I have no place to put it, other than it's pretty humorous. At least for me, coming from the Pacific Northwest where admitting you smoke (plain ol' tobacco) is the equivalent of confessing to minor war crime. In some circles, not so minor either. But here is a smoking area.
First off, it's funny that they just corral all these people outdoors, and miraculously the walls somehow contain the smoke. Or contain it enough to not bother too many non-smokers. But secondly it's kind of amazing that there are enough smokers to make use of it. Then I'm reminded that Tokyo has the population of about all of Canada, so, I suppose there's bound to be SOME smokers.
Then, well, we always do this. We assume we have far more stamina and energy than anyone could possibly have for a family that doesn't do, say, casual triathlons. But yes, we think after all this excitement and walking and standing and more walking we can make another trip, to Shinjuku.
First we take a small walk to a park, to rest. Little do we know that it takes an additional 10 minutes of walking since there is only one entrance, the rest of the park surrounded by a sort of iron gate that seems designed to stop a reasonable expeditionary force. It vaguely reminds me of Sauron's helmet, if that gives you any clue. Well, it at least gives you a clue to how nerdy I am.
Halfway there, sensing the lagging energy of the family, we decide to get some of the famous vending machine drinks. There are vending machines everywhere. Something that I, who would rather interface with a machine than a cashier, given the choice, can really appreciate.
These drinks all seem quite reasonable, a $1.20, a $1.75, so it's easy to spend the money. I also think just having to do the currency translation short circuits any sort of budgeting instinct I have. The numbers make no sense to my initial instincts, "120 YEN FOR DRI-- oh that's $1.20". There is also the reasoning "There CAN'T be this many vending machines without it making sense!".
Everyone goes with things that are pretty safe. Peach juice, coffee, etc. I gasp as I spot the most famous drink for them all Pocari Sweat! We all slam those back and we are nearly back from the dead. Pocari sweat is what old school, like, from the 80's, Gatorade used to taste like. Slightly sweet, somewhat salty, all sorts of electrolytes.
This is really the original Gatorade flavour, I remember it making a splash (along with arcades and Iran-Contra Affair) because it didn't taste like something you should pay for? But then we heard it was athletes and I guess back then what with the short shorts and jogging and jazzercize everyone thought "huh, that makes sense", and it took off. Over time, of course, the Big Sugar has take over and now one infant sized Gatorade can induce adult-onset diabetes. One day you need electrolytes, another day your pancreas is a burnt to ash and your are obsessed with the what the glycemic index is of everything.
We finally make it to the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, and are chagrinned to find there was a entrance fee. We sit outside, just chilling, thinking we don't need to go in, by my son, oh, he is called to nature and lays out the justification for paying and just going in, so we do. It's eloquent, there are hand gestures and that reasonable wheedling that makes one think "This kid is gonna talk himself out of a parking ticket one day".
It has regions for different gardens and well, it does end up being a bit of hike, at least for me as I try to get to different parts of the park and take in all the greenery. The family eventually just collapses under a tree while I wander. It is refreshing and incredibly calming after the hustle of the city.
There's just acres and acres of this park, with different sections. One has a genuine Chinese structure donated to the park by the people of Taiwan. It's sprawling, and really quite busy. I guess everyone needs some downtime from the hustle of the city.
We continue our journey to Shinjuku. I think there are kicky shops or cultural areas or... something of the sort. If this was one of those casual triathlons that I imagine really well adjusted families compete in, this would be the part when a veteran triathlete who's taking his very last race collapses from lack of electrolytes of heat exhaustion or something equally heroic.
On the way are pulled into a stationary store. Why are there stores for stationary, this large, this fancy? Why are there so many people in it? These are questions and mysteries I'll never solve. My daughter, being the artistic sort, seems to have lost all fatigue and pulls my wife through the store as my son and I stand against a wall, trying not to sweat too much. We succeed at standing near a wall, anyways.
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I do not have a friend in my life worth the
cost of some of these artisanal sheafs of paper. |
I can't remember the reasoning, but we decide we'll just make a quick stop at Don Quijote (yes, he of tilting at windmills fame) a super mega ultra everything store. Why Don Quijote? Why misspelled from Don Quixote? Why a penguin? The questions you have about the store's name and motivations mirror the experience going there. See also, stationary stores.
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Imagine this, going on for
eternity and 4 floors of it. |
This was sensory overload. signs, products everywhere. Aisles that seemed engineered only for someone with spelunking experience. Floors upon floors with no discernible organization. Or no organization that made sense to me. My son and I trudging up floor after floor looking for flag pins? It was a dreamlike state of trying to keep the fatigue body awake while the mind was pummeled with inputs. I'm trying to remind myself we've paid for the privilege of putting ourselves through this.
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What greets you as you enter in via the 3rd floor. Yes
you have to walk up three flights to enter in the retail
equivalent of a mosh pit |
We stumble out and all we have energy for is to get some dinner from a corner store. Now, in Japan corners stores have all sorts of food, reasonably priced, and pretty acceptable for the sorts of people who have been laid low enough to get their dinner from a corner store. But really, the selection is pretty massive.
And not just prepackaged and additive laden food that can stay shelf stable on unrefrigerated shelves, the sort of overprocessed foods that really stretched the technical innovation and drive of the civilized Food Industrial Complex. But actual food that was probably prepared sometimes that day. I suppose the sheer traffic and volume of people who buy this warrants this.
For some reason, and my photos do not lie, I guess we decided to go for another walk about in the city lights, because I guess we wanted to see that temple again, except at night time. And I guess I really wanted to see Tokyo when it was all lit up and dolled up for the night. All the media I consume about Tokyo seems to be about 75% during the nighttime, when the sheer wattage of the night signs dazzles you into submission
 | LIGHTS!
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|  | Sorry, I cannot get tired of these smoking areas
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 | Mmm, pretty temple
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|  | JUMPSCARE. The god of fertility and luck
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We make it back to our hotel, and plan for the next day. Hopefully remembering that we do not, in fact, swim in the open ocean on a timed run for fun.
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