hating his guide book.

Day 2 in Tokyo was a lot of fun. We woke up way to early to go out and do anything other than ride the trains, so we watched some of the most bizarre television known to man until about 8am. We got down to the lobby and asked for a good place to eat breakfast, and as we should have guessed they recommended their $30 per person breakfast buffet they have every morning on the 33rd floor of the hotel. Our wallets protesting we decided to walk down to the still misnamed Hamamatsucho Street to look for breakfast. Surprisingly, there was a huge line at the McDonald's where Japanese Businessmen queue up for their caffeine injection. They have a system worked out where they don't even have to go inside the building to get it. Only the Japanese could find a way to organize McDonald's.

Having somewhat acclimated to being in Japan, we have come to the realization that we do not want to eat at any restaurant that comes from America. However, there are no breakfast restaurants in sight, at least in English, so we end up at a place called Mos Burger, which I'm sure is just the Japanese equivalent of McDonald's. Regardless of that fact, it is delicious. I ordered something I am going to start making in America. A deep fried pork cutlet hamburger. Despite the death threats my aorta was throwing my way, I ate it anyway. Simply amazing is all I can say.

After breakfast we stopped at Zojoji Temple, which is right next to our hotel. Like every temple we have been to up to this point of our trip, it is beautiful. There are statues of Buddha everywhere, and there might be a festival going on over the weekend because they were hanging lantern lights and building little structures. The actual temple was massive, but, as I later learned first hand, it is a small fry compared to some of the other shrines and temples around Japan. There was even a stone water basin outside with bamboo cups to cool yourself off. Scott had to keep fighting the urge to scream out, "I'm fat, American, and really fucking hot," then douse himself with copious amounts of water. Since that day it has become Scott's mission to find an air conditioned place to stand in whenever possible.

After the temple we hopped on a train to Akihabara, the nerdy tech center of Tokyo where apparently all they sell are electronics, manga and maids. I'm not sure how the last one works, but then again I'm not sure that I want to know either. We walked through the maze of shops, looking at various electronics while Scott narrowed his search for a newer and better camera than the one he brought with him. This turned out to be a fruitless effort. Not because Scott couldn't find a camera with the right price, nor was it due to the fact that when he found said camera that his credit card got rejected. No. It was because he realized that I am a picture taking fiend and that he could get away with letting me go snap-happy and take all of his pictures for him. In retaliation I have since taken embarrassing pictures whenever I can, which I will try to work into later blog posts. After the electronics hunt we went into various toy shops to entertain Scott's many nerdy habits, and went into a Japanese comic store, which turned out to be a big mistake on our part since 60% or more of the 7 story store's content was adult oriented.

Defeated in all our endeavors, we hopped on the next JR line to Harajuku, the expensive shopping district in Tokyo, with the intention of visiting Gallery Samurai. I had planned to post lots of pictures of cool suits of armor and swords, but apparently the building had been torn down since 2007 when my guide book was published and the three miles we walked from the train to get there were pointless and put unnecessary blisters on our feet. To make matters worse, the next store I wanted to check out was an exclusive clothing line called "A Bathing Ape," or for the Kanye savvy, "Bape." After walking another mile or so, the store was nowhere to be found, and apparently that is just how it is supposed to be. No signs. No hints from the goddamn guide book. Strike two, which might as well have been strike three.

Our enthusiasm felt it was appropriate to commit ritualistic suicide at this point and we had no choice but to give up looking for places to go in Harajuku. We walked the three miles back to the train station, during which we encountered a store called "Condomania," which has poster size guides in the window to help the passersby become educated on how to select their proper size. The laugh this provided revived our spirits a bit, after which we headed back for the hotel where we feasted on bread with bacon strips baked into the roll, and melon pan, my new favorite bread. You try a bread roll with a melon flavored cookie baked onto the top and YOU try to not fall in love. This is like the Pringles dare, only you have no shot at winning. Except losing never tasted better.

being oppressed by the heat.

I knew it was going to be hot in Japan this time of the year, but no one told me about the humidity. And even if someone had, I can't say that I have ever experienced a humid climate before. A dry heat I know. I can handle that, but the constant feeling of being slightly wet like you have been walking through a wall of thick but invisible mist during an 85+ degree day is an experience one can never give back, no matter how how hard you try. And it is an experience that keeps on giving. There is nothing quite like sweating at night.

The plane flight to Japan was a quick 11 hours of burning suck. I didn't think there was anything more uncomfortable to sit in than a poorly shaped wooden chair, but the airlines have proved me wrong once again. I think the tagline for coach should be, "The seats ruin your back, but the food is nauseating!" Thankfully, Narita Airport was pretty nice and we only stood at the wrong baggage claim for 20-30 minutes while Scott's bag spent an unknown amount of time circling the correct area. Fortunately we weren't the only ones who made this mistake. Once we collected our baggage, we bought our tickets for the airport limousine that took us on a 2 hour ride to our hotel.

Our hotel is gorgeous. It is ranked by Expedia as being in the top 1% of hotels in the world. Needless to say, when we first arrived here, Scott and I looked about one step above hobo on the scale of looking like we fit in at this nice of a place. Luckily they didn't seem to notice or care and we weren't kicked out for trespassing. A tiny Japanese girl brought our luggage up to the room for us and despite the fact that she weighed half of what our bags did, she insisted on carrying them into the room anyway. However, the thing that impresses me the most about our hotel is the elevator. These things are baby's butt smooth. You don't even feel yourself start moving and then you are suddenly at your floor. Amazing every time.

Our room is relatively small but we have a pretty cool view. On the other side of the hotel is Shiba Park and the Tokyo tower, which is magically bright orange at all times of day and night, as if the paint they used to cover it glows on its own. After getting situated and looking at the staggering cost of a meal within the hotel, we decided to brave the night and head out towards Hamamatsucho Station as suggested by a hotel employee. As soon as we stepped out of the hotel, the beautiful air conditioning conveniently realized it left something in the hotel and never returned. After getting over the abandonment and spending many hours on the phone with a therapist, we were hit in the face by what felt like a hot towel, only it was a hot towel that covers your entire body and never cools down.

We made the walk down to what we have named Hamamatsucho Street until we can discover the true name and eyed many different restaurants that looked good or familiar. Being incredibly hungry and tired I almost suggested we eat at McDonald's and try some real food the next day when we wouldn't be so intimidated by everything, but when I noticed that the people sitting outside were all fat white people I decided against it. We thought about a number of different ramen places, but they were all packed and they all used unfamiliar kanji that made both Scott and I very upset with ourselves for forgetting so much Japanese. We ended up settling on a place called "CoCoIchibanya," a curry restaurant that ended up being both fattening and delicious. But at least it wasn't McDonalds. The menu was all in Japanese and we had no idea what we were supposed to do, but thankfully there were other customers we were able to watch for clues on how to order and pay our bill.

After our dinner outing we walked back to our hotel through the late night heat and the deafening scream of the cicadas which, despite their best efforts, failed to make blood run from my ears. As soon as we got to the front doors of the hotel the air conditioning came rushing up to us saying that it had finally found what it was looking for and that it was ready to go get something to eat. It was briefly disappointed that it missed dinner but soon agreed that it was tired and that we should all go to bed. Another baby's butt smooth ride up the elevator and we crashed in our beds, which have yet to decide whether they are comfortable or uncomfortable.