My several rendezvous were happening Shibuya, so I felt it wise that I find
my accommodations there. The perfect place was on a little lane off the Dogenzaka,
where a room would be around $50 a night. What looked close to Shibuya Station on
the internet was really about a mile uphill. I made the trip at least fout times every day.
The obaasan Tamura didn’t speak English. None of her family spoke English.
And I didn’t speak Japanese. Yet we managed to understand each other perfectly.
I left on my adventures around 7AM and would call it a day by 10PM, returning to tea
and snacks in my room, and often something interesting on TV—the news, a variety show,
a drama, a cartoon, an appreciation of art. There was even a curious meditation channel.
The excitement of being in Tokyo meant I hardly slept at all. In the chilly early morning
hours, I stood at the open window in my yukata, drinking tea, smoking cigarettes,
alone but for big silent cats or small chanting monks passing along the lane below.