I conducted an experiment today, and here's the result of my research:
Of ten people followed in the street, ZERO walked in a straight line, and TEN blocked my path in a last minute zig zag swerve as I tried to overtake them.
Now I don't know whether it is just people in Hong Kong who have this insanely annoying habit or whether it is because the pavements are so narrow here that I just notice it more, but walking anywhere in Hong Kong (especially during morning, lunch and evening rush hours) is INFURIATING!
At first it looks like everyone is walking on the right hand side, which would make sense and bring a semblance of pedestrian order, but then out of the blue and completely unpredictably, the person in front of you (usually armed with a cigarette ready to blind you and burn you) will vere off course or simply stop incomprehensibly in their tracks, creating a huge human domino-style pile-up behind them. Not to mention the people coming the other way who, on their crazed trajectory, create head-on collisions with no apology whatsoever. In fact, often someone will bash into me and then scowl at me as if it is my fault that I am in their way!
And when it's raining, well, the best thing to do then is never leave home, because hundreds of inconsiderate zig zaggers are one thing, but once they have their umbrella weapons in hand, now that's just a city-wide accident waiting to happen.
Especially when you're just tall enough for the umbrellas' spikes to be at eye-level...
31 July 2008
27 July 2008
Hens and Stags
So as I was saying, our friends Julie and Jesse are getting married in Switzerland in two weeks. And because every couple deserves a final bash before the big leap, we decided to throw them a party before they left. Of course with the groom being American, the bride being Swiss and the guests being Swiss, French, Dutch and British, there was some confusion as to the intention of the night - for the Americans it was a Bachelor(ette) party, for the French an 'Enterrement de vie de Jeune Fille/Garcon' (which means the burial of your former, younger, more fabulous life - my personal cynical favourite) and for the British it was a Hen/Stag night. Of course the party happened at our house and I was in charge of the T-shirts etc, so the Hens and Stags won.
There is something to be said about being under the French influence though - between the delicious food from Romain, Caroline and John's fabulous French food shop (including home made Foie Gras), Nico's wine and champagne at cost price and Marine's INCREDIBLE cooking skills, we had a very civilised dinner. And of course I suppose there is also something to be said about having a party now that we are older - no more giant pots of pasta ladled straight from the pan and, more importantly, people actually helped clean up at the end! Long gone are the days of waking up to innumerable cans of beer and cigarette butts strewn around the place...
Anyway, we had personalised cupcakes, Mr and Mrs games, and even a girls vs boys challenge planned, but we never got that far, preferring to don the costumes right there on the roof and dance around looking ridiculous instead. You could even say we partied like it was 1999 - as in when Krusty and I still had enough energy to stay up dancing until 5.30 am...
It wasn't our strongest photographical effort, but here are a few examples anyway...
There is something to be said about being under the French influence though - between the delicious food from Romain, Caroline and John's fabulous French food shop (including home made Foie Gras), Nico's wine and champagne at cost price and Marine's INCREDIBLE cooking skills, we had a very civilised dinner. And of course I suppose there is also something to be said about having a party now that we are older - no more giant pots of pasta ladled straight from the pan and, more importantly, people actually helped clean up at the end! Long gone are the days of waking up to innumerable cans of beer and cigarette butts strewn around the place...
Anyway, we had personalised cupcakes, Mr and Mrs games, and even a girls vs boys challenge planned, but we never got that far, preferring to don the costumes right there on the roof and dance around looking ridiculous instead. You could even say we partied like it was 1999 - as in when Krusty and I still had enough energy to stay up dancing until 5.30 am...
It wasn't our strongest photographical effort, but here are a few examples anyway...
26 July 2008
Countdown
In an unconscious stroke of genius, we are flying to Switzerland for our friends' wedding on the first day of the Beijing Olympics. The genius part? In the Central MTR subway station, there is a giant clock counting down the days, minutes and seconds to the Olympics. Or is it our holiday?
Beats crossing off days on a calendar...
Beats crossing off days on a calendar...
21 July 2008
L'homme Chauve Souris
We went to see the latest Batman tonight.
The words to describe how much I loved it (and seeing those great Hong Kong sequences) have not been invented yet.
All I can say is - Dark Knight, I'm yours.
The words to describe how much I loved it (and seeing those great Hong Kong sequences) have not been invented yet.
All I can say is - Dark Knight, I'm yours.
17 July 2008
Multiple personalties
I would like to understand how I can be such a blushing wallflower and confident cynic at the same time. I can go from being full of self-belief, ready to insult someone to their face, and then within the blink of an eye I become completely needy and self-doubting with a crimson face and sweaty palms. Today I went through the whole gamut of emotions at the office of one of my freelance jobs, and managed to blush a record breaking 17 times throughout the day.
Needless to say, I'm exhausted.
Needless to say, I'm exhausted.
14 July 2008
Bang, crash, boom
June was officially the wettest month in Hong Kong since records began, probably due in the most part to 'that' day (our housewarming party of course) when over 145mm fell in just one hour. That's 15% of the normal annual rainfall! In just one hour!!
Anyway, July doesn't look like it's going to be any better, as it has rained constantly with just one little break this morning that has been followed by a giant thunderstorm tonight.
I am alone in the flat, the flat that we loved because of its proximity to the harbour, the flat whose proximity to the harbour means that we get the full brunt of the storm, and I am PETRIFIED! The thunder is so loud I find myself physically startled each time it breaks, with my heart jumping right up into my throat. The walls are even vibrating, too! I know it can't hurt me, but it's still scary.
And actually it can kind of hurt me - the flat that we loved because of its rooftop also has a leak coming from that same rooftop. Seems like the structure just couldn't deal with so much water, so that most of our bathroom walls now look like this:
The flat has aged by 20 years in just a few days...
And it's got me thinking - one of the things that astrologers predict for this particular year of the rat is natural disasters relating to earth and water elements. Now I don't believe in that kind of thing (I think), but what if? Listening to this thunderstorm could change my whole belief system if I'm not careful...
But all I need to remember is that 10 years ago a Chinese fortune teller told me that by now I would have become a celebrated lawyer, been married and have gone through an acrimonious divorce. Of course none of this has come true.
Then again, he did also tell me that the shape of my nose foretold a long and prosperous life, so I'm not about to give up on predictions just yet. I mean, that thunder can't be normal. It must have some kind of cosmic relevance related to my upcoming long and wealthy life, mustn't it?!
Anyway, July doesn't look like it's going to be any better, as it has rained constantly with just one little break this morning that has been followed by a giant thunderstorm tonight.
I am alone in the flat, the flat that we loved because of its proximity to the harbour, the flat whose proximity to the harbour means that we get the full brunt of the storm, and I am PETRIFIED! The thunder is so loud I find myself physically startled each time it breaks, with my heart jumping right up into my throat. The walls are even vibrating, too! I know it can't hurt me, but it's still scary.
And actually it can kind of hurt me - the flat that we loved because of its rooftop also has a leak coming from that same rooftop. Seems like the structure just couldn't deal with so much water, so that most of our bathroom walls now look like this:
The flat has aged by 20 years in just a few days...
And it's got me thinking - one of the things that astrologers predict for this particular year of the rat is natural disasters relating to earth and water elements. Now I don't believe in that kind of thing (I think), but what if? Listening to this thunderstorm could change my whole belief system if I'm not careful...
But all I need to remember is that 10 years ago a Chinese fortune teller told me that by now I would have become a celebrated lawyer, been married and have gone through an acrimonious divorce. Of course none of this has come true.
Then again, he did also tell me that the shape of my nose foretold a long and prosperous life, so I'm not about to give up on predictions just yet. I mean, that thunder can't be normal. It must have some kind of cosmic relevance related to my upcoming long and wealthy life, mustn't it?!
12 July 2008
Overblogger
Krusty has just come back from his business trip and given me a detailed (long-winded, I thought) explanation of why my Japanese blogging was waaaayyy over the top.
So I apologise for giving you the second by second account of our trip. At least I'll have it in the archives now, as a reminder of how easily I can avoid being succinct sometimes...
So I apologise for giving you the second by second account of our trip. At least I'll have it in the archives now, as a reminder of how easily I can avoid being succinct sometimes...
11 July 2008
Day 6 - Harajuku, Maronouchi, Akihabara
As an antidote to the noise, crowd and sleaze of Shibuya, I took Krusty to Meiji Jingu for a quiet stroll through the gardens and a peak at a traditional wedding ceremony before he left for Brisbane. At least being in a 'real' hotel we could leave our bags behind.
I love the Meiji shrine. It is such a calm spot, right in the middle of town. And it's also where the crazy Harajuku girls hang out, dressed as manga characters and gothic fantasies. They weren't out for us unfortunately. It was too early. There were two of them, though, one of which was actually a Westerner. Looks like Gwen Stefani has launched a cross contamination of cultures! We moved on from there to find some delicious ramen instead and I am glad I could show Krusty what I meant about the broth being so important and why HK ramen is just dishwater...
As Krusty had to take an earlier flight to Brisbane, we then had to rush to the Narita Express, only to get completely lost and confused, mainly due to the complete lack of signage. Not very tourist friendly really. We went up to a man wearing the Narita Express uniform, hurriedly asking "Narita Express wa doko desuka?" (where the hell is that g*d**mn train g*d**mmit) but he just looked at us perplexed and led us to his boss, who after checking the station map and saying "Ahhhhhh" and "Ehhhhh" for two minutes, told us that we were in fact already standing on the platform. Didn't they know where they were?!!
Once I left Krusty, unsure of whether he would make it on time, I tried to find an internet cafe to find a Capsule Hotel, one of those chicken coop style rows of pods on pods where you climb in and lie very still if you don't want to bump your head on the ceiling. I have never been completely alone in Tokyo (in fact I can't remember the last time that I was completely alone at all), and thought this was my only opportunity to experience this crazy accommodation. It was now or never.
Turns out not all Capsule Hotels allow access to women because when they do they have to have women only floors (which is probably a good thing), so I settled on Akihabara, even though just two weeks beforehand some psycho had gone on a killing spree there. Lightning doesn't strike twice right?
Unfortunately, Capsule Hotels only open at 5pm, so as I was waiting for it open, I dove down into the first cafe I could see, only to find myself surrounded by girls in maid outfits. I had actually found one of the legendary Maid Cafes! They have been spreading like wildfire in Tokyo - basically all of the waitresses are dressed like maids, and all of them act subserviently and speak in squeaky voices. I should have known by the name of the cafe (Vierge) but they didn't throw me out, despite me not being a socially awkward manboy with a PSP console.
Instead they smiled sweetly, calling me master and showing me to my table. The guys around me weren't talking to each other but all looking down at the consoles on their laps, perhaps playing in network... I took a photo of the girls, got a disapproving frown, then my phone rang and I was told not to answer. Spoiling the fantasy I suppose. I thought it best to leave them to it.
Outside I was thrown deep into the world and freaks and geeks of "Akiba". Men in slippers, men in gimp jewellery, men reading porn and manga, men in Pokemon outfits, men in maid outfits, rows of men alone eating their tonkatsu (breaded pork), men watching cartoons on their mobile, men with eyelids tired of life, men with eyes wide open expecting to see their fantasy at any moment, nervous men trying to hard, and me, in my Batgirl T-shirt trying not to stand out, trying to feel as much as possible like a nerd, eating my own tonkatsu in the company of Haruki Murakami. I sat there for a while reading his account of a myth of three brothers with three boulders who have to push them up a hill to claim their home. The higher they go, the more of the world they'll see. It's the same in Tokyo - if you want to see it all, you have to make a real effort.
As I got to the Capsule Hotel, so began the craziness, and the loneliness. I'm claustrophobic, so I quickly realised that this was probably not a very good idea. Tokyo is such a huge city, with so many connections needed for just one journey home that it's quite easy to miss the last train, so I knew that business men came here when they had been out drinking. But I still don't know exactly what type of women stay in these places... I only crossed paths with a weary smoker with bad make up and an old lady talking to herself and rummaging through plastic bags. I felt a little like I was in a female detention centre. All wearing the same 'uniform', surrounded by simple, functional, confining plastic furniture, hard buckwheat pillow... My own private detention centre though. Very quiet too, no male snoring, thank goodness.
Only thing is that I was so excited about the whole experience that I went in much too early, so after a few failed photos of myself (there was nowhere near enough space to get the right angle), I just lay there alone with my thoughts. Strangely, unlike in the prison I felt I was in, I wished I could lock the door to my capsule, which is actually closed only by a thin curtain through which I could hear everything and everyone else.
But it beat a hostel any day and it was the cheapest night's sleep I've ever had.
I woke up (sort of) refreshed and ready to face the struggle to the airport. Thankfully Krusty's journey had helped me understand what to do, and so I got back smoothly to Hong Kong, finding it extremely difficult to acclimatise to the noise, smells and rain again...
I love the Meiji shrine. It is such a calm spot, right in the middle of town. And it's also where the crazy Harajuku girls hang out, dressed as manga characters and gothic fantasies. They weren't out for us unfortunately. It was too early. There were two of them, though, one of which was actually a Westerner. Looks like Gwen Stefani has launched a cross contamination of cultures! We moved on from there to find some delicious ramen instead and I am glad I could show Krusty what I meant about the broth being so important and why HK ramen is just dishwater...
As Krusty had to take an earlier flight to Brisbane, we then had to rush to the Narita Express, only to get completely lost and confused, mainly due to the complete lack of signage. Not very tourist friendly really. We went up to a man wearing the Narita Express uniform, hurriedly asking "Narita Express wa doko desuka?" (where the hell is that g*d**mn train g*d**mmit) but he just looked at us perplexed and led us to his boss, who after checking the station map and saying "Ahhhhhh" and "Ehhhhh" for two minutes, told us that we were in fact already standing on the platform. Didn't they know where they were?!!
Once I left Krusty, unsure of whether he would make it on time, I tried to find an internet cafe to find a Capsule Hotel, one of those chicken coop style rows of pods on pods where you climb in and lie very still if you don't want to bump your head on the ceiling. I have never been completely alone in Tokyo (in fact I can't remember the last time that I was completely alone at all), and thought this was my only opportunity to experience this crazy accommodation. It was now or never.
Turns out not all Capsule Hotels allow access to women because when they do they have to have women only floors (which is probably a good thing), so I settled on Akihabara, even though just two weeks beforehand some psycho had gone on a killing spree there. Lightning doesn't strike twice right?
Unfortunately, Capsule Hotels only open at 5pm, so as I was waiting for it open, I dove down into the first cafe I could see, only to find myself surrounded by girls in maid outfits. I had actually found one of the legendary Maid Cafes! They have been spreading like wildfire in Tokyo - basically all of the waitresses are dressed like maids, and all of them act subserviently and speak in squeaky voices. I should have known by the name of the cafe (Vierge) but they didn't throw me out, despite me not being a socially awkward manboy with a PSP console.
Instead they smiled sweetly, calling me master and showing me to my table. The guys around me weren't talking to each other but all looking down at the consoles on their laps, perhaps playing in network... I took a photo of the girls, got a disapproving frown, then my phone rang and I was told not to answer. Spoiling the fantasy I suppose. I thought it best to leave them to it.
Outside I was thrown deep into the world and freaks and geeks of "Akiba". Men in slippers, men in gimp jewellery, men reading porn and manga, men in Pokemon outfits, men in maid outfits, rows of men alone eating their tonkatsu (breaded pork), men watching cartoons on their mobile, men with eyelids tired of life, men with eyes wide open expecting to see their fantasy at any moment, nervous men trying to hard, and me, in my Batgirl T-shirt trying not to stand out, trying to feel as much as possible like a nerd, eating my own tonkatsu in the company of Haruki Murakami. I sat there for a while reading his account of a myth of three brothers with three boulders who have to push them up a hill to claim their home. The higher they go, the more of the world they'll see. It's the same in Tokyo - if you want to see it all, you have to make a real effort.
As I got to the Capsule Hotel, so began the craziness, and the loneliness. I'm claustrophobic, so I quickly realised that this was probably not a very good idea. Tokyo is such a huge city, with so many connections needed for just one journey home that it's quite easy to miss the last train, so I knew that business men came here when they had been out drinking. But I still don't know exactly what type of women stay in these places... I only crossed paths with a weary smoker with bad make up and an old lady talking to herself and rummaging through plastic bags. I felt a little like I was in a female detention centre. All wearing the same 'uniform', surrounded by simple, functional, confining plastic furniture, hard buckwheat pillow... My own private detention centre though. Very quiet too, no male snoring, thank goodness.
Only thing is that I was so excited about the whole experience that I went in much too early, so after a few failed photos of myself (there was nowhere near enough space to get the right angle), I just lay there alone with my thoughts. Strangely, unlike in the prison I felt I was in, I wished I could lock the door to my capsule, which is actually closed only by a thin curtain through which I could hear everything and everyone else.
But it beat a hostel any day and it was the cheapest night's sleep I've ever had.
I woke up (sort of) refreshed and ready to face the struggle to the airport. Thankfully Krusty's journey had helped me understand what to do, and so I got back smoothly to Hong Kong, finding it extremely difficult to acclimatise to the noise, smells and rain again...
Day 5 - Ginza, Shibuya and Asagaya
Of course I had a million plans for Krusty's first full day without work in Tokyo, but things never go to plan when you want them to...
We started by sweating down Ginza looking for a place to eat, couldn't find one, tried the local depato, nothing, argued a little, took the tube to Shibuya, hot and bothered.
Then the plan was to leave out bags in the station lockers and sleep in a 'love hotel' that night, capitalising on experience and savings. Now I know this sounds naive, but love hotels are not just for prostitutes and one night stands. They are also a legitimate cheap option when you have missed the last train, and, now remember, I am not being naive, kids use them to play games or study in peace away from the people crowding their tiny house back home. I know it sounds outlandish, but it's true. There is of course lots of 'love' going on too. But anyway, they are quite fun because, as well as being one of the cheapest forms of accommodation, they also require you to choose your room from a picture board, and then a hand pops out with the key and you find your room, never meeting another soul along the way. And the rooms tend to be huge and 'themed' - you can have the 'Hello Kitty' room, the 'Prince of Wales' room (don't ask) or the waterbed room. It's fun, and I thought Krusty would enjoy this quirk. Of course, that was without counting on the fact that the lockers were shut for the G8 summit which was happening hundreds of kilometres away in Hokkaido, but whatever, there was to be no locker action anywhere in Tokyo for five days. The overnight Love Hotel rate would only kick in from 10pm, and we were stuck with our bags.
We tried another 'normal' hotel - too expensive, so we tried a Love Hotel anyway, but the hourly cost until 10pm plus the overnight fee added up to more than a four star hotel. So we ended up in a dodgy hole called Shibuya City Hotel, with the tiniest room I've ever seen. Not a good start.
We then went to meet Nick at Hachiko, along with anyone who was meeting anyone. Hachiko is the statue outside Shibuya station, placed there to commemorate the dog who used to wait for his master everyday as he came back from work, even years after his master had actually died... We walked around in a 34 degree daze, sat drinking in the Dubliner's and then made our (long-winded) way to Asagaya for Nick's monthly open acoustic session.
We sat amongst the guitarists, flutists, violinist and man with a pianica (piano/harmonica) as they jammed along. The blond beer started to melt into the blond guitar wood in my mind as Krusty shook his 'egg' filled with rice. He was actually surprisingly good for someone who is tone deaf. I guess you can have rhythm even if you can't sing. The guys covered Dylan, Joplin, the Beatles and their own hits, Virginia sang and I tapped my feet, practicing my perfectly honed listening instrument, and it was just a lovely evening, if not a totally authentic Japanese one... There were some Japanese people there though, and music became our means of communication for the night...
We started by sweating down Ginza looking for a place to eat, couldn't find one, tried the local depato, nothing, argued a little, took the tube to Shibuya, hot and bothered.
Then the plan was to leave out bags in the station lockers and sleep in a 'love hotel' that night, capitalising on experience and savings. Now I know this sounds naive, but love hotels are not just for prostitutes and one night stands. They are also a legitimate cheap option when you have missed the last train, and, now remember, I am not being naive, kids use them to play games or study in peace away from the people crowding their tiny house back home. I know it sounds outlandish, but it's true. There is of course lots of 'love' going on too. But anyway, they are quite fun because, as well as being one of the cheapest forms of accommodation, they also require you to choose your room from a picture board, and then a hand pops out with the key and you find your room, never meeting another soul along the way. And the rooms tend to be huge and 'themed' - you can have the 'Hello Kitty' room, the 'Prince of Wales' room (don't ask) or the waterbed room. It's fun, and I thought Krusty would enjoy this quirk. Of course, that was without counting on the fact that the lockers were shut for the G8 summit which was happening hundreds of kilometres away in Hokkaido, but whatever, there was to be no locker action anywhere in Tokyo for five days. The overnight Love Hotel rate would only kick in from 10pm, and we were stuck with our bags.
We tried another 'normal' hotel - too expensive, so we tried a Love Hotel anyway, but the hourly cost until 10pm plus the overnight fee added up to more than a four star hotel. So we ended up in a dodgy hole called Shibuya City Hotel, with the tiniest room I've ever seen. Not a good start.
We then went to meet Nick at Hachiko, along with anyone who was meeting anyone. Hachiko is the statue outside Shibuya station, placed there to commemorate the dog who used to wait for his master everyday as he came back from work, even years after his master had actually died... We walked around in a 34 degree daze, sat drinking in the Dubliner's and then made our (long-winded) way to Asagaya for Nick's monthly open acoustic session.
We sat amongst the guitarists, flutists, violinist and man with a pianica (piano/harmonica) as they jammed along. The blond beer started to melt into the blond guitar wood in my mind as Krusty shook his 'egg' filled with rice. He was actually surprisingly good for someone who is tone deaf. I guess you can have rhythm even if you can't sing. The guys covered Dylan, Joplin, the Beatles and their own hits, Virginia sang and I tapped my feet, practicing my perfectly honed listening instrument, and it was just a lovely evening, if not a totally authentic Japanese one... There were some Japanese people there though, and music became our means of communication for the night...
Day 4 - Akasaka, Harajuku, Asakusa, Shibuya
On the way to the first stop on my list of places to visit, Asakusa, I thought about how much I loved the green attitude in Tokyo. There's recycling everywhere, smokers have neat little portable ashtrays and offices have adopted a 'cool office rule' where office employees must wear short sleeve shirts, no jacket and no tie, so that the air con can be turned down.
As I got out at the station, I realised that Asakusa was quite close in spelling to Akasaka, felt quite smug and applauded myself for having lived here and being so savvy, until I realised I was at the latter and had made that very mistake. Fool.
I inverted my itinerary as a result, and started in Harajuku instead, loving the memory flood, although not so excited about being in black jeans in the... well... scorchio weather. The forecast had been for rain, so I really was turning Japanese with my squinting, thinking that perhaps I too needed a parasol as I ducked into UT and got my fix of quirky manga Ts.
I continued through the leafy neighbourhood to Three Minutes' Happiness to buy a robot that should make J+J happy for, oh, at least three minutes, and then bought an egg garden to cheer myself up (you crack it open and water it and it grows into wild strawberries apparently. We'll see...) as well as a crazy gadget that simulates bubblewrap and 'pops' when you press it. All quirky shopped out, I went to ASAKUSA this time, feeling like I was in a bad version of a 70s town the whole time. This used to be the entertainment district (OK it was a few hundreds years ago...) and the huge temple is testament to how important this place must have been. But now it's just full of tourists, bums and bad plastic toys. There must be some reason Starck decided to build his 'golden turd' here... I did visit Japan's oldest rollercoaster nearby, although found that I had actually been taken for a ride - I had to buy a ticket to go in, and then another to use the rides! Scandalous.
As Krusty came home from work (two hours late...), we went to Shibuya to witness the world's busiest pedestrian crossing and then get lost in the side alleys looking for a place to eat. Lots of them would not let us in, although it was unclear whether it was because we were foreigners or whether two people weren't enough to be worth their while. In any case, lots of places were "full" when we walked in.
Despite enjoying one of the 'free hugs' that people were giving out in front of the station, the heat was really getting to me by then, increased by the number of people in the streets, and I felt The Hulk approaching. But thankfully Krusty was there to find an escape route and we found a tiny dive where we had grilled skewers (Krusty's new favourite food) next to a fluo girl watching a soap series on her mobile while she ate alone.
As I got out at the station, I realised that Asakusa was quite close in spelling to Akasaka, felt quite smug and applauded myself for having lived here and being so savvy, until I realised I was at the latter and had made that very mistake. Fool.
I inverted my itinerary as a result, and started in Harajuku instead, loving the memory flood, although not so excited about being in black jeans in the... well... scorchio weather. The forecast had been for rain, so I really was turning Japanese with my squinting, thinking that perhaps I too needed a parasol as I ducked into UT and got my fix of quirky manga Ts.
I continued through the leafy neighbourhood to Three Minutes' Happiness to buy a robot that should make J+J happy for, oh, at least three minutes, and then bought an egg garden to cheer myself up (you crack it open and water it and it grows into wild strawberries apparently. We'll see...) as well as a crazy gadget that simulates bubblewrap and 'pops' when you press it. All quirky shopped out, I went to ASAKUSA this time, feeling like I was in a bad version of a 70s town the whole time. This used to be the entertainment district (OK it was a few hundreds years ago...) and the huge temple is testament to how important this place must have been. But now it's just full of tourists, bums and bad plastic toys. There must be some reason Starck decided to build his 'golden turd' here... I did visit Japan's oldest rollercoaster nearby, although found that I had actually been taken for a ride - I had to buy a ticket to go in, and then another to use the rides! Scandalous.
As Krusty came home from work (two hours late...), we went to Shibuya to witness the world's busiest pedestrian crossing and then get lost in the side alleys looking for a place to eat. Lots of them would not let us in, although it was unclear whether it was because we were foreigners or whether two people weren't enough to be worth their while. In any case, lots of places were "full" when we walked in.
Despite enjoying one of the 'free hugs' that people were giving out in front of the station, the heat was really getting to me by then, increased by the number of people in the streets, and I felt The Hulk approaching. But thankfully Krusty was there to find an escape route and we found a tiny dive where we had grilled skewers (Krusty's new favourite food) next to a fluo girl watching a soap series on her mobile while she ate alone.
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