One of our more recent schedule changes allowed for at least a day on the tiny penninsula of Macau. Like Hong Kong, Macau was recently turned over to the Chinese as an S.A.R. However, Macau’s influence is decidedly Portugeuse. Even though the day was hot, humid, and rainy, the architecture glowed.
This will largely be a photo entry because we basically just walked around the town and appreciated the cool historic buildings.
Tokyo is a wonderful city. Even in the rain. Despite a delayed start (we were up late — it doesn’t help that Chris and I yak a lot), we soon found ourselves in Ginza, walking through the mist-like rain in search of not much except yarn (Amy’s got a project she’s trying to finish).
We went through the sweet electronic sanctity of the Sony Showroom [insert drool marks on the screen here], then over to the Apple store (four floors of pure industrial design nirvana), before crossing Ginza dori in search of, well, food. Amy spied a small sign that led us down an alley barely wide enough for us to walk, then down a set of barely-marked stairs into a basement restaurant that served some darn fine raumen, and some pretty funky dumplings.
Next to that was a paper store. I think Amy’s heart raced pretty much the whole time she was in there from the paper overload. Too much to choose from, and we’re almost out of money.
Matsuya and Mitsukoshi (two massive Japanese department stores) were next. But the illusive yarn Amy needs was not to be found. So we went to the food floors in Mitsukoshi to see what samples we could find. There was quite a lot.
We caught a subway over to Akehabara. This is geek heaven when it comes to all things “batteries not included”. [Insert more drool marks on the screen here.] Then it was over to Shibuya. The only real things to see there, aside from Shibuya itself, was the HMV, where I hoped to snag some of the music my cousin Jen had asked me to find. I found the artists, but sadly, all sold out. (Go figure.) Sorry, Jen, I’ll have to keep looking.
We were late meeting up with Chris and his friends Jessica and Alex for a late dinner in Chiba. They didn’t mind at all. Shinichiro was out again (he’d come out last night, too) as was another of Chris’ japanese friends (whose name I don’t want to screw up by spelling incorrectly).
We’ll be off for Nara before too long. Then Osaka, then home.
Three more sleeps!
We left the hotel early this morning — before 7:00 am — to catch a train to the airport. Strangely fitting that our last train would be to our first plane in quite some time.
Chek Lap Kok airport was designed with an express train in mind, which is great considering how far out the airport is from Hong Kong Island. The train system (the Aiport Express) also lets you check in at the train station, so you don’t have to check in at the airport.
At the airport, we did a last bit of souvenir shopping. Well, Amy did, anyway. We then headed out to Gate 63 for our flight to Japan. It seemed strangely final. This was our first plane since landing in St. Petersburg all that time ago. Amy flew Biz class (as you already know), and I flew in Galley Slave (aka Economy) class. Lest anyone think I resent Amy for this, I don’t. We flew to Russia on Amy’s points. She had some leftover on United Airlines, and upgraded to Business Class. All the power to her.
Doesn’t mean that I’m not gonna bug her about it, though. I gotta have fun with this, don’t I?
For the record, I ended up with about as much footroom as Amy, if not a bit more, because I asked for an exit row. You want to have a good long flight? Get an exit row — you’ll be able to stretch out without concern. Doesn’t matter if the row is full and others are not — you’ll have tonnes of room to spare.
Two flights left. I hope they go quickly.
Last country. Almost home.
Being in Japan, actually, is almost like being home. This country is so familiar to me (well, certainly Yotsukaido, Chiba, and Tokyo) that I didn’t actually notice getting off the plane, going through immigration, getting the bags, getting on a train, finding Chris, and getting to his apartment. I think I might actually have been here too much…
The flight from Hong Kong was okay. While Amy was enjoying her champagne at take-off, those of us in Galley Slave were firmly chained to our iron racks. (One minor improvement: less flesh-mauling spikes.) The smell of previous passengers’ fates faded once we got above 20,000 feet, though I suspect that might also be due to the thinner air at that altitude. (They save pressurization for the VIPs, you know.)
They still feed you, though. I always wondered what they do with the leftovers from the various peanut and pretzel packages. Now I don’t wonder anymore. I really don’t want to know what the liquid was, though. “Orange” isn’t supposed to be a light purple.
In the past, entertainment was watching your blood vessels bulge (due to air pressure, or more importantly, the aforementioned lack thereof). Those around me obtained a far greater spectacle, though, when the staff realized I was flying free on points. I think the whip marks will fade in about a week or so…
Amy looked quite relaxed and happy when I finally managed to break free of my shackles. I really need to remember to consider those USD$79 upgrades the next time they offer…