11 Surprising Lessons to Learn from Accidentally Looking Like a Fool.
Published on May 13, 2020 at 4:48 pm
But where are the trash cans? Photo by Jezael Melgoza/Unsplash, Illustration by Maitane Romagosa/Thrillist
Note: We know that COVID-19 is currently impacting your travel plans, so to give you a little inspiration, we’ll continue to share stories from our favorite places around the world to keep you dreaming about your next adventure.
On my first trip to Tokyo, I felt like I’d been training for at least a decade. Under the tutelage of my mother-in-law and wife (both Japanese-born and women who don’t tolerate public embarrassment), I felt perfectly prepared to navigate the winding alleyways and food stalls. I knew all about robot toilets and four different ways to thank someone. My bowing was flawless. My ramen etiquette was solid.
But here’s the thing: When immersed in another culture, even the most savvy traveler is bound to miss something: a social cue they don’t understand, a tradition that Fodor omitted because it feels like common sense, and suddenly, they’re getting glared at by an old woman for tying their shoelaces in the wrong place.
Tokyo satisfies your curiosity and offers new surprises around every corner, but it can also catch you off guard. From the moment I was greeted by a security robot on my way to the bright pink customs counter, I knew my guidance alone couldn’t cover everything. So that you don’t have to, here are the mistakes I made in Tokyo.
Details: The best itinerary for traveling around Tokyo and its surrounding areas
Instead of just giving people money to buy things
Although cash is the predominant currency in Tokyo, it is not necessary to exchange it frequently, which is usually done by placing money in a plastic tray and handing it to the cashier.
After being up for 27 hours, my first stop outside the airport was a brightly lit, 24-hour grocery store. I grabbed some basic groceries: rice balls, cold fried chicken, some mysterious chips, and a fancy beer, then headed to the register. A woman let me through. I grinned like an idiot and handed over my money. She looked down at the little tray. I laughed even harder and started muttering incoherently. Finally, she pointed to the money, then to the tray. Click! No one wanted to touch my filthy money. In retrospect, it probably helped prepare me for the post-COVID commercial world that was just around the corner.
Your pockets and wallets become a garbage dump
Tokyo seems to operate on a “Leave No Trace” philosophy where campers are only allowed to take any rubbish they bring in with them. It’s the cleanest big city I’ve ever experienced, but finding a trash can is like looking for a unicorn. If you’re lucky, you might find one outside a subway station. But you probably won’t.
Once you’ve purchased a can of hot coffee from one of the many vending machines around town, prepare to have it as your travel companion for a while: do as the locals do and bring a small plastic bag so your pockets aren’t filled with wrappers, bottles, cans and skewers that could easily end up in a landfill.
My checklist for my trip to Tokyo read like a shopping list: sushi, okonomiyaki, takoyaki, yakitori, wagyu beef, Kobe beef, katsu, karaage, melon bread, curry bread, gyoza, ramen, shabu-shabu. Repeat. And repeat some more. I planned to do a lot of eating while wandering the backstreets, croquette in one hand, rice ball in the other.
That thought vanished as I grabbed a takeaway sandwich and took a bite as I walked. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a sign that read, “No eating or drinking beyond this point.” Then I noticed a group of commuters munching on sandwiches, leaning against the wall right next to the restaurant. Eating on the go is a bad idea, but eating in front of other establishments is a big no-no. And rightly so: with 160,000 restaurants on the Tokyo Metro, we can’t all run with noodles dribbling out of our mouths.
Get ready to reimagine 7-Eleven
There are more 7-Elevens in Tokyo than there are trash cans. Well, it’s not a big deal when you think about it. But there are a lot of 7-Elevens. Japan’s convenience store culture is well-known, and it’s not uncommon to see a 7-Eleven next to a Lawson or Family Mart, selling the same things. But 7-Elevens are also popular spots for overseas ATMs, foreign currency exchange, and more. You’ll probably end up going to a 7-Eleven. And when you do, you’ll probably want to eat.
American 7-Eleven food consists of a rotating selection of hot dogs, neon cheese, and crappy pizza. In Tokyo, you’d be surprised because it’s not just good, but sometimes great. The karaage is freshly fried. The rice balls come in a variety of flavors. The katsu sandwiches are crispy and amazing. The buns and noodles are from days gone by. A typical 7-Eleven here is like a good Japanese buffet in America. And yes, there is seating too. Again, you can’t eat on the run.
More: How a Japanese convenience store snack became America’s hottest sandwich
You will be spending a lot of time at the mall.
I hate shopping malls, so when my wife said we were going to spend the day at DiverCity Mall because of the pouring rain, I pictured with deep existential dread a Japanese Gap-like store, teenagers loitering, and belly-loads of the best stuff Auntie Anne’s Tokyo has to offer.
Things started to look up when I heard the loud thump of a three-story unicorn Gundam robot outside. And then when the doors slid open to a vast food court with curry shops, ramen stalls, and amazing fried chicken, I was totally enthralled. On the third floor was the Gundam museum, next to an arcade with a trampoline park, a mini bike track, a pool hall, and a manga lounge; several virtual reality experiences; and an entire museum dedicated to poop (best left at that, since Japan loves to make weird things cute).
The next day, the rain is back, so we head to another shopping mall, this time the famous Sunshine City. On the way to Nanja Town, we find a giant aquarium and a kid-friendly recreation of a Japanese town from the Edo period, complete with augmented reality, a spooky ghost village, and a gyoza-focused food court. Downstairs, a boy band called Colon was greeting screaming fans — Colon! — and I felt like I was on drugs. But I wasn’t. It was awesome.
Be careful where you put your feet
Most travelers know to take off their shoes when eating in a restaurant with tatami mats, and to wear slippers in hotels and at home. But it goes deeper than that. I wasn’t surprised when my four-year-old daughter received a sashimi-slicing glare when she put her feet up on a bench at a sushi restaurant. But while you might think you’re better than a kindergartener, mistakes are bound to happen. You might find yourself crossing your legs and resting them on the bus seat, or lifting your feet up on a bench to tie your shoelaces. You’ll be noticed. And you’ll be scolded to put your feet back on the ground. Sharply.
It’s all about punctuality
In Japan, being on time means arriving a little early. If you are late, you are considered a monster. This is taken so seriously that subway trains will make repeated announcements apologizing if they are more than a minute late. So, if you have a reservation, arrive early.
Sometimes, time works both ways. An all-in shabu-shabu dinner or an experiential cafe may have a clear start and end time, with social and financial penalties for exceeding the time. If you plan on staying longer, find out if there is a time limit, or you may find yourself paying extra.
Tokyo’s subway stations are essentially underground cities.
If someone asked you to spend the whole night eating and drinking in a New York subway station, you’d naturally think they were a robot controlled by a rat. But in Tokyo, stations like Shibuya and Tokyo Station are essentially bustling underground cities, with department stores, travel agencies, pizzerias, souvenir shops, karaoke bars, candy stands, museums, pharmacies, manga-themed corridors, dark izakayas and world-famous Michelin-starred restaurants.
Many of these stations are downright opulent: don’t be surprised to see chandeliers hanging overhead or be seduced by the smell of the world’s best curry buns as you round the corner to catch your transfer.
The train is eerily quiet.
Millions of people use the subway every day. At rush hour, New York’s R trains are packed like Amtrak sleepers. People are sometimes poked into place with sticks. But the eerie silence of Tokyo’s packed subways would be unbearable for American passengers.
Headphones are silent. Conversations are barely whispered. Eye contact is avoided. Food bought at subway stations is not eaten. Everyone is silent, from the small child who undoubtedly left his shoes on the bench to the stumbling businessman who has undoubtedly just finished a nine-figure deal after nine highballs at a subway izakaya. Do the same. Speak loudly and you’ll be greeted with a thousand stares.
You will feel very out of place (so embrace it)
My wife says that when her British father came to Japan, people would stop and take pictures of him. Foreigners coming to Japan are not as likely to be targeted by paparazzi as they used to be, but if you’re not Japanese, you’ll still stand out. You just have to accept it.
Tokyo is a bustling metropolis, but Japan is also a very homogenous country. The ethnic breakdown is 98% Japanese. There’s a diversity in Tokyo that makes Portland, Oregon look like a Model United Nations. Sometimes you’ll get some awkward stares. Other times it’ll be heartwarming, like when school kids engage with you to practice their English.
In most big cities, standing out makes you a target. Tokyo certainly has its scammers, but it’s also a city where you can rely on the kindness of strangers. Towards the end of my stay, I realized that people were more willing to help me because I was different. I was asked if I needed help finding something in a store, or someone saw me looking at a map as I walked through the subway station.
No tip is required, but you will need to pay for the seat.
In Japan, good service is expected and tipping is not necessary, but some places will sneak in a little extra money, so don’t be like me and question it.
Towards the end of my trip, I was feeling more confident and a little more integrated, so I was ready to make some noise when I entered the infamous “Piss Alley,” a must-see spot packed with tiny bars, smoky yakitori joints, and izakayas, nestled in a series of narrow, winding alleyways, so named because shady characters often relieve themselves on the walls. I walked into a random eight-seat bar and ordered skewers of pork belly, steak, and what I thought was beef heart. I held off on my highball until someone made a toast to me, and then ate an appetizer of cold noodles, mayonnaise, and mystery meat, politely handed to me without explanation. I thought it might be a Piss Alley-style bar peanut.
When I asked for the bill, I noticed that the 500 yen surcharge had not been added. Confused and drunk, I asked what it was and was told it was a table charge. Unwanted appetizers were not free, they were entrées. I had mistaken the custom for a menu mistake. It was my last night and I started out the same as I had started; looking like a goofy American trying to stay cool. Of course.
To be fair, senior editor Andy Kriza looks like a goofy American wherever he goes, whether in his Los Angeles home base or far away in another country. To follow him is to be subjected to accidental embarrassment. Follow.
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