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.