Cake bus, cat bus, silver robot hat bus

Our Tokyo long weekend had several essential components. There were to be new experiences like the Ghibli Museum and the Tokyo Game Show. Eggs Benedict had to be involved somehow. Most important of all, we needed rice cooker banana cake for what became known as "cake bus".

The rice cooker beeped, cake was wrapped in foil, the stage was set. We grabbed our bags and headed out the door on the most successful Tokyo trip I've ever been on.

I think I might have just spoiled the ending.

At the stroke of 5:30 on Friday, I grabbed my stuff and hurried home to get changed and grab everything. With that airy feeling of anticipation that comes with preparing to leave for a trip, we did one last whip around, unplugged things and patted pockets, then headed out the door. Dinner in was clearly not happening - we found ourselves at our local cheapie Italian restaurant excitedly chomping on pizza and pasta and swallowing iced coffee after iced coffee. The bus was due to leave from Kobe at 9:30 to shuttle us to Osaka, where we'd meet up with fellow shuttlee and organiser Abel (to board "the one bus to rule them all", as he said). On the way we ducked into the convenience store to pick up some Autumn beers for the occasion and managed to get on the bus with surprisingly little stress.

We pulled up in Osaka and stood in the crowd watching dozens of buses squeeze between one another, ready to ferry everyone everywhere. Abel showed up and after chinking our beer cans and finishing them off, we managed to find our bus. Unlike the one we took on our snowboarding trip, this offered more than 16cm of legroom; in fact, the seats reclined outrageously until you were almost laid out flat and a big silver hood could be pulled over your head to block out the light. We couldn't decide whether that made us look more like Daft Punk or Mysterio from Spiderman, but in any case we took photos in robot poses which we probably found much more amusing than anyone else. The cake was cracked open and cake bus was born; it rumbled into life, pulled out of the carpark and set off toward Tokyo. Abel put on a Dragonball Z eyemask which made him look like a very angry anime character - it was hilarious whatever his mouth was doing. I couldn't get to sleep but figured I'd trick my brain into rest if I lay still enough and I think I eventually dozed off because the rest stop seemed to wake me up. I realised at this point that the big handy space behind us was actually the engine bay, which had gotten hot enough to melt all our chocolates. Caramello Koala has no mouth and he must scream.

Eventually we pulled up in Shinjuku and rose with the sun, stepping out blearily towards our first destination. For some reason Eggs Benedict don't exist in Kobe (and probably not in Osaka for that matter) - we were definitely going to use this opportunity to join the "brunch" thing that seems to be happening in Tokyo. Being people of discerning taste, we got the train to Gordon Ramsay's restaurant at a hotel nearby and were directed to a table between very rich looking Japanese people and lonely American businessmen. Like most things in Japan, this was a buffet but it was a bit classier than the usual spring rolls and fried chicken fare; along with your choice of Eggs Benedict, blueberry pancakes et cetera, you could help yourself to scones, cheese, fresh bread, fruit, salami(!), smoothies and danishes. Smiling waiters in crisp shirts and sensible haircuts kept coming up and pouring coffee out of bottomless silver pots and we were treated to the mirror-like cityscape outside. I do feel quite out of place sitting in my jeans at these kinds of places - a 7 year old trying to sit still at his dad's office dinner - but the experience definitely wasn't lost on me. The EB was all I dreamed and after about my 40th cup of coffee, we decided we should probably move on.

Next stop was the "cat bus" that would take us Ghibli Museum, a tribute to an animation house that's made roughly six million extremely good movies - a bit like the Disney of Japan. Tickets sell out months in advance and you're allocated a half hour time window to show up on your day, after which they won't let you in. We eked in and started wandering the halls, working out all the bits and pieces there were to see. It's one of these places with weird architecture - funny little flourishes from the movies that are easy to miss and tiny doors and ornate spirally staircases that aren't. I have no doubt the man responsible is mad - it's a bit like walking into Wonderland or a weird 1930s combination of Japan, France, America and whatever else that never existed. There were four floors of it ranging from amazingly clever 3D displays and animations, to recreations of scenes from the movies and insights into the oldschool animation process. One room was even a mock-up of the creator's house complete with haphazard stacks of drawings, buckets of used pencils and shelves of books about whatever kind of thing he was trying to draw at the time. We stopped for lunch at one point at the cafe, where they sold club sandwiches, hot dogs and chiffon cake on a breezy terrace. It felt really authentic, I'm just not sure what it was authentic to. Once we had finished everything we stopped in for a very cute Totoro movie in the theatre, bought a couple of knick-knacks from the gift shop, had our photo with the robot on the roof and stepped back out into reality. I think it was reality, anyway - for some reason there was an owl and several hawks on the way back to the station and I'm really not sure why.

Everyone seemed to want Burger King for dinner that night but given that we had had it a few weeks ago, we weren't particularly in the mood and broke off to eat dinner ourselves. This turned out to be a very good idea because apparently BK is offering a Whopper buffet at the moment, which means that when you buy a meal, you can have as many Whoppers as you can eat within half an hour. I don't ever want to know the answer to that. This is perhaps Japan's solution to their lack-of-obesity epidemic, or perhaps just an astonishingly dumb idea. Either way, we rejoined everyone once they were full of Whoppers and regret and headed over to karaoke. Japan's karaoke "thing" seems to be putting several very reasonable prices on the wall which have nothing to do with the final price you pay. "64 yen", it might say, or "312 yen"; regardless, you end up paying a trillion dollars at the end. In this case, it turned out to be the price per person, per half hour, without the compulsory drink factored in. I liken it to a car yard with a big sticker saying "$20000", with a tiny asterisk next to it saying "per wheel". We weren't overly happy about this, but because they conveniently forget to total everything up for you until after your session, there really isn't too much you can do about it. We did have fun up until that point and I managed to find "Ballroom Blitz" as well, so that dulled the pain a little.

Sunday morning we had some breakfast at the hotel (no salami this time) and headed out towards the Tokyo Game Show; Lisa opted out and decided to go shopping and wander Tokyo Museum instead, which was probably the right decision for her. To make up for our being slapped by karaoke the previous night and missing out on getting advance tickets, the heavens smiled on us this time. Abel stopped while we were walking towards the gate and ran back, reappearing a few seconds later with one ticket for each of us that some poor soul had dropped on the ground. The wait hardly seemed to matter after that point - we chatted excitedly as we snaked around the building toward the entrance. I had brought my DS in the vain hope that someone would still be playing my old Dragon Quest game, expecting one or two people to come and stay in my "inn" throughout the day. Unlikely, I thought, given that the person would have to have their DS, with the game in, with the wireless mode turned on properly. I got 76 of them; I will never underestimate the geekiness of these people again. Our snowballing luck was cosmically repaid by another guy just outside the entrance, who dropped his DSLR and lens with a hearty sound of broken glass. Everyone, photographer or not, recognised the sound of several thousand dollars smashing and shuddered involuntarily.

Eventually we got inside and I was treated to an inferno of flashing lights, booming sounds and scantily clad women handing out brochures and freebies. One girl was even sitting in a foot spa at one of the stands, which would be quite nice to be paid for. There was also a giant inflatable robot sumo, which has overtaken the two kids riding backwards on a panda as the best summary of Japan I can think of. The star of the show had to be a game called "Galgun" though, which was a shooting game where you run around a school driving girls insane with lust by shooting them with your pheromones (mercifully portrayed as shiny hearts and stars). This seems to be a family game, it should be noted - I could understand a bit more if it were up the back behind a curtain, but all the clothes stay on so I really can't work out who it's for. Abel got to the bonus stage, where a girl stood motionless while he worked out which bit to shoot for best effect. After a few misses, a voice helpfully suggested "have a go at the arse". The most surreal thing about the game was that noone even seemed to recognise how bizarre it was.

We stopped for some curry for lunch while watching fighting game tournaments being played on house-sized plasma screens and narrated by a very excitable man, then split up again to see what we wanted to see. My luck continued long enough for me to win an Xbox t-shirt (only available in "S" size, an interesting choice given the size of most of the people there); Lisa later expressed displeasure at it but seems to have started wearing it anyway.The scantily clad women continued to their natural conclusion at cosplay alley, where hundreds of professional and amateur dress-uppers simpered for the cameras in various stages of undress. Not wanting to be associated too closely with the heavy breathing walruses taking the photos, I snuck round the other side and went into the retail bit, where Japan continued its love of lining up for things. Forty minutes, the sign reckoned, to get into one of the shops - for the opportunity of giving them all your money. And that they did, people staggering around with bags of game soundtracks, plush toys, figures, posters and accessories for their iWhatevers. I had a quick whip around, added some more free things to my bag o' loot and then headed back to the main hall to meet up with people. Ben and I had the least stamina so we left at this point to get a coffee, but not before handing my camera to a nice looking girl and trying out the "idiot pose". "The hunch is the key," Ben said earnestly. "Goofy smile, eyebrows up, peace sign, slight hunch." It was quite cathartic and the girl thought it was hilarious. "I don't know if this is really my scene any more," Ben said as we popped back out into the real world. Apart from the irksome idea of pretty girls being paid to tolerate you, I think it is my scene. I probably shouldn't advertise that too much though.

That night we headed to Outback Steakhouse, which every American is convinced is the most Australian thing in the world (the next being Fosters). Here, you can enjoy such Aussie favourites as "Bloomin' Onions", "Alice Springs Chicken" and the unintentionally hilarious "Brown Thunder from Down Under". I've never heard of any of these, but they must be national staples at a place where koalas, boomerangs, surfboards and paintings of Ned Kelly adorn every wall. VB for $10 as well, if you don't mind. Having said that, I found it difficult to stay mad at them - the bloomin' onion is essentially an entire onion turned into bite-sized onion rings, everything is smothered in cheese and the soft drinks are bottomless. The Americans may not know Australia from a bar of soap, but they do a damn good grill menu. Waddling out of the shop, Ben kept us amused with very strange "Yo Mama" jokes on the way to the station ('Yo mama's wedding dress was "one-size-fits-disgusting-whalewoman."' and 'Yo mama is like blue cheese dressing. I hate her.'), then we excused ourselves and headed back to the hotel. I'm certain weekends like this involve about 20-30km of walking when you add everything up, and we were in danger of losing our feet by this point. 

We got up in the morning and discussed the day's plans over a chocolate croissant; by this point everyone had headed home except Abel and us. The original plan was to go to the Yokohama beer festival but by this point we had had enough of "things" and were quite content to give our brains and wallets a rest. Instead, we headed into Akihabara and had a poke around the shops, eventually settling on a UFO catcher place where Abel pointed out an entire set of toys he wanted. The claw was atrociously weak, but with enough batting of our eyelids, the man there turned it up and I ended up winning the last 3 in 3 goes. By this point I had a crowd behind me waiting to have a go, but the man skipped in and turned the claw's strength back down to "sick kitten", so they all slunk off disappointed. As our final hurrah (and last new experience) for the weekend, Lis and I headed off to a "maid cafe", which is exactly what it sounds like in some ways and something else in others. Basically, women dressed as maids do cute things, play games and take photos with customers and presumably throw people out the window if they act up. We ended up getting some caramel tea (and being told how to "make it more delicious with the power of our love"), a giant parfait and polaroids with a couple of the girls, with Lisa in cat ears and me in giraffe ears for reasons I can't explain. Like Galgun, it's one of those bizarre Japanese things that blurs the line between being perfectly respectable and something you'd be embarrassed about if your parents were there. It's like someone smiling at you on the train for the entire time you're on there - ultimately harmless but still awkward and a bit creepy. I can now die without wondering what it would be like to wear giraffe ears though.

All up it was an amazing weekend and my first trip to Tokyo that was great from start to finish. As we munched on our lunchboxes on the shinkansen back to Kobe, I realised that this would be one of those trips that stays with you for a long time. Inflatable robot sumos and women calling you "master" - these are stories for the grandkids. 

May there be many more to come (stories, not grandkids).