Tokyo Travel Buddy

You’re never prepared for how uniquely awful it is to return from the depths of Asian jetlag. I return to my somewhat normal self after leaving Seattle on a Wednesday afternoon flight, arriving Tokyo Thursday afternoon at 3pm. Nothing like losing an entire day! You gain it coming back, however it is the longest day of your life. But well worth the journey.

Landing in Narita, I meet my traveling DJ boyfriend and connect with the nightclub promoter Kai (above). We take the hour long JR express train to Shibuya, the fashionable shopping district where we’ll be staying.

We munch on rice crackers which my travel buddy dubs as ‘rice crack’, downing a bag as we arrive into the city. Conveniently, the train stop is downstairs in the lobby of our hotel. Now that’s efficiency!

At over 12 million people in the official metropolitan area alone, Tokyo is the core of the most populated urban area in the world, Greater Tokyo (which has a population of 35 million people). This huge, wealthy and fascinating metropolis brings high-tech visions of the future side by side with glimpses of old Japan, and has something for everyone. And I’m ready to dig in!

We check into our room that has surprisingly short beds, bidet in the bathroom, crisp white japanese robes and slippers. Starving, we wander out into the humid pouring rain and digging into our pockets, discover all we have is American currency. After asking (pantomiming) the third coffee shop if they would take a Mastercard to no avail, we step outside and look up and have to laugh at the giant billboard above. Priceless.

A friend of Kai’s named Marshall, meets up with us to take us to a fashion event. Fuzzy with jetlag, surrounded by stylish people, listening to beats by Chicago DJ Miles Maeda, sipping Vueve champagne, someone hands me a gift bag. I wonder how this could not make anyone feel like a jet-setter?

Excited about a bed finally within my reach, my boyfriend reminds me that I didn’t travel this far to sleep. OK then! It’s 2am and we wander over to Hachikō, the famous 5 point “scramble crossing” under the giant video screen. It’s also home of the largest two-story Starbucks. Who would have guessed, that they’re doing rockin’ business at that hour? We order cappucinos and I get in trouble for trying to take a photo. You’re kidding me right? Hmm… wonder if they know we kinda started this whole Starbucks thing. I’m not a coffee spy. Or am I?

Standing in the middle of downtown the next morning, we’re on the hunt for the nearest currency exchange. A sweet older gentleman walks up and introduces himself as Shu. Shu not only offers to help point us in the right direction, but to walk with us the two blocks and take us in the building upstairs. As we walk, he shares that many many years ago he lived in NYC and drove a ship and makes small talk asking us questions about where we’re from. We laugh together aat our destination he turns, bows and wishes us well. I almost cry. We exchange our dollars for the brightly colored Yen, and we’re off again.

We smile as we watch thousands of business men, all dressed exactly alike in their dark suits, serious expressions, starched white shirts and black ties carrying little black briefcases. No one speaks as they respectfully walk where they were going.

We peek at the infamous contents of Tokyo’s many vending machines- Beer! Underwear! Burgers, oh my! Wandering and checking out Shibuya’s electronics, anime and groceries, we stop in for coffee at The Love Cafe. The Beatles blast and the Japanese baristas sing along loudly then burst into fits of giggles. My beau points to a photo of a cappucino on a menu, which arrives an iced latte with two inches of foam on top. Alas, lost in translation.

We have one last coffee together and spot this man, standing alone in the train station. I snapped his photo not thinking much about it. Later on, my travel buddy departs solo to play a gig in Seoul. What a strange feeling knowing I was all alone in Japan, but liberating. However liberating the passing thought was, jetlag wins and I nap. I thought to myself, in a city full of movement, business, and progress…sometimes you just have to stand still.

I wake up in a dark room, I groggily get ready for my big solo night out in Tokyo. Kai sends a spunky girl named Boogie to come to pick me up and take me to dinner. We walk to EST, a small little Italian joint owned by the club-owner of La Fabrique, the place my boyfriend is scheduled to play the following night. Kai and Jay, a San Fran transplant and owner of a record label, join us for dinner.

We talk and laugh about the differences of Japan and the States. It’s fun to hear their thoughts about cultural differences, music, food, and life. It goes to show again how we’re all human living in the same world, and it doesn’t seem so big once you travel. We order some appetizers including dried shrimp, avocado and parmesan salad, snapper carpaccio, antipasto with pickeled eggs, roasted peppers and olives, a rich seafood linguine, and the best cure for jetlag…beer. The portions arrive and are all a smaller size and much more manageable. Lots of laughing, more beer. Declining an invite to karaoke, my three dinner mates graciously walk me back to the hotel. ”You are guest!”

I sleep until 5:30am and turn on the TV. Flipping channels, I realize there’s not a single channel in english, even CNN. I watch brightly dressed talk show hosts, animated cooking shows, bizarre videos, and hilarious commercials.

As my guy departs from Seoul, I do some work and stay online to be available through instant messenger for directions to take the train from the airport. It’s truly confusing having to buy a ‘reservation’ and then stand in the right spot to get on your train car and sit in the right spot. Just figuring out which train to make in the maze of options is it’s own unique challenge. Throw in lack of sleep and you may end up on the other side of the country.

Killing time, I buy a beer and some nuts out of the hotel vending machine and walk over to the Hyatt a few blocks away to meet my weary boyfriend. Groggy from absolutely no sleep since he left; we drink a beer and he talks about skipping his well deserved nap for going out and seeing more of the city. I look at him with a jetlagged raised eyebrow and remind him that his gig tonight will go til about 5:30am. He’s a trooper, laughs at my jetlag, and dubs me young travel jedi. We opt for the nap and head out later to LaFabrique for their 6 year anniversary party.

The bass beat thumps as we walk down the blood red staircase into the dark sweaty club. The triple decker disco ball sparkles into all dark corners. We shoot some chilled tequila and the fiasco begins.

After a house music filled evening of new friends, tequila and dancing- ears ringing, we fall into bed. Our final day in Tokyo is upon us. Kai and family have plans to take us to Harijuku, the famous shopping district of Tokyo. We rally with pounding heads from the adventures in tequila the night before, and venture out hoping to take in the Harijuku girls… or maybe just a calming bowl of noodles might be more our speed.

Harijuku is full of boutiques, artisans and creative energy. It’s also a fashion capital of the world, renowned for its unique street fashion. Many prominent designers and fashion ideas have sprung from Harajuku and incorporated themselves into other fashions throughout the world. We end up in Ura-Hara in another section of Harajuku, which caters to a mostly male population interested in a hip-hop, graffiti, and skater fashion and culture. Some sake, tempura and more stories of past international DJ’s that have come to Tokyo, entertain us as our final hours in Japan come to a close.

Overall, Tokyo was a truly wonderful journey with a culture of kind smiles and exceptional hospitality. While much of the city is a jungle of concrete and wires, with a mass of neon and blaring loudspeakers, there are special spots tucked away with quiet moments enjoyed with a special someone. The best part of the Tokyo experience is just wandering around at random and absorbing the vibe, poking your head into shops selling weird and wonderful things, sampling restaurants where you can’t recognize a single thing on the menu or on your plate. The question is, when can we go back?

(More than) One Night in Bangkok

There’s not many times to buy a ticket 2 days before departure, but this was one of those times. I struggled with the decision to drop the $850 on a Seattle to Bangkok flight (aka what am I going to eat the rest of the month) but after chatting with a few close confidants (you only get one life, go!), I clicked purchase.

Packed my Sangria colored bag, digital camera, and slid into my well worn brown leather boots. It was an afternoon in early November and I had arrived three hours in advance for my flight to Seoul with final destination of Bangkok. I thanked the agent and stroked my not-so-green glossy vinyl airplane ticket envelope and proceeded thru security to the airport bar. So what if it was only 11am? Wine was on the list as the first ingredient in the recipe of possible sleep on the airplane. Two glasses of red and I boarded the seemingly endless Boeing 777 to (almost) the back of the plane, the second to the last row. I grabbed my window seat and settled in for the 12 hour first leg. The flight attendants boarded, starched scarfs standing pointedly at attention, ready to salute me at any moment. With an idiot forehead slap on forgetting my digital camera battery- the doors closed. Minus travel jedi point.

Hello my old friend, airline food. Would you like chicken or pasta? Hmm, chicken. What a tasty choice, I think I’ll eat the warm roll. Why with all the rockstar up and coming chefs in the world, can’t someone overhaul the airline food industry? And yes, I’ll take some wine. I scoffed at the 2 ounce pour looking for the rest just as the sweet little flight attendant smiled and moved on. She surfaced almost a half hour later, like some more red wine? Yes, I would. After 3 ‘shots’ of red wine, and no wine bottle in site, I sadly figured it wouldn’t be like flying to Europe where they drop off mini bottles if you even look up at them. 4 blockbusters later we start our decent. Sleep? I laugh in the face of sleep! I passed on the warm little meat stuffed buns and orange juice and slid open the window and peeked out as the tops of clouds parted. Downtown Seoul skyscrapers snagged through the steel gray sky sprawling outwards and upwards. A quick and sleepy transfer later, we’d boarded and were ready for Bangkok. After the last leg and a stomach dropping session of searching for my wallet (under my seat), I rubbed my eyes and de-planed onto Thai soil.

Late Thursday close to midnight, I was to find a driver who was going to take me to the hotel where my boyfriend would meet me the next afternoon. The second I walked outside I knew that the leggings and sweater that worked so well in chilly Seattle, wouldn’t cut it in the just-stepped-out-of-the-shower humidity of Bangkok. My hair immediately puffed, and I tried to regain my composure as I dripped sweat waiting for the driver. Never has one appreciated air conditioning more than the moment I slid into the car, driver on the right side. A quiet 30 minute drive, we arrived at Grand Millennium, a glowing 5 star hotel. The cool, crystal and marble modern lobby was tall, sparkling, and pristine. The woman at the counter bowed.  My room wasn’t ready and offered to buy me a drink in the bar while I waited to have it made up. Why, yes! How did you know I needed one? I sunk deep into a cold leather chair, dizzy with jet-lag, frizzy hair, and eavesdropped while a British business man talked about hookers. I sighed and sipped my ice cold Heineken. Heaven. But heaven was about to be topped, as I walked in our room at the Grand. Style of the W, mixed with a bit of Asian flair, white rounded square sinks, king size feather bed and a gigantic jacuzzi tub. I slipped the bellhop a tip, and as he walked out says, “Would you like me to call you in 10 minutes to order some food?” Why, yes I would! The warm dinner roll from 12 hours ago had long worn off. Did I travel all the way to Bangkok to eat a club sandwich? Maybe not. Was it heaven? Yes it was. Washed down with a cold local beer, thank you. Shower? Heaven. Slid into bed watching BBC. Heaven. Jet-lag? Not heaven.

After a bit of a movie, and still wide awake, I got this strange urge that I had to look out the window. One of those gut instincts, can’t stand not to feelings. I slid open the curtains and time stood still. Peeking over the horizon was the most beautiful sunrise over downtown Bangkok. Plus travel jedi point. And finally, the sleep came..

1pm. Sweaty from sleeping hard, hungry again- I perused the room service menu. Should I have ventured out? Yes. But in this little piece of heaven, how could I not enjoy? Room service was wheeled into my room and I uncovered the most beautiful presentation of Phad Thai I’d ever seen. Complete with fresh purple flowers, small square dishes of 4 different sauces, bright red dried chilies, ground peanuts and white rice vinegar. What to go better with spicy thai food than yes, a cold beer. Needless to say, my safe but splendid 5 star room service meal was a whopping $7.

Another shower and some sprucing up, I anxiously awaited the arrival of my partner in crime. A knock on the door, a very excited greeting, and the silver tequila was put on ice. He asked if I’d ventured out yet. NO?! He shook his head. He was scheduled to play Bed Supperclub, a famous rip off of the notorious Supperclub in Amsterdam. Grabbing my hand, we ventured out into the evening heat.

The sound of traffic was loud, the sideways cracked, incense from brightly colored Buddha shrines, mixed with the smell of street vendor food. Catching a waft of freshly grilled chicken satay shortly followed by the rancid smell of diesel fuel that slapped your nostrils we laughed as we compared, “Ooh good smell! Ooh bad smell.”  The search began for the all too familiar green and white mermaid, ubiquitous in Seattle, and surprisingly present on the other side of the world. Yes, I know. How American. Did we really come over here to be in AC and drink Starbucks I wonder, as we walked inside. I smoothed my fluffy hair as I welcomed the AC. I sipped my double iced latte and look at my partner in crime. What the hell? This tastes better than any Starbucks in Seattle. The barista bows.

Back in the hotel we met our host, a Brit that’s lived in Bangkok for 5 years. He squawked on the phone to his employee about flyers, deposits for other shows and let them know we’re on our way. A quick ice cold shot of tequila and we snagged one of the gum-ball colored cabs.

He hops in the front seat and says something in Thai and turns around and rolls his eyes at us. “No meters,” he says. A noteworthy trend in Thailand is cabs that won’t turn on their meters unless you ask, and land you a hefty price for a short trip. The Brit throws the cab driver a stink eye and raises his voice. “Turn your meter on or I’ll slap you!” We giggled in the back nervously and the cabbie flips on his meter. Zipping in and out of bumper to bumper diesel fueled traffic and hopped out in the parking lot in front of a building that looks like a spaceship. I glanced to my left to see a larger than life size decal of my partner in crime affixed to the sign.

Glowing in soft pink light that makes everyone gorgeous, a room of mattress “tables” flank the room. We slid off our shoes and hopped in to lounge. Above each “table” reads one of the 7 deadly sins.

Ours was Envy. I was even envious of me. Lounging on cool, white, overstuffed pillows complete with cocktail in hand, I thanked the universe once again. We chatted with the Brit and his co-Brits, enjoyed a shaved duck appetizer juicy with garlic and onions, medium rare steak, and creme brulee. The jet-lag and food combination drew my eyes almost closed.

Minutes later, it was time for the reason we came- a DJ set in the club area next door. We entered the already pulsing dark room with rounded sleek white furniture, and white lights from the disco ball. For a moment, I thought I was inside of Space Mountain. It’s disorienting until I sat at our designated corner table and sipped a shot of Patron on ice….and we’re back. A fun filled, dancing with their hands in the air crowd packed the dance floor. I have no idea what time my body thought it was, but I was feeling ok. Must have been the tequila. Or the amazing vibe. Or the company. Or the music. I think it was all of it. 2am comes quickly, or 1:40 rather, like clockwork. The lights came on, and sweaty, drunken people made their way out, smiling. “Fancy some Mexican?” the Brit says. My boyfriend, proudly hispanic, says “Excuse me? Mexican food?” The Brit laughs. “Yeah, want some?” An eyebrow raises and he says… “in Thailand?” He laughs again.

We hopped in another bright pink taxi and zipped to the 24 hour mexican joint. Still skeptical, we ordered nachos, quesadillas, and fajitas. And heck, why not, a 2 foot tall tourist margarita you’d find in Senor Frog’s somewhere in Cancun to share. We wolfed it all down, and while not quite authentic, my partner in crime waxed poetic about the food and how impressed he was. Eyes drooping, we return to the hotel, and quite literally, crashed.