Letters from Japan #1 : Is there really a hotel with Godzilla on the roof?

Read my first letter from Japan for the answers to these questions and more!

We're starting our trip in Shinjuku. It’s the most Tokyo bit of Tokyo you could imagine – by which I mean it’s like the Tokyo I’ve seen on TV shows like Midnight Diner and Tokyo Vice. Our hotel has a Godzilla head on the 8^th floor. It roars and lights up. It's late evening, we've been travelling for 17 hours. We’re tired, ridiculously excited and slightly giggly. It’s raining and as we make our way to the leave I’m offered a clear plastic umbrella (the type I’ve longed for since I was four years old) before we head out into the neon streets.

Rain makes the neon even brighter, reflecting the Taito* Game Station sign, the columns of ads that scale the buildings, the tiny shop with an old maneki-neko in the window.

We pinball through the alleys, buoyed along with the crowd who seem as giddy as us. I’m feeling hungry and a bit nervous about where we’ll eat. We dive into the first place we see that serves tonkatsu, something I’m fairly sure will be kind to a travel addled stomach. It’s simple – breaded chicken, shredded cabbage, rice and a mild curry sauce which tastes like the 1970s. There are pickles which I am delicate about and which S. dives into. I feel super self-conscious – there’s a couple sat near us, and they look like they know what to do with the small bowls of pickles, cups and chopsticks. At this point my tired, anxious mind is making everything an enemy.  I adjust my chair a little so I can’t see the confident uber people and so I feel a little hidden. They have absolutely no interest in me but as anyone with anxiety issues will recall, that knowledge is of little relevance in the moment.

Suitably repositioned I squash the discomfort and get to grips with my chopsticks and the sheer volume of food. It’s good simple fayre that feels both familiar and like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. I gaze out over the streets of Shinjuku, watching rain create small worlds on the umbrellas of the crowd below.

I’m nervous about Tokyo. M.E. other illnesses mean crowds, bright lights and walking present a trio of triggers. I'm used to taking time out, and both S and I know there's likely to be a few days over the course of the trip that I need to stay back at the hotel while he heads off on his own. I hope there aren't too many

Right at this moment though I feel safe. I know there is a dark side to Japan, to Tokyo, and especially this area (Kabukichō is the red light area of Tokyo) but I feel no sense of threat. Part of this will be the idiocy of the tourist, ever in holiday mode and on an adrenalin high but something does feel different. We pay our bill (it's cheap!) and head down the beige stairs that reminds me of Littlewoods in Wolverhampton and out into the shimmering street.

Excitement is everywhere. The gachopon shops lure us in, we walk round in awe of the sheer volume of stuff that could be ours at the twist of a handle. I spot some Miffys and am in raptures.

There are so many places we could go and I know S is keen to explore more. I cannot and am brave enough to say so. We agree that home is the best bet and make our way back through the streets that feel like they're just getting going. I feel safe. Just outside where we’re staying is a big group of people and judging by their volume and general exuberance they're fully embracing all Shinjuku has to offer. At home I’d put my head down and try to be invisible. I do the same here but am startled by a shy, almost sheepish, wave from one of the group. It’s such a sweet gesture and so unexpected. I smile back, head home and wonder what time Godzilla will roar in the morning.

Until next time,

P.S. Though you might be interested in Taito - it’s a Japanese gaming company whose most famous export is Space Invaders – that game that featured on sticky tabletops in seventies pubs and arguably the first mainstream video game. It’s a huge company, and it’s Game Station signs are a feature across the Tokyo cityscape.

Now, I did promise musings on how to apply some Japanese philosophies to everyday life, with a special focus on writing. I won’t be shoehorning these thoughts in where they don’t fit, otherwise I’ll be in danger of sounding like a vicar trying to relate to his flock by drawing parallels between Jesus and a tray of biscuits - which has potential to be whole other series of letters!

As with everything I write, this is an honest, transparent space free from artifice. On this first day I was in full giddy tourist mode, pointing, looking, laughing and being completely overexcited. I didn’t feel very philosophical, but I did feel very happy.

Join my travel hub!

I’ve had such a fantastic response to the ideas of these letters from Japan love to create travel writing community, particularly for people trying to travel with a chronic illness or mental health condition. It’d be a place to share stories, ask questions and generally explore the brilliance of the world.

I’d like this to be a safe space and think the best way to do this is to take the leap into creating a space for paid subscribers. We’ll expand on things like how to keep a fab travel journal, the best sites for research as well as articles on prep, novels to read, essential kit – all the things that make travel easier and even more memorable. I’m excited!

Creative Tuesday and will always be free, and  each Letter from Japan will be available for  short time before it slips behind the paywall so if you’re just here to read about my adventures or  how things are going with my writing, you’re covered!  

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