Lakad Pilipinas

My three-day Japan trip wouldn’t be complete without bringing home something to remind me of my journey after time passes. I know not a few people who think that buying souvenirs is kinda kitschy, superficial and touristy, but I really don’t mind, whatever floats your boat as they say.

The perfect place to buy souvenirs in Tokyo is at Asakusa’s Nakamise Street. They have almost everything, if not everything every keychain loving tourists love. Besides the almost a hundred shops lining its main avenue, there are other side streets I wasn’t able to explore where more touristy junks can be purchased. One of the nicest things I got here were a pair wooden Japanese dolls. It was expensive at ¥1,000.00 but they looked really cute and very Japanese.

The rain lashed and tried to tear away the umbrella from my hands as I approached the massive Hozomon Gate that precedes the Sensoji Temple. I was on a buying spree for souvenirs to bring back home at Asakusa’s Nakamise Street when I chanced upon its red gates. I still have a few hours left before my plane leaves for Manila and it’s only with good fortune that my last destination before leaving Japan would be Tokyo’s largest Buddhist Temple and not to mention, the country’s oldest.

I watched from the comfort of Hotel Okura’s breakfast nook as a transparent umbrella whipped off a salaryman’s hand on his way to work outside the streets of Tokyo. The rain had worsened on our third and last day in Japan. It wasn’t a good way to start the morning at all.
My original plan was to check the nearby Imperial Palace by foot. I’d like to savor Tokyo on my own slow terms. I wanted to see its side streets, its small stores and its ordinary life unfold by walking through its thoroughfares. But it looks like I’d have to come up with a quick plan B.

One of the things I really like about being sponsored on a trip is that I get to stay at really posh hotels. It’s something I usually don’t have the luxury for when traveling on my own since they cost as much, or probably more, than my whole trip expenses combined.

Sony Philippines was generous enough to host us at one of the nicest hotel around Tokyo, the five-star Okura Hotel in the city’s Minato ward. The area is pretty quiet for my taste, being surrounded mostly by office buildings and foreign embassies (49 embassies to be exact). Good thing it’s just a hop away from various train terminals so getting around through subways isn’t a problem at all.

The freezing night air blasted through the open gates of Shibuya Station. The weather had been sour through our whole day jaunt at Hakone and it remained the same when we returned to Tokyo. The rest of the guys wanted nothing but a bowl of ramen and the comfort of their soft hotel bed afterwards, but I was thinking of other things.

My mind is flashing images of multi-colored skyscrapers, swarms of chic Japanese citizens walking across a vast crossing and Blade Runner-esque neon Japanese billboards. I’m thinking of Tokyo’s famous Shibuya Crossing.

Red, orange, blue and green lines intertwine like roiling snakes in a pit. It’s Tokyo’s underground rail system and not unlike deadly vipers, they’re scaring the heck out of me just by looking at them.

I really didn’t have a choice though; to get from one place to the next, it’s either the trains or the taxis. Both are expletively expensive, but the underground is considerably cheaper by miles. So the rails it is.

The first thing I noticed during my first incursion inside the Tokyo Subway was the almost zero absence of English translations for the signboards. There were a few, but they were sorely lacking for a tourist lost in Japan’s Hiragana and Kanjis. Asking around also proved futile as most Japanese don’t know how to speak in any other language beside their own.

My feet led me to a dead end. I followed a trail at the back of Hakone’s famous Fujiya Hotel and it let me to a winding set of stone stairs that descended into nothingness. I looked around, trying to see my way out of this place, looking for shortcut, a hidden pathway; anything but to double back from the way I came. My eyes saw a silhouette of a structure against the bush on my right; brushed it aside and found a temple. A secret temple, unbeknownst to my fellow travelers.

Hellen Keller, Charlie Chaplin and John Lennon; what do they all have in common? They all stayed at Hakone’s Fujiya Hotel. And that said hotel was our last stop for our second day in Japan. Coolness!

I can see from the fog-ridden landscapes of the resort that this is no ordinary hotel. The architecture is different, still distinctly Japanese but with hints of western influences. It looked like a modernist take on the country’s traditional architecture, but somehow, you know that it’s all authentic.