Merrily, merrily, merrily

Ok...this really happened, right? Like, that's my friend Kim who lives in New York and that's me who used to live in New York but now kinda lives in New Zealand?

And that's us.
At the Sensoji Temple.
In Japan.

Right? I mean, that's what it looks like! I can't be sure because this trip was a bit of a whirlwind in 10 days.

I don't know, man. Let's go back.

Alright, I know I definitely got to Tokyo a day before Kim. I had a stop in Kualu Lumpur which freaked me out because who knew I would ever be in Kualu Lumpur. Not like I had time to see anything there except for the gigantic Toblerone bar in the duty free shop. I mean honestly, are these not getting out of control?! But I digress... This glimpse of a 1000 Japanese school children on their way home was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep on the plane.

I had to manage the Tokyo subway all by myself the first day, and by some miracle of the Shinto gods, made it to my hostel in Asakusabashi without incident. I slept tatami-style that night which was surprisingly comfortable. Another surprise came when I thought I flushed the ultra-modern electronic toilet in the hostel, but had in fact pushed the button for the bidet. Pretty sure everyone heard me when I yelled "Oh my God!" before I covered my mouth to hold in my laughter.

Oh! And before I hit the tatami sack (Not too hard. It is on the floor, you know.), I went on a quest to find this hidden Ramen bar the New York Times talked about a few months back. I didn't really believe them when they said it was under a black tarp, down a quiet alley, next to a 7-11, . But guess what? It's under a black tarp, down a quiet alley, next to a 7-11. After going around and around the same alley several times and asking for directions from very kind locals whose English was just ok, I finally found it. All I could say was, "you have GOT to be f---ing kidding me." The author's directions were as accurate as they could be, as was his review of the food. Delicious.

Ok yes. That's right. That all happened.

Then all of a sudden Kim was there and we were out in Tokyo for beers despite her jet lag. I remember her saying that the trains don't run all night. And then I said, "oh, that's no problem because we're not going to rock out or anything." Then we stayed out later than we thought we would and I said, "dammit, we're going to have get a cab!" Then she was all, "umm..Sarah, I think the trains are probably running again" Which means that we officially stayed out all night. Which means that we officially wanted to die the next morning.

We survived that 3rd morning to tackle some sightseeing, heads sore from the night before and the dangerous levels of cuteness at this amazing toy store called Kiddie Land...

... and this Japanese family stopping for a fried treat on Nekka Dori, or Cat Alley, in Harujuku. I lined up for one myself but when I saw that octopus was involved I went directly back to Kim and said, "abort, abort!" I like octopus, but not on a morning like that one.

Now this is where everything gets particularly hazy for me, because everything got so pretty for me... and for anyone else who hops the bullet train for Kyoto. Kyoto is where all of those pictures you've seen of geisha and zen gardens and huge temples made of wood came from. But what I never expected was how everything is beautiful. Advertisements at the train station are minimal and lovely. Public service signs warning you to watch your step crossing the road or to not run the platform all have cute mascots like polar bears or frogs in costumes. If there is an opportunity to make something beautiful or sweet, Japan goes to freaking town...

As is evident by all the kimono you see on women on there way to somewhere, anywhere there is chance to wear a kimono...

And the real, live Koi fish in a stream at the Toji Shrine...

...or the delicious waffle variety sold at all of the outdoor markets. Why do we shape our fried dough in a huge blob when it could look like just like Koi and be filled with either custard or sweet red bean paste? For the love of God, why?!

Maybe because they're not real!
Did Japan really happen?

I hate stuff more than anything, but I've become oddly sentimental about weird objects these past few months traveling. Now I find these strange little sesame cookies a waiter at the oldest noodle shop in Kyoto gave to Kim and I with our check, and this awesome tote I picked up in Asakusan in my luggage back in Auckland. Since both of these items are in line with this Japanese dream I had, I have to assume it really happened.

The cookies gotta go, because i would imagine they'll get gross. But that cute-ass bag will be added to the pile of stuff and memories I've collected this year. It will sit on top of lists of things to do in several cities written by friends from everywhere on the backs of everything- from boarding passes to pictures of half-naked women. (This was Conan's idea since he thought it would be mortifying for me and hilarious for him every time I pulled it out in Melbourne.) There is also a bracelet Jai gave me which I now wear anytime I board a plane whether or not it matches my outfit for fear it will be lost when I check my luggage, and a $25 black pearl I bought in the Cook Islands because I didn't know black pearls were real until I got there...

...Just like I didn't know Japan was real until I got there.

Life is but a dream.