Again I struggle to get out of bed before midday. I'm angry with myself for this, but it has seriously been a case of not being physically capable rather than not being arsed. I'm hoping my body clock will have adjusted now.
Today I head off Asakusa, which is the most traditional part of the city and has temples and shit like that. I decide to take a river boat there from the south of the city (Asakusa is in the north east) so I can see more than I would on a train. And because boats are more fun.
After a 35 minute journey, which was very pleasant, I saunter around the traditional shops and markets of Asakusa. There are visibly more Western tourists here than in other parts of the city I've been to. It is all nice enough and made for some nice pictures. I head off back to the hotel earlier than I would have liked because of a rather pressing concern - I fly to Sydney tomorrow and I haven't sorted out anywhere to stay yet. As with having to read up on Tokyo whilst flying there, I just didn't have the time to look into it before I left. After freshening up, I catch the subway to Shinjuku - the busiest part of town where there are bound to be lots of internet cafes, I reason. Oh and it's where all Tokyo's gay bars are as well.
Shinjuku makes Shibuya (the place I went to last night) look like a sleepy Norfolk village by comparison. The sheer scale of the buildings, the endless shops, the bright lights that almost blind you - it almost has the effect of sending me into a trance. Eventually I find a coffee shop/bar with internet access restricted to one hour per person (free). Plenty of time to find somewhere suitable to stay, I assure myself. Hmmmm. A few internet searches don't throw up anything affordable other than in the drug and prostitution riddled area of Kings Cross in Sydney, which I'm not going to do on my first nights in the city (staying in the area I meant, not the oh you know what I etc etc). I resign myself to trying again in the morning after consulting Time Out.
I feel angry with myself for not organising basic things such as accommodation. My last day in Tokyo will now have to include stints in internet cafes booking hotels. Not why I came here.
In need of a drink now, I try to track down the handful of bars that constitutes Tokyo's gay scene. It would have been rude to come all this way and not say Konnichiwa, and there is always the chance somebody fit could be in there. After around half an hour of basically getting lost in the freezing cold, I throw a hissy fit to myself and decide to write off a disastrous evening and go back to the hotel. Then, as I'm heading towards the nearest Subway, I notice increasing numbers of rather dodgy and unattractive men passing me by on the pavement. I must have found it. Sure enough, I come across a cluster of around three or four bars with loud music pumping out and the rainbow flag in the window.
As I walk into the first bar - a tiny place with only room for about 15 people - I notice there is a Western looking guy sat on his own in the corner. Somebody to talk to, I hope to myself. Sure enough, after buying a drink, he comes over and we spend the next few hours getting royally drunk. I think it must have been the fact that I had only been having conversations with people in broken English for the past few days, as I just couldn't stop nattering away. It was good fun - transpires he is an Aussie stopping off in Japan on his way to a career break in England, which is of course the direct opposite to yours truly. We joke about how many pounds/dollars both of us would have for the number of people who had said to us before leaving: "You won't be coming back". I start to wonder why it is that so many people from the UK and Australia seem so keen to escape to the other country, why it is that the grass is always greener on the other side. Then Shaun (that was his name) said very firmly: "You're not coming back. Trust me."
"Why not? I've not even got there yet, how can you possibly make that prediction? It's pointless for me to even think about it," I reply (also thinking to myself how on earth he would know that after only spending enough time in my company to have a few beers)
"Because I've lived abroad. I taught English here in Japan for two years of my life. And although you're working, you're still in another country. It feels like a holiday. It is still better than the mundane shit you have to put up with at home. Why would you want to go back to that?"
He described my life at home as mundane without me even asking what it is I do. Either I give that impression naturally or we are all stuck in a rut that it takes drastic action to break out of. We shook hands, wished each other well, and went our separate ways. By now I was shit faced and cursing myself for getting so drunk the night before checking out of the hotel.
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