Hey, you know that city you have been dying to visit for the better part of a decade? The one that is obsessed with your obsessions. Coffee, bicycles, beer, whiskey, food, fashion. O ya, you know the one? Great, here’s two days, go see everything…

Not exactly how I dreamed my first visit to Japan would go, but when you are searching for flights and the cheapest option just so happens to connect through Tokyo…you take that flight. To further justify such a short amount of time (to myself), this is and always was a bonus on what is a Southeast Asian adventure. And I will be spending a significant amount of time in Japan at some point in my life, so let’s keep this very sweet cherry exactly on top.

Arriving in Tokyo was such a surreal experience. For cities that hold this kind of weight, London, Paris, New York, etc., so often you can see a skyline or a landmark from the plane that helps set the stage and make the feeling real. For Tokyo, instead I experienced something I’d never felt before. The city was covered with smog as we descended, so there was no picturesque moment from the plane window. And even walking through the airport, seeing signs, getting on the train, riding towards the city, nothing had really sunk in. It wasn’t until about an hour later when we were staring out of the train window and seeing the city proper for the first time that I had this jolting feeling. That moment when you realize you are actually…there. Months of planning, years of thought, and you finally find yourself in the very moment you have spent so much time contemplating. Part of it is experiencing a culture so foreign to your own for the first time, but more than that it is the sensation of finally existing in the present moment. It was a special experience that I will not soon forget, and it was a perfect way to emotionally begin this journey.

Our hotel was in the Asakusa district of Tokyo and gave us the first experience that indeed we were not in Kansas anymore as we were instructed to wear the provided slippers. As the photo above will indicate, the shoe box definitely didn’t advertise “one size fits all”. By the way, you may have noticed the “we” and “our” in these stories. Right alongside me on these adventures is the Fiercest of the Fierce, Katie, who for those who don’t know her, is pretty nice. You should meet her. Now we obviously had to be extremely efficient with our time, so we had a few specific destinations on our list that would guide our trip itinerary. We began in Shibuya, where the famous Shibuya Crossing acts as the Time Square of Tokyo.

Now our travel style is pretty simple: coffee by day, beer by night. Luckily Tokyo was able to oblige in a big way. A coffee guide and many other individual pieces had been published on Sprudge.com, so along with my own research, Shibuya and surrounding areas were a great place to start. I find coffee is a beautiful way to experience culture, especially a very foreign culture, because it will always revolve around the same principles no matter where you find it in the world. Community, social gatherings, positivity, creativity, relaxation, music and art to name a few. But even though there may be common ground for inspiration, every country and culture has its own unique take on the concept, which is why it is so interesting and compelling and why I search for it everywhere I travel. Again, Tokyo obliged.

We ended up checking out multiple shops that first day including Switch Coffee, Ratio Coffee & Cycle and Perch by Woodberry Coffee Roaster, but it was a couple of shops in particular that provided two of the most unique coffee experiences I have ever had. First was Koffee Mamaya. Camouflaged in a residential area with little signage and a nondescript front entrance, we walked by the place two or three times before we found it. We took this as a good sign. Once inside, it was clear photos had not done this place justice. It was maybe a 150 sq ft windowless room, with a small bar hiding the coffee equipment behind it. The only significant sign that you are actually in a coffee shop is a square piece of glass housing a grid of coffee beans displaying their offerings. Two white coated baristas explain their shop process and after much discussion, expertly craft two incredible filter coffees, prepared only for takeaway. They generously provided us with other coffee recommendations for the city and left us smirking at one another knowing we just experienced something incredible. Their number one recommendation led us to experience number two. Cafe de L’Ambre. This was yet again a place that has to be experienced in person as no photo could capture the vibe and aura that this shop confidently produces. Once walking through the doors we weren’t sure if we had walked into a cigar lounge, a bourbon bar or a coffee shop. Needless to say, this place was cool. A tiny entrance way leads you to a back room with a curved bar and stools wrapping around it and a few tables and chairs to the right. Attentive service is provided by a few younger men as it is clear the older gentleman behind the bar is the only one making coffee and that he is preparing every single cup. Known for their traditional Japanese offerings, they also provide single origin beans roasted in-house from all over the world. Preparation is by meticulous pour over from steady hands through their signature red kettles. Their coffee is presented in antique cup and saucer of various designs to give even more charm to a place dripping in it. The coffee was delicious and not a many photo was taken due to pure intimidation of the environment, the coolness level and the stern look of the OG barista. Both are must-see destinations for any coffee drinker finding themselves in Tokyo.

Next we had to tackle an almost impossible task. We had to choose what to eat. With a city, and a country, that has such a deep food culture, we were overwhelmed in trying to accomplish all of it in such a short amount of time. Since we only had a limited number of meals to plan for, our idea was to at least cross off a few major categories. Luckily each experience was unique and memorable. Udon noodles and tempura lunch, conveyor belt sushi at Hanamaru next to Tokyo Station and most noteworthy of all, Ramen.

Our Ramen experiences, and my takeaways, were interesting and I’m curious if anyone has had similar impressions (if you have please comment below, I would love to hear). Being the national dish of Japan, where there are over 51,000 Ramen restaurants in Japan, 21,000 of which are in Greater Tokyo alone, naturally they are extremely proud of their creation. Knowing all of this, I was expecting to stumble across countless restaurants all throughout our stay to an almost overwhelming degree. But instead we actually had the opposite experience. It felt as though the restaurants, especially the better and more popular ones, were almost tucked away, or at least off of the main streets, and we rarely stumbled across them even when I was actively searching. I’m sure a lot of this comes down to things like rent prices, square footage, etc., but in our very brief time in Tokyo I was left with the theory that part of it could honestly just be food patriotism. The restaurants we ended up in had extremely little, if any, English instruction or menus. Especially with the vending machine ordering (for those who haven’t seen this, it is exactly as it sounds), there were no English words and no obvious indication of size, type or spice. In our case we were lucky that a waitress witnessed our initial struggles and with her limited English, but strategic choice of words to learn, helped us at least be confident that we indeed ordered Ramen. All of the food was delicious, and we felt gratified in passing a travel test, but especially once we left Japan completely I really started to ponder if this is on purpose or not. Is it a subtle way of keeping something traditional just that? Is it a sly attempt to keep foreigners, or at least those who don’t speak the language, out of their local haunts? My questions are strictly from a curiosity standpoint and not in the slightest way negative. We absolutely loved the experiences we had and from a traveller’s perspective I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. We had a local experience, were met with a travel obstacle and any ending is a happy one when it ends with Ramen. I would love it if it was true that they indeed do try and keep a local thing local. But I definitely appreciate the fact we were only in Tokyo for a short time and we are more than likely just dumb. However if there is any truth to my ponderings, and this becomes a thing, I plead for Canadians to not try and bogart poutine. We should not be proud. Let ‘em have it.

The rest of our time in Tokyo outside of food and drink was spent walking amongst beautiful local sites. The beautiful Meiji Jingu Shrine inside Yoyogi park, the aforementioned Shibuya Crossing to witness the chaos, the Asakusa temple stunningly lit up at night and the famous Tsukiji fish market in the Chuo district.

Amongst all of these experiences were a couple of observations that further romanticised Tokyo for me. First was the incredible transition that occurs every night at exactly sunset. I was in awe and energized by how the city comes to life after dark. The city can be called colourful at any hour of the day with its cultural decorations and incredibly numerous and outlandish advertising, but the signs, walls, buildings and streets that may have been dormant by day ignite into a vibrancy of colour that was incredible to behold. With a literal and figurative flick of the switch, Tokyo comes to life. My second observation was how many of the main streets that we experienced around town are relatively normal and could easily be anywhere in the world. But cut over one street in any direction and you enter another world. It feels that the cultural veins of this city exist in the side streets. Local restaurants, parked bicycles lining the street, wires and laundry hanging over the alleyways, old signage, traditional decorations, temples and shrines and a unique energy and authenticity that really took hold of me. It was these side streets that I first noticed from that train window. It was that energy and authenticity that has left me reeling and forever looking forward to coming back.

Forever Endeavour; No Regrets.

The Travelling Gentleman