Friday was rather uneventful. After torturing our feet for three solid days, we ended up needing a break. But that doesn't mean we didn't try to go out and make the best of the day. We started off in Ginza where we went to Muji, which is like an Ikea for Japanese people, only way cooler and the couches aren't made of granite. After perusing the store while Scott once again talked about how nice the air conditioning felt, we left and went to the Sony building. The coolest part about the building, that we saw at least, was the aquarium outside. There was some doofy looking shark that was way too big for its tank and about 40 Japanese kids polishing the glass with their noses screaming at the top of their lungs for cameras. I'm sure from the inside the shark thought they looked like the Garfield stuffed animals that litter peoples car windows. I wanted to go in to see their museum of cool stuff which is supposed to house Aibo, the dog robot that I confused with Asimo, Honda's über cool person robot. Needless to say I was very disappointed when I realized it wasn't Asimo.
Unable to take the letdown Scott and I left the building and headed for Shinjuku to the Japanese Sword Museum. In typical American fashion, we were hasty picking our train. That and I made the mistake of listening to Scott, which landed us on a train going the long way meaning an extra 15 minutes of train riding. We could have gotten off at the next station and headed in the opposite direction to save time, but we had seats and we were not about to give those up. Seats on a train in Japan are worth more than gold. Especially when you've had the pleasure of experiencing the coffin like comfort of Japanese rush hour. I use my backpack to my advantage to box out old ladies so they can't get to the seats.
Once we got to Shinjuku station, Scott had to go to the bathroom where his stomach decided "everything needed to get out with extreme prejudice," as he so nicely put it. He also left our guidebook in the bathroom which he didn't realize until we had hopped on a subway line and got off at the correct station. Fortunately for him, there was a map at the station that showed where the Museum was. But there is a funny thing the Japanese do with regard to maps. They leave off street names. Presumably because not every street has a name, or at least that is what I have noticed, and if they do they are very poorly marked for Americans. So needless to say we walked way too far before realizing it and had to walk a half mile back to the correct street. What didn't help was the fact that the museum was on a street corner in the middle of a neighborhood.
The swords were very impressive and I was able to take one crappy picture before the guard saw me and showed me the "no taking pictures" sign. Scott walked around talking about the ever so interesting topic of what it would be like to get sliced in half by one of the swords and how some had blood grooves so they wouldn't get stuck in a body when the former owner stabbed somebody. Being a Samurai is a very romantic notion, but in real life it is just crazy. After the museum, we went back to the Hotel where our bodies said, "Oh for fucks sake," and collapsed. When I awoke the next morning it was 6am and I had been asleep for 11 hours.
Friday was rather uneventful. After torturing our feet for three solid days, we ended up needing a break. But that doesn't mean we didn't try to go out and make the best of the day. We started off in Ginza where we went to Muji, which is like an Ikea for Japanese people, only way cooler and the couches aren't made of granite. After perusing the store while Scott once again talked about how nice the air conditioning felt, we left and went to the Sony building. The coolest part about the building, that we saw at least, was the aquarium outside. There was some doofy looking shark that was way too big for its tank and about 40 Japanese kids polishing the glass with their noses screaming at the top of their lungs for cameras. I'm sure from the inside the shark thought they looked like the Garfield stuffed animals that litter peoples car windows. I wanted to go in to see their museum of cool stuff which is supposed to house Aibo, the dog robot that I confused with Asimo, Honda's über cool person robot. Needless to say I was very disappointed when I realized it wasn't Asimo.
Unable to take the letdown Scott and I left the building and headed for Shinjuku to the Japanese Sword Museum. In typical American fashion, we were hasty picking our train. That and I made the mistake of listening to Scott, which landed us on a train going the long way meaning an extra 15 minutes of train riding. We could have gotten off at the next station and headed in the opposite direction to save time, but we had seats and we were not about to give those up. Seats on a train in Japan are worth more than gold. Especially when you've had the pleasure of experiencing the coffin like comfort of Japanese rush hour. I use my backpack to my advantage to box out old ladies so they can't get to the seats.
Once we got to Shinjuku station, Scott had to go to the bathroom where his stomach decided "everything needed to get out with extreme prejudice," as he so nicely put it. He also left our guidebook in the bathroom which he didn't realize until we had hopped on a subway line and got off at the correct station. Fortunately for him, there was a map at the station that showed where the Museum was. But there is a funny thing the Japanese do with regard to maps. They leave off street names. Presumably because not every street has a name, or at least that is what I have noticed, and if they do they are very poorly marked for Americans. So needless to say we walked way too far before realizing it and had to walk a half mile back to the correct street. What didn't help was the fact that the museum was on a street corner in the middle of a neighborhood.
The swords were very impressive and I was able to take one crappy picture before the guard saw me and showed me the "no taking pictures" sign. Scott walked around talking about the ever so interesting topic of what it would be like to get sliced in half by one of the swords and how some had blood grooves so they wouldn't get stuck in a body when the former owner stabbed somebody. Being a Samurai is a very romantic notion, but in real life it is just crazy. After the museum, we went back to the Hotel where our bodies said, "Oh for fucks sake," and collapsed. When I awoke the next morning it was 6am and I had been asleep for 11 hours.
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