First Day in Shinjuku (6/5)

Blue light filtered in through our apartment windows. After last night's deep darkness, Shinjuku was brightening up again. A whole new day lay ahead of us.

Sarah and I had a plan for how to spend our four days in Tokyo. Since this was our first trip to Japan together, we decided to visit as many places as possible each day. This first day, June 5th, was going to be a special one.

First, we were going to swing by my apartment in Nishi-Shinjuku to see it in daylight. Then we were going to ride the Chuo Line from Shinjuku Station to get to Tama, where my high school is located. It would almost be like a day recalled from 2009, when my morning routine would have been built along this path. Except this time I was starting out from an AirBnb apartment near Chuo Park, walking with Sarah around Shinjuku to see the early morning sights. As close as the past felt, the present was undeniably real too.

Turning the corner that housed the BMW Dealership, we set off in a straight line back toward Shinjuku Station. The route felt less intimidating in the sun than it had in the dead of night. Well-dressed men and women walked to and fro, en route to destinations unknowable. How strange to be in a city where business hums in the background, where salaried professionals cross the same streets as you but enter buildings you cannot. It was only the force of memory and passion that brought us so close to the gears of this urban leviathan. We walked alongside a busy highway, Shinjuku Station hidden behind the city's many skyscrapers. I knew the area well now, as I'd taken several trips to the local Kinokuniya from this angle. Coming up to a railing, we discovered the missing Entrance from
last night! It was tucked away into a small plaza that had little connection to the rest of the Station. It would have been a useful encounter if we hadn't already blazed our own trail to the AirBnb.

From this vexing Station Entrance, we made our way back to the West Entrance. The path seemed much easier now without the nagging weight of stuffed suitcases behind us. Euphoria had settled in, and all of last night's hardships were a different day's concerns. We meandered unhurriedly from the West Entrance back to the East Entrance, where before long we would be taking our first real Tokyo train ride. It's one thing to arrive by train, but it's another to shuttle across Tokyo at your own leisure.

As enthusiastic as we were to start traveling, there was no real timeframe in place. Our only real goal was to visit two areas a day: one in the morning, one in the afternoon. So we took our time getting to Nishi-Shinjuku, stopping along the way to admire the bronzed sunlight striking Shinjuku's towers.

We began our hike along the walkway that would take us to my old apartment. This was a crucial moment for me, and I knew I'd be overwhelmed. In the months before our trip, Sarah and I had debated the idea of staying in an apartment along the same street as the Platine Building. At first I liked the idea. But after considering it some more, I felt sadder and more unsure. To be so close to my old home, I decided, would just emphasize the unbridgeable distance between then and now. Better to build new memories than futilely chase old ones. Sarah agreed, and that's how we chose our first AirBnb. But now it was time to visit the Platine for real. As I turned the familiar corner, everything looked poignantly the same as I recalled. The long cluttered road, the surprisingly short buildings along the block, even that wobbly sewer grate I would hop on for fun in 2009...almost nothing had changed. We walked up to the Platine, and I could sense tears welling in the corners of my eyes. Even writing about this moment now brings a lump to my throat. Here it is, my one-time home in the Shinjuku Ward. Way up there on the eleventh floor. Where I lived for a year in low-grade ecstasy, learning and growing, as open to the immense outside world as I'll ever be.

In (almost) 27 years, I have lived in several places. There are the childhood moves: Wisconsin to Pennsylvania, PA to California and back again...then there were the college years. On campus at Penn State Harrisburg in the dorm on a hill. Off-campus in an apartment complex with many other students. That last one I actually did have a chance to revisit. It was a truly profound coincidence. A friend called from Harrisburg, where she was visiting some friends. She wanted to know if I'd be interested in joining them. I ran the idea by Sarah, and she liked the idea of seeing an important place in my life history. So I said yes, and we drove out to meet her. We ambled around the area a while, even stopping by my favorite pizza restaurant, before ending up in my old apartment complex. My friend asked if we'd want to say hi to a friend. Sure, why not. So the three of us walked into the same building I lived in, and walked right up to the door of my old apartment. I was in disbelief. It was 2015, and we were about to walk through the door to my 2011 apartment. Of all the buildings and all the apartments in this bustling college town, a friend of a friend was living in mine...

Of course, I didn't get that kind of luck at the Platine Building. But the feeling was almost as momentous, even just standing outside the front doors. Perhaps because it had been even longer since I'd left this home of mine, and since I'd come so much farther. Sarah took a picture of me by the sign and texted it to my mother. We also walked down the street and looked for my favorite Indian restaurant. Astonishingly, Muthu was right where I remembered, though it wasn't open for the day just yet. I was elated to see it again.

It's entirely possible that this restaurant was my first real encounter with Indian cuisine. Since then, it's become a huge part of my life. Sarah always cooked masalas and curries when I first started spending time with her, and they remain a staple in our repertoire to this day. Yet I don't recall having much exposure to Indian cooking as a kid or teenager. It really may have been Muthu where I was first introduced.

There were a couple of restaurants Sarah and I planned to visit in Shinjuku. Muthu was at the top of the list, but I hadn't been sure if it was still open seven years later. The other main one was Spaghetti Goemon, where my family and I often went out to eat. That was a long-standing Shinjuku institution, so I was considerably more sure we'd get to go. There was also a Thai restaurant near the Platine Building that I visited with my family several times, but it was part of a big interchangeable restaurant complex. I think that one was unchanged as well, though we ultimately decided against revisiting it. We simply had too many other options.

Boarding the train at Shinjuku Station, I felt confident about our next steps. We would take the Chuo Line to Takao and disembark two stops early, at Musashi-Sakai. From Musashi-Sakai, it would be another two stops to Tama. I'd made this trip over 100 times, and even in 2009 I was pleased with how easy a route it was. As we rode toward Takao, I reminisced on the days when I'd listen to my iPod en route. I got to know several artists and many albums well on this trip, and I can even recall looking out the left side of the train as Shinjuku passed by...

Tama is a small city, special to me because it houses The American School in Japan. I was so excited to finally show Sarah my high school. There were few places in Japan I spent more time than here, and I thought seeing it would make my experience feel more real to her. We walked alongside the train tracks up a long road, stopping to grab an iced drink on this hot summer day (just like I would in 2009!).

We turned the corner at the end of the street, veering right for ASIJ. One change I noticed along the way was a school where I'd always seen children playing. In its place was a big gated building. Possibly it was still a school, but it looked very different from what I remembered. I wish somewhat that I could explore Tama more, as I didn't experience much of it outside ASIJ in 2009. If other areas had changed, I would not know. I did check a map before our trip to see if there was anything else in Tama for us to see, but more on that soon...

Throughout 2017, I kept debating myself over whether I should try to contact ASIJ and get permission to visit. It's a private school, but most of the people I knew there were friendly and accommodating. I think there's a good chance I could've gotten approved for a visit, but I never quite felt strongly enough to do it. At the time I was still overcome with anxiety about conversations with people I didn't know well. I would've been overwhelmed by touring the school and possibly meeting several teachers I knew from 2009. So I decided we'd just walk by and maybe try to go in another time. That facade you see in the picture is totally new, and I was shocked to see how much remodeling had occurred. When I went to school here, that space was wide-open and patrolled only by a single security guard.

Now it seems they have a whole fleet of buses where incoming traffic once entered.

There's a lot more I could share about my senior year here: being a new student, Homecoming, my girlfriend at the time, my art classes, my short films, my field trips...but those all deserve more space and attention than they'd get here. And so many other noteworthy things happened on June 5th, 2017. I have to cordon off the more distant past just to get to these newest memories.

Veering left of ASIJ, Sarah and I sat for a while in a small park. We'd bought a couple of little food items earlier to eat for a snack during our Tama trip. I don't recall ever spending time in this park back in 2009, so I really appreciate that we hung out together there in 2017. At this early point in our trip, it felt like we had limitless time ahead of us to explore Japan together.

While ASIJ was the main reason we came to Tama, I did have another goal in mind. To my very great surprise, there was a location just blocks away that carried an incredible significance. I had been looking into my favorite Japanese authors before the trip, thinking about which books I might like to buy before (or during) our time in Japan. In so doing, I discovered something incredible: Yukio Mishima, one of my favorite authors and one of Japan's most notorious, was buried in the cemetery minutes away from my school! From the comfort of my Baltimore apartment, I experienced a jolting thrill. Not only could I show Sarah ASIJ, but we could also visit the gravesite of an author whose work I cherished.

After our break in the park, we beat our way along an overgrown path that wrapped around the cemetery. It was a big plot of land, and we hadn't chosen an entry point beforehand. Upon entering, I realized I also hadn't located Mishima's grave beforehand either. Luckily there was city Wi-Fi that we could use on our phones. The connection was weak, but I was able to peruse several sites in search of directions. We also checked the maps posted by Tama Cemetery, but none of them told us much about where to go. Sarah and I must've sat for a half hour while I tried to gather information about Mishima's tombstone. Eventually, we realized the only thing left to do was ask at the information center. The maps could at least direct us there, so we walked through the ornate gardens toward the entrance.

The information center was modest and sparsely staffed. We were a little unsure of how to conduct ourselves, but I went up and approached two ladies behind a counter. I had speculated to Sarah that Mishima must be one of the more popular graves, even if his reputation in Japan isn't exactly sterling. As foreigners, I hoped our interest in it would seem respectful. The ladies asked if they could help, and I told them I was looking for Mishima's grave. One gasped softly and asked "Mishima Yukio?" in an incredulous tone. I nodded politely, a little embarrassed myself. The women retreated into a back room to see what they could find. I wondered if I had crossed a line after all. When they returned, they tried to explain that Mishima's family didn't want visitors. There were concerns about the tombstone being defaced by critics of Mishima. They suggested I try to Google search the location instead.

I thanked them for their explanation, and let them know I'd already Google searched to see what I could find, to no avail. After I spoke, the two women conferred amongst themselves. They produced a map of the cemetery and beckoned for Sarah and I to look. We leaned in, and they circled the numbered zone where we could find Mishima's grave. It was a row of tombstones, and they indicated to us which one they believed it was. However, they encouraged us (with smiles) to be discreet about our visit. We thanked them profusely for their generosity and exited the building.

Amazed by what had just happened, Sarah and I made our way into the heart of the cemetery. Because it was quite large (and the map was quite small), we had trouble orienting ourselves toward the row of tombstones we'd been shown. We kept an eye out for distinctive landmarks to help us discern the way. After moving straight ahead for a long while, we turned left and walked parallel to the row in question. It was a still and sunny day, and while I doubted anyone would be keeping an eye on us, the conspiratorial conversation had made me a little apprehensive. We reached the end of the outer row and determined Mishima's grave would be just a row or two farther. So we entered the first row, looking for a tombstone that would match the images I'd found online. I scanned the tombstones intently, focusing on the kanji and the surrounding foliage, before Sarah called me over to join her. I came over and looked, and sure enough...

I was totally humbled. Already I'd felt honored by the two ladies' trust in us. As good-natured foreigners, maybe we gave off the appearance of trustworthiness. Perhaps they'd made an exception for us. But still, I was unprepared for the solemnity of standing near Yukio Mishima's remains in a cemetery that guarded their presence. All was silent except for the click of the camera as Sarah took those pictures of me. As you can probably tell by my expression, it was a bright day, and I had to squint while facing the sun. But in my smile, you might also see some shock at this singular situation. Wide-eyed amazement at this experience I'd been granted by two generous confidants. I felt exhilarated, but also a little undeserving of the privilege. 

We shot the pictures quietly. Not because we seriously feared punishment, but because of the mood of secrecy that hung over this private moment we'd been granted with Mishima.

After leaving Tama Cemetery, Sarah and I headed back to Shinjuku by train. Needless to say, it was yet another uncanny experience, seeing as I came home from school this same way countless times. Today, though, our destination was the Kinokuniya nearby Shinjuku Station. I loved that store's English language selection in 2009. My hope was that I could grab a few books from there, maybe even some I'd passed up years back. Sarah also wanted to visit the Tokyu Hands and see if there were any souvenirs we could pick up. It would be a good one-stop shop before our lunch at Muthu.

Except, there was one problem. I'd read a few months earlier that the Shinjuku Kinokuniya, the original location of the whole franchise, had been downsized recently. I was saddened by that discovery, yet I still wanted to look and see what remained...maybe I shouldn't have bothered. Almost the entire store had been shrunk from six floors to one, and the English language section offered mainly bestsellers. There was nothing to get here that I couldn't get at a USA bookstore. Dispirited, we exited and looked around Tokyu Hands, a department store that had changed far less in the intervening years. Sarah quickly discovered a huge plush cactus, which in fact I'm leaning against now as I write this paragraph! We also found lots of other little knick-knacks for ourselves and our families. Sarah's intuition was right: it was a great place to load up on souvenirs without losing too much time in a day. And ironically, I ended up enjoying myself more at Tokyu Hands than in my long-anticipated return to Kinokuniya.

Our last expedition of the day ended up being lunch. I'd forgotten this myself, but there's a gap of almost 10 hours between my pictures of lunch and our night out in Shinjuku. So I'm guessing we slept for most of the afternoon and evening! Anyhow, we swung by Muthu again and found they were open for lunch. Their menu offered certain lunch specials on certain days, so I got that day's option while Sarah ordered something different for herself. The dishes came with little cups of the most incredible chai, a pleasure I'd forgotten in my seven-year absence. Sarah explained to me that our meals were South Indian style, different from the Northern style more common in America. She said it reminded her of her grad school trip to Kerala, and she recommended I try the paratha if I ever got a chance. She said she knew I'd love it. I believed her, so I began to speculate about a time we could come back to Muthu and get different dishes. Our meals were as delicious as I'd expected, and Sarah agreed that it would be worth it to come back. I was so happy to share this very personal memory with her, just the two of us in a tiny restaurant on the other side of the world.

This post has grown very long, so I'm going to take a break here where our naps began! Next up I'll write another post that hopefully won't be too long, detailing our first night out in Shinjuku. That was something we'd really been looking forward to, and several parts of it are worth exploring at greater length. So, expect that addendum sooner than later!