Roaming Tokyo

It’s early morning and I’m crouched in a cavernous manga cafe just south east of Shinjuku station. They’ve got a deal before 10am where I can sit here and eat as much dodgy bread as I want, while throwing back instant espressos for 200 yen. It’s horrible, but also a pretty sweet deal. At the moment I’m just killing time waiting for Ruwan to finish his email marathon and then we’re going to attempt to walk along the Yamanote line from Shinjuku down to Harajuku and grab brekkie somewhere along the way.

Last night was typical insane Tokyo fair. We kicked off the evening with dinner at a rooftop food court in Kabuki-cho. We sat outside in the freezing wind and drank Okinawan spirits, snacked on samosas and made short work of a grilled fish and some Goya champloo – while the skyscrapers towered above. From there we trained back to the neon-lit canyons of Shibuya to check out the six storied Tower Records mega store that carries more obscure CDs and design books that pretty much any other store I’ve ever been in and that includes specialty bookstores. It’s a willpower sapping exercise walking up and down the aisles, and I think I did pretty well walking away with only a couple of CDs.

By this stage, we decided we needed to get some more drinking in but unfortunately were distracted by a sign that said, “Sweets Paradise. Cake. All you can eat. 90mins.” Daddy’s done a bad, bad thing. We rocked up at this place and the guy was all apologetic, “I’m so sorry, we’re closing in an hour. Is that okay?” Hell yes, we can do serious damage to your cake line-up in 15 minutes, let alone 60, let us in. This place was ridiculous: about 30 different kinds of cakes and desserts, soft serve, pasta, sandwiches and drink for just over a 1000 yen. Madness. At the end the guy came over and tried to make us take more cake home but by that stage I’d already decided that if I ever smelt cake again I’d probably vomit right then and there.

Finished the night at Gas Panic, that hive of scum and villainy where the only rules are that if you are not “holding a drink, drinking a drink or in the process of ordering a drink” you will be turfed right out onto the pavement. I had a moment of weakness and got a Fosters. It was bad, but not as bad as I remembered.

Right, off to stare at people dressed as french maids.

Posted in Japan on Sunday November 13, 2005.