felt balmy to me in my many sweaters, and my winter skin. Approaching Narita station, I spied the beautiful top of a temple tucked behind the buildings and houses. I felt more confident. It must be Narita--there is a temple, Shinshou-ji, located in Narita which is one of the main attractions. Oddly enough for such a small town, it is an extremely historic Buddhist temple. I got off the train, tried to locate the "main street", and began to feel much happier. The main street went up and down, packed with small traditional Japanese snack shops, restaurants, food stores, and gift shops. The mainstreet ('omotesando') is supposed to replicate the feel of "old" Japan, I am told. The air smelled delicious, and I even stopped and bought some cooked sweet potato sticks from an old lady vendor. They were delicious. At the end of the "main street" the buildings became larger, and more grandiose. My awe began to grow. This beautiful architecture, these incredible buildings, these are all daily life for the residents of Narita. I was in shock, my fascination increasing with every step. I passed through the gates, observing Buddhist grave stones being carved, then marveled at the steep steps up to the main temple ground. It was incredible. I can barely put into words my awe. I thought I had come to know something of Japan after 3 months, but I realized then how very little I have seen. How many amazing places there are yet to explore. I could not believe that little old me, someone who never imagined being able to travel outside of the U.S., now standing in the midst of such incredible sights. At the top of the steep stairs there was a beautiful, intricate, colorful three-tiered building, and centrally a large temple. Outside, in the middle of the open square, there was a large pot filled with the ashes from burned incense. Ahead of me at the large temple workers were hanging a huge multicolored banner to hang across the roof. I am guessing it was preparation for new years. I went inside and stepped up to the offering box, throwing in a few yen, bowing, clapping, and paying my respects. I was not sure of the layout of the grounds, but I followed a path leading into a more wooded area. This turned out to lead through the Buddhist cemetery. Large stone monuments and gravestones melded seamlessly with the plants and trees. I was followed on this trail by a family with two cheerful, playful children who continued to run up and down on the trail racing. I thought of how normal everything might have felt to them, but how new it was to me. Walking along this path was when the realization of green leaves hit me the strongest. I was surrounded by green and abundant (photosynthesizing!) leaves in December. This moment more than made up for my mishaps earlier, restoring my curiosity and thankfulness. The path continued onwards, down a hill into a carefully kept Japanese-style garden. Walking down the hill, I could see a large pond with a pagoda-style building stretching from the shore. There were gardeners throughout, pruning shrubs, and raking away all leaf-litter. I felt that each inch of the garden, quite open and sparse by western standards, had been carefully groomed. Carefully thought out. As someone studying ecology, I was very aware of how unsustainable such a garden was--how delicate and completely based on human tastes it was. Nonetheless, it was beautiful and certainly a different experience of a garden style. I walked out onto the pagoda, and watched large golden, white, and spotted koi circle in the water below. As I continued on, I wondered how much farther the path would go. It seemed that I had already walked someways, and the grand buildings just kept appearing. Finally, I came to a large fountain and strict, geometric landscaping. Looking upwards, I could see the spire of the temple itself. I climbed the stairs, and before stood the largest building yet. I was again in awe. Keeping a close watch on the time, I decided to continue just a little bit further, passing through more distinctly-Japanese buildings and smaller temples. To my surprise, I emerged back at the start. I had made the whole loop! I had been concerned about the time it would take to walk back, and so it was really quite fortunate and rewarding to have walked through the whole grounds. Satisfied and more than a bit entranced, it was time to go. I bid farewell for the time, bowing at the gate, and heading back to the mainstreet. Towards the end, I stopped to buy an anko (red-bean paste) filled pastry, freshly pressed and still warm. I ate this happily as I walked back to the train. Arriving at the station, an elderly lady noticed the lost look on my face, and asked me where I needed to go. I said the airport, and even when I started walking in the wrong direction, she adamantly and concernedly corrected me. So far I had left two people in my wake to wonder if I would ever reach my goal. (The first was the train conductor) The count would continue, but after my first mishap I was more calm.
I made it back to the airport with plenty of time to spare. But better early than late. And as luck would have it, my friend's flight had suddenly been updated to arrive an hour earlier than scheduled, so I did not have quite as long to wait. I passed the time heading out to the observation deck which directly overlooks the runways as planes land and take off, soaking in the warm weather. As 4:30 approached, I headed down to the exit gate to wait for my friend. I clung close to the gate, watching closely for any sign of her as waves of people came and went with each flight. Then there she was! I was so relieved. I had been nervous that somehow I would miss her, or mistake the location. She had been nervous about this also, because while visiting another friend in Korea once it had taken hours for them to locate each other (all without means of proper communication). I was so excited that, after double checking which train to take into Tokyo towards our hostel, we even headed down into the train station, checking our tickets, before I remembered with distress that I had left my bag for safekeeping at the luggage counter! We had already passed through the train station gates, but I explained to a station security guard and he let me go back through, retrieve my back, and come back in without paying. You will learn that, as a result of my experiences traveling, I have high regard for train station security guards for all the patience and directions they have given me. I explained to my friend that, though I would do my best to navigate successfully, I was far from an expert on Tokyo. Indeed, I admitted, she probably knew just about as much as I did. This is probably an exaggeration, but as far as navigating the Tokyo subways I had my taste when I first arrived, and knew to expect trouble. I knew that on this leg, to get from the airport to Asakusa (where our hostel was located) we would have to switch trains. We got off at a station to transfer, but had a few moments of confusion trying to decipher which train to get on next. I decided then and there just to start asking people when I was unsure. That was quite a wise decision to make, and saved a lot of unnecessary hassle later on. And, it was Japanese language practice anyways. I decided it was silly not to ask for help when needed, and that I would learn with time. I asked a professional looking business man, and he confirmed that it was the correct train and even kept an eye out to make sure we didn't miss it. It was unfortunate that it was already dark, because my friend (Kait!) and I would have liked to see the cityscape. But I am so grateful that, at last, we arrived at the stop as described in the directions I had triple-checked. Next it was up to my phone to help us locate the hostel in the dark. It was only about 7:30PM, but I know that the little ability I have at navigating disappears completely at night. I had written down the address of the hostel just about everywhere possible, and so we were off. We crossed over a large bridge overlooking the Sumida river, and I was proud to be able to point out a few famous landmarks, like the Asahi Beer Factory (on top is a golden sculpture of literally "unidentified" shape), and Sky Tree (the tallest tower in Tokyo). There were a few mis-steps as we sought out the hostel, and the neighborhood became less glamorous and more plain. Not quite the image of Tokyo that my friend (or even I) had. There was a large crane and construction site next to a closed up temple, and then just down the narrow, poorly lit street was our hostel--Khaosan Tokyo Smile. I had warned my friend that I had never stayed there before, and did not know at all what to expect. So it was with trepidation that I stepped inside, and opened the cramped lobby door to find a lounge populated by young people watching TV. The atmosphere was extremely relaxed. I walked towards the desk, and was happy when they greeted me and ushered me over to help. I was even happier to learn that I had actually been successful in making the reservation and that my name appeared on the list. I had feared that perhaps somehow something would go wrong, and we would be left without a place to stay. For the first night, I had managed to reserve a private 'double' bedroom. The day that I made the reservations, everything had suddenly began to fill up for the holiday season, and even as I had clicked to make the reservations they were snatched up. So the private rooms were all taken except for that first night. I had explained this to my friend, hoping she wouldn't mind. I was just glad for a private room the first night, especially so she could get some sleep after a long flight. We were led outside and to a separate building, up a tiny, long, steep staircase and into what appeared to be an apartment. There was a central kitchen/dining room with a young woman sitting reading at the table. We were led up another small staircase and to a bedroom, which would be our room. The receptionist left us to unpack. We unlocked the door, crossing our fingers. Inside it was, as I had expected, very, very small. There was a bunk bed, and a small desk, and really not much more space except for a person to stand. I shrugged--after all, I'm quite used to it--and asked if my friend would be okay. I'm guessing that she was overjoyed about it, but she was open to the experience. I still hadn't eaten dinner, but my friend was really getting sleepy from jetlag although it was only around 8PM. I had wanted to perhaps find a restaurant to give her a good Japanese dinner, but I could tell she would be too tired. As it were, she had packed a subway sandwich in her bag from home, so was all set. We compromised and wandered a short distance to find a konbini, where I bought some onigiri for dinner. I was amused by my friend's reaction to the shared bathroom--to the set up of the shower (which is a showerhead on a cord without exception, because of the Japanese custom of scrubbing/showering first and then getting into a bath) and the fact that the windows were open letting in the night air. It was also interesting to us both that in this shared "house/apartment" (now made into a hostel), the toilet was located across the hall in its own little closet sized room. Although I thought the weather and room were rather warm, my friend thought it was cold and wanted to turn up the heat as high as possible. This made me a little nervous, being in the top bunk next to the heater. But it did make me sleepy, and as a result I fell asleep quite easily with only a sheet over me.
Saturday (2/22) -- When we woke up, it was raining outside. I cracked open our tiny window, and noticed it had quite the view of Sky Tree. I found this amusing, because usually rooms with a view in the U.S. cost extra. Not our tiny room. We packed up our bags again to make the move to the shared "dormitory", since we only had a private room for the night. The dormitory was located in the main hostel building, with the reception lobby. We exchanged our keys, and were shown upstairs. Inside were separate rooms, each with walls lined with wooden boxes. The boxes were stacked like double bunk beds, with four to a wall and sliding doors. I thought they looked cozy. I do not know how my friend felt, but she said she was up for giving it a try. Secretly, I was a little excited and intrigued. How economical, and how fun. As I've explained, all I need is a bed and all this was was just that, a bed. In a box. We put our things inside the boxes, slid shut the doors and locked the little padlock. I put on my raincoat. Our plan for the morning was to find what I have heard is the most renowned art store in Tokyo, called Ito-ya. Ever since arriving in Japan I have been in search of handcrafted Japanese paper, which I admired so much when I was an intern at Minnesota Center for Book Arts during highschool. Furthermore, I have always heard of the craft, skill, and beauty of Japanese paper. Therefore, coming to Japan, I expected to be able to easily locate these treasures. Not so. At least, not so in Sapporo. I have searched endlessly in Sapporo for any semblance of an art supply store or craft store, and though they may exist, they must be mighty well-hidden. I have missed art stores so much, and in fact it has been causing me quite a bit of headache. I had come to the end of my supply of watercolor paper, and search though I may could find no supplies in Sapporo. All the paper labeled as "watercolor" was cheap, flimsy, and not of any decent quality. I always found this to be such a frustration, in a land of such long-marveled papermaking. Now, at last, in Tokyo I had been told that Ito-ya had been around for a long time, and specialized in beautiful paper and art supplies. It was located in Ginza, better yet, which would allow us to see this famous "rich" (and I mean RICH) area of Tokyo. Stepping out the door of the hostel, it was still raining. Because it is technically winter, it was a very cold rain. Secretly, I wanted to find a place for breakfast along the way. I had not yet gauged if my friend was a breakfast eater. I love breakfast. It is by far the best meal (though I like food at anytime). But I did not want to be a bother, so casually mentioned it. As it turns out, my friend is someone whose mood turns a bit foul when they get hungry. Had I known this, I would have been glad to stop immediately to eat. My sister is very similar. Once she starts getting hungry, her temperament changes. This is not so much the case for me, because I rarely feel "hunger" (as much as I love eating). As my friend described me, my temperament for the most part is "homeostatic." I'm "ok" in most situations. Of course, my family may say differently and that is because I only really show more dramatic emotions around those I am extremely comfortable with. (A pity and a privilege for my family, I suppose). We needed to take a subway to reach Ginza in any timely manner from Asakusa. Here I should explain that all these names I will be throwing around are more or less "neighborhoods" of Tokyo. My friend did not allow me quite as much patience as I would have liked in order to navigate with a level head. So when we entered the Asakusa station, feeling pressure from the crowd and from my friend to keep moving and not make her wait, I ended up choosing the wrong train. We got on, and after about ten minutes when we emerged to higher ground and could see out the windows, I could tell that we were headed the wrong way. We jumped off at the next stop, still in the chilly rain. I could sense that my friend was displeased, though she tried to be patient. I had given fair warning that I would make mistakes, but would do my best. And frankly, I do think I did quite a good job throughout, what for being thrown into one of the largest, densest, tangliest metropolitan areas in the world and told "go!" I wasn't quite certain how to get us in the right direction, and there were not a lot of people. But after consulting with a mom and her young child, I took her advice and we waited for another train. Fortunately, this took us towards Ginza. When we got out of the station, I had put the address of the art store in my phone to help us navigate walking. But in the cold, cold rain, holding my phone without my glove on, my hand started to ache with pain. Our umbrellas, which we had borrowed from the hostel, we not keeping us very dry and as useful as my phone is, it takes a little bit for me to orient myself based on the moving pinpoint. My friend, unbeknownst to me becoming more impatient due primarily to her hunger, made me feel as though I was completely inept at navigating. I just move at a slower pace--and I accept that I make mistakes. I felt so bad to not be able to navigate more efficiently in the cold rain, but there was not much to be done. I felt as though even to ask her to stop and let me orient ourselves was frustrating to her. In her defense, it was very unpleasant in the rain, she was hungry, unable to communicate in the language, and also still jet-lagged. Eventually, passing a few restaurants, I asked if we should just stop for lunch. She agreed. I would have liked to search for a better place, but feeling pushed, I suggested the noodle shop next to us that sold soba, udon, and ramen. This was my first experience using the "machine" system of ordering. This means that there is a large machine (like a vending machine) with many buttons and selections. You insert your money, make a selection, and receive a ticket. Then you give the ticket to the waitress, and your meal is prepared. Unfortunately, all the buttons were written in Kanji (save a few), and did not have pictures. I am far from an expert in the names of soba and udon varieties. And as a vegetarian, I dislike not knowing what in the world I am ordering because in Japan 10 out of 10 times it will contain meat. Luckily, the old lady who was the waitress was patient with us beyond all expectation. She explained the ingredients. Still feeling a little rushed, and stressed also by the sudden wave of every middle-aged working man within 5 miles trying to order lunch and squeeze inside the restaurant just after we stepped inside, I didn't really get to look at a lot of options. I suggested she order what the waitress had offered (and which a noodle-slurping construction worker had affirmed mid-slurp was 'delicious'). Having spent most of the time trying to translate for my friend, when it came to be my turn I had almost no time to decide. I hurriedly selected Kitsune Soba, since I am familiar with it. This is just soba noodles in mysterious (probably soy sauce or fish based) broth, and a thin slab of tofu. We were extremely fortunate to snag two bar stools at a counter amidst the frenzy in the tiny shop. We sat down, and soon our bowls were ready. I had forgotten, when we started to eat, how unfamiliar it is for most Americans to eat everything with chopsticks! I am so accustomed to it, the very idea of using a fork nowadays is odd. I often say that I am now out of practice with silverware. But for my friend, understandably, this was a bit of a challenge! She worked valiantly to grip the slippery udon noodles. I was proud of her for sticking with it! Feeling a little warmer and our bellies full, we headed back out into the rain. I still had trouble locating the store, and just when I thought that I might give up because of the cold and nervousness of disappointing my friend, she looked up and there was a small sign for Ito-ya. We had found it! Soggy, squeaky, and shivering, we walked in, realizing suddenly just how bedraggled and out of place we appeared. This is because the first floor of the store is extremely fancy. The first floor is devoted entirely to pens. And not just any pens--diamond pens, gold pens, pens fit for a president, whatever you can imagine! They were all displayed carefully in glass cases like jewelry. Indeed, when we first stepped in, I briefly thought that we had made a mistake and entered a jewelry shop. I glanced at the prices of the pens--some in the order of thousands of dollars. No thank you, I thought! We looked at the list on the wall for the floor guide, and found the stairs and headed up. Each level has a different supply or focus. For example, some contained only journals, others writing utensils, etc. I really wanted to spend more time looking at all the different pencils. When we reached the paints/general art supply level, I was in complete heaven. Everywhere I looked were my dear supplies--paints, watercolors, colored pencils, sketchbooks. It had been so long since I had seen such things. And to my joy, watercolor paper. True watercolor paper. I could have spent many hours here. While we were looking around, I received a message from my fellow Fulbrighter, Veronica. Veronica is based in Tsukuba, which is about a 2 hour train ride from Tokyo. Knowing I would be in Tokyo, she had asked to meet up! I was so happy! When we had left the hostel earlier I had sent her the address of the art store and told her approximately when we would be there. So she had taken the train in to Tokyo. When I received a message, she said that she had arrived and was on the same floor as us. But the floor we were on was quite small, and I looked through the shelves and saw no one. We both said that we were certain of the floor we were on. Then, after calling, we realized that actually there are two Ito-ya stores. Luckily they are right across the street from each other. One is the smaller, fancier, "designer" store (where Kait and I were) and the other is the main store, which is far larger. Veronica was on the same floor, but across the street. She came to find us, and after three months since we had parted ways after the Fulbright orientation, we were reunited! I was so glad to see her! After all, according to our Fulbright Fellowship, I am Gimli and she is Legolas. So we ought to have at least a few journeys together! It turns out that Veronica is very artsy herself, and there are few things better than to freak out about amazing art supplies together with another artist. I sincerely hope that Kait was amused by our entrancement. I stocked up, at long last, on watercolor paper and a few more supplies. I wanted to buy so many more, but didn't want to make everyone wait so I could keep looking (I could have, left on my own, looked around for hours.) And we wanted to go see the main Ito-ya store, as well. So we crossed the street and went in. The main store lived up to the reputation that I had heard of it--mainly, that it is huge, and that it is busy. There were so many wonderful items on each of the many floors. I was glad also when Veronica was able to pick out a lovely leather journal for her father. When we reached the long-awaited paper floor, I was enthralled. They were so beautiful. Unfortunately, I couldn't buy any for fear they would be ruined in the rain and the trip back to Sapporo. But I vowed to return. When we reached the top floor, we were greeted unexpectedly by the sun! The rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared to blue sky over the magnificent streets of Ginza.
      We headed out into the busy crowds, along the picturesque streets and ritzy shops. Because it happened to be a Saturday, all traffic is closed off and the streets are opened completely to pedestrians. This was one instance where my previous images of "Tokyo" synced with reality. It was quite surreal. We were all relieved and thankful for the sunshine after nearly drowning in the morning. We decided to find a place to get a snack. We all adamantly agreed on this. While walking, the crowds in the middle of the street began to part. A string of five or so male models in smart clothes holding banners were strutting down the street, and folks began to take pictures. Veronica noticed a large, many floored and wellknown cafe that overlooked the infamous clocktower of Ginza. We went in and order some delicious snacks. I ordered "mumburando", which I have heard so much of but never tasted. It looks, to be honest, like a small pile of noodles. Actually, it is finely overlaid chestnut/peanut cream over a dessert. In other words, it is delicious. I also ordered a blueberry bagel. Kait and Veronica order similarly delicious meals. As are all cafes, restaurants, and buildings in general throughout Japan, it was busy. We feared we would find no place to sit. We managed somehow to find a small table and squished together. I have to say, this constant lack of places to sit in places where you are required to sit is a persistent annoyance in Japan. I do not understand why cafes in Japan do not anticipate that they will need tables and places to accommodate their guests--and in appropriate abundance. There is never a place to sit, ever. It is always a stressful battle, and frankly one that could be easily fixed with proper forethought on the part of eating establishments. Or any forethought at all. But in any case, I really enjoyed sitting together with my friends, and having a chance to catch up with both Kait and Veronica. Kait is a very friendly person, and I was glad that her and Veronica made such easy conversation together despite having just met. The very idea that we were all eating desserts together overlooking the fancy streets of Ginza, so frequently graced by the presence of celebrities and famous people, was incredible. Hoping to use a little bit more of the brilliant sunlight before it set (since it still sets about 4PM), Veronica offered to try to find a huge toy store that she had heard about. Kait liked the idea, and I did too. So we were off. The strange thing about walking through Ginza to me is that although I marveled at its beauty and the crisp, pristine expensive stores towering around me, I know nothing of fancy brands. In fact, if anything, I harbor a deep dislike for them. Kait would say, "look! A Zara!" or "Look! Tiffany's", etc. etc. but most of the time I had no real idea of what they were besides a trap to fool people into spending money wastefully and indulgently (and for what? For images sake?). It was in Ginza that some of my feelings towards wealth and excess began to surface. The idea of people coming to Ginza and buying these wealthy things, of celebrities, and well-off...I continued to think, I am happy sleeping in my wooden box, walking around in my hiking boots. If I were wealthy, I would consider it immoral to live in such excess. I would live as I do now, and give the rest to help others. That is what is so overlooked--that if you want wealth, it comes with responsibility, because that money came on the backs of others no matter what others say. I was reminded of a tradition I had learned about many southeastern native nations, like the Cherokee, Muscogee, Chickasaw, and Choctaw. Although there are variations by tribe, a general ideal is that a leader who acquires wealth should live humbly, because all wealth is a privilege to distribute amongst others. This is what I try to explain when political troubles, such as the recent tax-increase fiasco, occur. If you want wealth, then accept the responsibility. If you don't want the responsibility, there is a perfectly wonderful life for you living humbly anyways. It sickens and perplexes me to glorify wealth and fame. So although I found Ginza to be absolutely stunning, I wish that it was not solely the abode of wealthy people.
   In the toy store, there were children running around and so many interesting things. Kait was able to find a souvenir. As evening fell, Veronica would soon need to catch her train back to Tsukuba. But she offered kindly to come with us back towards Asakusa and show us Kaminari-mon. This is a large gate with a humungous red lantern, and statues to either side. It leads into a long stretch of souvenir tents and food vendors all the way up to the entrance to Sensou-ji. It is admittedly one of the most "touristy" locations in Tokyo, and many of the souvenir shops boarder on being cliche. But sometimes, gifts like these, which seem to be infused with as much "Japan" as possible, are fun to give. In Sapporo, such things are fairly rare. Indeed, I've actually struggled to find good souvenirs to send others that are clearly from Japan and not things you might find anywhere. I enjoyed glancing through the stands, although I would have liked to look longer. Kait was in search of a sake cup for a friend, and Veronica was in search of a replica sword for her boyfriend! I couldn't believe it when she bought one! It was not ridiculously expensive, but still a large gift. It was fun to watch her purchase it and carry with her. For dinner, although Veronica need to head back to Tsukuba, but another Fulbrighter (Libby) was in Tokyo and had offered to meet us. Originally, she had asked to meet us at a different station, but Veronica suggested that we all meet at Kaminari-mon since it is only about a twenty minute walk from our hostel and I am always concerned about getting lost at night. We said farewell to Veronica and thanked her for a fun day together. Then, after a little bit of searching, Libby and I were able to locate each other. Kait, Libby, and I wandered around the Kaminari-mon for a while, trying to decide on what would be good to eat. Unfortunately, Libby had eaten a late lunch and was not especially hungry yet. The whole time I was in Tokyo, I kept wanting to go to interesting restaurants to eat, but folks kept not being hungry! We had a lot of trouble deciding, and second guessed ourselves. Then I suggested, as per Veronica's recommendation, that maybe we try taking a look in Sky Tree. None of us had been inside this infamously tall tower, and so it would be a good way to see someplace new and probably find something yummy. As we were walking, Libby suggested Okonomiyaki! This is a wonderful invention, often described as the Japanese take on pizza. However, that should not suggest that it resembles pizza in any way other than the addition of cheese, and its circular shape. It translates roughly to "as you like it." I have heard of this delicious food for many years, but never tried it. Libby was shocked. Kait was excited too, because she had heard of it. In her short stay in Japan, she wanted to try as many Japanese staples as possible. So we all agreed it was an excellent plan. The walk from Kaminari-mon to Sky Tree took longer than expected (who knew! Tall things are actually farther away than they appear!). But once we arrived, we were able to locate an Okonomiyaki restaurant on the food floor. So up we went, and waited in line. Inside the restaurant, the table was made of a large square metal hot plate. Everything smelled delicious. The okonomiyaki, when it arrives, is served directly onto the metal hot plate. Then you cut it with a spatula and put pieces onto your plate. It was absolutely delicious. Libby was glad to celebrate such a momentous occasion with me. Because I am able to eat a heck of a lot, I had no trouble finishing mine. The others started to get full part way, but managed to finish their's as well. I truly enjoyed talking with Libby and learning about her time in Tsukuba. Meeting up with Libby and Veronica that day made me realize how much I would like to see the other Fulbrighters more. Libby needed to catch the last train to Tsukuba, and so our parting was rather rushed. She had to leap into a packed elevator after I said "leave us behind! Save yourself!", since it was so busy and would have cost her the last train if we had all waited for another elevator.  Kait and I headed back to our hostel, and tried out our first night in our snug wooden boxes.
Wednesday (12/23)-- I awoke in my wooden box quite pleasantly. Not sure if my friend was awake just yet, I let myself leisurely get dressed. We tried our best each day to set out fairly early. If I remember correctly, we woke up and were headed out by about 9AM. This time, both because Kait herself admitted that she becomes a little bit snippy when she is hungry and because I love breakfast, we made a plan to search for breakfast along the way. December 23rd is the emperor's birthday, and a national holiday. It is one of only two days a year when the inner grounds of the imperial palace are open. So our goal was to get inside! Kait and I were both excited that it happened to work out that she would be visiting Tokyo at this time. We were able to get on the correct subway, and exited fairly close to the Imperial Palace. We did have a bit of a walk between the station and the palace, through less residential and much more "Tokyo"-esque downtown. The feeling of the area was very similar to Michigan Ave in Chicago, we agreed. Ahead, I could see what appeared to be the large moat surrounding the palace and wide open streets. Knowing now where we were, we decided it would be a good place to search for breakfast before entering the grounds. We turned back and searched. We had some trouble at first locating a place, but then I started looking closely at signs on buildings. Often, there are many cafes and restaurants tucked away on floors of large buildings. We found a sign with the name of a cafe chain I recognized, and a Starbucks. We entered the building and went down to the basement level. Sure enough, there were a number of restaurants. I suggested that we avoid the Starbucks and chose the Japanese chain because of how very overpriced Starbucks is in Japan. This turned out to be a good choice, because the St. Marc's cafe chain we went to served much cheaper, but equally delicious croissants, hot drinks, and breakfast foods. I ordered a hot chocolate, a croissant, and an egg-topped bread. When we were finished with our excellent breakfast, we were on our way to the Imperial Palace. I had tried to do a bit of research before hand to know where we should enter. But I was still uncertain. We walked along the moat a short distance, pleased to see runners all around us zooming past. Apparently, it is approximately 1.5-2 miles to go around the outside of the palace, which makes it one of the best places to run and workout. There are always many runners making loops. I was so jealous, because I had wanted to go for a run here too. I had even packed my running shoes. Furthermore, compared to the many layers of running tights, under-armor, coats, socks, mittens, etc. that I must wear just to trot over frozen snowpack at great risk in Sapporo, many runners were wearing shorts and long sleeve shirts. They were speeding along on clear, safe ground, in the perfect mild weather. I thought to myself, these runners in Tokyo have no excuse not to be in amazing shape! They can run whenever they wish, even in the winter, without trouble! Indeed, I must admit that I was rather annoyed whenever I heard anyone complain about the weather in Tokyo. They ought to spend a week in Sapporo (or Minnesota), and then they would be kissing the beautiful ice-free streets and soaking in every ray of warm sunshine. I do appear to be quite frustrated with the cold weather in Sapporo, but the truth is I do enjoy many aspects of winter as well. However, I cannot hide that when it comes to being able to run, warmer weather is far more convenient. I often greatly enjoy my winter runs, watching the puffs of steam as I go and the crisp crunch under my feet as I speed along, the cool taste of the air, but a little less peril would be okay too. As we neared what I was guessing was a main gate, more and more visitors amassed. There seemed to be a steady stream headed in one direction, so we followed along. Lines were forming in front of security checks. This was a surprise! We thought through what we might have on us that could be a security issue, hoping not to cause any trouble as foreigners. It turns out that if you have flags or other national symbols from other countries you cannot bring them in. Luckily, we were not wearing any such things. They checked our bags, and patted us down, but we made it through. I have a tiny keychain with an Ainu design on  it, and I was nervous when the security guard checking my bag lifted this up and scrutinized it, but she said nothing about it and let me through. There was a whole wave of people now, crowding us on all sides and scooting us along. So no need to worry about where to go! The current was sure to bring us there. En route, a line of adorable Japanese elementary school children was going through the crowds handing out paper Japanese flags. They even gave one to me! At first I wasn't sure if the child was just waving the flag, or giving it to me, but when I saw others receive them I happily accepted it too. Kait told me afterwards that she had noticed a number of Japanese people watch me to see if I took it. I'm sure glad I did! As a Fulbrighter representing the U.S., I wanted to show my enthusiasm and openness to Japan. I wanted to participate in the celebration too. There were announcements over megaphone being made, stating that the Emperor's next appearance would be around 11AM. He apparently made appearances every 45 minutes or so throughout the day. Some birthday, Kait pointed out! We found a spot amidst the big crowd in front of the balcony, and enjoyed talking to each other while we waited about 30 minutes for the emperor's appearance. We were packed tighter and tighter as time passed. Lucky for Kait, she is quite tall, so seeing wasn't a problem. I was amused by the security guards here and there throughout the crowd. The one in front of me, standing with arms crossed, was literally dozing in and out of sleep. There was an announcement that the royal family was entering the balcony. The crowd erupted with cheers and "bonzai!", and waving flags. I waved my flag too! A few in the crowd thew up there arms continuously, shouting "bonzai!" each time. The emperor came to the microphone and everyone quietly listened to his speech. I was pleasantly surprised to actually be able to understand most of it! When he finished, everyone cheered again, and the royal family waved some more. I waved back, telling myself how amazing it was to be waving at an emperor. The royal family exited the balcony, and the crowds began to move out.
     After seeing the emperor and royal family, we strolled through the rest of the palace grounds, gardens, and beautiful historical buildings. There was so much human history in each footstep, wall, bridge, moat, and rock. We climbed up to a lookout point, from which there was an excellent view of the city. What an interesting contrast it was to see the traditional buildings of the palace, and the skyscrapers of Tokyo. We were even lucky to see some blooming cherry trees. Just a few, with tiny, subtle blossoms. But I was happy to see flowers. Kait, it turns out, is obsessed with flowers. She loves taking pictures of them. So I was glad that we could find some even in winter. After covering most of the grounds, our next goal was to head in the direction of Harajuku and Meiji-jingu. I mapped out the course, and opted to walk there. I really prefer walking over the subway. First of all, there is less risk of ending up in a whole other city by accident. Second of all, you are able to see so much more. In total, it was probably only a couple miles. The walk was breathtaking. The first part took us around the outside of the palace along the moat. We passed by the Tokyo Art Museum on our right, and beautiful landscapes, walls, trees, and plants on our left. Then we passed through a quiet business and apartment area. In this quiet area, we found a tiny bakery. It was perfect timing for lunch. We are both baked goods enthusiasts. Stepping inside, there were large, Christmas-themed decorated breads, in shapes of santa claus, snowmen, and other cute designs. The older lady at the counter explained that this had been reserved in advance for Christmas eve meals. The shelves had so many different breads, many inspired by Europe, but all with a distinctly Japanese twist. For example, there were european style breads with anko (bean paste) inside, or red beans sprinkled on top. This is common at the numerous bakeries throughout Japan. Although Americans are accused of having a sweet tooth, I would argue that Japanese people in general have a sweeter one. I helped Kait as best as I could to translate the names of the different pastries and goods and to help give suggestions. I told her that one thing she must definitely not miss out on in Japan is "melon-pan." We both made sure to buy one. I also got a croissant, a chocolate muffin and a small green tea cake (for tomorrow's breakfast). While we were walking, I deeply enjoyed watching the neighborhoods of the city around us change and shift ever so slightly. We took a short break so that we could eat our melon-pan. Kait agreed, it was delicious. I took a bite, and informed her that we had chosen a good bakery because they were especially tasty. We passed on to another scenic park-like stretch of the walk. I began to realize that the area was starting to look oddly familiar. That leg of our walk had actually brought us through the very same part of Tokyo where I had gone for runs during the Fulbright orientation! It is a spare imperial residence of some sort, as I mentioned all those months past. It was such a surreal feeling to be back in that very same spot again, retracing my steps. I could distinctly visualize my memories of running there. The nervousness, mixed with comfort, of the runs in what had been such an utterly new place. Returning now, I felt a slightly different person. More brave, more comfortable, but still with much ahead of me to learn. We paused in front of the immaculate National Diet building, which I remember so clearly passing on my runs as a landmark. Our walk continued through beautiful park streets, and then shifted into the cityscape of Shibuya. While walking along these fancy streets, a number of extremely expensive cars passed us in the streets, as well as a motorcycle group all dressed in Santa Claus costumes! Our main goal was Meiji-jingu, but along the way I wanted us to stop for a meal at a wonderful sounding restaurant I had researched. It was apparently friendly to vegetarians, and in Harajuku just outside of Meiji-jingu, so a perfect location. We tried to follow the directions on my phone, entering the tight, compact streets of Harajuku. There were many unique houses packed along these narrow roads, and cars--though they attempted to drive through whenever possible--could just barely fit through. At first there were not many people, but as we neared the heart of Harajuku, crowds accumulated. We emerged from these smaller streets into a much busier main street, lined with large stores. According to my phone, it was always just a little bit farther to the restaurant. I had dragged Kait all the way across Tokyo on our walk, and spent so much time searching for the restaurant, she was very kind not to make us give up on finding it. Just when I thought I might completely disappoint her by not being able to find it, there it was ahead of us, tucked away! The Eco-cafe 632. I was overjoyed. And soon, I would be even happier. When I stepped up to the door, I was shocked to spy the word "manoomin" ("wild rice" in Anishinaabemowin) from the corner of my eye. I looked down at the display table outside. There, in the middle of Harajuku, was Dennis Banks Minnesota wild rice and maple syrup. I was floored. I couldn't believe it! It was such an unexpected, wonderful surprise. I was even more excited to go inside. They even had Mr. Dennis Banks' CD for sale! The feel of the restaurant was bright and open, with large windows letting in the sun. We were led to a table, and given menus. At first, I thought everything might contain meat, which was a bit disappointing. But while talking with the waiter, he actually went to check if they could change the Japanese curry dish to be vegetarian. Sure enough, they did! Kait ordered the normal green curry and I ordered the special vegetarian one. When the meals arrived, they looked scrumptious. We started to eat, but I soon realized that there was meat in mine. I was perplexed. Then I realized that they had served the vegetarian meal to Kait and the regular one to me. I think that in ordering, they had thought I was ordering for her. We had already taken a few bites, and Kait had already said how delicious hers was. Although I felt bad about it, since they had been switched around, we decided to switch them to the right way. I felt awful to be taking away the meal Kait had just bitten into and enjoyed, but there is no way I could have eaten the meat version. And Kait does it meat, plus that is how we had intended to order originally. The rice was even garnished with a a taste of wild rice! Feeling so happy to have found it, I decided to buy a small bag of wild rice even though it was about twice what it would have cost in Minnesota. When we left, my curiosity pushed me to ask the cashier if there was truly a connection with Dennis Banks. The one time that I met Mr. Banks, I told him in conversation that I would be headed to Japan--to which he responded 「日本語が話せますか。」("Do you speak Japanese?") I almost fainted! I should have realized, Mr. Banks was once married to a Japanese woman and also spent time with the navy based in Japan. At that time, Mr. Banks mentioned to me that he returns to Japan yearly. He said that while he was based here he witnessed a protest of Japanese people against a proposed American base construction which would have taken their homes and farmland. This incident had given him inspiration as well. In that conversation, I vaguely remember Mr. Banks mentioning that he even had a restaurant. I had hoped one day to find that restaurant, but had no idea I would find it that day completely by chance. I am not entirely certain what the cashier's response was because he spoke quite quickly, but he did confirm that there was a connection with Mr. Banks, and perhaps (if I understood), Mr. Banks had given the vegetables and idea of a healthy, organic menu. Based on the talk Dennis Banks gave at St. Olaf, concerning his shift to vegetables and healthy foods after serious trouble from diabetes, I believe this. As I paid for the wild rice, the cashier reached to grab what I thought would be a plastic bag. Japan puts everything in as many plastic bags as possible, and I am often arguing with cashiers not to be given one. I started to say "no, it's okay, I have a backpack!" when the cashier brought out a cloth bag with a printed image of Dennis Banks and the restaurant website. I was floored! I couldn't believe it! I was so happy and touched, Kait can confirm that I was smiley for a long time afterwards. I carried it with me as though it were treasure.
   After eating our very late lunch, it was just about 4PM. Our next goal, and primary motivation for the walk from the Imperial Palace through Harajuku was to reach Meiji-jingu. It was only a very short walk from the restaurant. When we crossed the busy street over a tall bridge to reach the shrine entrance, to our dismay the large gate was shut. People were trickling out through a small door. Unfortunately, I had not realized that the shrine closes at 4PM (or sunset, whichever is later at the time). I was sad to translate the sign on the gate. Our lunch and walk, which I had enjoyed so much, had cost a visit to the shrine. I was not too disappointed personally, but I did want Kait to see it. In retrospect, I should not have feared for Kait that day because we had already done and seen many incredible things. We had even seen the emperor! Kait asked what we should do instead, and I did not know. I am far from an expert on Tokyo, and so I did not have a quick alternative especially for so late in the day. I wanted to wait a few minutes to look up ideas, but Kait would have none of it. She said she did not want to waste time standing around. From my point of view, it was not standing around--it was necessary for me if I was going to figure something out, unless she had any suggestions. Being pushed and with the decision still left up to me, yet not having any idea whatsoever of where to go, I suggested blindly that we go see Shibuya crossing. This is the classic scene from movies featuring Tokyo--one of the busiest intersections in the city. Barely given time to route the walk, I more or less guessed a direction. Thank heavens that as we were crossing a bridge, I spied the infamous Elvis-impersonating dancers of Yoyogi park out practicing in a circle. I was curious about them myself, so I suggested that first we go take a look and then go through Yoyogi park since it is so well-known. Kait and I both enjoyed watching the dancers, and I was very happy for a chance to stroll through the beautiful park. I suppose you might compare it to Central Park in New York, although I have never been there. There are always people out practicing dancing, and especially playing instruments. Because living spaces are typically so small, and such practicing could be disruptive or require more space, many people come to the park instead. I would have liked to spend a bit more time in the park, but we decided to continue on to Shibuya crossing. Then we could simply take the train back to Asakusa afterwards from the large station. I probably did not take the most direct route to get there, but clutching my phone's map I did the best I could under pressure. It seemed we were entering the correct areas as crowds once again grew, and buildings became taller, brighter, and all-encompassing. Then quite suddenly we were there, in the same massive swarm of chaos that I remember when I first saw it. As you may be able to guess from my description, I am not fond of Shibuya crossing. It is impressive, to be sure, and a sight worth seeing, but certainly not a place I have any desire to return to. I was glad at least by how excited and impressed Kait was by the sheer number of people, and the fact that you are able to cross from any direction including diagonal. When the walk sign flashes, it really does become a free for all, and you had best know how to swim through it. By this point, after being pushed to navigate and make such quick decisions, and now in such a chaotic, packed area I was becoming overwhelmed. All I really needed was a moment to be still and collect myself. In Shibuya crossing, there is little chance of that. Kait was hoping to get a view of the crossing from up above. We tried entering a busy, tall building and going to the top. They were too savvy for us--all the windows on the higher levels were covered up to avoid tourists doing just that. However, I must say it is a real shame. We went down to the Starbucks level where there was a window to try to sneak a glimpse, but this was just as packed and we were stalked by waitresses trying to get rid of us. Finally, we headed out and descended into one of the largest subway stations in Japan to try to navigate back to Asakusa. Looking at the twisted, tangley web of trains, it took me some time to synthesize all the information. While staring at the board in front of the ticket machine and also trying to confirm with the directions on my phone (and to try to slow Kait down enough for me to think properly) a middle-aged Japanese couple spied my perpetually lost face and asked where we were trying to go. I was a little bit frustrated to be asked if I needed help, when all I actually needed was a moment to think, but I was so overwhelmed I graciously (if warily) accepted their help. I say warily because from my experience when a Japanese person tries to help you, they really try to help you. Indeed, they will go so far out of their way as to walk with you. The real issue, besides feeling like a burden and a fool, is mostly that if that person happens to be wrong or mistake where you want to go, there is no escaping or correcting them. After scurrying off to consult the map on their own, the man told us we should just take the Ginza line to Asakusa station, a more or less straight shot. After he pointed this out, I realized also how simple a ride that would be. Simpler, in fact, than the train we had been using before. Thanking them for their help, we bought our tickets, managed to find the train, and got back to Asakusa. I wanted to have one more look through Kaminari-mon since I hadn't really been given a chance before. So we strolled through here, then headed back to the hostel. I would have really liked to eat dinner someplace to utilize the opportunity for another Japanese meal to show Kait, but she said she preferred just to go back since she was tired and we had eaten a late lunch. We still had some treats from the bakery in our bag, and she said she would rather just eat that. I was a little disappointed, because I love Japanese food so much. But after such an overwhelming end to the day, I conceded and we headed back to our boxes. It was still very early in the evening when we got back, but I used the time to relax, read a bit, and try to plan for the next day. The croissant that I ate for a snack was absolutely delicious. The plan for tomorrow, if I could manage to get us there, was to witness what is known as a Diamond Fuji. This happens only during Christmas time--it is when the sun is aligned just right to set directly behind Mt. Fuji and can be seen from the neighboring Mt. Touzan. It would be pushing my navigation abilities to get us there, as it was outside of Tokyo itself, but I could think of no more classic sight in Japan than Mt. Fuji.