The flight attendant politely asked me to buckle my purse in.
It took forever to get into Tokyo proper, but once we did, we washed our faces to make a quick turnaround back out to the Tokyo nightlife. Our first stop was the restaurant Cunn (or Kun), which was insisted upon to me by my boss. It was easy enough to get to the general area by subway (we were in the women only car which seems to be open to anyone during non-rush hour) but once we got out at the Asakasa it was really tough to find. Basically we were in some random side street, relying upon a map that our gracious concierge had printed up for us - but was all in hiragana. After walking back and forth on the same street for about 10 minutes, I got frustrated and said we should ask the nearby hotel for directions. Imagine my confusion when we walked inside and found no hotel desk clerk. I looked around and saw this huge panel of pictures of rooms and soon realized that we had found ourselves in a "love hotel"! as it turns out, there is a desk clerk but she is hidden discreetly behind this mesh curtain.
My brother furtively took a picture while I tried asking here where the restaurant was. She spoke no English, and I believe, was a bit perturbed by the indiscreet nature of, well, us. Kind of flustered, she couldn't decipher the map and as I spied a couple coming in and hiding behind a wall, I just said thanks and good bye and motioned my brother to leave. I took care not to look at the couple who was coming in so as to preserve their dignity, for who am I but a heavy footed American tourist to embarrass a couple of locals about their rambuctious affair?
So we left the joint and proceeded to walk back and forth on that random side street until I pestered a local woman walking home with a big bag of toilet paper on where we were. Of course, the map was of no use to her either. Kindly she walked us around the bend and onto a cul-de-sac, whereby she too gave up and called the number of the restaurant. We were finally rescued by our host, Kuma-san, who materialized out of his clandestine, basement level restaurant and escorted us into his establishment.
The restaurant consists of just a bar that seats maybe 10 peoeple, and one more side table. There were two other sets of patrons there, and we were seated next to a big stuffed teddy bear sporting a panama hat. Over the course of the next two hours, Kumasan and his wonderful wife proceeded to feed us delectable dishes paired with the finest and most complementary drinks. It was truly special and remarkable.
Keiji salmon, maguro and toro paired with Japanese draft beer.
Thinly sliced mullet fish roe with sake.
Sendai beef with wasabi, soy bean paste and smoked soy sauce and 1780 madeira wine.
They have been all around the world and are good friends with my boss; they make their own branded smoked olive oil, salts, pepper and nuts, and will soon be serving their line of cuisine aboard Nippon Airlines for those fortunate enough to ride business class.
Afterwards, we tried to meet up with our friend M-dog, but were too tired to go clubbing in Roppongi so headed back to our hotel. We got caught in the closing of the subway as it was past midnight. Tokyo has very well dressed subway employees who wear hats and gloves and run around telling everyone on the platform that this is the last train to ensure that no one is left in a lurch. Of course, that last train was going to other way, so my brother and I were forced to take a very expensive taxi. Basically, it starts at 710 yen (which is about $8).
(ok blogger sucks I'll fix these pics later)
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