Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto

Tokyo is amazing because it feels like rush hour even at midnight. And the map for the subway system looks like one of those celtic knot designs. Also, I'm reasonably sure that you could find almost anything in the world there.

Without Mr. and Mrs. S. there to get everyone out of bed, we didn't leave Miwa until past noon. Adam, Miyuki, Andrew and I hauled ass to Tokyo and got there in the late afternoon. We met up with Miyuki's friend Naoki and she showed us around town, taking us to the lovely Ginza district of Tokyo where we acted like total otakus (nerds or "social retards") in the Sony showroom. Those robot dogs are far too creepy. We found the karaoke bar from "Lost in Translation", but Bill Murray wasn't there, so the scene wasn't happn'in.

We also wandered around "electric town" in Akihabara which was seedier than I'd expected. Or at least the store we looked in trying to find a Hello Kitty neck massager was full of school-girl themed porn and no Hello Kitty stuff. Sorry Kem. There were lots of stores that sold things like spy cameras and chopped computer parts. Or at least I think so; it's hard to tell when you can't read anything.

We finally ended up in Shibuya checking out the Japanese take on Mexican food, since it's always interesting to see where fish flakes, squid and fried eggs will turn up. Shibuya knows how to party. They put Montreal to shame. There's even a museum of Tobacco and Salt, but we got shit-faced on $40 pitchers of beer and missed it. Instead, we decided to check out the cultural attractions in the Kareoke bar (incidentally, "kareoke" means "invisible orchestra").

The Japanese are really not afraid of alcohol. Kareoke there is in small private rooms so there's none of that crooning shit we have over here. Most places have all-you-can-drink specials and you just hang out with some friends and get completely wasted and sing that Styx song - Mr. Roboto.
"Secret secret, I've got a secret!"
The rest is a bit of a blur, but instead of seeing more of Tokyo I spent the morning sleeping and trying not to throw up.

Incidentally, it turns out that when you have a blinding hangover, being on an airplane makes it 30% worse.

So now I'm back in Montreal, Andrew had to leave for Boston, it's 6:00 AM and I can't sleep. I feel like it's approaching dinner time. I think I need the kerosene fumes from the heater to lull me off to sleep (though my clothes stil reek of kerosene - I'd better keep away from open flames). It's nice to be back in the land of central heating and no squat toilets, but the vending machines here suck (there's no Pocari Sweat or hot canned tea), it's really cold and suddenly I'm below average height. I want to go back.