I Think I'm Turning Japanese...I Really Think So

We leave New York on a Tuesday morning and arrive in Tokyo on Wednesday afternoon - having sacrificed sleep for films and a free bar. What immediately strikes us about Japan is the peaceful serenity, especially having come from the chaos of Rio and NYC.

Manners maketh Japan
The people are impeccably polite and the city is immaculately clean. Passengers sit in virtual silence on the ultra-efficient trains. Pedestrians walk on organised sides of the pavement. And, no one crosses the street without the green light's permission. Social etiquette reigns supreme - although exceptions to this rule include public displays of unecessarily loud throat clearing and slurping noodles like a spoon fed invalid.

We're staying in Asakusa - in what resembles a broom cupboard crammed with a child's bunk bed. On a positive note, it's opposite the Asahi brewery. Take me drunk, I'm home:)

Since we only have seven days here we decide to bide our time between Tokyo's cosmopolitan city and Kyoto's cultural heartland.

Tokyo
With only three words to speak of in our Japanese vocabulary, we assume negotiating the sprawling city will be more difficult than blowfish surgery. But, organisation is another hallmark etched deep into the Japanese psyche and we find the seamless metro system easier to navigate than its New York equivalent.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the labyrinth of nameless streets. We spend the first day getting lost in translation between old (Emperor's Imperial Gardens) and new (Dome City rollercoaster) sights.

Yo Sushi!
The day after, we rise earlier than the Eastern sun to visit Tokyo's Tsukiji fish market - where the entire city's seafood is auctioned before dawn. There is an ocean's worth of sea fare on display ranging from mammoth tuna to miniature moluscs. Strangely, since it's so fresh, there is no smell.

Eating raw fish is an unusual way to start the day. But, we order sushi that comes freshly prepared before us by Japan's answer to the muppet chef (it even arrives with kung-fu sound effects). As we lick soy sauce from our fingers we both agree that it's second only to an Argentinian steak as the finest meal we've tasted on our travels.

Clash of the titans
We're fortunate that it's sumo season and manage to reserve tickets for the Masters Tournament. Previously, I had dismissed this exhibition as being what happens when push comes to slap between two overweight men sporting extreme wedgies. But, I am enthralled from the first moment the stadium echoes with the sound of two heavyweight heads colliding.

The bouts usually only last a matter of seconds but the meticulous preparation that precedes them is equally intriguing - there's staring out, followed by some extravagant salt throwing, followed by more staring out... and then a lot of weight being thrown around. Somehow, my three words of Japanese manage to temporarily blag me a ringside seat while I'm illegally taking photos and I meet a Sumo Master who poses for a picture - his thong strap is wider than my waist!

Potentially wasted...or wasted potential?
Since the price of a beer is nearly ten pounds we buy a bottle of vodka to lubricate the financial cogs before a night out on the town. Flo later tells me she only manages to save three drinks before the bottle is drained...by some tall, dark and drunk dude!

During this time I manage to convince a group from our hotel to join us, deciding their fate with a cheated toss of a coin. They include an alcoholic Swede and two teeange girls - I later find out that one of their mothers is my age (I hope we've never met!). Vaguely remember arriving in the Rippongi district and drinking kindred spirits with the Swede in a high rise bar. Leaving is more hazy...

Apparently, I tried to breakdance in a lift. Fell 'up' a flight of stairs. And, insisted on having my picture taken with every passing Japanese local - they are all too polite to refuse me teaching them the 'Westside'. That's...how I roll:)

The next day, the camera's pictures paint a thousand slurred words. Nonetheless, we wake up with unusual enthusiasm and bound out of the hotel towards Harajuku, Tokyo's fashion district, where the style conscious meet to pose. We are, of course, still drunk and when reality bites the rest of the day is a struggle. I follow Jay's advice that eating a McDonalds in every country is a cultural experience but have two Happy Meals for breakfast and still feel sad:(

The Japanese have a unique and extraordinary sense of style - although some extremes, including an Ewardian goth wearing 10in heels and a girl dressed in a Godzilla jumpsuit, would send an immediate APB to our fashion police. There are streets upon streets of super cool shops, including a BAPE store that could be used as a set for a music video - but, with a traveler's budget and escalating headache, window shopping loses its appeal. We leave the city and take a faster than a speeding bullet train that passes beneath the shadow of Mount Fuji towards...

Kyoto
Beyond the bright lights and big city of modern Tokyo, Kyoto is how you might imagine traditional Japan. We even stay in an old school Ryokan guest house featuring near identical rooms with matted floors, paper walls and a maze of sliding doors - I get lost for fifteen minutes trying to find my way back from the bathroom.

Temple ball
Kyoto is possibly the temple and shrine capital of the world but time (and attention spans) restrict us to visiting only a few...

We feel all Zen wandering around the pristinely pruned gardens of Japan's oldest Budhist temple, Tenryu-Ji - where willow trees weep over an unbelievably still pond that's only occasionally broken by the colourful carp feeding from its surface. A path leads us through a creaking, emerald bamboo forest towards a river where martial artists unexpectedly strip down to excercise their moves in the freezing water. It feels like watching centuries gone by.

(We also see the famous Golden Pavillion, Kinkaku-Ji, although the Midas moment of the glistening pagoda set in front of a reflective lake is slightly lost with the arrival of hordes of camera flashing Japanese tourists - the irony is lost in their own country.)

And, finally, we visit Fushimi-Inari Taisha where we see locals paying their respects to a fat faced diety by ringing bells and tying prayer notes to sacred trees before we walk through a 4km tunnel constructed from bright orange bamboo posts bearing unknown inscriptions.

Monkey business
We climb a maple forrested mountain that's home to hundreds of Japanese macaque monkeys. There's a stunning view of the city from the peak and, in a twist from normal convention, we are invited into our own cage to feed the demanding monkeys from the inside. The only warning is, never look a macaque in the face...

On our return, my eyes unwittingly meet with an evil monkey who decides he is no primate of mine and literally goes ape shit - fixing me with wild eyes and a frightening show of teeth. This untamed madness is enough to freak me the fuck out and I have to wait ten minutes with my head bowed before he leaves his post on the path I want to cross.

Rock out with my cock out:)
Being this culturally enlightened and wildly intimidated is an exhausting experience but the perfect relaxation remedy awaits at a traditional 'onsen' bath in Kyoto's premier spa - featuring a series of naturally heated mineral pools and saunas set inside and outside a beautiful complex.

Being segregated from the girls should have warned me that everyone would be wandering about butt neked, but it's still a slightly embarrassing experience...for the locals at least - although my ego does shrivel after a dip in the freezing cold plunge pool:) However, despite being surounded by more pricks than a pin cushion, it's an incredibly reviving experience and we float home before sleeping like babies.

On our final day we encounter a catalogue of disappointments - it's too late to arrange a guide for the so-called ninja house, the manga museum is temporarily closed, our blind choice of food isn't what's expected in the Nishiki food market and, without the promised free drinks at a karaoke bar, Japan is spared my off-key singing. But, we find relief at the bottom of a warm bottle of sake in a corner of a cool restaurant and then wander the Geisha district of Gion, which includes SE Asia's most beautiful street.

Japan is world's apart from anywhere I have ever been - the juxtaposition of ancient history and modern innovation mixes an incredible cocktail that we could have spent sipping for several more weeks. Along with Argentina it's another place that I want to return to and could even imagine living - I think I'm turning Japanese...I really think so.

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