The long train to Nitta and the mystery of the gyro stand in Ueno

I thought that I would paraphrase my friend Taylor's blog post in its entirety. It gives a bit more detail about why the journey from the airport was so darn long. Funny thing, when I was writing about it I omitted this bit. Which at first was a shame, but now Taylor has written for me! What a blessing!

Enjoy and be sure to check out his blog. He writes about living in Japan and teaching English, but it's not boring at all. His friend Liz also contributes to the blog, she's living in Berlin teaching English as well. http://gerpan.info

"Like a shepherd drawn by the light the of the Nativity Star to baby Jesus, I was invited by the smog-muted glow of Tokyo to visit one of its many lowly street vending establishments. In short, I was hungry and wanted a gyro. I yanked the train emergency break (figuratively) and steered my weary compatriots away from our intended destination and into yonder metropolis. I had faith that the little sandwich savior anointed in tzatziki sauce and wrapped in toasted pita would redeem me of all hunger.

The gyro was a Christmas delight but its redeeming qualities were lacking. On the way home, the brick of spicy shredded meats slowly dissolving in my stomach disoriented me – causing us to take trains in the wrong direction and not exit the trains when we were supposed to. That, in addition to the already time-consuming side odyssey into Tokyo, added an extra three hours to the ordinarily three hour train ride. By the time we finally arrived at my apartment, my already sleep-deprived guests were well into exhaustion. All attempts to rouse them with beer went in vain. After a brief respite, we celebrated the remainder of Christmas night with sushi and naps at the local izakaya.

REFLECTION

In hindsight, taking a detour to Tokyo was equivalent to leading my Oregon Trail wagon party to Fort Bridger instead of pioneering straight to the Green River in hopes of being lead safely across by bartering two sets of clothing with the fashion-savvy Shoshone Indian. It was a mistake that an amateur trail guide would have made."