"I just don't know what I'm supposed to be."
We wake up and catch the early train back to Tokyo! Get off in Ginza and start walking to our hotel. We drag our luggage past some of the fanciest stores on earth. I am not thrilled. I feel like a dirty backpacker. This is not baller!
It just seems wrong to be dragging our suitcases past Harry Winston. I'm too old for this shit. I inform French Boy of my displeasure and he rolls his eyes.
Arrive at hotel---room isn’t ready so we drop off luggage and head straight for Harajuku!
We get off the train and its already a madhouse. Freaky people everywhere. Its so crowded and loud and colorful. Its like Halloween for adults---but every weekend!
We make it to the park where most of the Goth girls and boys are. Its nuts! Everyone is trying to snap photos and everyone is blocking each others shots.
The girls are all pretending to not want to be photographed, but obviously they have come to be seen and looked at and pose for photos.
We even see one boy all dolled up to look like a girl. Its sad and funny all at once.
We quickly tire of all the ridiculous voyeurism and leave. We head back to Akihabara for electronics again which is TEN times more packed on the weekend than on our first visit.
The streets are closed to vehicle traffic and there is a carnival like atmosphere.
I sit in the “wife waiting area” while he shops.
My feet are killing me. I read the English daily newspaper---my feet still hurt.
Later while French Boy shops I stand outside absolutely mesmerized and watch hundreds of people walk by.
We head back to the hotel to rest a bit then we catch a train to Shinjuku for dinner.
Colors! I can’t explain it, but I have a major crush on Tokyo at night. It gives me butterflies. I never get enough of the colors and lights.
We walk around Shinjuku and get lost on the back alleys where the nudie bars are. We finally find a restaurant and eat Chinese food. Each booth has tiny flat screen TV showing movie trailers---now that’s baller! We watch TV and munch.
I love Japan.
French Boy decides he hates the little dumpling things that I always order for dinner. I still love them.
After dinner we catch the train home. We decide we’re too old for Shinjuku.
Too many screaming drunk people, too much filth and debauchery…and that was just a Sunday night!