I’ve never been to Japan before. In fact, before this trip, I’ve studiously avoided it. Not sure why, exactly. There were just always others places that interested me more.
So when I got there, I arrived with a lifetime of preconceptions stored up. Misconceptions, too.
I was sure I’d adore Tokyo. I expected to find an energetic and quirky city filled with fascinating design. And Kyoto? I expected something quiet and serene, temple-filled and a tad precious.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Right off the bat, there was something that bugged me about Tokyo. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left there, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. I think that’s why I’ve put off writing about it. But a couple of days ago, it dawned on me.
Tokyo reminds me of the formal living room that no one is allowed to use except when there’s company. You know what I mean? It’s bright and clean and just the way the terminally anal woman of the house wants it. But it’s not really a very interesting room. Inevitably, it’s devoid of character. It’s emotionally detached from the rest of the house.
I know someone’s going to tell me that I’m culturally insensitive, that it’s just an aspect of Japanese culture. And if it weren’t the visit to Kyoto, I might agree. Kyoto is an entirely different animal.
Kyoto does feel more soothing than Tokyo. But it has its wonderfully sassy side, too. It’s a city with more night clubs than temples. It has neon and gigantic pachinko parlors. And yes, it does have temples.
But what really sets Kyoto apart is that it is comfy in its own skin. It is what it is. Tokyo, on the other hand, feels like the younger sibling who is always trying to prove something. It’s an economic powerhouse. But somehow it still longs for the adoration and respect that people have for places like Paris and New York.
The moment I arrived, it was as if I was visiting an old friend. And Tokyo? Well, it was like having dinner with a business associate. One who you have to buddy up to, but if truth were known, you’d rather be sitting at home in front of the fireplace.
Don’t get me wrong. There are grand things in Tokyo. The Park Hyatt Hotel is easily the finest hotel I have ever stayed in. But unless you have someone to provide you with an entrée into the city, or unless you have enough time to get under its skin, Tokyo can be a pretty cold place.
BOWING
You know that bowing thing you see Japanese people do in movies? It’s usually played for gags when it’s on the screen. But it’s for real. Every personal interaction, from thanking sales clerks to asking directions from cops or saying good-bye to friends, ends with a bow.
It made me laugh at first. Seems that every buffoonish comedian has mocked it at one time or another; Chevy Chase, Jim Carrey, Jerry Lewis.
But bowing grew on me. It’s a sign of respect, a show of deference. It’s a show of civility in a world painfully lacking in it.
It’s important to do it correctly, though. The key, I found, is not trying to do it on the run. You have to stop and plant your feet and – snap – bend briefly at the waist. The motion should be crisp. To try to do it while you’re moving may be more efficient. But the point is to show that you value the person you’ve been speaking with.
Besides, when you do it on the move, it’s easy to twist your back. Or your knee. Or just fall flat on your ass, as I came very close to doing in the hotel lobby one morning.
Park Hyatt
Nowhere did they bow as much as they did at the Park Hyatt.
Everyone did it. The doormen. (There was a door woman, too – the first and only one I’ve ever seen.) The hosts at the restaurant. The people at the reception desk. I’m not kidding, you couldn’t get to your room without bowing a dozen times. I did it so much I felt I could skip the gym while I was there. And that’s a shame, because the gym at the Park Hyatt is as spectacular as everything else there.
I know I’m not done with the trip yet, but at this point, Tokyo’s Park Hyatt is easily the finest hotel I have stayed in. Very simply, they do everything right here. And they do it in a quintessentially tasteful way.
Years ago, if you wanted your shoes shined when you were staying in a hotel, you left them outside your door at night and they would be there, perfectly shined, when you got up in the morning. The Park Hyatt still does that. Some hotels have those little machines where you can stick your shoe in and get it buffed up. This is classier. And it’s a better shine. The Park Hyatt understands that. Other hotels don’t get it.
Angela came to visit me while I was in Japan. When we arrived in our room, the enormous flat-screen plasma TV was filled with an idyllic country scene with snow gently falling as an equally soothing soundtrack accompanied it.
I don’t want to read too much into all of this. But after a while, I was convinced that a room and a bed were only incidental to what the Park Hyatt is selling. What it’s really selling is serenity. They provide the means for achieving it; the rooms, the views, the food, the extraordinary service. It’s up to you what you do with them.
Physically, the Park Hyatt is an amazing place. The lobby is on the 41st floor, with rooms filling most of the next 10 floors. Then it’s topped off with a 52nd floor restaurant. Obviously, the views are spectacular. But it’s not the altitude that makes this place great. It’s the way it operates.
“Subtle” is the operative word with everything they do. The rooms are spacious – quite something in a city famed for its space shortage. The interior design is handsome and understated, filled with muted grays and beiges and surfaces that were vaguely reminiscent of high-grade bamboo. Even the gym –yes, I visited it – with its 15-foot floor-to-ceiling windows has a sense of serenity to it. No throbbing music to urge you to sweat more. This whole place is about inner peace.
First thing in the morning, I pushed a little button next to the bed and the curtains opened to reveal Mt. Fuji. Very, very cool.
One last thing. I’m sure you remember the movie “Lost in Translation.” Well, that was the Park Hyatt. In the story, Bill Murray was in Tokyo to make commercials for an alcoholic beverage which shall remain unnamed.
So, high on the priority list for Angela and me was to go to the Peak Lounge, which played a central part in the movie, and re-christen it with Chivas Regal.
Consider it done.
The Peak belongs to us now. Located on the 41st floor, the Peak is dark and moody and sprinkled with little pools of light. Angela and I sat next to one of the massive windows, looked out on a city that seems to go forever and sipped 12-year-old Chivas. I get goose-bumps just writing about it. Very romantic. Easily one of the best moments of the trip.
One oddity, though. The bar lists a happy hour special. All you can drink for two hours; 4800 Yen for men, 4000 Yen for women.
Shinjuku Station
Our greatest misfortune was that the subway station we had to deal with most often was Shinjuku. It’s a sprawling place, a crossroads for subways, elevated trains, airport trains and a few long-distance trains.
It also has scores of stores in it, as well as a mini-mall larger than many small downtowns. It’s so big, you’d think they would put a map in there – you know, like shopping centers do. But you would be wrong.
At Shinjuku, you’re on your own. You’re expected to know where to go.
The signs for the trains are no better. It’s worse than poorly marked, actually. It’s inconsistently marked. There were several times when I’d find two signs a few feet apart that gave conflicting information. You know – one sign said to go straight ahead, while another said to turn left. Maddening. Frustrating. Where’s that famed Japanese organization?
When I kvetched about my Shinjuku experience to my friend Roberta, who has taught American studies in Kyoto on and off for years, she wrote back that “Shinjuku is insane! If you can navigate that, you can do ANYTHING. I've wept in that station not being able to find the exit I wanted.”
Shopping
Skip the Ginza. Everyone talks about all the fabulous lights there? Forget it. Times Square has more dazzling lights. So does Vegas. So do Shanghai and 20 other cities around the world. And the legendary shopping that’s supposed to be so spectacular? Sorry – you can find half that stuff in high-end shopping districts in any big country in the world.
Give me Harajuku or Shibuya any day.
Harajuku is where teens and savvy twentysomethings go to shop. The streets are lined with shops selling the outrageous clothes, kitschy accessories and every possible item you can imagine with Hello Kitty printed on it. We picked up a tissue box cover shaped like an enormous pair of lips. You actually pull the tissues through the bright red lips.
Sundays are best, we’re told – we weren’t there then – because many of the streets are closed to auto traffic and the kids can run wild. Costume play – dressing up as cartoon characters - is big on Sundays, as are street performers and well . . . just about anything else.
Shibuya, actually, was more to my liking. This must be where the concept of one-stop shopping was born.
The Loft store is a must-see, with everything from its ground-floor cards, toys and art supplies departments to the home goods somewhere up above.
But just down the street is my favorite; Tokyu Hands. I mean, you’ve got to love a store that makes rooms for hardware, wedding supplies, motorcycle parts, clothes and still has room left over for an eraser festival.
Yep. An eraser festival. There were hundreds of them. Shaped like everything you can possibly imagine, from various types of sushi to hot dogs to fire engines to milk cartons. Gotta love it.
Wandering
One afternoon, we wandered away from the train station, away from the skyscrapers and into a little neighborhood we’d seen from our hotel room. I couldn’t tell you the name of the area. All I can tell you is that it was normal.
You know, normal in the sense that you felt people really lived there. It’s not where they came to play or party. It’s not where they came for special dinners. Rather, it’s where they do their grocery shopping. It’s where they pick up their prescriptions and buy their produce. It’s where their kids go to school.
It was the one time that Tokyo felt like a vaguely human place.
Our goal had been to find a little cemetery tucked amidst all the houses. We never found it, but we did find a very different view of Japanese life than we had seen before.
It was an enormous relief.
Posted by David Lyman on March 29, 2005 at 02:17 AM | Permalink
Unbelievable David!.... your descriptioin of the view of Mt. Fuji is burned in my head
Kyle
Posted by: Kyle | Apr 1, 2005 9:02:05 PM
WHEW!!!!!!!!
That was a long wait to hear from you. You have REALLY made want to visit Japan now. Thanks for the update and God speed & a safe trip home
Phil
Posted by: PJB | Mar 29, 2005 7:23:40 PM
Davo!
Fascinating. I want to go to Japan now! Serenity, shopping, it can't get any better than that! Enjoy your remaining stops!
Geege
Posted by: geege | Mar 29, 2005 4:02:14 PM
Hey Dave! Nice to see you found the typewriter again.
Japan sounds fascinating, and the Park Hyatt wonderful. Must have been great to be on the top floor.
Thanks for the "S." Looking forward to seeing you when you get back ...
-- Steve
Posted by: Steve B | Mar 29, 2005 12:54:19 PM
Great article, thank you. Because of your writing I now want to see Japan.
Carl
Posted by: Carl | Mar 29, 2005 9:05:42 AM
At long last, a missive from the wanderer. You are on the final lap now, safe home!
Posted by: artie | Mar 29, 2005 8:42:47 AM
