物の哀れ (mono-no-aware): Embracing the Ephemeral in Tokyo
Under the lingering glow of autumn dusk, Tokyo unfolded outside my window, a sprawling canvas painted with strokes of the ephemeral. This was my third solo trip to the city, but it felt like the first time I truly felt the place call to me, not as someone passing through but living within its circuits.
The Japanese concept of mono-no-aware—the pathos of things—captured the heart of my journey. It's the quietly elated, bittersweet feeling of having been witness to the dazzling circus of life, knowing that none of it can last. In Tokyo, I found this sentiment in every quiet temple corner and bustling Izakaya alley, a reminder of beauty's transient dance.
Oh, how happy I am that I got to fall into you Tokyo. Three weeks was a bitter-sweet fix to a forever craving. A little lonelier, and yet, I spent time less alone this time around. Met old friends in new places. Met new friends that seemed like old friends and found corners I could call on forever.
Tokyo transformed my approach to travel, teaching me the art of unhurried exploration and the grace of solitude amidst the urban noise. Instead of ticking off every must-see landmark, I synced my rhythm to the city’s own. Some days were spent roaming without a destination, allowing the city to guide me to corners I hadn't explored in my previous visits.
The Cat Shrine: Gōtokuji Temple
One such uncharted visit was to Gōtokuji Temple, a serene space dedicated to the beckoning cat. Amidst the rustling leaves, the soft clinks of a sea ceramic Maneki-nekos, every wave a silent benediction to the passing traveler. It was a reminder of Tokyo’s ability to marry the sacred with the whimsical, where one can find solace amidst the secular.
Mornings often found me at the Breakfast Club Cafe, a cozy retreat where the day began with the aroma of rich coffee and comforting breakfasts. It was here, among the worn booths, that Tokyo’s creative souls converged—artists discussing their dreams and nocturnal escapades. These encounters, often resulting in friendships, enriched my mornings immeasurably.
Jean-Michel Basquiat: Made in Japan
Art, too, played a pivotal role in my journey. Witnessing the largest Basquiat Exhibition at Mori Arts Gallery Center was a very happy accident. I spent the afternoon wandering the white halls, enthralled as ever at his work, from topsy-turvy paintings and raw journal entries to Warhol collaborations and, of course, heartbreak. I closed out the evening with cheeky sunset views, skipping the observation deck cues for the sweet silence of a nook I found and watched the city roar along on the horizon.
When words found their way back to me, Mikkeller Shibuya was my refuge. Here, great beers and greater conversations flowed freely, a testament to Tokyo's ability to make a foreigner feel at home. One evening, the staff welcomed me into their circle for a night out, offering a genuine slice of Tokyo nightlife. How could I refuse?
With the best music and ever-cool, beautiful people, Mitsuki was everything I’d imagined it would be. I followed my new friends down dark basement steps, and the moment the door pulled open we were greeted with a wall of sonic sound. Glass cubes filled with flowers flanked the DJ booth, as orange and red neon lights spilled across the dance floor. By the time we’d resurfaced, it was dawn and with 7/11 onigiri in hand, we happily headed back to Breakfast Club to start another day.
TeamLab Tokyo
And then there was TeamLab, an immersive world of digital art that played with the senses. Happy to have caught it before it closed, I wandered through lightscapes that blurred the boundaries between the senses. It was an incredibly trippy experience that was the best hangover cure for my sorry self.
Travelling alone through Tokyo didn’t just change my view on solo journeys; it altered my perspective on life itself. Here, in the constant flux of new and old, of solitude and camaraderie, I learned to appreciate the beauty of the moment, the impermanence of everything, and the enduring joy of returning to places that change us.
Tokyo, I love you. And I'll see you in the spring.
