For my very first Korean visa run the Huddy and I decided to go to Japan: land of sushi, sake, and anime. But before we could enjoy all that Tokyo has to offer, we had to get there. And things got off to a rocky start. Dealing with small hiccups while traveling is something we have all had to endure. On this particular trip, our case of the hiccups lasted for two days.
It all started when we arrived at Incheon International Airport in Seoul and the AirAsia check-in counter was inexplicably closed until less than an hour before the flight. The line was long and full of sleepy, grumpy people by the time it started moving. I was one of them. When we finally made it up, they had no record of our our prepaid baggage fee. We stood with frustrations silently growing as various ladies in bright red suits rushed around behind the counter whipping foreign words and papers between them. If I hadn’t stopped to grab some McDonald’s breakfast on our way in I would have been hangry enough to eat one of them.
After several minutes of this we were informed that our one shared bag will cost $30 to check, double the fee we had already paid online. Resigning ourselves to this choiceless fate, we were then informed that as an alien, Hudson needed to show his Alien Registration Card. As he didn’t bring it with him we had to haul ass to the immigration office to pay $1 for them to print out a copy, then ran back to the counter. With his ID sorted, he went to use his credit card to pay the duplicate baggage fee only to learn that there was a hold on it for “suspicious activity.” Without time to worry about this we ran back to an ATM and back to the counter again. This time I was told my visa was expired. With an exaggerated sigh, I pointed to the visa extension sticker located immediately adjacent to my original visa. We gruffly grabbed our boarding passes from the curt attendant and booked it to security. We now had just twenty minutes to make our flight. In America, this would be impossible. Luckily, Incheon being the amazing airport that it is, we were through security and immigration in just fifteen minutes.
By 2pm we had finally landed in Tokyo. Unfortunately, our bag had not. We were informed that due to our late check-in it wouldn’t be arriving until 8:20 that night. Insert increasingly exaggerated sigh here.
Not wanting to waste an entire day in the airport we asked about delivery options. The AirAsia lady informed us that it could be delivered by tomorrow evening, but we would be responsible for the delivery costs, which she could not quote us, nor guarantee a time. With a hostel already booked in Mt Fuji for the next day we resigned ourselves to each spending the $50 round-trip to come back early in the morning to pick it up. With cheap airlines, we learned, you get exactly what you pay for. I was beyond thankful I had at least showered and worn a cute outfit on the plane instead of my usual uniform of pajamas, hoodie, and a dirty ponytail.
After filling out a mess of customs and lost luggage forms and buying our tickets on the Keisei Express Train (¥2400 one way), we got to the very lovely and easily accessible E-Hotel Higashi-Shinjuku at around 4:30. We showered, regrouped, re-donned our dirty clothes and finally made our way out to explore the city.
why isn't anyone drifting?
Knowing we could only just barely dip our toes into this vast Metropolis in four days, we started in Shinjuku. This is the neighborhood everyone will tell you to stay in, and they are right. Every street is lined with bright lights, bars, restaurants, and lots of hookers as well, if you’re into that sort of thing. We were amazed by all the incredibly effeminate emo-punk dudes with teased and bleached hair wandering around with sexy sad looks on their faces and uncomfortably tight pants.
We later learned that they were walking bait to attract girls into one of the many male sex clubs in the area. We refrained from investigating further. Instead we tucked into a little Japanese/Italian place with a ¥360 happy hour special on wine. We munched on a spectacular smoked salmon and avocado salad and chatted with the bartender over the cheap, delicious vino.
Ready to explore some more, we of course we chose the exact wrong moment to leave the bar and were immediately trapped in a thunderous, sweeping, relentless rain. We ducked beneath a covered patio to wait it out and watch the drenched hookers wander past. After a few minutes we decided our best bet was to run into the nearest place to get some drinks and dinner. We ended up in a restaurant where not a word of English was spoken. I saw what I assumed was shabu-shabu on the menu and pointed to a picture of sliced beef next to what looked like a bowl of broth.
When the soup arrived we found ourselves confusedly staring at a bowl of hot water and five slices of raw beef on the side. No vegetables, no noodles, no yummy broth smell. We pushed the button to bring the server and tried to point at vegetables and noodles. His shaking head said nope again and again as I tried pointing at different options. Eventually he decided to help me, flipped over the menu and pointed to the noodles and veggies we were allowed to order. Thanks dude. Those crazy Americans just like to eat beef in hot water, I guess. Feeling more rewarded for having struggled through the lack of communication for some authentic shabu-shabu we slurped our soup straight from the bowl warming up and drying off with each sip.
that's more like it
Continuing on around the neighborhood two out of every three places named bar-something looked suspiciously like whore houses and we decided to keep going. The best part about Shinjuku is you can walk everywhere without having any idea where you are going. Without a map we played by the rule to go the most visually stimulating direction at every intersection. Eventually we found ourselves tempted by a hidden alley, more intriguing than stimulating. Walking down we found a row of little basement and standing-only bars. We decided to duck into the tiny and packed Champion Bar. Making fast friends with a group of Japanese guys we spent the rest of the night chatting, drinking whiskey, and singing Karaoke with the lively group. Note to karaoke singers: Green Day’s “Minority” is never a good choice.
Properly drunk and satisfied with our first taste of Tokyo nightlife, we winded our way back to the hotel knowing we had a long day of planes, trains, and automobiles to come. We knew there were more frustrations and wasted hours ahead of us, but when traveling it’s important to keep the one most important thing in perspective: you made it. I could have spent all four days in Tokyo in that same dirty outfit and had the same spectacular time.
Stay tuned for Tokyo Day 2!
