After bringing Miles back from the hallway excursion (ready to fall asleep), Ian wakes up and… 4 am, we’re off! Oy.
We got ready for the day, but because Thing 2 was up so early it is naptime before breakfast; I had to run a distraction play on McQueen and get him out of the room.
The Car and I headed out for an adventure on the city streets of Tokyo. A group of turtles were making an appearance on a wood ramp from the moat surrounding the Palace hotel (and Imperial Palace?). Jackson Storm was enthralled so we hung out for a while watching them come out, wander, and dip back in.
Exploring further down, we found an open space for Lightning McQueen to “race”. It was a beautiful terrace with structures leading to a path surrounded by rock walls, picturesque for a morning walk while burning toddler fuel.
Shortly after, Thing 2 was awake so we headed back for breakfast at the Palace.
Calorie-drunk and ready to explore, we ventured to the Imperial Palace… only to discover that it was closed due to the holiday yesterday.
(While planning our itinerary, we saw that the palace is closed on Mondays. But because Monday was a holiday, it was open – thus the unexpected Tuesday closure. Serious bummer.)
If only that was the only one.
We tried to make the most of it, and walk around to a nearby park.
Because of the heat and extreme humidity, we decide it would be preferable to spend extra time at the train station in the sweet-AC rather than sweat profusely for the next hour.
Cool, except for the lost passports.
Oh. Fuck.
Our luggage is already in Karuizawa, having been forwarded ahead to lighten our load on the train. I have day-mares of it sitting at our resort while we are stuck at the embassy for days, with nothing but yesterday’s clothes and a few toys stuffed into two backpacks. Vacation over.
We split up, in a frantic effort to recover the passport wallet. I take Thing Two and physically retrace our entire morning, ending at the Palace Hotel with a desperate hope we dropped them before leaving – but no dice.
As I am being told there is nothing in the lost-and-found, I see a missed call from Kyle. She is at the police station, and saw the passport wallet being surrendered as she walked in the door. The hotel concierge is on the phone with the police at that exact moment, assisting her with translation.
Thing Two and I wait in the lobby for Kyle to return, as I repeatedly (and pathetically) thank the concierge for her assistance.
The kids are both champs throughout this whole nightmare, and after numerous bows/apologies/thanks to the hotel staff, Kyle and I decide that McQueen deserves a treat. Back to the 711, and I buy something for him which, it turns out, I never knew I needed in life: “Coolish”. It is Ice Cream in a foil pouch with a cap, cleanly consumed and saved for later if you don’t finish it. I help him with “getting the ice cream out”; he knows nothing of what the cap is for so it’s all good. Between the two of us it is gone before we leave the hotel.
With Passports recovered, we slink away to Tyoko Station; relieved but far from rejuvenated.
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Tokyo station was a frenzied blur; nothing like a Japanese train station to hammer in culture-shock to full effect. There was enough English signage and a helpful info desk employee to confirm we were in the right spot, so we found our way to the correct platform… a full hour ahead of our departure.
We took advantage of the convenient store/food stand options. Kyle found some cheese and a fresh fruit mix, combined with a sandwich she made from stowed-away Palace Hotel breakfast buffet bread slices and peanut-butter packets we brought along.
(Her foresight and ingenuity always surprises me, especially now in a country with little option for vegetarian children.)
Meanwhile I got my first experience with Japanese To-Go bento boxes (from on the actual train platform); I had virtually no clue what I was getting, aside from a tiny grainy-ass picture of the inside, a super-vague “English” description, and an epic illustration featuring a crab on the cover.
In reality, it was a delicious assortment of seafood one would never find prepackaged in a train station in the US (and if you did, good luck on that roll of the dice). Fresh salmon roe, crab, fish, eel, some fried stuff, pickled veggies, and a variety of sides that were just as delicious/fun to eat as it was to guess what they were. It deserved much more reverence than the 5 mins I had to punch it down before preparing to board our train.
Bullet trains in Japan are no joke.
It’s not so much transporting passengers from one spot to another as it is propelling them between cities at blistering speed – but in the safest way imaginable. Come on, US, where is our NYC-LA line?
Upon arrival in Karuizawa, it was evident that we were officially “in Japan”. No foreign travelers in sight, virtually no functional English outside of select hotel staff, and a simply magnificent mountain setting that exuded natural beauty. Combined with the incredible old architecture and wonderful fall breeze, it was a literal breath of fresh air.
Later Tokyo, it was real; you were a whirlwind of all the good and bad that comes with a huge metropolitan city, but we’re ready for a change of pace.
Stepping off the shuttle and onto the grounds of the lovely spa resort, it was like being teleported from hot-AF Florida summer into a mild autumn in Wisconsin (but with mountains).
The kids both take naps. The restaurant has “Green Noodles” for dinner. Right on.
We are all in a whole new zone, physically and mentally. It feels great.
Travels with Larson and Co 