Written by Robert The / Translated by: Sophie Chang

No matter how wonderful a place may be, a weekend break away is often the perfect remedy to restore the weary spirit and put the spring back in a flagging step.

With falling fuel costs and airlines wishing to kick-start their fortunes in today’s turbulent business environment, it’s a perfect time to snag a great deal and take off for adventure and fun.

I had the time, the price was comfortable and the deal was sweet, so I wasted no time and booked myself a four day/three night China Airlines package deal with flight, airport transfer, centrally located hotel and breakfasts included.

I was truly psyched, but if weekend citybreaks have one drawback, it’s knowing just what to do and experience in a new city with limited time. Over the years, I’ve found that if I have a good idea of what I want out of a journey before I land, then my experience becomes more focused and enjoyable. So with Tokyo I figured that if I could have a dash of traditional, a slice of modern, a generous serving of great food, a portion of kickin’ nightlife and a pinch of the bizarre, then I’d be more than happy, and the details could fill themselves in once I got there.

Touchdown.

International airports are generally bland, interchangeable and completely forgettable, but as the downtown bound limousine bus pulled away from Narita International, I was amazed to see the line of bus employees, petite ticket clerks and burly baggage handlers alike, simultaneously bowing deeply and sincerely towards the departing bus passengers.

This was Japan, no mistake!

After a quick freshen up at the hotel, I hooked up with some friends who were in Tokyo for a few days before continuing on to Australia. We made a pact to party, but decided to tick the culture box by first going to the theatre.

Kabuki is a form of 17th century Japanese theatre with colorful costumes, a chorus and actors. It’s a very traditional and intense spectacle, which is still very popular in Japan. However, it isn’t exactly what you could call light or accessible entertainment, and it was a challenge to keep focused and awake, especially after a full morning traveling. But it wasn’t just me, though: cultural overload had also hit some of the Japanese in the audience, and we amused ourselves pointing out those who were either heading towards, or were already deeply in, the land of Nod.

We stumbled out into the cool, fresh night air in search of food. Competition amongst restaurants in Tokyo is intense and standards high, so we were sure to find a good place to eat, whatever the cuisine, which that night turned out to be Indian, and unspeakably good.

Meal over, we walked the area in search of entertainment and espied the doorway of a small bar. The Japanese are masters of the compact and these microbars scattered across Tokyo are a perfect example of how to do the most with the absolute least. With smooth classic 70s soul vinyl spinning and room for a maximum of twelve customers sitting shoulder to shoulder at the bar, this microbar was the last word in intimate drinking cheer. I soon found myself sitting next to a young Japanese drinking buddy who immediately pulled out his favorite party trick, making miniature Origami rabbits, which he’d place on the bar counter in front of me. I began to wonder whether perhaps the rabbits were a gambit, a precursor to being hit on, and was grateful when my posse decided to call it a night and head out.

If you think you know crowded, think again. Nothing in the world is as insane as the late night subway trains when all of Tokyo, mostly drunk but intensely happy, is trying to cram itself into the same carriage as yours. Just when you thought no more people could possibly squeeze in, the train doors would open and a further flood of revelers would stream in and the press would become even more intense. It was beyond extreme but we grinned throughout it all and even managed to thoroughly enjoy the experience.

Our destination that morning: Shibuya, a classic of the Tokyo landscape with its bazillion zebra crossings going every which way, and a gazillion grey-suited salarymen scurrying this way and that, performers in an intricately synchronized urban ballet. But it’s not just a faceless business district; Shibuya is also an up-market entertainment, shopping, restaurant and clubbing zone, and it’s a great place to watch the life-pulse of the city at work and play: gaggles of school girls in naval uniforms intermingle with office workers; Kimono-clad housewives gently breeze between sullen fashionistas, and, bizarrely, the occasional brazen salaryman out in public in full trannie mode.

Next stop: HMV Shibuya to browse amongst the racks. I was very impressed: with just about every imaginable genre and sub-genre represented and stocked, it’s obvious the Japanese really know and love their music. I watched, entranced, as a video played of some Japanese chick teaching Dancehall stylee to other Japanese chicks. Watching it, I felt somewhat cognitively confused for a moment but I soon got over it because a) she did a good job and b) why shouldn’t a Japanese chick teach Jamaican dancing? It was just one more example of the beautiful global village we can call home.

That night we headed to Shinjuku, the place where Tokyo really lets its hair down and gets down to some serious partying. Real estate is an expensive business in Tokyo so that means that the Japanese entertainment options are often concentrated in towers of pleasure, tall buildings with two or three establishments per floor; each bar, restaurant and night club with its own bright and stylish neon signage. It represents a dizzying, if not dazzling, array of choices and the Shinjuku streets are lined with hundreds of these pleasure palaces, the streets thronged with thousands of light-hearted revelers - all so intent on having a great evening and enjoying themselves thoroughly that at times I felt I could almost be walking the streets of central Madrid at night, so joyous it seemed. I was amazed: the austere and serious image of the Japanese I had previously held shattered as I watched them at play, living la vida loca with a passion I hadn’t hitherto suspected.

The following morning, a complete change of pace, and we headed out to the Meiji Gardens, some 20 minutes from downtown Tokyo. Filled with quiet tree-lined paths which lead to the Meiji shrine, which was built in 1920 to honour the Meiji emperor, it is a rare 175 acre oasis of tranquility and natural beauty in a bustling city of 12 million. As we wandered through the Meiji Shrine we were blessed to stumble across not just one but two traditional Shinto wedding processions in all their finery, pageant and colour, and also came across children dressed up in exquisite miniature kimonos on their way to a special naming ceremony. It was truly a beautiful morning.

We continued and walked to Harajuku Bridge where the Cos(tume) play aficionados faithfully gather every weekend to display their astonishing costumes which are often faithful reproductions of their favourite animé character’s clothes, or even designed out of their own fertile imagination. There they stand, each group, a subculture in its own right, as they revel in the attention of tourists and fellow aficionados, perfect in their poses of studied nonchalance. Harajuku is like a giant outdoor catwalk, pure fascinating spectacle.

The Cosplay crowd was great but we decided to keep moving and head to Yoyogi Park, just a stone’s throw away from Harajuku. We immediately ran into the world-famous Japanese Elvis look-alikes (Elvises or Elvii?) with their greased-back hair, drainpipe trousers, long black coats, inspired tattoos and heaps of rockabilly attitude. A boom box blasted out period Rock ‘n’ Roll and they danced with a group of girls with 50s hairdo’s, white Bobby sox and Poodle skirts which billowed out as they danced, twisted and twirled.

The park was filled with Sunday crowds of people walking their dogs, youngsters flying kites, lovers immersed in quiet intimate moments, university students playing guitars, singing songs, swapping stories and sharing food on a group picnic and, most memorably of all; a lone didgeridoo player, filling the autumnal air with ethereal hypnotic funky rhythms. The park was busy, yet completely relaxed: it was deep chill, Tokyo style, and I was grateful to be there to experience it firsthand.

Our last evening and the destination of choice a no-brainer: it could only be Shinjuku once more, with its myriad canyons of light and leisure, calling to us to lose ourselves amongst them for one final celebration of Tokyo life and pleasure.

It had been an incredibly full and fascinating weekend, enough to make me fall in love with this ancient yet futuristic city. I had savoured every moment, but there was still so much left to discover and experience.

I promised myself I would surely return some day for seconds.