Today was a big travel day. My travel buddy and I had a desire to check out Mt. Fuji, never having seen it in the flesh. Climbing it would be a mission, and completely out of the question…the question that asked whether we had the gear, time, money, and will to hike it. Unlike most famous mountains in China, there were no cable cars or death defying SUV rides to the top. Instead my plan was to put us in close enough proximity to the mountain for a good view, to take some pictures and have a moment of clarity that people have before they invent great things like the pool noodle.

This was all to be done with the transportation provided by the Japan Railway, whose network of steel would be carrying us for free. I figured that the station Fujinomiya was the closest JR station to the mountain, and planned for us to stay there for about 20 minutes. After our brief stay we could hop on a different train and head back down to the high speed line towards our day’s destination, Tokyo.

We grabbed a couple of bento boxes* at Kyoto Station, and off we went on our journey to the famous volcano. By some technical oversight of mine, I neglected to read up on the fact that during the summer Mt. Fuji is almost always shrouded in heavy clouds despite however perfect the weather is in the rest of the country. So of course we get to Fujinomiya and there was absolutely nothing to see except an abandoned mall and a bunch of yokels. No big loss as I didn’t give us a huge window of time there. We were still able to make it to the megapolis before sundown.

After checking in, we walked over to Shinjuku and wandered aimlessly amongst the millions of people making their way home. Dinnertime rolled around and there was a certain sushi restaurant we began searching for that took us twice through Shinjuku station. It was something akin to being lost in a Lewis Carol novel, but perhaps my low sugar, high alcohol blood level may have played a part in that. By the time we found the restaurant we were both plotting ways of cutting each other up a la Alive. There was a huge line all the way out of the restaurant, but conveniently they had chairs to sit on while we waited. Even more conveniently, there was a convenience store just across the way that most certainly stocked cold beers. Of course we were much too classy to buy a bunch and then quickly guzzle them down while waiting.

The restaurant was called Numazuko and served up some solid revolving conveyor belt sushi. Not quite the same level as Karato Ichiba in Shimonoseki, but still worthy of my meaty little paws. Everything we tried was good, except some tuna I ordered, but tuna is tough in these days of depleted fish stocks. Definitely a step above most of the other places I’ve been to, and absolutely smashes the face of 禾绿(Helv) in Shanghai. After dinner we called it quits and walked home through Kabuchiko, which was entertainment in it’s own right. Just think hookers of all persuasions, Nigerian touts, big groups of drunks, punks, yakuza thugs, and you’ll understand there would be lots of interesting dreams that night.

*Ok bento boxes. The Japanese lunch boxes. Why can’t we have these nice things? They’re awesome. I love how they’re all compartmentalized, so your different foods don’t get contaminated with each other like a bunch of buddies in a bathhouse. Then there’s the expensive ones that are wrapped up like a Christmas present…only NICER. Perfect for rides on the train or in the back of your chauffeured Rolls Royce.

Filed under: tourist shit