Saturday was a day of solitary travel, which I rather like. What made the situation so much more exotic is that I did feel like I was traveling throughout the city almost in a separate universe to the thousands of people surrounding me. I had very little idea what any of them were saying or where they were going. It's a very isolating and freeing feeling at the same time, and depending on the eyes that met mine as I explored the oceanic masses of people, it teetered to either side.
The day started in Harajuku, which is inside the city. (I live in the outskirts...think spending a week in Queens and going into Manhattan for the first time...sort of.) I went to the Meiji Shrine, which is this enormous complex of temples and gardens in the middle of the city. The foliage was a heavy, pensive green, and I was thankful for the numerous patches of shade that lined the gravel road into the temple:
I wandered into the main section of the temple, an austere square surrounded by wooden buildings. I threw a 10-yen coin into the altar, as you are supposed to do, bowed, clapped twice, centered my mind to the best of my ability (the axis has been thrown off a little bit lately), bowed again, and turned around to find a Shinto wedding procession marching right through the center of the square:
The husband and wife were housed underneath the red umbrella. They marched through the square in this manner no less than four times, and each time a bovine hoard of tourists marched with them, taking pictures unabashedly. I try to keep my distance at photo-op times like these because, well, after all, it's not my wedding.
From the austerity of the temple, it was on to the flamboyance of the main Harajuku throughfare, Takeshita Dori, which is a haven for those individuals who enjoy "cosplay." Cosplay is the Japanese portmanteau of 'costume' and 'play,' and adherents are encouraged to dress up as their favorite manga (Japanese comics), anime, tv show, or anything else characters and hang out in a public space. They look to be alternative, to be rebellious and on the edge, but their laughs reminded me of the innocence required to dress up in semi-sado-masochistic outfits and parade oneself in an extremely busy public place. Sadly I didn't get a picture of any of them, but I'll know next time.
I then walked up to Shinjuku, which is a very crowded place indeed. Shinjuku is home to the busiest train station in the world, which on a Saturday early afternoon really resembled most places' Friday rush hour. Shinjuku is home to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, whose 45th floor I was hurdled towards by an elevator. Also in the elevator was a young boy and his father. The boy saw the floor to which we were headed (45), proclaimed his fear to all within earshot, and proceeded to squat behind his father's legs, holding his calves like prison bars. I wished to commiserate with my young elevator-mate, but we were upstairs quickly. The view was, to say the least, impressive:
It reminded me of both the enormity of the city I temporarily call home and also my dislike of being quite so high above the ground.
I was quite in the mood for an iced coffee, but for some reason I could not find one. (I did happen upon a Starbucks which, after wandering around very intimidatingly crowded streets in search of refreshment, didn't look so bad. My better conscious was then locked in a battle of wills with that oceanic goddess of the Frappuchino on the Starbucks logo, and I came through victorious, though at this rate I wouldn't be surprised to open my door tomorrow morning to find a Starbucks replacing my neighbor's room, in which case I suppose I would have to concede and order a cup.) What I did find was an establishment called Wired Cafe.
Wired cafe was one of those, you know, uber-trendy, hip places that was, well, wired, the type of place where you could feel like you were all around the world at once, that had that edginess about it that draws in that yuppie, globetrotting type crowd. A sign outside described the cafe's ambiance as such:
"Where the sense of place and time is reflected.
The dynamic mindscape of your emotions and your lifestyles.
Where the beauty of the past collides with the excitement of the future."
Their iced coffee cost 6 dollars, so I went home thirsty, occupying myself on the train ride home with guesses as to what my mindscape might look like from 45 floors up.
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