Day 2: My Heart Throbbing With Desire

I dunno, would you get that on a t-shirt in an English speaking country? I think it’s the word “throbbing” that crosses the line (and as someone who writes romance, my tolerance for the word is higher than most).

Breakfast this morning was not an easy task.

First we ate chocolate covered almonds in bed, because we were too snuggly to go out for anything. We finally left for Bear Pond Espresso and thought it made sense to just wait and have food there.

Unfortunately, there was much less to be smug about in our transport navigation this morning.

But the time we’d walked about 3k trying to find the right train line in Shinjuku Station we were far too hot, confused, and hungry. And hot.

We walked past some fresh fruit and special k stopped me, deciding that what I needed was a peach. He was right, too. Did I mention that Tokyo is hot right now? (In the climatic sense.)

So he went to the vendor, made the transaction, and I watched with growing trepidation as the fruit was hastily taken from his clumsy hands, wrapped in styrofoam then bubble-wrap, packed into a floral box then tucked into a bag. Special k walked back somewhat stunned and red in the face and said:

“I think I just bought some really expensive peaches…”

“How much?”


I tell you what though, that $13 peach sure was delicious. And speaking of weird Japanese fruit:

We found Bear Pond with its yum cold coffee, but alas no food aside from some unidentifiable donuts. Still not quite sure what flavour they were.

The Bear Pond chaps finally pointed us to a fish place where we ate this:

ah, heaven.

Followed shortly thereafter by its opposite. We walked around Shibuya with the sun bashing against us, trying to shove us into the pavement. My navigation skills are evidently not what they could be. And to be in Shibuya of all places, where everything is lit up and moves and music blares out into the public spaces – not ideal.

We finally found Shibuya 109 and it truly was like descending into a kind of hell. It was lit with a bright, almost orange cast to it, packed in every possible way with streams of yapping devil-girls. (Hey, it had been a long day. And the sensory overload is hard to fully express.)

We went home at that point.

Day 1

About anna cowan

I look around, and here I am - housewife and aspiring romance novelist. This seems unexpected.
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