The sun-lit part of the day went through without incident, as we checked out the Asakusa area of the city, mostly known for the Sensō-Ji collection of temples and shrines, after a breakfast and quick walk through the Shibuya crossing. The persistent drizzle did not deter the crowds of foreign and national tourists, leading us to seek refuge in the Amuse museum, a collection of Japanese folk clothing, utensils and stories that was surprisingly interesting and easy to navigate on the way up to the rooftop terrace, which was the main reason we went in to start with. After admiring the cloud-covered views of the Tokyo Tree and the Sensō-Ji we grabbed a couple of beers and some dinner at Shinjiku (where we had previously left our bags) before checking into our Airbnb, which was more than adequate for a one-night stay even though the bathroom looked more suited to an airplane than an apartment.
Once I finally managed to get some laundry done we rushed off to meet Pete’s friend Simran at what is probably one of the places I have encountered so far that best describes Japanese culture - the Hachikō statue, outside the Shibuya train station. Hachikō was a dog who wandered to the station to meet his owner, a Professor at the University of Tokyo, every evening as he arrived at the station after work. After his owner passed away, Hachikō kept showing up to the spot where the statue now lies for the nine years he outlived his master, becoming a symbol of loyalty and fidelity for the whole of Japan. At a time where these virtues seem to be irrelevant for most of the developed World, Hachikō’s story shows how different this society is from everything else I know.
Our night started at an office party in a wealthy part of Tokyo, where a guitarist attempted to perform (mostly being drowned out by the crowd) and a DJ followed with a set that tried to get people to dance (which eventually happened, with Simran leading the way). Our hazy memories from the party include our surprise that the toilet seats in both the ladies and the gents featured a sticker preventing them from being lifted, Pete dramatically falling on his knees as I beat him at extreme beer pong (played with Sake rather than beer), and both of us losing our Croc virginity, as the most hideous pieces of footwear ever invented were supplied for those who wanted to climb up to the wet but very pleasant rooftop terrace.
As the party started to slow we moved onto a club called Bonobo, where we engaged in conversation with a spectacled gentleman who worked at the British Embassy and tried to patronisingly argue the point that Russia is as powerful now as it was in the 1960s, which makes me a bit worried about the British diplomatic representation on this corner of the World. As Bonobo was too chilled for our inebriated state we got on a taxi to Oath, a much livelier alternative that was both full of expats and loud enough to keep us awake for a bit longer. At this point, Pete realised that not only was he missing his phone, but crucially also our house keys. After spending the best part of an hour looking for it all over the club and accepting there was no way Pete was going to remember the last time he had used his phone, we decided that our best chance to avoid having to sleep under a bridge was to get a taxi back to Bonobo. To be perfectly honest, my assessment of the situation at the time gave us no more than a 5% chance of success despite Japan’s legendary levels of honesty and decency, which we were told make it commonplace for people to leave their iPads on restaurant tables as a means of reserving them while they place their orders at the counter.
As we arrived at Bonobo, the guy who had been manning the door two hours earlier was taking the bins out and appeared to know something about a phone and some keys, but confusingly just told us to go in rather than offering to help. We obliged and went upstairs to the chill-out area where we had spent most of the time, and upon opening the door to one of the rooms I found Pete holding his phone with an expression on his face that was not of happiness or relief, but pure astonishment that the very thing we were hoping to achieve by returning to this place had actually happened. I, on the other hand, was dominated by all three feelings at once and in great quantities, probably the only reason I managed to stay awake on the train ride home. It is 6am, very much light outside and we have to check out in five hours. Somehow I have a feeling that is not going to happen, but we will see…
Cheers,
J-Wowww
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