卿は、私はこの国から抜け出すためにあなたを必要とするつもりだ- Or "Adamu Erumahadi Vs. The State of Japan"
TOKYO (PART 1)
Shinjuku is quite an experience, even for someone accustomed to the madness of Times and Leicester Squares; an astoundingly dense, exuberant warren of flashing neon, immaculately dressed teenagers and businesses crammed into every square inch of real estate. One building I passed had a veterinarian on the ground floor, a jazz bar on the first, a ramen restaurant on the second and a clothes shop on the third and that was one of the tamer examples (let's just say elements of the district have a certain...Soho-esque vibe about them). The station is even more crazy - not only is it, by some distance, the busiest station in the world, but it exists somewhere in the midst of an eight-storey department store that makes Westfield look like a Costcutter.
My hotel for the night (the rather swish Granbell Shinjuku) was in the Kabuki-cho ward, an area built originally to be a fancy theatre district but soon fell under yakuza influence and is now famed for its pachinko parlours and illicit brothels. In fact, I'm pretty sure I spied a gangster boss doing his rounds in his black Mercedes- as the chubby, sixty-something figure in golfing gear popped into various slightly suspect buildings, a myriad dodgy looking characters bowed deeply around him as his bodyguard looked on. Even though Japan's organised crime gangs are well known for being essentially harmless to Westerners (as long as they don't get involved in anything dodgy), it was still slightly intimidating so I'm happy to report I'm still in possession of all my fingers.
But that's not to say Shinjuku is just
a den of sin and consumerism (sadly). The Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden is
one of the city's most beloved parks and it's easy to see why,
especially during cherry blossom season - which due to a benevolent
quirk of weather endured slightly later than usual in 2014. The Garden
combines French, English and Japanese styles, and in my
sleep-deprived state, it felt like the most beautiful place I'd ever
seen.
KYOTO
The next morning after experiencing the wonders of Tokyo's subway system at rush hour, I jumped on a Shinkansen (the proverbial "bullet train") and made my way to Kyoto. It's nicknamed "The City Of Ten-Thousand Shrines" and over the course of four days I managed to visit roughly half of them.
My hotel wasn't exactly the most high-class establishment, reeking of cigarette smoke and having the most compact bathroom known to man, but it did have the advantage of being literally next to Kyoto Station. And I spent a surprising amount of time there, for Kyoto Station, whilst inevitably being denounced as a carbuncle on the landscape by all and sundry when it was remodelled, is a bloody cool building. At the western edge of the station, there's an 11-story staircase that leads up to an open-topped plaza that provides great views of the city, and lights up with fancy pictures and messages at various points, because it's a giant staircase and can do what it damn well wants. (Also, there's a Mr Donut on the first floor, and Mr Donut may rival Mr Kipling as a vendor of sugar-filled confectionaries). I even watched a vocal harmony group cover Queen there, because that's just how Kyoto rolls.
My first port of call was the Buddhist
temple of To-Ji to the south-west of the station. To-Ji was built in
796 AD and once lay at the eastern edge of the now demolished gate
known as Rashomon (immortalised in a Kurosawa film and a throwaway
joke in The Simpsons.) It has the tallest wooden pagoda in the
country, and once a month plays host to a famous flea market- which
happily took place the day I was there (the teriyaki stall is really
good if you ever get the chance to sample it).
I then slowly meandered my way to one
of the city's greatest landmarks via a number of lesser known
temples. Two that stick in my mind are the Nishi Honganji, a dark, intimidating piece of temple architecture where a choir of monks
were practising their mesmerising hymnals, and Renkoji Temple, a charming oasis of understated serenity down an anonymous side-street. But
none could quite top the hill-top sanctuary of Kiyomizu, which
despite being a bit of a tourist trap, is pretty breathtaking (even
though half of it was under scaffolding due to restoration works).
One famous feature are two "love stones" (no tittering at
the back) placed 20 feet apart- if a pilgrim can successfully
traverse between the two with their eyes closed, then they will find
true love. I didn't, and I'm still single so I guess it's probably
true.
I ended the day exploring the Gion
district, historically associated with geisha but for me associated
with an average Indian meal. To my surprise, curry houses are as
popular in Japan as they are in Britain, and because the staff
normally speak some English, are useful for avoiding accidental
seafood-related death. I
also saw this cute sign, because Japan.
Tuesday was the day I realised to my cost that Kyoto is a lot bigger than it looks on the maps they give you at the information desks (I still don't think my legs have recovered yet). Much of Kyoto was rebuilt after WWII in a rather anonymous, functional style, and if you don't know where you're going, you might wonder what all the fuss is about. Thankfully Ni-Jo Castle, the Kyoto residence of the first Tokugawa Shogun (one of the most influential figures in Japanese history) more than made up for the 45 minute walk past identikit office blocks I endured to get there. With its incredible "karamon" gate and ancient tapestries it's a marvel, although its famous nightingale floors (which squeak to alert guards of potential ninja assassins) do get slightly irritating after a while.
After a detour to the Kyoto Imperial Palace Gardens (with its impressive blossoms), Shimigano Shrine
and the myriad random side roads and
residential districts of north Kyoto, I accidentally stumbled on the
wonderful Daisen-In zen temple, a stunning example of that austere school of
architecture, and one unusually well-provisioned for English
speakers. No photos were allowed inside, but the traditional rock
garden, symbolising the order and chaos of life was "pretty deep man", I'd be saying if I was a dickhead. 
And then to Kinkaku-ji, the legendary
"Golden Temple". In truth, it's not the original building
(which was burned down by an unstable Buddhist monk in the 1950's),
but its gold-leafed facade, suspended above a lake is impressive
regardless. It was also the first (but certainly not the last) moment
of my journey where I partook in the classical temple refreshment of
a bowl of green tea, and a small sweet - in this case filled with red
bean paste, which for those that are curious, tastes like marzipan but with a less sweet edge. It's no Wispa Gold, but it'll do.
My third day in Kyoto involved
venturing out of the city proper and into the western suburb of
Arashiyama (which according to Wikipedia, translates to the
awesome-sounding "STORM MOUNTAIN"). Its centerpiece, Tenryu-ji Temple, is one of the finest temples I saw in
Japan, with a spectacular garden designed by 14th century monk Musō
Soseki. For almost half a millennium, the priests of Tenryu-ji came
to an arrangement with Ming dynasty China that allowed them to
facilitate much of the legitimate trade between the two great Asian
powers, and that no doubt explains why this compound is so pimpin'. 
To the north of the temple is an impressive bamboo forest,
and to the north of that are the Okochi Sanso Gardens. Denjiro Okochi
was a B&W-era film star specialising in period dramas who bought
a hideaway in the hills of Arashiyama at the height of his fame, and
after he died in 1962, the grounds were opened to the public.
Although it costs 1,000 Yen (£7) to enter, it's a subtly wonderful
place with some amazing views, a different aspect for each of
the four seasons, and the price of admission includes a free bowl of
green tea. Plus, not too many gaijin plague the place, so it's pretty serene to boot.
And then there was Arashiyama Park,
with its rather intimidating hill. I conducted a intense internal
debate with myself whether it was worth climbing to the top, but I
realised I'd regret it if I didn't and was rewarded with this. So
that was nice.
I then made the biggest mis-step of my trip: I went to Osaka. Osaka is the Los Angeles of Japan, full of obnoxious tourists and flashy American chains and whilst I'm sure it has its charms, I managed to avoid most of them. I got lost in the god-forsaken labyrinth of unadulterated chaos of Osaka-Umeda station and ended up 15 miles out in Kobe whilst trying to find the aquarium and ended up on a giant ferris wheel on top of a shopping mall because I think I was mentally hoping that it would collapse and at least I wouldn't have to experience Osaka any more. And that's all I'll say about that.
I was at a bit of a loss to do on my
last day before heading to Kanazawa, but I felt that I should take full
advantage of my JR Pass and explore the region at large. So I went to Uji, a small town associated with green tea, the "Tale of Genji" (an ancient
and legendary story of a young prince navigating the politics and boudoirs of 10th century Japan) and the thousand year old majesty of the Byodo-In
Phoenix Hall. There's not much there except green tea flavoured Mr Whippy's and the temple, but damn, if that temple isn't one of the finest in the county. Plus, unlike many of the other fancy religious establishments, it's actually fully open to the public (although sadly, I wasn't aware of that at the time).
On the same train line as Uji is the ancient Japanese capital of Nara, so I decided that, in the absence of any other plans, I'd check the place out. And my God, that was one of the better ideas I've had in my life. Not only does it have some of the most breathtaking sights the country has to offer (the Todai-ji was the biggest wooden structure in the world for many centuries, and the 15 meter high bronze Buddha within is one of the most incredible things I've ever seen), but the place is essentially ruled by deer, who will destroy you without a second thought:
And then because I'm an idiot I went back to Osaka because I REALLY wanted to see the aquarium (by this stage I was starting to get shrine fatigue and needed something a bit less 16th century). Needless to say I got lost in a random industrial estate for an hour and a half but finally made my way there. I'm not a big nature buff, but it wowed me nonetheless- and has the advantage of being open quite late, so fits in well between the "temple-exploring" and "getting rat-arsed on Asahi" parts of the day.
KANAZAWA
Kanazawa was a surprise to me. I went
there purely to meet up with my friend Gabi, and was expecting a
small provincial town constructed from the same architectually dull
mould as central Kyoto. Little did I know that Kanazawa is a
bustling, modern, ambitious city which I suspect will become a big
deal once its new Shinkansen line opens this year. Whilst a lot of
the city is shiny and fancy and new, it retains a small samurai district (lacking actual samurai, unfortunately) and its justifiably renowned 17th century garden,
Kenroku-en. If you do find yourself there, I recommend the stupidly named Hotel Trusty- it was the second cheapest, yet most comfortable hotel I stayed in Japan.
NAGANO
In truth, I only visited Nagano because it was a convenient point to break up my journey back to Tokyo - my guide book didn't even bother to cover it except in the most cursory detail. But in truth, it may well have been the ultimate highlight of my trip. Nagano itself is a bit of an odd place- it has top-level infrastructure (including a Shinkansen line) plenty of English-language signage thanks to the Winter Olympics taking place there in the 90's, and a cool hipster-ish vibe that reminded me a bit of Boulder, Colorado.
The lampposts are
kawaii, there's an "British pub" called the Red Dragon that serves real ale, a converted Routemaster posing as a restaurant, and the only burrito joint I saw in Japan. (Also, its traffic lights randomly play a Robert Burns ditty for reasons as yet unascertained.) But despite being quite "Western" in many ways, its ski-slopes and holiday resorts remain mostly
patronised by the Japanese, meaning you won't encounter that many people that speak English. But that's no real obstacle, as some of the friendliest and most helpful people I met during my trip were in Nagano. 
I only had 24 hours in the city, but was determined to make the most of it. I heard there was a series of mountain-top shrines accessible by bus, so with the aid of some hastily scrawled diagrams from a friendly bus station assistant, I found my way to Togakushi. I sadly only had time to visit the lower and middle shrines (I'd have missed the last bus back if I'd trekked to the upper shrine and wasn't particularly on board with being eaten by a mountain bear) but their straightforward simplicity and isolation was a pleasant tonic for the ostentatious, tourist-filled temples I'd seen elsewhere. Also, even though the temperature was a very acceptable 23C down in Nagano proper, the middle shrine was still half-covered with snow. I'd make a pun about it being "pretty COOL", but even I have some standards. 
And of course, there was Zenkoji Temple. It was 8 in the morning, the weather was mild with a light breeze, cherry blossom still adorned the trees and a church choir was practicing in the distance. The temple buildings were festooned with flags of all colours, the smell of incense wafted through the air, and in truth, I don't think I've ever experienced anything so perfect in my life. Beneath the temple is a pitch-black sanctuary, in which the holiest of truths is supposed to reside and that was special enough, but just to explore and appreciate the natural beauty of the trees and gardens in conjunction with the grandeur of the temple itself was an experience I'll never forget.
TOKYO (PART II)
After all the excitement of the previous week, my return to Tokyo was a bit of an anti-climax. The Tokyo Imperial Palace Gardens seemed a bit ordinary compared to what I'd explored in Kyoto and Kanazawa, and many of the other places I wanted to visit were closed (my hotel for the week, the Bellclassic, come highly recommended though- it's next to a very well-connected station which sells the most delicious cheesecake known to man). But I did get to visit the New Dug jazz kissa, a tiny bar hidden under a non-descript building near Shinjuku Station that appears in Murakami's "Norwegian Wood". There, I listened to rare jazz records and supped on whisky sours and got chatting to a Japanese hipster named Misato about Bo Ningen and Savages and Young Fathers, because of course that had to happen. So it wasn't all bad.
Monday saw the start of Golden Week, a series of bank holidays that essentially acts as a week-long break for many Japanese people, and therefore heralded MASS TRANSPORT CHAOS as everyone journeyed out of the city to enjoy the sunshine and nature and so forth. I chose that day to visit Kamakura, because going to one of Japan's most popular coastal tourist attractions on a bank holiday was clearly a sensible and well-thought-through idea. I will say that the Great Buddha lived up to its name, I did get a certain glow from visiting Kamakura Beach after recalling it was a focal plot point in Otomo's batshit, but brilliant satire Roujin Z, and I was amused that the first awful-looking kebab house I saw in the country was about 20 foot from one of Japan's most holy relics. But overall it was a humid, crowded, stressful experience and I came back from it a little disappointed.
Tuesday was the inevitable trip to Akihabara, Tokyo's (in)famous geek district and simultaneously the most awesome and creepiest place I've been to in my time. I spent almost £200 purchasing some incredibly nerdy stuff (including a Persona 3 art book, a Shinra Corporation tea-towel and Xenogears "Perfect Works", which I've lusted after for 15 years) and admired the sheer range of video game/anime memorabilia, but the slightly sinister concept behind maid cafes and the astounding amount of floor-space given over to hentai (and more pertinently, hentai of a lolita-ish bent) was, to frankly, rather disturbing.
Then to Asakusa, one of the city's most colourful temples, and the Tokyo Skytree, a half-mile high communications tower built specifically to taunt vertigo sufferers. Spending upwards of £20 to explore an observation deck isn't normally my bag, but I was bored, I had the cash and in the event, it was damn impressive even though I did feel like I was going to die at any given moment.
As I was walking back to Ueno just after sunset, I passed the Shitaya Shrine near Ueno. I was happening to be listening to this track by Geinoh Yamashirogumi (the veteran musical collective responsible for the Akira soundtrack), and it was just the most atmospheric moments. Sometimes it's the smallest, most unexpected moments that stick with you.
On Wednesday, I headed to Nikko, the burial place of the Tokugawa Shogun (the same guy who behind the Niji-jo Castle in Kyoto.) It was absolutely pissing it down, but it's an absolutely breathtaking complex- most notably, it's home to the wooden carving of three monkeys that inspired the phrase "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil". It's just a shame that I was too drenched in rainwater to want to explore the place with the attention it deserved.
After drying out my clothes and eating my customary Saizeriya pizza (all chain restaurants should serve parma ham as a side), I went to the fancy district of Ebisu to check out my first gig on Asian soil- American twee-popper Peach Kelli Pop. They were enjoyable enough, but the real stars were Miila and the Geeks, a post-punk delight punctuated with squalling saxophones.
Thursday was the day I decided to tick off all the miscellanea off my to-do list- exploring the mindblowing food hall of Seibu Ikebukuru, escaping a giant Gundam, visiting a tiny avant-garde gallery (Pragmata) recommend by the hipster at New Dug and operated by a former Londoner of Greek descent, and accidentally stumbling on the Bridgestone Museum of Art, which had a delightful exhibition on Japanese artists working in the Western style but influenced by Chinese subjects. I also attended the UFO Club, a cross between the 100 Club and Cafe Oto, where all the patrons smoked roll-ups and wore berets, and the bands were very pretentious. Comfy sofas though.
On Friday, I decided on a whim I wanted to at least try to see Mount Fuji before I buggered off back to Britain. Unfortunately, the cloud cover scuppered that plan, but Hakone and Lake Ashi were scenic enough to mitigate my disappointment. There's also a sky-car that takes you up to the volcanic peaks, if you're into the all-encompassing smell of sulphur.
Then I rushed back to Tokyo to make the most of my appointment at the Studio Ghibli museum, which as anyone who knows me will know, was one of the major reasons I wanted to visit Japan in the first place. And what a wonderful place it is, in the truest sense of the world. It's as perfect a reflection of Miyazaki's modus operandi as it's possible to build in this imperfect world, a modest, magical building that left me beaming ear to ear for the whole two hours I was there. I feel loathe to spoil the surprises and quirks the museum holds, but for anyone who has the slightest love of Ghibli films (or animation in general), it's an absolute must.
And then I went to the Robot Restaurant back in old gangster-filled Kabuki-cho, because I'd been told it was the kind of thing you'll only experience in Japan. And they were fucking right about that.
Fully aware that I'd be guilt-tripped
into oblivion if I didn't buy some souvenirs for the people who have the misfortune to be related to me, I
spent my final morning at "Oriental
Bazaar" in the colourful Harajuku district, best known for girls
who dress as illustrated (thankfully for all concerned, I decided to stick with my trademark "tatty jeans and band t-shirt" combo, or else I'd be languishing in jail for crimes against humanity). And as terrible as it may sound, you will not find a better place to buy reasonably
priced crap for your relatives - I was particularly proud of the weird nodding cat clock I got for my sister.
After escaping the eye-popping Harajuku fashions, the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of
Photography provided an excellently high-brow way to while away the afternoon with a superb exhibition of Robert Capa's wartime photography (augmented by flawless English captions throughout), whilst La Folle Journee wrapped up the best fortnight of my life with a performance of Beethoven's 5th (DUH-DUH-DUH-DUHHHH) at the Tokyo International Forum. Culture!And then I went home and slept for two days. The end.
