Japan: Tokyo: Where are you going, where have you been?

Lonely Planet writes that Japan basically said, "We'll take you're technology, but we're keeping everything else."  Yes, there are convenience stores stuffed between wooden buildings, and Starbucks next to temples and shrines.  And some shopping areas are so intense you might as well be on Park Avenue.  However--when you really get down to it--Japan in uncannily Japanese.  It's what everyone's been talking about when they tell me they've experienced a "backwards culture".  It's not that there's anything wrong with it at all, it's just truly different than the one you know.  I've been in Korea for almost four months now, and it wasn't until I landed in Tokyo that I was reminded that I was on the other side of the world.  

I already wrote about my first day in Tokyo, and the last day there I took an easy day-trip to Yokohama before heading out to Kyoto on the overnight bus.  Inbetween though, Tokyo truly has everything:  the shopping is truly unlimited, the shops sell just about anything you could ever want, there's sushi, there's sake, and an endless choice of spectacular views.  Needless to say, it's easy to get lost.  In search of one of these views, I got very lost.  I thought at one point I was headed west, but looking at a map I realized I had not even been close.  A man came up in broken English and offered help, and I was so incredibly relieved.  We got to talking--he is a grandfather of two, and visited the states two times.  I told him I lived in Korea.  Moments later I was not back at the subway like he promised but instead in Japan's Koreatown.  He wanted me to help him order food.  In Korean.  After helping him order some kimbab he more or less just shuffled away.  One of the phrases I learned in Japanese was "doko", which means "where", and it was the only word I could muster as I watched him walk away.  Where are you going?  Where have you been?

Still unsure of any direction, I moved on.  I was again approached by a man.  This one was a bit younger, maybe in his late 20's, and had wild hair.  He was holding a plastic bag with plastic things in it, beat up sandals, cut-off sweatpants and a tank top, and I wondered if he was homelesss.  He spoke English really well.  He asked a bunch of questions as he led me to the government building, but he made a lot of sounds too.

"What's uhhhhhhhhhh mm.  What's your, uhm, name-uh? Eh?"

I would answer.

"Okay okay.  Mm. Hap.  This way.  We go mm?"

I would try some encouraging affirmation, to which he would unfailingly reply, "Okay okay."

If I hadn't run into two helpful Germans I'm not sure what he had been expecting of me, but I was able to attach myself to these perfect strangers and enter the building just fine.  He stood waving for a few minutes and although I was glad to be left alone, I was sad I would never see him again, never know where he was coming from, or where he was going with all that plastic.

In my time in Tokyo I tried some odd desserts, I explored some temples, I bought a MarioKart shirt, visited the Tsukiji Fish Market, joined an anti-nukes protest in response to their decision to rebuild the powerplant that had caused a nuclear disaster, and visited the Imperial Palace.   I hyper-ventilated in Shibuya Crossing where 100,000 people cross through every hour. I went karaoking all night with fifteen new friends and watched the sun rise over Tokyo with one good one.  I had really good sushi and really bad coffee.  It was my first time truly travelling alone, and I loved every minute of it.  I was free to try whatever I wanted, to change plans in an instant, and to meet new people with an open heart and mind.  I met some amazing people in Tokyo.  The beauty of meeting other travellers is that they are all open to experience, adventure, and people as well.  Where are you from, where are you going...by the way, how did you get there?  They emphathize with your stories of set-backs and they appreciate and applaud your accomplishments.  I've never completely in my element while in one place, and so it was when I was transient that I really felt at home.