When I picked up Long Distance Clara from Christchurch back in July she was spotless. Within a couple of hours of over enthusiastic driving I had peppered the windscreen with stone chips. I dropped her off at Auckland airport over a month later and hoped for the best. The car rental man gave everything the once-over and let me go. LDC had been a great servant and proved crucial in avoiding the hordes of English Kiwi Experience buses and their annoying gap year punters. I love independent travel and having a car is a good way to achieve it, carbon footprint aside.

I took the plane from Auckland to Tokyo via Sydney. At Sydney I sat next to Julia from Germany. We chatted for a bit then got stuck into our individual entertainment systems.

We landed and waited for our luggage. My boardbag arrived (with my warm clothes) but no sign of my backpack. After a while it became obvious that my pack had decided to head off on an adventure of its own. After all we’ve been through. I swapped details with Julia and we agreed to meet up and get lost in Tokyo together. I filled out all the paperwork with the nice Japanese dude at lost baggage. He spoke very little English but we got through it.



I dumped my boardbag at left luggage and left for the city with just my hand luggage. It’s good to travel light but I had nothing, no washing stuff, no clothes. Tokyo in August is very hot and humid, my snow clothes were useless.

I took the train to the city. As I expected it was tricky but I had prepared a little. One thing you really wanna do when you arrive in a strange city is have a good idea how to get to your accommodation. If it’s a big city, I book the first night in advance. When you arrive you’re tired and don’t want to muck about. All this is pretty obvious stuff, so I’ll crack on.



I checked into a Ryokan which is traditional Japanese style inn. You take your shoes off after you’ve bowed your head upon entering. The floors are Tatami and you sleep on a futon. There is no furniture. This is about as traditional as they come in Tokyo. I’ve read it’s in the country where you discover the really authentic Ryokan.

I met Pascal in the living area. He is an Architect from Switzerland. We were chatting about wifi, laptops and couch surfing. Geeks. We then headed off to meet some of his Japanese work colleagues for a meal. They spoke English and helped us with the menu. I had fish. The day after we went to Roppongi Hills to see the Ai Waiwai exhibition at the Mori gallery. He’s an interesting dude for you to google. That night we met up with Charles from LA. I had met him in Bangkok. He is a teacher in Tokyo. Charles took Pascal and I to a really cool restaurant we would never have found on our own. We were the only westerners in there but Charles spoke Japanese so we got a table. We then feasted on cheap local food and beers. The walls were full of old posters, it felt like we had stepped back in time. Charles led the way ordering the food and drink, showing us a good time local style.

Next day my bag arrived. I had fresh clothes so was able to wear a similar but slightly different blue checked shirt. I then met Julia at her Hostel. We wandered the crazy streets around the Harajuku area and visited the design festa gallery. It reminded me of something in Berlin or Camden. It was diggy woggle.



We wandered some more getting lost and eating barbecued food from an izakaya (bar that sells food). After a few beers we stopped for more food at a place where you cook your own meat on another small barbecue. Everything on the menu was offal, crap that gets binned or fed to other animals. Spleen, scrotum, heart. I looked around at the locals enjoying themselves and then ordered pigs rectum and a large Sapporo beer. Julia wanted to leave but I made her stay. She found some weird chicken organ and ordered that.

The pig was actually pretty tasty, the order came as six pieces so was only a snack. I ate it all and Julia ate hers. She didn’t want to try my pig shitter.

Next day Pascal had returned from his trip to Fuji. We went for a beer on the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt hotel, made famous by the film Lost In Translation. Amazing views, a bit stiff but a nice jazz band and a good experience. One drink later, we left the building £23 each to the lighter. There was a surcharge just to be there after eight.

We then headed to the Golden Gai area of Tokyo. A collection of ram shackled old drinking dens mostly located on the second floor of wonky buildings. Each place had enough space for around 8 people each. It’s a crazy place, you can wander in and out and each one is so different. We had a great night making friends with the locals. We found a really decent rock bar, and Pascal, who is in Tokyo for a month, bought a bottle of Sake to keep behind the bar. There was a cabinet full of other peoples bottles with their names written on them. Pascal scribbled his initials then we went home. I read later that some bars don’t let tourists in them.

Then on Sunday I walked round Shinjuku Gyoen traditional Japanese gardens, then met up with Hannah. She is an old friend of John Hill’s, a mate of mine from London. He suggested I give her a call if I was in Tokyo. We had coffee and chatted about Japan, then when Hannah had to work I went shopping for cheap Japanese gifts. Later that evening Pascal and I wandered around Ginza and ate some amazing Sushi.

The very next day I was flying home. After 9 months of traveling, I remembered I had left the oven on.