Tokyo: Dancing In The Street

Tokyo. It's just insane. There are more than 12 million people stuffed in this sprawling silver city. A quarter of these tetris themselves into the metro every day. The metro system, by the way, leaves the London, Paris and New York subways in its dust, especially when it comes to smell. You can find literally anything in shops; try Nyan Nyan Nouveau, the choice wine of Japanese cats. It's still argued that a legal technicality has left Kyoto the capital of Japan, but in reality there's no doubt that the anagram city is where it's at. 

Maddy and I watched the white winter landscape melt away as our train sped clear of Kanazawa. An unexpected bonus arrived in the iconic form of Mount Fuji. The conical peak put me strongly in mind of Mount Doom, NZ. I shall come back and hike you, Mount Fuji. One day. 

Tokyo greeted us with an aggressive display of subway stairs. Hobbling out of our hostel, we headed straight to Asakusa to visit Senso-Ji. The wing-edged temple - brightly lit, featuring huge red lanterns - would have looked quite at home on a Kyoto street corner. We grabbed dinner at a Thai restaurant down the street before returning to the hostel for delicious free plum wine. 

Sunday was a huge, twelve-hour touristing day. We started by admiring the hugely moated Imperial Park, where there was some sort of fun run happening. We saw short shorts aplenty but hardly any Imperial Palace as it's open to the public a grand total of two days a year. 

Yoyogi Park gave us a greater variety of entertainment. On entering the park, we saw a poodle wearing yellow sunnies, a pink and yellow bobbly woolen hat and coat. A nearby flock of girls shrieked "Kawaii!", checking off a square in my Japan bingo. We dodged yet another fun run, which appeared to require its participants to run around in pairs holding a piece of string between them. Best of all, there were little groups dancing in sync scattered through the park. I don't know what it is about Sundays, but they seem to bring the dancers out into the open. How many teenage boys do you see NSYNC-style dancing in Melbourne's public places? We need to encourage this. 

Meiji Shrine waited at the end of a torii-heavy loop trail next to the park. Here rests the enshrined soul of Emperor Meiji (d. 1912). According to information signs, Emperor Meiji is strongly associated with peace and tranquility. His particular interests included Western culture, poetry and nation-building. 

Parked out, we were ready for a change of pace - so off we hopped to Harajuku, where outrageous fashion reigns supreme. We got there just in time to join Tokyo's hot young things on the sardine-packed main street. Oxford Street has nothing on this, not on Boxing Day, not ever. It was like the Great Flood in people form. Maddy and I joined the procession and watched people gradually filter away to join endless queues for cafes such as Sunday Jam (only open Sundays) and a place that appeared to sell nothing but popcorn. I had to drag Maddy kicking from that one. The clothes people wore were fantastic, especially the cosplay girls and Jack Sparrow. 

Ducking down a side street, we discovered a million Dangerfield-style boutiques. Window shopping happened until we stumbled across the heaving Takeshita Street, an arcade absolutely stuffed with people spruiking things with giant signs, party horns, animal masks, blue hair, shiny massive pigtails, pink puffy dresses and knee socks, all chanting away in high pitched voices. We fought our way back to the main street and passed a shop called Skin Food. Someone pointed out the free champagne on offer, and in the door I went. Meanwhile, Maddy found herself a green smoothie. We were both rather pleased with ourselves. 

Happy to have survived Harajuku, we walked down the street to Shibuya Crossing, that big neon intersection from Lost In Translation. Weaving our way Starbucksward, we were two of the estimated 2500 who start walking each time the green man pops up. We sat on the second level with a coffee and looked out over the flashing, blaring intersection. 

When we'd had enough, we caught a subway to Shinjuku and walked endless passageways to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Office building. We caught a lift to the 45th floor of the South Tower to look out over the city at sunset, then swapped to the North Tower once the city lights had sprung to life. Snowcapped Fuji propped up the horizon. 

Afterwards, over in Shinjuku East, we were easily persuaded to repeat our Kyoto karaoke experience, and had a crack at some Abba, Britney, Geri, Queen and Blondie: good times. Dinner was soup, then it was back to Shibuya Crossing for a nighttime viewing. It was exactly as Sofia Copolla would have you imagine. And then we lurched home and to bed. 

With Monday came the realization that we might have overdone it. I'd developed the sort of energy-sucking cold that makes cottonwool of your brain, and Maddy had come up in hives. Maybe all those people wearing masks had a point...

But we weren't about to let such things stop us! This was our final full day in Japan, after all. We dragged our sorry selves to Tsukiji Fish Market - no 5am tuna auctions to be had in winter - and found it pungent as promised. Boxes sprouted fish tails, and bright red tentacles oozed in crates. I bought up big on Christmas presents for the family, oh yes, I did. 

From fish to something fancier. We went upmarket to Ginza, home of Gucci, Chanel and all the usual suspects. Here we found shops selling everything from bonsai trees to 'bonbon fromage', little cheese sweets wreathed in all the finery that velvet and blaring classical music could bestow. Ginza is all about excess. It seems to have pinched little bits from all over Europe: Tudor frontage from England, department stores direct from Paris, and iron lampposts from Narnia. Having greatly enjoyed the stylistic oddities and bizarre window displays, Maddy and I took a lunch break at an Indian restaurant.

Stuffed full of vegetarian curry, we took the subway to Akihabara, electronics super centre of Tokyo. Almost immediately we found ourselves in a department store exploding with wall upon wall of computer cables, headphones, clocks, matchbox cars, non-Barbie Barbies, high-tech cameras, puzzles, unicycles... I bought a new iPhone cover from a standard electronics counter employee: male with white shirt, black-trimmed grey vest and hipster glasses. They've got the professional geek look sorted. Maurice Moss would fit right in. 

Both of us were lagging by this point, so we ducked home for a brief rest, during which I managed to drive a splinter right into my heel. Cue bonding times. While I lay on my stomach on the floor, Maddy did her best to dig the splinter out with my incredibly blunt eyebrow tweezers. Goodbye, remaining dignity. And then, because giving up is for lesser mortals, I forced Maddy to tourist through Ueno Park with me. It was pitch black and unappetizingly freezing. 

On the whole, Maddy and I were ideal travel companions. We liked to do and eat the same sorts of things; Maddy agreed to snap photos of me all day long; I occasionally stopped mocking Maddy's sweet potato obsession. We barely bickered. All in all, Maddy put up with me remarkably well. But our conversation on the way to Ueno Park exposed some minor cracks in Maddy's patience:

Maddy: Ugh, now my back is going.
Me: Where's it going?
Maddy: Up your face.

She loves me, really. 

Ueno Park was not fabulous. Its idea of a lake is apparently a watery field of bristly pond rush. There wasn't a lot to see in the dark. We quickly abandoned it in favour of Roppongi, home of the coolest light display since Hiroshima. There was a massive open space carpeted with twinkly blue lights and the occasional light-spangled arch. Behind this space were trees tangled in wires. Everything was set up to deliver an incredibly atmospheric light performance. We watched it several times from different angles: magic! We followed this up with dinner back in the Roppongi department store. Vietnamese noodle salad continued our little Tokyo game of avoiding rice for more than one meal a day. 

And then Tuesday barged in to end our trip. Ignoring my stupid cold, I went for a run in Ueno Park to see if it looked any better by daylight: not really. Maddy gave me her hives as a parting gift, so I shoved her on an airport-bound train with all due love and appreciation. (No wuckers!) As I had a later flight, I decided to make the most of my last few hours in Tokyo. Time for a trip to Nakano Broadway, home of the otaku (giant nerds). Nakano delivered everything I was looking for, namely shops selling manga, anime, figurines, cosplay costumes, video games, school uniforms, pop star paraphernalia, and more. I couldn't read anything in the manga section for obvious reasons, but I did find Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman in manga form which felt like a victory. 

I then decided to head back to Shibuya Crossing for one final glimpse of the Tokyo spectacle. Having spent my last 500 yen on a sushi triangle and coffee, I pulled up a seat on the second floor of Starbucks and people watched. The crossing offered plenty of entertainment. Buses drove by every so often, blasting the latest from the band plastered to their sides. A particularly memorable set of three women marched across the intersection in heels, miniature Santa hat fascinators and red-with-white-trim minidresses with three white fluffy bobbles down the front. Tokyo fashion is like following Alice through to Wonderland. Outfits that would get you ruthlessly mocked in Melbourne don't even earn a passing glance. Wearing pigtails, frilly pink princess dresses, white tights and pearly pink ballet slippers is not unusual and certainly not creative, hardly Claudia Kishi material.

I want to dress like these women. Two skirt lengths are acceptable: crotch-grazing mini or low calf. Makeup is key. Accessories are the key source of individual style. Each crossing contained tights and berets of all colours, bows galore, heels all round, maybe some fluffy earmuffs or a vastly unnecessary parasol, school girl bowties, fabulous hats... It was hard not to buy one of everything. 

With great difficulty, I dragged myself away and onto the JR train line. Finishing our trip with Tokyo gave us a broader vision of Japan, from glorious autumnal colours to futuristic cityscape. Tokyo easily makes it onto the list of my top five tourist destinations in Japan, along with Miyajima, Hiroshima Peace Park, Mount Koya and Fushimi Inari Shrine. There's no order of awesomeness. There's no point. If you're planning a trip to Japan, just do your best to get to each of the above, and you'll get my all-important nod of approval. 

Wherever you go, you'll find it impossible to get permanently lost due to the kindness of strangers, you'll be knocked over by natural beauty and fashion alike, and you'll eat stupid amounts of rice. It's been unbelievable. Time to put on some purple tights, find me a pair of lace bunny ears and hop continents.