Vacation Recap! Part Two!!

J111 Saturday August 11th

Up bright and early with the sun! Well, not that early. My sleep at the Internet Cafe was suitable, but the A.C. kept going in cycles. But other than that, it was okay. Brain and I had made plans for the day; he and I were to meet at 10AM in front of Akihabara station. I tried to purchase shower time, but there was some sort of problem. I think there was a line, and they weren't letting anyone else get in it. Or something.

So, showerless, I headed to Yodabashi Camera to meet Brain. I waited with the crowd to kill the time, informing Brain, via cell phone, of my desire to become clean before doing anything important. When he and I met up, we set about trying to find somewhere that could accommodate me. We walked a good 15 minutes before finding a hotel, but it didn't offer separate shower services. The concierge recommended we look for a hotel elsewhere, and gave us some directions. We hopped the train for one stop and managed to find, after a little more walking, a capsule hotel. Most capsule hotels offer bath and shower services to guests, but you have the option of just purchasing bath time. Brain waited in the lobby while I purchased 20 minutes of shower time.

The setup was really nice. It was, essentially, like a men's locker room in an American gym. Super-slim lockers held your stuff while you bathed, and you were provided with a robe and a towel. The were in and out of the locker room all the time, quite comfortable with their guests' various forms of undress. When in Rome, as they say. In all, it wasn't that embarrassing; I'd been naked in front of plenty of people in my life so far, and this was no different.

There was only one shower stall, but this was a Japanese-style bath. This means that, first, you scrub yourself with soap and shampoo your hair whilst sitting on a stool, rinsing yourself off with a shower hose, but not standing up. The stall is there for those who want a good hose off before soaking in one of several mega hot tubs, each sporting varying degrees of heated water.

I had both limited time and an intense need for cleanliness, so I just jumped right into the stall. There were only two other bathers, both quite engrossed in their stool-mounted cleaning cycles, so there wasn't a line. I enjoyed a nice, cool shower with lots of scrubbing. I exited quickly, refreshed and clean and eager to go out into Tokyo once more. I donned a fresh set of clothes from my duffel. I retrieved my shoes (which are confiscated upon checking in to a capsule hotel, as a security measure that you will not leave before check out) and Brain and I left.

I wanted to see the offices and studio of Gainax. I have long been a fan of their work, and knew that their offices were in the greater Tokyo metropolitan area. Brain had managed to find a map on their website and had plotted a route that would get us in the right neighborhood. We rode the trains for a few hours, almost to the end of the line. We got off at a somewhat desolate area, Brain directing our walking to the north. We walked through rural areas, past a few small gardens and a park, but we couldn't find Gainax's offices.

We looped back and forth several times, sure we were just missing something. Eventually we found the area's koban (Police Box. Super-useful and very polite, the policemen teams of two stationed here will bend over backwards to help you) and inquired as to the location of the city district we were looking for. The police officers informed us that the place we sought was, indeed, to the north, but we were one train stop too far to the south. Oops. Brain and I boarded the next north-bound train with all due speed.

At the next train stop we once again walked north. We passed more apartments and parking lots, until eventually we ran out of road. We looked around in despair, thinking that our map was wrong. Until I saw, in plain, blue letters that were hidden in plain sight, the word "Gainax". We had found it.

At the end of a small, country road, in the outskirts of rural Tokyo, at the far end of what was an abandoned train depot, stood a small, white building. It could have easily been the offices of some municipal branch, the Greater North Tokyo Bureau of Bicycle Repair, or something. But, no, within those simple white walls sat some of the most creative and original minds in Japanese animation the modern times have yet seen. It was a sublime moment.

Brain and I approached the building, wondering what lay within. We entered the first set of doors, electronic sliders that parted for us. We soon realized that their offices were closed for the weekend, however. The lights were dark and all the cardboard cutout displays were tucked away behind the second set of glass doors. These would not open for us, as they were locked by electronic key. We heard the distant sound of a vending machine dispensing a delicious, frosty beverage, but we saw no human habitation. Those few Gainax staff who were working were not aware of our presence.

Brain and I started back to the train station, only to see a Gainax employee returning to his weekend work day with a sack of conbini lunch in hand and a delivery guy making a package drop. As if in mockery of our inability to gain access to the inner sanctum of Gainax, they effortlessly went inside, to pursue activities obscure and unknown.

Not knowing what to do next, we decided to head back into Tokyo proper. We got off somewhere in the heart of Tokyo and, after walking around for a few minutes, we found a Yodabashi. Having yet visited one of the electronics megastores, I suggested we duck in. Brain complied, and we enjoyed some window shopping. We wound up on the toy/model floor and perused the various products. Plans for the rest of the day began to form.

Brain suggested that I travel to Kyoto that night, rather than spend more money in Tokyo's expensive sleeping establishments. I agreed, but stated that I'd need two things before I got underway: food and an ATM. Brain took me to a nice Indian restaurant (a food I'd never really tried until juuuust before I left, which I find I love). I had a delicious chicken curry with a huge piece of nan. Mmm....nan.

Brain surmised, and I agreed with his opinion, that the Shinkansen, the bullet train, would be the best way to get to Kyoto. We retrieved my duffel from Shibuya station, where it had been stored in a coin locker since the morning, after my shower, and we set out to find an ATM at near the Shinkansen station. Alas, the stars were not in alignment, and I couldn't get the damn thing to work.

We trudged back to the station, whence I purchased my ticket to Kyoto. Brain kindly lent me some cash, so that I would be able to pay for a hotel room for the night. Chalk it up to more generosity on his behalf that I must pay back in kind. We parted ways at the station, with a final request from me for him to look up hotel information online while I rode to Kyoto.

I boarded the Shinkansen after Brain and I separated, and settled in for a short nap. I was long-past the point of exhaustion, and was running on a sort of animal core logic. I knew that if I could just get to a comfortable place to sleep, that all would be well.

The Shinkansen is aptly named. It is super fast. Even though it was well into the night, which in Japan is made darker by the lack of light saturation, I could still tell we moved at titanic speeds. I nodded off several times through the ride, desperate for sleep but paranoid of missing my stop. After over 500 kilometers of rapid ground transit, my train arrived in Kyoto.

I stumbled out of the massive Kyoto train station into the night. Brain had had success at finding hotels near the station, and I set out to find them. I exited the station on the wrong end, and had to walk back through the whole thing to get to the correct side. I found the taxi area and requested to be taken to one of the hotels Brain had recommended. It wasn't that far from the station, but I was in a world of hurt.

I was delighted to find the concierge spoke excellent English. I was saddened, however, when, while using her excellent English, she informed me that there were no rooms. Their companion hotel, too, had no rooms to rent for the night. They gave me a map with a few ryokan, traditional Japanese inns, marked out, and I set out into the unfamiliar streets of Kyoto to find shelter for the night.

The first place was closed up tight. I investigated, trying to see if one of the doors I spied from the road would grant me access. I set off a motion detector alarm, though, and made as smooth and natural exit from the scene as best I could. No one came to investigate, thank goodness. The next ryokan on my map was still open, but the clerks were no where to be found. It also seemed filled to the brim. Once again, I set out. I found a 7-11 on a nearby main street, and asked for help there, but they misinterpreted my map and directed me in the direction I'd just came from.

Nearing the end of my hope reserves, I walked aimlessly. Providence, it would seem, saw fit to smile on me, for not a block away from the 7-11 I found salvation.

A nice hotel, called the Apa Villa, was built into what looked to be an office building. Its lobby was brightly lit and hewn from beautiful stone and worked with metal. The interior was cool, a relief from the sweltering night-heat. I tottered in on tender legs and found the front desk staffed. I asked, expecting the answer no, if there were rooms available.

"For one?" the concierge asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"For tonight?" the man asked again.

"Yes," I answered.

Silence.

"Yes, we have a room," the man said.

I could have kissed him. For 10,000 yen, I would have my own room in a western-style hotel. Private shower, bath, with a bed and everything. Were I not so beaten I would have danced.

I checked in and proceeded to my room. I cranked the AC down and took a too-perfect shower to cool off and refresh myself. I killed the lights, set the alarm, and fell quite suddenly to sleep.

The hotel room was very interesting, but that will have to wait for tomorrow. I'm quite tired as of this writing, both from the day's activities (or lack thereof, as the case may be) and the retelling of this tale. In an odd example of psychosomatics, I find myself as tired as I was that night.