The other night I had my best meal in Tokyo.
It was unexpected, it was last minute.
A university friend working in Nagoya was in Tokyo for business.
She saw my photos on Facebook and asked if I had time.
Through the wonders of social media and sim card vending machines, we met at Yurakucho.
Famous for the izakayas underneath the hundred year old railroads.
Tomoko later explained that although she grew up in Tokyo, she never had the chance to visit.
This mecca for university students, for when they ‘grow up’.
The sanctuary away from Shibuya and Shinjuku.
Now that she’s all grown up (with a healthy baby boy in fact), she works in a different city.
So she never fully ‘graduated’ to Yurakucho.
Such is life.
Such is irony.
Tomoko and I met what, three times in the last ten years.
But we are close enough to bitch about life.
Which I assume was what every, single, person was doing in our restaurant.
We ordered the deep fried crumbed tuna, spicy fries, butter and garlic scallops, miso pork.
We then saw the sea urchin cream pasta on the next table and decided to wait thirty minutes for it.
I had one beer and she scoffed at me for ordering oolong tea as my second drink.
I later told her I still haven’t found this famous dashi shop in Nihonbashi.
And that I had forgotten to pack enough shirts for my trip.
(Had plenty of pants though.)
Tomoko checked her phone and said we should catch a taxi towards Ginza.
So for the first time in my life, I saw Tokyo from inside a taxi.
With five minutes left before closing time, she told me to run into the shop while she paid the driver.
Only to realise people didn’t really care about closing hours in Ginza.
After we left the shop, it was time for her to leave and attend to her son.
But when I said there’s this famous ramen shop around the corner, I saw this mischievous glimmer in her eyes.
Let’s grab a bowl if there’s no queue, she said.
Alas, it was Friday night, and the queue was shocking even for Tomoko.
We parted ways in the subway station.
Like salarymen, not wanting to return home.
As I rushed home, my host opened the door.
I thought they would be angry that I was late.
Naoki greeted me with a smile:
” Did you have a good time? ”
Like the Japanese dad I never had.
I told Tomoko earlier during dinner that Tokyo feels like a city of unfulfilled dreams.
You spend your life working towards something, yet once it is within your grasp, you realise that ‘something’ became ‘something else’.
An endless cycle.
When I first visited Tokyo, all I wanted was to live like a Tokyo person would live.
It took me ten years, but that wish actually came true.
And it did not feel unfulfilling at all.
The other night I had my best meal in Tokyo.
