The penny drops

The total alienation finally hits. Although the city looks and feels like a western city, the never-ending exposure to an unknown language, either written or verbal, makes one feel to be completely detached. Instinctively, it feels like the West, but logically, it does not makes any sense. This conflict can be used to describe being in Tokyo best.
Most of the time is spent gazing and wondering at the different excesses of an alien culture; one which uses the same signs in some cases, but with a totally different symbolism. In the end, one tends to tune out the background talk, Trying to make sense of it all has no relevance, since it does not allude to any known or learned skill.
The lolita complex is everywhere; worse than I originally anticipated. Some toys, depicting various children in several sexual positions, are even considered illegal in the West. Aside from this minor negative observation, the toy cult is very prevalent, and is on a larger scale than I could possibly hope for.
Tokyo is built of popular culture; the neon signs and constant background noise give birth to a playground in which everything seems possible. The deeper meaning go beyond me at the moment. The shrines and other traditional Japanse tourist attractions are cast aside; they have no place in this world.

...

Gashapon!
Rows and rows of brightly colored plastic balls,
containing brightly colored plastic girls
devouring my boring silver coins

Concrete Neon

A tremendous force that hits all the senses at the same time; that is how Tokyo can be described. Although I have enough experience with a lot of cities, including the over-the-top Las Vegas, nothing prepared me for the force that is called Tokyo.
It is amazing how this city is composed of extremes; tranquil and noisy, serene and crowded, old and new. Once you have heard the hundreds of thousands of metals pachinco balls falling inside on of the many game parlors, you just know that there is nothing that can compare. When you encounter you first co-splay girl, dressed like a french maid, you know there is no return. And when you have experienced the subway during rushhour, you will want to stay.

Play Misty for me

Fog is a wonderful thing, even an act of God, according to the Swiss Arlines liability clause. It also prevents planes from taking off. Meaning that the flight to Zurich was delayed. This had the nasty consequence of not being able to be on time for the Zurich to Tokyo flight. Fortunately, this act of God also made sure this was also delayed, meaning I was just in time to hop on board. This nick-of-time occasion included a run of 10 minutes through the Swiss airport, cursing for the electric train to be on time, and shouting at the gate personnel. But at least I made it. A pleasant surprise was that even my luggage was transported as well.

Small moment of reflection during the flight: rows and rows of elderly Japanese, with emotionless faces and soulless eyes. I wonder whether some of them had worked at the concentration camps, torturing some of my family members. Faces without any form of emotion.