Tokyo Bound
Tomorrow morning I’m heading out for five weeks in Japan. I’ve spent the last month talking about nothing but travel prep. My apartment’s rented to a Spanish couple who can do whatever they want with my furniture. Flight’s at 9:45 from Berlin. Hope the Russian pilot doesn’t detour over some sketchy volcano.
Six hours stuck in Moscow. I get in at Narita on Wednesday at 10:20. I’m planning to post as many ridiculous photos and videos as possible so I can look back later and convince myself it was all worth it.
I made a list. Missions, actually. Because you need some kind of plan when you travel, otherwise you just wander around like an idiot. You can break the plan whenever you feel like it, but having one matters. I could just check them off and call Japan done, but here’s what I’m doing: First, Tokyo Tower. I’ve lived in Berlin for five years and never gone up the TV tower. I’m fixing that in Tokyo. Second, I want to see a Japanese film in a Japanese theater in Japanese. No particular reason, just because.
Third, I’m buying a Game Boy Light and some games. Because why not. Fourth, I’m hitting up Super Potato, which is basically Valhalla for anyone obsessed with old video games. Fifth, I’m going to kiss a Japanese girl. See how romantic that is? I said kiss, not fuck—just kiss, maybe feel her up a little. Real romance, truly. (Except Eriko Nakao. She can have my kids.)
Sixth, I want to eat at one of those conveyor belt sushi places where everything just spins by and you grab what you want. The world should work like this. Everything on a belt. Seventh, I’m climbing Mount Fuji. I’m terrible at hiking, but it’s got to happen. If I can’t make it, I’ll just let the crowd carry me up. Eighth, I’m going to an actual beach with actual sand. Ninth, I’m spending a night in one of those capsule hotels or internet cafés—the kind of place losers end up when they miss the last train or ran out of money. I find that kind of appealing.
Tenth: I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was. Gotta catch them all. Yes, really.
Look, I know these are pretty generic goals. But I’m not going to piss in a temple while screaming slogans or insult the royal family for a laugh. I actually like Japan, for one. For another, I’m not some third-rate TV presenter getting stuck with Sunday-night gigs by doing stupid stunts on camera. And honestly, I only thought about this for like ten minutes. The best shit happens when you’re not looking for it anyway. With people you don’t expect.
So wish me luck getting there in one piece. Comment below with anything you want me to bring back. Maybe I’ll actually take some pictures worth showing off. This is it—the life dream along with getting rich as hell and having a drug dealer who cleans house and reads me bedtime stories. Japan, here I come. Schoolgirl tentacles.