Imagine spending your entire adult life wishing and waiting to travel to Japan. What would you do when you finally arrived? After building up every meal, every vista, and every possible interaction in your mind could the real thing ever really impress? Would you feel overwhelmed with options, or interests & desires to chase down? And what if you were finally experiencing all of the magic and allure Japan has to offer, but you were all alone? In April 2024 I found out the answers (or at least my version of the answers) to these questions when I finally made it to the land of the rising sun.
Japan seemed like the land so far away I’d never make it, despite visiting places nearby or even farther from me. For starters it was expensive and I was young & broke. It also seemed isolating to visit a country alone that wasn’t known for prominently using English. In the past I had hoped to visit with friends, often daydreaming aloud with them about how excellent the trip would be, where we would go, and what we would do together. Sadly those dreams never came to fruition, and on more than one occasion I sat alone at home scrolling past IG updates from those same friends in Japan with other friends you’d barely met.
Life moves on.
I was tired of waiting. I let the desire to experience total culture shock with someone else hinder me from experiencing it at all. I had dreamed of going with former partners, only to be told they had already been and didn’t want to prioritize going back. Time kept passing. I wasn’t getting any younger, and to my luck the yen was at a particularly weak point against the USD, so the trip was about as cheap as it could be. I felt like I was receiving a lot of signs and gentle nudges that it was time to go to the birthplace of my favorite foods.
This trip was a little short-notice, at least as it goes for me, a person who books a year in advance just to enjoy the research process for the next 12 months. I booked Japan after being asked to change booking information on a work-related trip back to Mumbai. The opportunity to re-book as an open jaw which terminated in Haneda Airport was too enticing to resist, and mere minutes later I was rebooked and heading to Tokyo from India. As soon as I booked the ticket I think my body entered a state of shock.
I landed in Haneda around 4:30am, and was through the customs line by 5:30. This is right around when my anxiety started kicking in. I needed to get myself from the airport to Shinjuku using public transport. I had prepared in advance and already had my digital SUICA ready to go on my iPhone. My anxiety was stemming from having to take the trains immediately, as well as having to kill several hours of time with a large travel backpack while I waited for check-in hours to open at my Airbnb.
To my delight I easily navigated my way though the airport (after trying -and failing- to pull cash from two different ATMS at arrivals) and onto the correct train. I was riding from HND to Shin-Okubo station. The pride I felt as I arrived, without error, and exited correctly onto my walking route was immense. I had stressed for weeks about how to navigate the labyrinthian halls of Tokyo Metro stations, and had convinced myself this was advanced-level work I was not ready for. Exiting the station is now a core memory. The sun and breeze felt different than back home. The sounds on the street were different as well. I was here, in Tokyo. Decades of wishing, dreaming, and obsessing had all culminated into this solo two week long trip that would cover the ‘golden route’ most first-time tourists take, which includes stops in Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto.
I headed toward my Airbnb’s neighborhood to find something to eat, and ended up at a very humble chain called Nakau. There, I ordered an oyakodon bowl and tea. Ordering was handled on a kiosk near the front door, which graciously offered English options. I sat my large bowl down and was greeted with my tea and food. As I looked around the less-than modern tiny establishment it was not lost on me that I was eating at an everyman’s early morning equivalent of a greasy spoon. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care about the obvious need for a deep cleaning on the door jambs, or the loud kids that were definitely still wrapping up the previous night. The food was amazing. The egg yolks were deep orange, the kind of egg you have to hunt through farmer’s markets to find back home. The meat was tender and flavorful without being over-seasoned. The rice was cooked perfectly (spoiler alert, I didn’t eat one over or under-cooked bowl of rice in the duration of my trip in Japan). I had intended to eat slowly and kill a bit of the several hours I had to get through before check-in, but those intentions went out the door as soon as I tasted the food. I pounded the entire meal too quickly, and maybe garnered a bit of attention from an older local couple in the process.
After breakfast, with many hours left to pass, I wandered south into Kabukicho. Typically an ‘entertainment district’ full of maid cafes, massage parlors, and other adult-themed establishments, it looks much different in the early morning hours. I walked around mostly empty streets and observed city workers sweeping up the mess from whatever event had occurred the night before. I said good morning to the Hotel Gracery Godzilla, and then decided to waste a bit of time over a cup of coffee at the Starbucks in Kabukicho Tower (which offers a nicer elevated view of the party plaza below). I don’t typically endorse Starbucks and literally never get it back home, but it was one of the only open places where I could sit and put down my comically heavy backpack/suitcase. To my surprise, I ended up enjoying a delightful, albeit molten hot, hojicha latte. Dear Starbucks, when you bring the hojicha latte stateside I will start coming back in to your shops.
After the latte I walked around Kabukicho some more, heading back toward my Airbnb. Along the way I passed this quaint Korean fish shop, Haeundae Main Shop, which kept some of its residents outside in tanks overnight. Who needs tickets to the aquarium in this neighborhood?
By this point there were more morning-people on the street. I was able to drop my bag off at my Airbnb, and then continue exploring the neighborhood. I headed back south again, this time toward the Hanazono Shrine and Golden Gai. Oh, did I mention the weather made the Sakura season come abnormally late, which means I got to see them despite traveling in mid-April? I’m a lucky guy.
I could see how the shrine would be a peaceful place to enjoy on a weekday, but this was turning into peak Saturday sight-seeing time and there were quite a few families there, local and foreign alike. After nearly being taken out at the knees by an overactive Swedish child I decided to continue on my journey. I stopped along the way at Shinjuku Dialogue, a cozy cafe on the second floor of a building across from Shinjuku Gyoen Garden. The cafe is a staple in the queer Shinjuku Ni-chome community, and the staff and owner couldn’t be more hospitable and kind. There, I drank amazake mixed with oat milk into a bit of a smoothie. I regret not taking photos here, because the shop was just so dang cute and home-y, but I spent most of my visit chatting with the staff who were excitedly welcoming me to Japan and also sharing all of their favorite Sakura viewing spots.
After the quick stop at Dialogue I headed toward lunch. When I tell you I was ten-kinds of over-researched when it came to food on this trip it is a severe understatement. I had a plan for every cuisine, in every neighborhood, on any given day and at any time. I had no clue where to go for art or culture, but I was a walking tableog database during my visit.
I tell you this so you better understand how excited I’d have to be about a place to make it my first ramen stop in Tokyo. Enter: Tsukemen Gonokami Shinjuku.
By the way, tsukemen is definitely a type of ramen so don’t come for me with your clarifications.
Gonokami specializes in shrimp miso broths. The ordering is done on a kiosk, and the line outside is lengthy. Don’t worry, though. It passes quickly, and patrons here seem to know that you eat quickly and then depart. On days with a line you must first queue up, then wait for a staff member to indicate that it’s your turn to go inside the sliding doors and use the kiosk. After getting your ticket you’ll head back to your place in line and wait a bit. A staff member will come back and ask for your ticket, and then you’ll wait in line until it’s your turn to enter and eat.
There are many options at Gonokami, including plain shrimp miso and spicy shrimp. I, however, like to explore the unknown. If I see a dish that is rare, odd, or just seems out of place it intrigues me, so it’s no surprise then that Gonokami’s pesto tomato tsukemen caught my eye.
The tsukemen dipping sauce is a deep and briney explosion of tomato and shrimp flavors intermingling in just the right amount of fatty richness. The noodles were toothsome, and cooked flawlessly. Served with them in the bowl was a healthy dollop of pesto sauce and a piece of toasted baguette. Nothing goes with my noodles like more carbs!
Gonokami really set the tone for the rest of my trip food-wise. The process was straightforward, I got to experience my first Japanese queue for food, and the payoff was 200% worth it. If you can go for lunch I hear the line is much more manageable. 10/10, must try if you’re in the area or really love third wave ramen weirdness.
After lunch I hoofed it back to my Airbnb north of Kabukicho and had a little rest. I had booked an izakaya tour through Shinjuku for the evening, and suspected my night would be long and alcohol soaked. I was not wrong…
When your izakaya tour guide shows up with canned high-balls you know what kind of night is in store for you.
I met up with my group, including tour guide Suemi, near the south gate of Shinjuku station. The first folks I met were a couple from Manchester, Gary & Leah. We ended up being the party trifecta and would meet again a couple more times over my trip.
Suemi walked us through Shinjuku, stopping at the cat sign, cutting through Omoide Yokocho (or maybe you know her as ‘Piss Alley’), and taking us to our first stop, a Japanese-only izakaya on an upper floor in a building I could never identify again (update: I was able to find it. Suemi took us to 3階はぶんご商店 aka ‘Bungo’. Definitely worth it if you can read & speak your way through a Japanese-only experience). It doesn’t matter, because you can’t go unless you’re a local, or with a local anyway. It’s the real-deal type izakaya that forgoes menus at tables for hanging papers on the walls. The patrons chain-smoke and the sake comes with a fugu /pufferfish fin in it. We drank our beers, fugu sake, and tried whale sashimi in addition to items like squid (ika), octopus (tako), and yellowtail (hamachi). The whale was fatty as to be expected, but also had a surprisingly balanced and red-meat-y flavor. Were it not for the fugu-fin sake dulling my senses I would have felt really guilty about the whole ordeal. It was definitely a once in a lifetime moment.
After the first izakaya, we all had a bit of a buzz building. Bless Suemi for being able to wrangle our rather large group which was primarily made up of a group of young friends traveling together from Los Angeles. By the second stop one girl was passed out on a table and another was loudly telling the group repeatedly that she couldn’t handle her liquor well because she was a ‘SoCal weed girlie.’ I swear to god that is exactly what she said at least 15 times that evening.
Our second and final stop of the official tour was an Okinawa style izakaya aptly called ‘Okinawa Paradise‘, complete with a performance from the owner. The vibe was pure magic. We drank some type of Okinawan liquor with a pit viper in it. I remember it being surprisingly smooth with a spiced, almost cinnamon type flavor to it. I was also introduced to one of my new favorite foods, umibudo, or ‘sea grapes.’ As we ate tofu sashimi and umibudo the bar’s owner lead us in song and choreographed dances. We wished our group-mates from LA a happy birthday with the entire room in tow, and slurred our goodbyes as we made our way down the stairs and back the the street.
It was at this point Suemi had the idea to go to an all-you-can-drink karaoke room. Some of the group had broken off, and so the LA folks, Gary, Leah, myself and Suemi walked our way to another establishment I couldn’t find for you if I tried. The high balls as big as your head and sake shots really take a toll on the conversion from short to long term memory, you know?
If you want to book Suemi’s tour, click here. I do not get any sort of affiliate bonus, etc., I just really enjoyed myself on the tour.
Suemi broke off in time to make the last train back home, but Gary, Leah, and I stayed out for our final act. We traveled to Golden Gai and took our chances trying to get into tiny, cramped bars on a Saturday night. We squeezed into Deathmatch in Hell and literally felt Dante’s inferno. The heat, the random sweaty bodies pressed against me from every direction, and the inability to move in place whatsoever. The only plus side was being pinned in between so many others took a bit of weight off of my tired feet and legs.
We eventually found a bar willing to have us, after a few strike outs at either impossibly full or locals-only spots. We spent the next couple of hours drinking whiskey and chatting through Google Translate with a couple of older gents. Finally, after Leah convinced us to call it a night, we parted ways. I drunkenly walked myself back ‘home’ from Golden Gai without issue, a win in itself, but not before buying $30 of Lawson’s loot, namely egg mayo sandwiches and Hokkaido cream rolls. I ate takoyaki flavored instant ramen and prayed that my Uko no Chikara shot would work (it didn’t). I passed out with my clothes on, but I did leave my shoes in the genkan.
