While searching for weekend activities, I had stumbled upon a weekly pub crawl that seemed promising, not least of which because it caters to English-speaking folks. This particular weekend’s crawl was in Roppongi, a district known for its nightlife. The crawl had the usual free shots, drink specials, and icebreaker games as we bounced among a few nearby bars. Andrew and I really enjoyed meeting and talking to a lot of people with wildly varying backgrounds but who all call Tokyo home. After the official crawl was over, we continued barhopping with some new friends until the early hours, mostly at Mistral Bleu Train Bar, where the music was supplied by the hundreds of rock CDs that lined several shelves of the bar. The bartender was also a joy to talk to since she knew American and British rock very well, especially a lot of the music I grew up with.

On Saturday, we took the train to an incredibly crowded and steamy Harajuku station so that we could check out the Cinco de Mayo festival. We walked around briefly and didn’t stay long (and ended up getting Mexican food from a local restaurant instead), but we did spend a while exploring nearby Meiji Shrine and Yoyogi Park, one of the largest parks in Tokyo. The park is an expansive sprawl of beautiful forest and the largest walking paths and torii (Japanese gates) I’ve ever seen; I swear this park was built for giants. Most people we saw were out for a walk or sightseeing or visiting the temple. I don’t remember seeing anyone exercising or playing sports, but we did pass quite a few archers who had finished shooting just before we arrived and were heading home.

To kick off Saturday night, we started with Popeye brewpub, a recommendation from Andrew’s father when he visited Tokyo. It was completely packed when we got there and they managed to squeeze us in, but then began the game of musical chairs: first standing at a barrel table on the steps, then upgraded to another barrel table further up the steps, then crammed into an alcove at a tiny table, then upgraded to a prime spot on the front patio. We had several excellent craft beers and a decent amount of free food (a perk of ordering specific beers at happy hour), which turned out to be our dinner. Popeye is in Ryogoku, the neighborhood at the center of the sumo universe; as we were sitting on the patio, we exchanged peace signs with a sumo wrestler who walked by and looked somewhat longingly at all the beer and food.

After Popeye’s, we went back to Roppongi and progressed through our fine-tuned, scientific methodology of finding a bar. Truth be told, we wandered for a long time (no one said this approach was perfect), to the point that we passed the same prostitute den mother multiple times. Eventually we found what we wanted: a pleasant karaoke lounge with darts, a nice bartender, a dancing PSY doll on the bar, and a group of friendly Japanese girls, one of whom could speak English pretty well. Fast forward many hours through lots of darts games and karaoke and it was another solid night. Brushing up on our J-pop knowledge that night in Hakone, if only for namedropping purposes, paid dividends.

Sunday was sobering, both in a let’s-not-drink-anymore sense and also a we’re-leaving-Asia-tomorrow sense. After a late start, we went to Ginza – a district known for its very high-end shopping – for a solid Indian buffet lunch and a few trips to some interesting local stores. Our main reason for going to Ginza was to visit one of the lesser-known museums there and we settled on Advertising Museum Tokyo, which showcases exactly what you’d expect: advertising. It was incredibly interesting, covering everything from Edo-era store signs to modern commercials to some of the most artistic, successful, or fascinating international ad campaigns of recent memory. Highly recommended. And it’s free!

That evening we went back to Golden Gai to get our fix of closet bars, as that felt like the only appropriate way to end the trip. Our spot from earlier in the week was full (i.e. there were six people in there) so we drank at the fantastically-named “Kangaroo Court Decision” and then an upstairs bar catering to backpackers. After chatting with the well-traveled bartenders there for a couple hours, we decided that it was time to wrap it up and head back.

Appropriately, the next day was dreary and rainy as we walked through the streets and hopped a couple trains to get to the airport. Andrew and I had separate flights, so we said our goodbyes and I found myself as a solo traveler once again. For the second time in nine months, I sat in quiet sadness as I crossed the inky expanse of the Pacific Ocean. As was the case the previous July, I was excited about what lay ahead of me, but I already missed what I was leaving behind.

I’ll have to write down my thoughts about my trip as a whole later, but for now, I’ll make some observations about Japan. Presented in no particular order:

• Japanese people dress very well (and fashionably) pretty much all the time. As a general rule, if a Japanese person is out of their home, they’re looking good. For instance, when we were walking through the bamboo grove in Kyoto, we saw multiple girls prancing around in short skirts and heels. In a grove! Not that I’m complaining, of course. Obviously most of my empirical evidence comes from looking at Japanese women, but the guys are well put-together too; some of them clearly spend a lot of time on their hair alone.
• Public transportation in Japan (just like in Hong Kong) is surgical. It was eye-opening to experience well-run, clean, and frequent rail travel everywhere we went. It also helps that, and there’s no delicate way of putting this, the riffraff that makes public transportation in America (especially San Francisco) less desirable just doesn’t exist in Japan. Or Hong Kong. Or anywhere else in Asia I spent time in. I don’t have an explanation for any of this, but clearly Asia’s doing something right (or secretive).
• Japan was probably the most difficult place to travel. English isn’t big in Japan like the other countries I went to, partially because Japanese culture tries to stay well-insulated and partially because they don’t need to cater to tourists. Seafood plays a huge role in Japanese food, so purely vegetarian food was also tricky to find. I very much understand the reasons why, so I’m not complaining. Neither of these obstacles are deal-breakers, but they do force me to do more research and have more patience.
• Japanese people can be shy about speaking English in public because they might get self-conscious about attempting something they aren’t skilled at. We found the bar scene to be a huge exception to this rule; we met a lot of locals that were very eager to talk to us, even if they barely spoke English.
• Trains of all varieties were deathly quiet. I very much appreciated not hearing conversations or one-sided phone calls.
• Certain transit workers would perform what I’d call politeness or safety rituals. For instance, the stewardesses and conductors on the shinkansen would stop and bow to the car upon entering or exiting. One of the bus drivers in Hakone would point in four different directions before pulling away from each bus stop (which reminded me a bit of the New York subway sign-pointing gag).

I’m certainly not obsessed with Japanese culture (as some Westerners are), but I’ve always found it intriguing and finally visiting the source did not disappoint. Our time there was enlightening and entertaining.

Finally, I have to express my thanks to Andrew for pulling the trigger on a plane ticket so quickly and accompanying me for three weeks. It was certainly nice to share costs for lodging, but more importantly, it made a huge difference to have a travel, drinking, food, and shenanigans buddy. I know he will read this post at some point, so, Andrew, here’s a collection of our favorite Japanese signs and inside jokes:

After searching online through a large selection of accommodations including hotels, resorts, Airbnb, and Buddhist temples, we settled on a reasonably priced ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn. Our ryokan also had an onsen onsite, which was practically a requirement for me. An onsen is a natural hot spring; Japan is a volcanically active country, so there are lots of places where the ground water is naturally heated to (or above) hot tub temperatures. The water in an onsen is also a bit murky as a result of all the natural minerals and sediment. Since we stayed at the ryokan mid-week, we were the only guests for most of our time there, which meant we had exclusive access to the onsen whenever we wanted. In a word: delightful.

Our room was of the traditional style: shoji, tatami mats, and simple pillows and cushions on the floor for sleeping. Whenever we were staying in the ryokan for a little while (sleeping, eating breakfast, or relaxing in the onsen), we’d rock the robes and slippers for maximum comfort. Breakfast was prepared by the lovely owners and thankfully mostly vegetarian. We were served while seated on the floor in a private room with hot tea and a heater, which was much appreciated on the slightly chilly mornings.

The day we arrived was dreary and rainy, so after checking in, we didn’t accomplish much beyond making a trip to the grocery store across the street for some snacks and adult beverages and soaking in the onsen for a while. Hakone mostly shuts down at 8:30, so after grabbing some Italian food at a nearby restaurant, we were stuck with not much to do. Between the pre-stocked refrigerator in the room and our grocery purchases in the afternoon, we were adequately supplied with sake and Japanese beer, so we decided to party it up in the room while watching Lost in Translation. Yup, super cliche. It had been a while since either of us had seen the movie and we were pleasantly surprised to see how much more of it we recognized and appreciated.

The next day’s weather was much nicer, so we set out to hike up Mt. Kintoki, one of the peaks of the Hakone caldera and, more importantly, the closest trek to our ryokan. It was moderately difficult and all uphill, but luckily the weather was cool and cloudy. We saw a few friendly Japanese folks on the trail and about an hour and a half after we started, we arrived at the foggy, wet, cold summit. On a clear day, Mt. Fuji is clearly visible, but we had to settle for fleeting glimpses in between the dense clouds as we sipped hot chocolate and coffee in the small cabin at the top. I was annoyed that I had hauled my camera all that way only to be thwarted by a whiteout, so we made sure to take some photos with the summit’s elevation marker. And an axe, because, hey, why not, right?

For the rest of the day, we took advantage of our 3-day transit pass and rode various modes of transport, a common tourist activity in Hakone. Between the bus, train, funicular, and ropeway, we got to see a lot of the countryside and its mountains, trees, gorges, and rivers. Parts of Hakone are incredibly green and lush and I was reminded of Ithaca on multiple occasions. The ropeway took us over Owakudani (“Great Boiling Valley”), a volcanic area with many steaming sulfur springs. Tourists are advised not to stay too long there because of the poisonous air.

While we were there, we tried some of the famous black eggs; the shells turn black as a result of boiling the eggs in sulfurous water. The insides taste like… egg. Andrew opted to break one of his eggs on his forehead, much to the delight of some onlooking Japanese tourists.

After taking the ropeway and a bus back to our ryokan and soaking in the hot water for a while, we walked down the street to a small strip of three restaurants and decided to press our luck with the Japanese one (the other two were some variety of European). As luck would have it, they had an English menu and a specialty plate of veggie sushi, which would be the only sushi we had during the entire trip.

As we were finishing our drinks after dinner, the drunk, middle-aged woman we had previously noticed sitting at the bar walked over to our table, smiled, and in slow, deliberate, struggling English, said to us: “I… hate… America.” Not sure how to respond, Andrew and I looked at each other and laughed. Very quickly, our waitress came over and ushered the woman out the door. To this day, I’m still not sure if that woman was being politely hateful or didn’t know we were American or just didn’t know what she was saying. It was the only anti-American sentiment either of us noticed during our time in Japan, but I’m still not sure if it was genuine or a terrible mistake. In any case, we didn’t let it get to us since we were more confused than insulted. If anything, it made me wonder if the older Japanese generations still harbor anti-American feelings, if only behind closed doors. As we left the restaurant and walked down the street, we glanced in the window of the restaurant next door and saw the middle-aged woman hitting the sauce at the bar inside, which was good for a laugh.

With nothing else to do and nowhere to go, we cracked open a laptop again and polished off the rest of the beer and sake; thank god our ryokan had Internet access. On this night, we entertained ourselves with J-pop videos in the name of being culturally educated for our next trip to a karaoke bar. After listening to more J-pop than I care to admit to, I’m still not a fan as it’s just too cloyingly girly and cutesy. However, I did find a male J-pop song that’s legitimately good; I find myself listening to it regularly even now that I’m back in the States.

After another night on tatami mats and another traditional breakfast, we packed up our things, caught the bus to the train station, and took the “romance car” (not joking) back to Tokyo for our last weekend in Asia.

That evening, we hunted down one of the restaurants on the map, had an excellent dinner, then went out in search of some live music. Some research on Timeout led us to O-Nest, a two-floor music venue and bar. There were four indie acts of varying talent, including a man who looped the sound of his own voice (with no actual music) in a strange piece of performance art. The Japanese folks in the crowd laughed a lot at whatever he was saying, so I guess it couldn’t have been that bad. A pleasant side-effect of going to this venue is that the closest train station is next to Shibuya’s scramble crossing, one of the busiest pedestrian intersections in the world. It’s not uncommon for tourists to grab a table at one of the local businesses (e.g. Starbucks) and people-watch the crossing. We spent a few minutes enjoying the neon lights and bustling crowds before heading home.

We rose early the next morning to catch sight of one of the really unique aspects of Japanese culture: sumo. There are tournaments three times a year and unfortunately our trip didn’t coincide with any of them, but there was an open practice scheduled, which turned out to be entertaining and enlightening in its own right. The practice was at the same stadium as the tournaments and even though we arrived only shortly after it began, the only seats available were in the upper sections. While the action below was fascinating, it was also interesting to see what kind of crowd came to a Tuesday morning practice. I had figured it would be almost entirely older men, but they were only a fraction of the spectators. Families, school children, professionals, and teenagers escaped from school or work to watch the practice. I think the big appeal is that the practices are free to attend and people can still see the wrestlers, watch some matches, sit in the stadium, and enjoy some of the traditions and rituals.

Through some protocol that I didn’t quite pick up on, the wrestlers would determine amongst themselves who would fight the winner of the previous match. They would wrestle for several rounds until the loser decided he had had enough and another competitor would step in. The wrestlers not participating in the current match would either stand off to the side to stretch and stomp or stand around the ring to break up the wrestlers should emotions run too high.

When the wrestlers weren’t facing off in matches, they were engaging in a brute-force-style practice whereby one wrestler (who I’ll call the “defense”) would brace his body and hold it steady while another wrestler (the “offense”) would try to push him across the entire ring. The defense locks his back leg and lets his feet slide across the dirt while the offense pushes. It’s similar to American football players pushing the sled in their practices. Each offensive wrestler would go about four full-ring pushes, then tap out with a funny sideways roll in the dirt. A few times, the offensive wrestler, clearly exhausted, would have a lot of trouble reaching four pushes, at which point there was a semi-humorous public shaming ritual whereby the offensive player would get on all fours and the defensive player would flip him over onto his back via a light kick to the side. (You can see this in one of the photos below.) Whenever this happened, the crowd would liven up and cheer on the wrestler until he could muster up the strength and energy to finish out his pushes.

After the practice was over, we walked outside to the front of the stadium and contemplated our next move, while noticing a lot of people were congregating next to the main stairs. After a couple minutes, some of the wrestlers started appearing in their street clothes and walked through the crowd, stopping every few seconds to pose for pictures or sign an autograph. No smiles from the wrestlers though, which you could chalk up to sumo culture or sheer exhaustion. It was really interesting to see the orderliness and politeness of the crowd, especially given that there were no real barricades and only a couple security officers. After the wrestlers made their way through the crowd to the street, they casually walked home, hysterically conspicuous given their traditional clothes and massive stature. In fact, we inadvertently followed one for a block or two on our way back to one of the nearby train stations.

Our next stop was Akihabara, a district known for its otaku (roughly translated as “geek” or “nerd”) and its businesses catering to such types, such as IT malls, arcades, and maid cafes. After wandering around the neighborhood for a bit and doing some window-shopping, we decided to partake in the culture and visit one of the maid cafes. On paper, the idea of a maid cafe definitely seems geared towards lonely and/or nerdy guys (of all ages), but the crowd was surprisingly peppered with a few girls. The waitresses all wear French maid outfits, refer to male patrons as “Master”, and chat it up with customers. The length of time that the waitresses hang around and the interest level they (pretend to) have seems to be roughly proportional to how much money the customers spend on coffee, snacks, food, or drinks. The entire scene feels like it runs the risk of being sexualized or fetishized by perverted Westerners, but in the moment, everything is playful and benign.

Andrew and I treated ourselves to a couple coffees, complete with toppings of our own design: a pig for Andrew, and “me” for me. We were there for about an hour and since we were seated directly in front of the small stage, we had an excellent view of the on-stage antics: a musical number performed by all the waitresses and the embarrassed, self-conscious otaku who was pulled onstage to celebrate his five hundredth visit (as recorded by his membership card). The waitresses sang a song to him and he did his best to avoid eye contact with most everyone. After finishing our coffees, we posed for a Polaroid photo with our waitress and received several complimentary gifts before taking our leave.

That evening, after another Google Maps-driven dinner, we went for a drink at New York Bar on the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt Tokyo, better known as the fancy bar that appears in multiple scenes in Lost in Translation. It’s easy to see why they chose this setting for the movie: the bar is gorgeous, elegant, massive, and offers some incredible views of the city. These amenities come with a significant price tag though, so we bounced after one round (and before the hefty cover charge started).

Our next (and evidently only) stop of the evening was Golden Gai, a fascinating nightlife area in Shinjuku. It’s extremely small, with tiny streets and alleys, and yet fits over 200 bars. Most of the bars we saw could seat only 6-8 customers; imagine a large closet with a fully-stocked bar and a handful of stools. Following our usual “not empty, not full, and no white people” method of selection, we settled into one of the cozy closet bars for a few rounds and a lot of pleasant conversation with the two bartenders, both of whom could speak English. Many beers and whiskies later, we stumbled out and grabbed a taxi home to grab some sleep before our excursion to Hakone the next day.

After touching down, we went through the usual immigration and customs procedures, where I experienced the most thorough airport inspection I’ve ever had. The Japanese security official was very friendly and could speak enough English that we could have a conversation while he unpacked and searched every pocket and pouch of both of my bags. At this point, I had eight months of Southeast Asian country stamps in my passport, which I guess struck him as suspicious. He asked me a lot about Thailand and Bangkok, so I inferred that he was concerned I might be smuggling drugs (which, admittedly, is big business in Southeast Asia). Lucky for me, I had taken most of my (legal!) pills – antibiotics, anti-malaria, Pepto, Advil, Tylenol – over the last eight months. I had thrown away the last of my pills in Hong Kong since they looked pretty suspicious in an unlabeled plastic baggie with a fine layer of dust on the inside. Finding nothing evenly remotely suspicious, the officer pleasantly dismissed me with a bow and I made a mental note of preparing myself for customs when I went back to the States. If this was Japan’s reaction to traveling abroad for a long time, I would have to expect some snapping-rubber-glove treatment from America upon my return.

Since our flight was actually to Osaka, we had to take a train to get to Kyoto. Instead of getting the direct train, which would have been simple, we opted instead for the JR day pass and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out the rail lines. After consulting Google Maps, paper maps, station maps, station signs with varying amounts of English, and one friendly, English-speaking train conductor, we managed to hop three trains and get ourselves to Kyoto Station. While mostly unappreciated in the moment due to our aforementioned exhaustion and hangovers, it was a good introduction to Japanese trains, something that would be immensely important over the next week and a half.

We grabbed a taxi to our hostel and noticed two things about it immediately: (1) it was immaculately organized and clean and (2) our room was the size of a closet (about 6′ x 6′). Half of the room’s volume was taken up by the bunk beds; the other half was taken up by a small desk and all of our stuff on the floor. We never spent a night in one of Japan’s famed capsule hotels mainly because I felt like we got that experience at this hostel.

After grabbing a map of local businesses from the front desk, we set out to wander the neighborhood and find some dinner. Just as with riding the trains in the afternoon, walking around Kyoto on that first day was an immense amount of culture shock (by far the most I had on my entire trip). In retrospect, it was obviously due to being very tired and out-of-sorts from the previous night, but the cold weather, minimal English, lack of veggie options, and general indifference towards us added to the feeling as well. Unlike every other country I had been in, the touts on the sidewalks actually ignored the gaijin (foreigners). It makes perfect sense, of course, since Japan is a first-world country with its own culture and economy and doesn’t need Western tourist money to survive. Still, I wasn’t expecting that we would be left to our own devices.

Lucky for us, the map from the hostel had a few veggie-friendly places, so in our culture shock-y haze, we managed to find an excellent veggie buffet, though we were thrown a bit by the fact that we had to buy a meal ticket from a vending machine before we could be seated. I don’t remember much else from that night, so I’m hoping that means we turned in early and slept like normal humans.

The next few days in Kyoto were much better as we started to understand the city and the culture (and were properly rested). Much as Chiang Mai is a smaller city in Thailand that’s great to experience Thai culture without the craziness of Bangkok, Kyoto is a smaller city in Japan that’s great to experience Japanese culture without the craziness of Tokyo. Kyoto is known for being the cultural center of Japan and the city feels much older and more traditional than Tokyo does.

During those days we explored a lot of the city and tried to visit as many temples and gardens and traditional areas as we could. We went to Nijo Castle and Sanjusangendo (known for its 1001 statues of Kannon), wandered around Gion (a neighborhood popular for geisha-spotting), took photos with groups of school children who were excited to practice their very limited English, and did our best to eat some local food. As with Hong Kong, finding veggie food was tricky and made more difficult by the fact that English is much more rare, so we had to expand our dining options to Chinese, Indian, and Middle Eastern if we couldn’t find any Japanese. That said, we had some delicious veggie okonomiyaki, made more excellent by the fact that I had never had it before.

After going to Nijo Castle, we stopped in a cafe in the late afternoon and treated ourselves to some coffee and green tea spongecake. As we were the only customers in there, we started chatting with the two girls who were working and spent the rest of the afternoon helping them with their English and teaching them about America, made easier (and funnier) by using the Japanese tour book for America that they had on hand. Shortly before we left, they treated us to some cookies and our choice of a tiny animal origami piece.

That night, we went out for our usual dinner and drinks, though we should have guessed we were in for a good evening when I glanced out the restaurant window and spotted a geisha walking down the street. Andrew literally ran out of the restaurant to get a better look while I stayed put and enjoyed my sake. He assured me when he got back that he was respectful and discreet in his gawking.

After dinner, we decided to experiment with a new method for finding a bar and settled on the following (winning) approach. Kyoto – and, as we discovered later, Tokyo – has lots of buildings between roughly three and ten stories tall that serve as home to numerous bars and restaurants. The square-footage area of the building is usually fairly small, so sometimes there’s only one business per floor. In America, you’d expect to find your dentist or your accountant in one of these buildings; in Japan, you expect to find your bartender. After looking over the bar signs (which are often in English) on the outside of the buildings, we’d pick a building that seemed promising and take the elevator to the top floor. We’d then descend one floor at a time, visually assessing any bars we found. We’d skip over anything too fancy, too empty, or anything that seemed closed off to gaijin. The ideal place would have a few people (no Westerners), darts, karaoke, and a down-to-earth feel. Even if the bar turned out to be a dud, it was easy enough to burn a drink and bounce; you don’t need to know much Japanese to order “Asahi” and then pay for it.

Such an approach led us to a cozy, fifth-floor bar with green lighting, karaoke, darts, and about half a dozen customers. The bar staff treated us with slightly incredulous friendliness, noticeably confused/impressed that a couple white boys had found their way into this random local watering hole.

If I’ve learned anything from international nightlife, it’s that smiling, being friendly, trying to use the local language when possible, toasting, and drinking will take you very far in social settings. Even if your grasp of the language is terrible, your feeble attempts at trying to speak it will be endearing. And if you know some local music too (or can only just namedrop, like me), then you’ll be set for the rest of the night.

Armed with such tactics, we had ourselves a long and productive night at the bar. Both darts and karaoke played heavily throughout the evening (Andrew and I choosing to represent America with plenty of Journey, Bon Jovi, and Carly Rae Jepsen), there were multiple rounds of champagne toasts for a birthday boy (pictured below), and we made the acquaintance of a gentleman so inebriated, he fell asleep on the bar, then walked outside, faceplanted, and fell asleep again until Andrew picked him up off the floor. It was a super fun night and by the time we left around 4:00, we were friends with everyone in the bar. As Andrew would say, achievement unlocked!

For our last full day in Kyoto, we took the train to Arashiyama to visit the famed bamboo forest. Several paths wind through the forest and the bamboo are so incredibly tall that they block most of the sunlight. We stayed in the area until late afternoon and were rewarded with thinning crowds and increasing peacefulness. The bamboo wasn’t as green as I was hoping (not like, say, Bali), but it’s still one hell of a sight.

There are many cultural attractions in Arashiyama besides the bamboo grove, so we explored a few temples and some of the countryside before returning home.

The next day we went back to Kyoto Station to catch a shinkansen (bullet train) to Tokyo. It’s technology like this that puts Japan generations ahead of America in terms of public transportation. The shinkansen makes the 320-mile trip in 138 minutes, which comes out to an average speed of about 140 mph, but that includes three or four stops; the trains can hit top speeds of about 190 mph. All the trains are electric, the ride is incredibly smooth, and the trains run every 10-12 minutes. You don’t even have to plan your trip in advance; just show up to the station and take the next train. Seriously, get it together America.

After a ride that seemed to end too quickly considering the distance, we entered the 35-million-person beast that is Tokyo.