We spent just 3 days in the hotel. Unfortunately, the beginning was not smooth...extreme lack of funds, the wait for a deposit of final US pay on my debit card, Tokyo heat, and having to change rental companies for an apartment.
Uhm, and our general laziness. As an American, I had been used to driving. Driving everywhere! My transportation went something like this:
Walk the 20 feet from door to car.
Get in car and drive.
At requested location, look for closest parking spot.
If not close parking spot, circle around the block again - someone is bound to be leaving.
Park car.
Walk the 20 feet to location entrance.
Tokyo was nothing like this.
Tokyo is this* Walk to the station...walk to the train platform...train...walk through the station...walk up the stairs...walk to the requested location...get lost while walking...walk back the other way...walk through another station...walk up more stairs...get lost in huge Shinjuku station...huddle next to wall and cry...walk through the station again...walk down street...finally reach destination...inwardly cry because you have to do this again to get BACK to starting point.
(Note from future self - walking is good for you! Burns calories. See all the thin, dainty Japanese women? Why do you think they are so thin? Because they walk. Now cry, because you do not weigh only 50 kg as they do.)
At last it was the day to move in to the new apartment, or flat as all my friends and the rental agency called it.
Hm, no money for taxi...too embarrassed to cart huge boxes on to train...what to do?
Well, we "borrowed" two luggage carts from the hotel and loaded them with our boxes and suitcases and proceeded to walk. We walked/pushed our items from the hotel to the new apartment. Now, I do not know the exact distance - but I can tell you it took about 2 hours one way.
And it started raining 30 minutes in to the journey. The boxes began wet and started to tear open due to their bursting innards. Luckily duct tape was wrapped around each.
Two hours after beginning, we reach the apartment.
It's on the 3rd floor.
There is no elevator.
The pushing/pulling/dragging of boxes up the stairs begins. I leave you to imagine the agony of getting large boxes up three flights of narrow stairwells.
Unlocking the door, we are home! I, ever positive, find the tiny size cozy. Less space to clean.
My daughter wants to know where the rest of the rooms are. And she is NOT amused that she can reach in to the kitchen and open the refrigerator - while she sits on the bed - in the living room.
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