Tokyo

Tokyo, Tokyo. Wherefore art thou Tokyo. It's a funny ol' place this and one I can't help but feel we would've got more out of if we'd come here first, fresh off a 13hour flight, fighting jet-lag and finding ourselves bombarded by the sensory overload. As it happens it's very similar to any other city in the developed World... or so we thought. At first glance this is true and it's also true to say that for the majority of the daytime we have struggled to find things to do, (if you live in a city you tend to be at work or at home during the day afterall), that are either cheap or don't involve shopping in any way. There 'aint much, unless you wanna go see temples or shrines but frankly we've had our fill of those. So, desperate to take our leave of our slightly cabbagey room, we've taken to wandering the streets in search of the the Tokyo we'd been looking forward to meeting.
It would seem that Tokyo exists very much in the detail. As a city it's pretty much the same as everywhere else but it's the finer points that make it 'alien' and individual. The people go about their daily lives like all others but where else can you see gangs of suited business men bowing profusely to one another when they part company, where else will you see groups of girls walking the streets in impossibly ridiculous heels or dressed as dolls, where else will you see attendants guiding drivers into carparks as if it were a ancient and venerated ritual. The only people more insanely dressed here than the girls are the boys. I've never seen ginger hair, cowboy boots or ripped jeans worn with such vigour. They love it the boys here, it's like they're all living out a Manga-esque, James Dean International Playboy fantasy.



There's loads of vending machines everywhere dispensing key-chains and mobile phone dangles of characters from anything from Disney to Manga cartoons and it was in these and some of the better toy shops that I sought to find the perfect robot. I found a good one, not perfect mind, but good.



Tokyo is apparently the place in Japan to have sushi, (something Beth wanted to try properly), and so on Friday we headed off to the famous Tsukiji Fish Market to take in the ambience, marvel at the sheer variety of fish on offer and maybe grab ourselves some pukka sushi for lunch. Some of the creatures on sale at the stalls would've had graown men running for the hills in terror if they weren't dead, I tell you. All manner of beady eyes stare out from glass tanks at you and tentacles thrash out of buckets to grab your ankles and drag unsuspecting shoppers to a watery grave. Okay, I made that last bit up but if it had happened I would't have been surprised.



Anyhow, we'll be heading home from Tokyo soon, back to our sofa, bed and fridge. Back to walks along the seafront, talking to friends instead of e-mailing them, fretting over money, popping on a DVD, knowing what we're eating, wearing smart clothes, using toliet paper with gay abandon, Pat, visiting Waitrose, sausages, Marmite, proper tea - none of this green tea crap, the squarking of seagulls, weekends, beautiful parks and gardens, trees, Mabel our car, Dave our plant, Steve our hoover, music... oh God music, normal sweet music with a tune and no 'pingy-tingy' noise or screechy-screechy lyrics, knowing where my pants are, not living out of a bag, family and popping out with friends to the wonderful, beauiful, glorious pub.
But before we go, here's a little present for the lads. A highly exclusive pair of beauiful, firm melons.



They're 82 pounds!