Imagine being in a new city.
Now, imagine that you have suffered a debilitating stroke and, as a result, you tend to wander to the left. Oh, also, you can't read.
Now, imagine that you've also suffered a gun shot wound to the leg, resulting in massive blood loss that impairs thinking and mobility.
Now, imagine that there is a mosquito with an American accent constantly buzzing in your ear telling you that they've done nothing interesting AT ALL since coming to Tokyo and they just want to go back to LEWISTON where there are PLAYGROUNDS and THINGS THAT ARE INTERESTING TO DO. (As an aside, I often find myself fantasizing about two simple things: locks and yards).
This is what it is like to be in Tokyo with six year olds.
Yes, I know, most of you are thinking "Shut the hell up you unemployed forty something Game of Thrones loving psychologist." Fine, say that. Just don't tell me what happened in the first two episodes. Still, I would continue to advocate for an "extreme reality television event" that involved traveling around the world with our children. Participants of the The Amazing Race would piss themselves.
I should also send a shout out (also known as a CONSTANT SCREAM OF DESPAIR AND HATRED) to Jetstar, which, despite their best efforts, got us here safely. If you ever have a chance to travel via Jetstar - don't. It's hard to imagine where to start, but I'll start with the innocuous sounding "baggage allowance." After you Google 7 kg, try to fit that into your carry-on luggage, remembering that you have to pack snacks, books, and toys for the six year old set. It is impossible. Amy and I spent a ridiculous amount of time weighing our backpacks and carry-on luggage in a fruitless attempt to get down to 7kg.
That was the best part of flying Jetstar. The worst is that they require you to gather all of your baggage after the domestic leg of the flight and cart it to the international counter - WHICH DOESN'T open until 3 hours before your flight. Which, thanks to our overly conservative travel agent, was three and a half hours away. At such times, you learn to really nurse a pint of Guinness so you can have a barstool.
As for flying ... I learned something very important which I will pass on to you now for free. If you ever ... EVER have the good fortune to have a flight with two empty seats next to you - IMMEDIATELY move into the center seat and take up as much room as you can. If you don't do this, it is very likely that a hipster wanna be in his forties from Australia will promptly move up several seats and immediately lay out on both empty seats, ass pointed towards you. When this happened, I felt a wave of deep self-loathing for not having the wherewithal to claim the seats myself. In retaliation, I made a LOT of noise opening my Jetstar Spinach Ravioli and laughed a LOT while watching the Revenant. That DiCaprio does crack me up.
Still, the hipster slept through it all. I considered taking a picture but I frankly felt bad for my camera.
And then there was Tokyo. Ah, Tokyo.
Our hotel had two rooms for us but no adjoining door. Amy and I had a plan that involved putting the girls in one room and being able to talk to each other in the adjoining room. Adjoining is really the key word. Our travel agent apparently believes that adjacent is a synonym to adjoining. Although, similar, they are not synonyms. So instead, I'm drinking a glass of a $3 bottle of sauvingnon blanc purchased at a 7-Eleven in the dark while Lily snores. This is not how I envisioned experiencing Tokyo. However, the $3 bottle of wine is really quite good.
Our girls were troopers the first night. Tessa helped us navigate the largest city in Japan with an unerring sense of direction. She was like Amy's seeing-eye dog. Both kids tried food at an Udon restaurant which Amy and I loved. The second night, they demanded Subway. In a city of 88,000 restaurants, Lily and Tessa ate Subway sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, and mayo.
Now, imagine that you have suffered a debilitating stroke and, as a result, you tend to wander to the left. Oh, also, you can't read.
Now, imagine that you've also suffered a gun shot wound to the leg, resulting in massive blood loss that impairs thinking and mobility.
Now, imagine that there is a mosquito with an American accent constantly buzzing in your ear telling you that they've done nothing interesting AT ALL since coming to Tokyo and they just want to go back to LEWISTON where there are PLAYGROUNDS and THINGS THAT ARE INTERESTING TO DO. (As an aside, I often find myself fantasizing about two simple things: locks and yards).
This is what it is like to be in Tokyo with six year olds.
Yes, I know, most of you are thinking "Shut the hell up you unemployed forty something Game of Thrones loving psychologist." Fine, say that. Just don't tell me what happened in the first two episodes. Still, I would continue to advocate for an "extreme reality television event" that involved traveling around the world with our children. Participants of the The Amazing Race would piss themselves.
I should also send a shout out (also known as a CONSTANT SCREAM OF DESPAIR AND HATRED) to Jetstar, which, despite their best efforts, got us here safely. If you ever have a chance to travel via Jetstar - don't. It's hard to imagine where to start, but I'll start with the innocuous sounding "baggage allowance." After you Google 7 kg, try to fit that into your carry-on luggage, remembering that you have to pack snacks, books, and toys for the six year old set. It is impossible. Amy and I spent a ridiculous amount of time weighing our backpacks and carry-on luggage in a fruitless attempt to get down to 7kg.
That was the best part of flying Jetstar. The worst is that they require you to gather all of your baggage after the domestic leg of the flight and cart it to the international counter - WHICH DOESN'T open until 3 hours before your flight. Which, thanks to our overly conservative travel agent, was three and a half hours away. At such times, you learn to really nurse a pint of Guinness so you can have a barstool.
As for flying ... I learned something very important which I will pass on to you now for free. If you ever ... EVER have the good fortune to have a flight with two empty seats next to you - IMMEDIATELY move into the center seat and take up as much room as you can. If you don't do this, it is very likely that a hipster wanna be in his forties from Australia will promptly move up several seats and immediately lay out on both empty seats, ass pointed towards you. When this happened, I felt a wave of deep self-loathing for not having the wherewithal to claim the seats myself. In retaliation, I made a LOT of noise opening my Jetstar Spinach Ravioli and laughed a LOT while watching the Revenant. That DiCaprio does crack me up.
Still, the hipster slept through it all. I considered taking a picture but I frankly felt bad for my camera.
And then there was Tokyo. Ah, Tokyo.
Our hotel had two rooms for us but no adjoining door. Amy and I had a plan that involved putting the girls in one room and being able to talk to each other in the adjoining room. Adjoining is really the key word. Our travel agent apparently believes that adjacent is a synonym to adjoining. Although, similar, they are not synonyms. So instead, I'm drinking a glass of a $3 bottle of sauvingnon blanc purchased at a 7-Eleven in the dark while Lily snores. This is not how I envisioned experiencing Tokyo. However, the $3 bottle of wine is really quite good.
Our girls were troopers the first night. Tessa helped us navigate the largest city in Japan with an unerring sense of direction. She was like Amy's seeing-eye dog. Both kids tried food at an Udon restaurant which Amy and I loved. The second night, they demanded Subway. In a city of 88,000 restaurants, Lily and Tessa ate Subway sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, and mayo.
There is no word in Japanese to describe my feeling of sadness.
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