In Tokyo we were returning to what should have been more familiar ground—we’d all been studying Japanese for a year and a half so we should have basic competency. When we got off the plane and went through customs, though, they detained us while they tried to figure out what our visas meant. We played gaijin though, not wanting to raise suspicions. That is to say, we forgot most of our Japanese. But after a few calls up and down the immigration hierarchy, they eventually concluded we weren’t part of an evil terrorist group staying on a six-month visa and let us in. By this point our luggage was the only bags left, and a crowd of JAL agents had gathered to see whose it was. The four of us finally showed up and they were delighted to watch us struggle to get them onto luggage carts. I pointed at Christine’s bodybag and said, “Okii sugiru” (It’s too big) and they all replied in unison: Okii sugiru!

After a while we did manage to get our luggage sent to the weekly mansion where we were staying and get on a train to Shinjuku station. It was a nice comfortable ride.

Shinjuku station is a freaking madhouse. Imagine if Caltrain, BART, Amtrak, and the Muni all came into the same station. (Then imagine if everyone actually used those systems.) According to my trusty Lonely Planet, two million people per day pass through that station (or one million go through twice a day…). The station also has a ton of restaurants and two eight-floor department stores. The signage is confusing and naming these depaatos after train lines is frequently done so if you’re not careful you end up in second floor menswear. (Hmm…this train station seems to be made of marble…wait a minute…)

It turns out that Shinjuku station is connected to this vast underground labyrinth of shops and walkways to many of the major skyscrapers in Nishi-Shinjuku. It actually spans most of the distance to the next subway station, so many people can walk from their office to the subway without seeing the light of day.

To make it more confusing, there are two subway networks and at least two rail systems that crisscross Tokyo. But they’re so extensive that most everyone uses them to get around. Rush hour is pretty scary—you don’t so much get on the train as get moved on, involuntarily.

At Shinjuku a kindly Japanese lady walked us most of the way to our transfer, and we met up with Vince at the station near our mansion. Mansion is somewhat of a misnomer… it wasn’t so much a mansion as a tiny two-bedroom apartment. But we fit five people in it without too much trouble. It had a Net connection too…but we weren’t sure what our bandwidth allowance was so we were afraid to use it.

Tokyo was a ton of fun. We went to explore Shibuya with its overpriced stores, and Akihabara, the electronics district. We also met up with some of Tim and Christine’s friends from SJEC, who went to Keio University, so we got to see that campus too.

On Sunday we went to Tokyo Disneyland. It was surreal. Virtually identical to the Disneyland in California—right down to all the English names and signs. But hearing the Pirates of the Caribbean sing in Japanese is just plain weird. We did get to do our hanami though…sadly enough the only cherry blossoms in bloom were in Toontown.

All together now: Chiisai na sekai (literally “small world”), chiisai na sekai, chiisai na sekai; It’s a small world after all…

We also took a trip out to Kamakura to see the Daibutsu (Big Buddha). It was majestic and certainly big… and in true capitalist style you could buy everything from postcards to little Buddha-shaped candies.

On our last day in Tokyo we went to Odaiba, the touristy area near the Rainbow Bridge. I don’t know why it’s called that, and neither did the Keio U students we were with, because the whole thing’s whiter than me. And it doesn’t have a Japanese name—everyone just calls it rainboo buriji. The cheesy touristy thing didn’t end there either—you get on another bridge at the Tokyo Teleport Station to cross over a big highway.

Then we rode a big Ferris wheel at sunset for a nice view of the Tokyo skyline. After this we took test drives in a virtual car simulator (stunt driving mind you, all the Americans already knew how to drive on normal roads). Then we wandered into this mall that looked like something straight out of Vegas—the inside was supposed to resemble the outside of a French market. We ended up getting dinner at this place called Betty’s Bar that was supposed to look like a dusty old American truck stop. It was interesting, shall we say.

When we got back to Shinjuku most everything had already closed. So we decided to go do karaoke—all night long. The first few hours were fun, especially as certain people had certain drinks. I never knew there was a Japanese version of YMCA, called, simply, Yangu Men (Young Men). We exhausted their English collection and ripped through a whole lot of anime and J-pop, plus Dango San Kyodai (Three Rice-Ball Brothers, a kid’s song).

Word of the day: fakkin. I like fakkin. Despite what you might read that as, it’s actually short for faasuto kichin (fast kitchen)—a fast food joint, that’s usually open late. So when we stumbled back out onto the streets at 5 AM, Vince still clutching a half-empty bottle of whisky, where else can you go for breakfast? Fast food really is an art in Japan (it has to compete with the 24-hour konbinis and vending machines that are literally everywhere), and while Americans have come to set much lower standards for fast food’s service, quality, and variety, in Japan it’s been perfected. First Kitchen, for example, has 10 different varieties of furai potato (French, or freedom if you’re feeling nationalistic, fries). And egg muffin sandwiches are far better than McDonald’s.

It doesn’t end there. Matsuya is the bomb. For just 280 yen (US$2.33), you can get a bowl of donburi (rice) with meat. It takes seconds for them to make and it’s pretty damn good. For simplicity’s sake you can get your choice of two drinks: beer or cold ocha (Japanese tea)…or settle for the free water.

Another Tokyo revelation: 100-yen stores. You can get everything from school supplies to snacks, drinks, kitchen stuff, and even underwear if you so desire, all for around 83 US cents. And they seem to be near every major train station. The cheapskate in me is so happy…