Terror in Tokyo
I’ve arrived in Tokyo airport and am waiting for the subway train into the city to find my hotel. Remember a month or so ago, when I rode that swing in Queenstown? That feeling of utter terror as I was dropped for 70 meters over a giant canyon? The past half hour was pretty similar, without the cable harnesses and screaming.
I knew it would be strange and shocking but it’s incomprehensible. Strange writing in characters I don’t recognize is everywhere. Masses of people talking loudly, music blaring from shops, life-size tv screens playing crazy commercials, train announcements coming over the loudspeakers, all attacking me in Japanese. It’s sensory overload in a way I can’t even describe… and that’s just within 10 minutes of passing customs.
But the signs all have English translations under the scribbly-scrawls of kanji and hatakana, and there are friendly staff waiting to assist bewildered-looking travelers such as myself, with perfect English and a smile.
I knew from the LP–The Lonely Planet, or as i like to call it, The Good Book–that the tourist information center was the place to start. I gave the address of my hotel, and like magic a subway map, a local area map, and a “handi-map” appeared, with explicit instructions – which train to catch, where to transfer, how long it would take and how much it would cost! I stumbled over the only Japanese I really know – domo arigato, which means thank you, and grabbed some cash.
Little Domo-Kun, btw, is quite the celebrity around here. I get a lot of smiles and giggles, and people pointing at him, saying “oh so cute!” My wallet with the sushi picture on it is also a hit. It appears my street cred is significantly increased by these two magical items.
As if being a crazy 5′10″ white girl traveling alone isn’t enough to draw attention. 
Now where’s that handi-map?