Welcome to Tokyo

Once upon a time, not so long ago--but far enough back that I'd better write about it soon or it might be lost--I took a plane to Tokyo.

I was in a SpongeBob euphoria the entire time. I'm going to Japan, going to Japan, going to Japan. I'm in Japan, I'm in Japan, I'm in Japan. My plane ride was fabulous with lots of yummy food. I caught the first of two trains with ease, and enjoyed my 30 minute ride to Ueno station, where I would catch a shinkansen to my ultimate destination of Niigata.

And that's when everything changed from My Neighbor Totoro to Graveyard of the Fireflies.

I couldn't find my second train. Even with an inundation of extremely helpful, fluent English speakers, I missed my train. Lo and behold, it was the last one of the day.

And then it started to rain. I decided that this would not be a good time to find out whether my laptop case was waterproof or not, and so made myself comfortable on a bench to wait out the long night.

I've never spent the night in a public place, never been stranded in an airport, certainly never slept at a bus stop. My entire stay in Asia, I never felt physically threatened or uncomfortable, so I was more annoyed a the inconvenience then concerned about safety. This coming from the girl who carried a knife, mace, a cell phone with safety numbers on speed dial, and considered a taser gun (if not a .45) while living in downtown Los Angeles.

It was a long night. I watched the repair people go by. And the custodians. I read an entire novel (Black Powder War by Naomi Novik). I took pictures of the empty station.



Then, the station closed. I didn't know train stations closed. I had a relay line of police officers escorting me from the building.

When I got out I wanted to cry, I had 4 hours without a bench. But I couldn't cry, I still had my SpongeBob optimism pestering me. So I took pictures of the homeless people.


Who slept across from the 24 hour police depot.



I cut quite a figure standing in the center with my LV bag, laptop case, and rolling carry-on.

Two hours before the station reopened, the rain stopped, and I decided to foray out into the neighborhood.



There was a miso/noodle shop open less than a block away that smelled delicious and had comfy looking seats. So at 3am I decided to try my communication skills and get a snack.



First step: observation. The patrons walked up to the stone counter, collected a tray and were shortly supplied with a full, steaming bowl. There were no words in any language exchanged, neither did money change hands. I suddenly felt helpless; pointing would be to no avail here, and waving money at 3am is never smart. That's when I noticed the machine.

You insert your money into the machine, push the button that corresponds with what you want, and print a minuscule slip of paper to hand to the cook. I discovered this only to have a whole new set of problems develop. There are no pictures, only text. The large black arrow pointing to pictures along the top has absolutely nothing to do with the row of buttons (the little symbols didn't match). So, more observing ensued (with all my luggage still in tow). I carefully watched which button the next couple of patrons selected and then, when it looked like plain miso with soba and some vegetables, pushed the same button.

I got something entirely different. There were no vegetables. There was confusion as to which type of noodles I wanted. There was also a soft boiled egg that was added at the last minute, to my astonishment.

Thankfully, it was utterly delicious. I returned to my stake between the homeless and the police until the station opened at 5am.