#mandala #flashweek #finallyjapan #tokyohousetattoo #alepicchi #saocarlos #sptattoo (em Tokyo house Tattoo) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1z9f-kgXrk/?igshid=105vp2vy2d9d7
We hit the tarmac 25 minutes ahead of schedule. Narita airport is fairly small, it is the older of the two airports in Tokyo. Customs was a breeze, and exchanging money was painless. Sprint cell phones do not work in Japan, though AT&T does. However, it's very expensive to do an international plan and coverage is spotty. Instead we rented a portable wifi hotspot. LTE baby!
Our dear friend Evan took a train all the way to the airport just to help us with the first few hurdles of being in a country where all the writing is...let's say cryptic. We hopped back on the train and made our way into Tokyo.
It turns out Narita is about an hour from Tokyo, or at least the part of Tokyo that Evan and Rachel live. I don't know how to explain this, but I wasn't expecting Japan to be so...”Japanese” so quickly. That doesn't make much sense, does it?
What I mean is this: we get to the airport and into the train terminal, all pretty consistent with the rest of the modern world. Sure, the language is obviously not the same, but an airport is an airport, and a train is a train. But as soon as the train came out of the tunnel into the open sky, it was like “BOOM – WELCOME TO JAPAN.” As far as the eye could see, rice paddies stretched into the distance, sliced into rectangular plots by elevated roads where people were bicycling. Dotting the landscape were houses with asymmetrical roofs made of terracotta. It was distinctly other. It was amazing.
The ride to the city was uneventful which suited us perfectly. As much as I can survive with little sleep, that doesn't mean I'm good at it, and by this point we'd been awake for 19 hours and our bodies felt like it was nearly 4 AM. The walk from the station took only 10 minutes, through which I spent the entire time grilling Evan about cultural queues and customs. “I read that people never jay walk, is that true?” “Do you smile at strangers?” “What do I say to shop owners when they greet you?” Evan answered all my questions and dispelled a lot of well-meaning, but inaccurate tips from our guidebooks.
“No, it's a city like any other, people jaywalk all the time.”
“Its a culture where you ignore strangers, nobody really smiles, though you might get stared at.”
“Nothing, they say it to everyone but they don't expect a response. You'll hear it a million times before this trip is over.”
We dropped our stuff at their apartment, met up with Rachel, freshened up, then headed out to dinner. The walk to the restaurant took us to through some of the most ridiculously picturesque Japanese neighborhoods, it was a bit mind blowing. It is hard to explain exactly how it is different, but sufficed to say, it is nothing like your Boston brownstones, or any block of of New York. I'll be adding pictures soon, maybe it will be more clear. In the 15-20 minutes it took us to walk, we passed by three shrines, 2 shopping districts, and a half dozen 7-11's. Oh, we also managed to see THREE sumo wrestlers.
No, I'm not joking. Apparently the neighborhood that Rachel and Evan live hosts a lot of sumo. Rachel assures me this isn't typical of all Japan, but I'm choosing to believe she's wrong. We've seen Sumo 100% of the days we have been here so far. :)
This is getting long, I really need an editor. No pictures from the first night, I didn't want the hassle while trying to stave off passing out. Stay tuned for a brief rundown of dinner, salarymen and our first night out.
