shinjuku arrival

Whenever you finish a long plane ride, you inevitably get that sense of wonder that comes with showing up in a new place. Japan, and especially Tokyo, is no exception.

I barely slept on the plane, showed up at Shinjuku station after a bleary eyed ride on the Narita Express. Getting out of the train station was surprisingly easy. Future visits to the station confirmed this to be beginner’s luck. The smallish streets, odd angles, the endless people decked out in mostly black and white and shades of grey, interspersed with small parades of the cos-play-zoku girls in their amazingly detailed and flamboyant garb, the vending machines, the orderly construction workers in outfits from old science fiction movies, the vertically stacked signs everywhere, it all came rushing in. Hotter than I expected, and muggy. No foreigners in sight. Up to now, the only place I see any foreigners on a regular basis is Roppongi.

After the obligatory missed turn, I eventually arrived at my hotel (with some assistance from others), got settled in, called a local friend who took me out on the town that night. The next day, I finally had to put on the brakes. Saturday was gloomy, much cooler, and a light rain settled in. I roamed around the busy parts of Shinjuku, just taking in the people and taking some shots as I tried to make sense of the place. Some examples are here and here.

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