Landed at Narita. Holy fuck I’m in japan. Thank you saint Jude.
Made it through immigration. Got desperately lost in airport. So many train lines. Took wrong one one stop too far find myself in the countryside wrong direction. Only Westerner on platform. Awkwardly wait to go back to airport.
Find right line, took wrong passage. Walk epic tunnel to wrong station. Turn back. Covered in sweat. Drive to survive kicks in. Need to find bullet train. Don’t wait to grow old in this airport
On skyline. Thank Christ. Spent two hours navigating way around maze of signs and escalators. So many train tunnels, so many trains on same line, not all going same place.
Nippori station nears. Hostel nears.
At hostel. Oak Zen. Pitch black outside, place isn’t too busy. Drop off my shit, get maps to hunt food and a 7 11. Tempted to shower, but that would signal the end. I’d probably pass out, awake for 30 hours. Find food.
Went to nearby Indian place. Safe bet for vegetarian. Sangest indian food ever. Eggplant bharata had eggplant, but also egg. Were those rice noodles underneath it all too? Spicy as hell, much good. Naan bread was size of a loaf of wonder bread. A gift from the gods. Price not bad either.
Streets near Nippori at night. Is that the name of this suburb or just the statiom? Is it still a suburb if there are no lawns? More bicycles than cars or people.
Find the 711. Men in suits reading girly mags, wearing dusty once black hats. They take up the aisle. Middle of the night. Outside a man shotguns a beer in the alley. He looks like he works in a cubicle. Strets are busy everyone looks like they work in cubicles. its 9pm.
Notice how small everyting is. Buildings aee stroes smallee than my dinjng room. Everyone lives and works out of little boxes. Their homes are boxes, their stores are boxss, everything is a small box.
I return to my small box to sleep. Binge read first.