Just when I thought I couldn't plan vacations any grander or more ideal than the last, I go and outdo myself, again. This is my first time stepping on Asian soil outside of Taiwan, and despite the 3-hour trek from
Narita Airport to our hotel in the
Shinjuku district, and arriving at our hotel soaking wet and horribly under-dressed (everyone in the reception area was dressed in a suit, both guests and the hotel staff), this vacation has started out amazing. We've traded in the old European luxury of my former vacation splurges for the height of modern stylish functionality, the warmth of Italy for the restraint and respect of the Japanese. Without taking away from how much I would love to go back to Europe and the UK, I have fallen in love completely with Japan.
Before we set off Saturday morning, I have to admit that I wasn't as excited as I could have been. I lost a bit of my enthusiasm for this trip the last few days before we left because Mark and I were drowning in the details of getting our lives in order for our two-week absence - him working early morning until late into the night every night, while I worked out the details of our personal life with the post office, house cleaning service, seismic retrofit contractor, Berkeley tenants, last-minute itinerary tweaks, and yes, even completely planning my next vacation (
umm ... I'll talk about that after I get back from this trip). My stuff didn't really distract me much, but I was feeling Mark's stress, as I usually do. It was difficult to keep up the excitement level for two, and I did alright (as folks that follow my
FB statuses can attest). I just wasn't as excited as I have been before previous vacations. For instance, before Italy, I think I updated my countdown every day for a week, whereas my countdown for this trip consisted of two
FB updates.
That all changed once we got to the airport. We were thoroughly entertained at the airport by the funny English at the ANA check-in desk (didn't think we'd get any of that until we got into Japan), two elderly Indian ladies traveling alone that were attempting to navigate the escalator for the first time (picture Elf, but with two small Indian ladies in saris instead), a Japanese man wearing a green leather jacket, and a lady that had decorated her crutches with pink feathery boas and
mardi gras beads. All this put us in a good mood, the right mood to experience our first 24 hours of Japanese hospitality.
The service and food on the plane was quite good, where we got our first introduction to just how respectful the Japanese are to everything and everyone. I'm sure there is a term for the concept of respecting the appropriate time and place for everything, and practicing that every minute of every day. If the Japanese originate the concept, they at least gave it new meaning, for they are the masters of this. First and foremost, they do not idly chatter. Our plane was filled mostly with Japanese nationals (almost everyone had red passports), and no one on the airplane was talking except for us. You can imagine how quickly we fell silent with the rest. Even the announcements were kept to a minimum - no useless information from the pilot about how many planes are ahead of us for takeoff, and no funny business by the flight attendants to appease the masses during our wait. The masses needed little appeasing, and they were perfectly content to watch the free movies (you can start, pause, rewind and fast forward any of them at your leisure) and play the free games. Our wait on the runway was not short, but no one questioned or complained, not even under their collective breath, which I guarantee you we would have heard. Not even a single whine from the children. It simply wasn't the time or place.
We ate a meal, I played solitaire and sudoku, I slept, I watched Australia (not as bad as the reviews, I might add), we ate another meal, and then we arrived into Tokyo through a shroud of grey clouds. It was a very quick 11-hour ride (the good food helped make the flight seem quicker). When we arrived, the flight attendant asked that we, the passengers, wait until we were at the gate and the
seatbelt sign was turned off before unbuckling, an announcement I normally wouldn't be able to hear over the ruckus of unbuckling
seatbelts, but this time, no one unbuckled their
seatbelts until we were at the gate and the
seatbelt sign was turned off.
We glided through customs, smoothly transitioned our Japan Railways voucher into actual passes, caught an earlier
Narita Express train than expected, and successfully navigated a transfer to the
Yamanote line to get to the nearest major station to our hotel,
Shinjuku. We had consciously left the umbrella at home because we knew all our hotels would provide them, so we got soaked walking to the hotel from the train station. No one looked at us funny or judged us when we arrived at the Park Hyatt Tokyo; they just brought us towels, took our luggage, and took us to the 41st floor where we were led to the most intimate reception area, with separate check-in desks where you sit in comfortable cream-colored chairs opposite the attendant that is checking you in. No standing in lines, and after being introduced by name by the bell lady, everyone greeted us by name as if we were a guest in their home.
Then we were shown to our room, replete with near-ideal functional design. I thought we were paying for the name and notoriety - this is Sophia Coppola's favorite hotel and the one she featured in the movie Lost in Translation. Instead, I see that the hotel has really spared no expense in equipping the room with elements both useful and stylish. Between the views of both Mt. Fuji and the Tokyo Tower and the heated toilet/bidet/sanitizing dryer, it is easy to take for granted other amenities I would normally be excited about - complimentary welcome chocolates and bottled water, fine linens on a large, comfortable
bed, every toiletry you might need provided without request (two razors, two toothbrushes, etc.), Bang &
Olufsen telephone in the toilet room, tissue boxes both in the bathroom and bedside, fine tea with teapot and teacup set separate from the coffee, water boiler/warmer just like my
Zojirushi at home, and super-fast high speed
internet, just to name a few things.
We didn't have much time to get into all of that upon first arrival, though, because we had reservations at
Hashidaya,
one of many chicken-specialty restaurants in Tokyo.
I think the hotel warned them that Americans were coming, because as soon as we arrived, they called over their English-speaking server, who had graciously hand-annotated one of their menus with English earlier that day, apparently just for us, or at least that's what it felt like. We certainly were the only non-Japanese patrons there the entire time. We started with their famous
tsukune (chicken meatballs) cooked directly in front of us on a heated stone, and then moved onto other parts of the chicken on a fresh heated stone, and a
nabe (soup pot) with the freshest and most flavorful chicken broth we've ever tried, containing yet more chicken and more
tsukune. We also had the fried, crispy chicken skin topped with curry salt, and their okasan-aji (sweeter, literally "mother's taste") tamago. It was a perfect welcome meal.
Then we tackled the subway system (separate from the JR train system we were navigating earlier), and discovered that our taxi ride cost about four times the amount for a subway ticket covering about the same distance. It's not door-to-door service, but I'm willing to walk a little so that I can spend that money for more food! Besides which, I'll need the exercise to build up an appetite for all the food I plan to eat.
Between our day of travel, food, and the comfy duvet, it was easy to fall asleep at the appropriate hour. Jet lag,
schmet lag.
