Hundreds year-old traditions, impeccable food, polite-to-a-fault natives and cherry blossoms? Count me in! Since Philip’s mom and sister, Kim, were arriving one week into Jules’ spring break from school, we had exactly seven days to squeeze in two weeks’ worth of fun in Japan beforehand. Here we go…
Landing at Haneda International Airport and figuring out the train system to take us to the Times Square area of Tokyo –Shibuya — was quite the adventure. Just sorting out which exit to take required a minor engineering degree.
We had heard about the infamously tiny Japanese apartments, but we were nonetheless surprised by the airplane bathroom size of our restroom. The space efficiency of the appliances was remarkable.
Since our Air BNB was located minutes away from the famous Shibuya crossing, we made our tourist pilgrimage up to the 2nd floor of the Starbucks for some quick photos. The Shibuya crossing is the busiest intersection in Japan, where up to 1000 people may cross at once during peak times. Surprisingly, when we were in the midst of it it didn’t feel overly chaotic or overwhelming. It must be that cool Japanese nonchalance.
We started the next day like in-the-know locals with drip coffee from hipster corner cafe About Life and feasted on pastries from Brasserie Viron.
One of my must-do’s of the day was paying a visit to designer Sori Yanagi’s itty bitty store. We were given Sori Yanagi’s tea kettle as a wedding gift, and it is one of the most cherished items in our home. It’s a good thing I only brought one small suitcase for Japan purchases.
Of course, one of the main reasons why we chose to travel to Japan at this time was for the sakura, or cherry blossom, season. The vision of so many blossoms arching over the canal in Nakameguro was truly special and magical, at least for us adults.
The scene was less than mesmerizing for an 8 year old, so off we went to find one of Jules’ favorite foods, ramen. I had heard about Afuri ramen, since it serves up one of its ramens in an unconventional yuzu (citrus fruit) broth. We had fun ordering our food from a vending machine and then sat down to bowls of ramen heaven. Philip and Jules are now used to my swoons and tears of happiness when experiencing a food revelation, so they didn’t even look up from their bowls as I lost my you-know-what over this perfect bowl of al dente noodles, creamy soft-boiled egg, smoky pork chashu and crispy greens and bamboo shoots in a slightly tart and fragrant yuzu soy sauce broth.
After hitting up cult Japanese fashion shops and a ridiculously beautiful fabric shop, cocca, in the super hip area of Ebisu we stopped for ice cream at uber popular Ouca, where there was amazingly no line! We opted for the cherry blossom, black sesame and soy bean powder with black sugar flavors…holy moly! The flakes of salted kombu and wheat tea served as palate cleansers after the ice cream were surprisingly refreshing.
At this point, we made the fatal error of splitting up. Philip and Jules wanted to rest back at the apartment before dinner, while I had a few more shops to hit. Philip was down to 5% cell phone power, but we parted ways at the Shibuya train station, a few minutes from home. We agreed to meet at tonkatsu restaurant, Maisen, in the neighborhood for our 7PM dinner reservation. At 7:05PM, unable to reach Philip, I had no choice but go in by myself since I had booked the restaurant a few weeks prior. One whisky highball later, still no husband or son. The staff was too polite to say anything as I was sitting at a table for four by myself, so I ordered a meal and bit into the most decadent and tender piece of fried pork I’ve ever had. With its crispy coating, fatty and melty center and tangy lemon juice squeezed on top I became the only inhabitant on a tonkatsu paradise island for a brief moment.
The tonkatsu was paired with unlimited amounts of shredded cabbage. To buy time, I ate slowly and had my shredded cabbage refilled a few times — a decision I would regret later. Philip and Jules finally showed up a quarter to 8 and told me their horror story of walking around the neighborhood for an hour and a half trying to find the apartment with a dead cell phone. Oh, man.
Travel tip #27: Don’t split up in a foreign country if your phone is about to die and you don’t speak the language.