Long before we started this sea voyage, I mapped out in my calendar all the dates of our port visits; I entered the exact time we would arrive in Yokohama, the hour when we would depart Casablanca, how long we were in Cochin. Layed out in front of me I had a visual representation of when we would be at sea and when we would be on land. One stretch in particular stood out: the time between Hilo, Hawaii, and Yokohama, Japan – our longest stretch of time spent crossing the Pacific. I had steeled myself for this crossing, sure that cabin fever or scurvy would set in before we made it to the Orient.
The reality was pleasantly quite the opposite. I found that being far out in the Pacific, miles and miles from land was an unbelievably liberating experience. I remarked during this time that the most stressful event of my life was the misplacement of my water bottle for some 12 or 14 hours. The slower pace allowed for a couple of off days, during which we had no work duties. This afforded massages in the ship's spa for all the crew members including myself. A couple birthdays were celebrated with drinks and dancing in the faculty lounge, affectionately christened the "Tipsy Toucan" by those in the know. (Other colourful descriptions of locations on the ship include the "Eagle's Nest" (Media Lab), "Wolf's Den" (equipment room) and the "Badger Burrow," home to Evan, Patrick, and me.) Other celebrations had more flimsy excuses: impromptu salsa lessons, staff karoake night (after a few drinks I had the courage to perform "All The Small Things" in front of my peers and assembled SAS staff).
As we inched closer to the Japanese coast though, our dread grew with the height of the waves. Sleeping became an increasingly fraught affair; closet doors slamming in the night; massive shudders and shakes every 15 to 45 minutes when the frequencies of swells from competing storms aligned at our location; that peculiar sensation of floating that would awake you in your sleep, shortly followed by the opposite sensation of being pressed down into your mattress, as though you were leaving the atmosphere. Imagine the motion of a speedboat at top throttle, slapping and skipping across the surface of a lake, but on a vessel a hundred times it's size and in slow motion. Sleep often proved impossible, prompting me to browse for and download an app on my iPhone that harnessed the device's accelerometer, allowing me to perform amateur science experiments from my bed regarding the atypical g-forces I was experiencing.
The last night before we ported was legendary. Rumours had it the ship's crew themselves had never felt anything like it. After being awoken by a particularly massive smash around 12:30am, I decided I'd had enough. Having seen a few other Unreasonable folk take refuge earlier in the night with their pillows and blankets in Classroom 1, our designated space onboard the Explorer, I gathered up my own bedding and made my way there. I plopped down between Sarah and Amruth, hoping the relatively calmer motion towards the aft would offset the hardness of the floor. While the rocking was still quite intense, I'm confident I slept much better as a result of my dormitory exodus. When I awoke in the morning we were close enough to shore that the intense effects of the storm had subsided. Seeing land on the horizon, I quickly grabbed my camera from my room, taking care not to wake my cabin mates who no doubt deserved the finally-calm sleep they were getting. I made my way to the Toucan where I was surprised to see the postcard outline of none other than Mt. Fuji herself.
There's something both magical and banal about seeing something in person which you already know so well from hundreds of impressions on your conscience throughout your lifetime. What more could I do but record the landmark on the sensor of my own camera, as so many others had done previously? I tried to make my images unique by including in the foreground the gaggle of professors and students who had also arisen early to witness our arrival.
Once I was satisfied I had sufficiently covered our arrival, I returned my sheets to my cabin and quickly grabbed breakfast as the ship snaked its way closer into Yokohama proper. We were all pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a local high school marching band performing various fight songs and the like on the roof of the terminal for us.
Is it any surprise that I fell in love with Japan? As a white, geeky guy raised on the internet, probably not. Immigration was a breeze and before long we had officially landed in our first foreign port. We met up with some liaisons from Digital Garage, the gracious hosts of our event in Tokyo, who directed us to the train that would take us into the metropolis itself.
Seeing the slides blazoned with "Unreasonable Tokyo" on projectors in the presentation space suddenly made everything very real: this event felt so much more legitimate than even the most well attended events the Institute had hosted previously in Boulder. Live translators spoke into microphones behind a plexiglass booth which were beamed to wireless headsets worn by every attendee. After the event a wonderfully catered buffet was an absolute treat and excellent intro to true local Japanese cuisine.
After the event we headed into the metro system, following the careful directions provided by our Airbnb host to his apartment. After becoming briefly lost in the winding back alleys, directions provided by a local and her corgi revealed we were only a halk block shy of our target. We tip-toed into the fluorescent cooridor and gingerly opened the too-low brown front door and were greeted with a very relieved and surprised Matt Schultz, who had had his own harrowing cab experience getting there earlier in the day.
The advertisement for the admittedly large-by-Tokyo-standards appartment had bragged that though it only had 2 beds, 6 people had successfully stayed there before. We were seven. I don't think our host knew this. I was just happy to have a place to sleep, even though it was still on the floor, just like my previous night spent out of my cabin.
While everyone else was occupied with various shooting assignments the next day, I was free to venture into the city on my own to acquire timelapses. After being tied to quite a large traveling group I was very happy for the opportunity to 'lone-wolf it.' I consolidated my camera and slider into my backpack and headed out to the metro. The subway system in Tokyo is remarkably easy and efficient once you get the hang of it, and with the help of an offline map app and a Tokyo metro app, I had no problem finding my way around the city for 130 to 260 yen at a time.
First on my list was timelapse-friendly Shibuya. Arriving in the station, I wandered towards the newly opened Hikarie tower, and couldn't resist signs for the "Sky Lobby" which proved to be an excellent view of the ward and surrounding areas. After shooting one setup, I descended to the streets, where I found a peculiarly empty staircase with a nice angle for my second shot. After only about 64 frames though a security guard found me:
"Sumima sen..."
"Hello."
[Waving arms in front of chest] "No photo."
[Trying to buy time] "No photo?"
"No photo."
[Somewhat dejectedly] "Okay."
And then off to a third location, where a gaggle of SAS students sidled up next to me, hungry for wifi. One of the benefits of our Airbnb reservation was the use of an LTE mobile hotspot, which I had been lucky enough to secure for the day. Alas, I had forgotten the cryptic password and so could not come to the aid of my junior shipmates. Though it was sure nice to be able to stream Vimeo videos with no wait time for the first time in months to pass the time while my camera did its thing.
That night we all regrouped and headed out for sushi. We opted for a certain "Sushi Zanmai" of the same name as the Boulder staple, and, as it turned out, also a chain. We drank hot sake and ordered copious amounts of nigiri, then fumbled with the bill, like any decent foreign tourists.
Our breakfast the next morning turned into an early lunch when we followed our noses to a particularly good-smelling restaurant with an attractive facade nestled in a back alley near our place. We were ushered past several suited and seated businessmen slurping at their noodles. I thought the place was surely too full until I noticed my friends removing their shoes ahead of me and climbing into a back room floored with tatami. Inside, a couple elderly gentlemen quickly made friends and recommended the miso and ramen. With no English on the menu we didn't hesitate to take their advice. The ramen that followed was fantastic and we were told by one of the gentlemen that the restaurant had been there 40 years and he considered it the best ramen in Tokyo. I'm inclined to believe he could have been right. It was one of those serendipitous moments that you couldn't plan if you wanted and further cemented my love for the city.
The rest of the day was left more purposefully empty for us to explore the city, but I brought my equipment all the same, because really that's what I'd be doing with my free time anyway. I'm very glad I did too because a visit to the Sensoji Temple, Tokyo's oldest and perhaps most famous, netted several excellent timelapses in the late afternoon light.
Our group split and I was left lone-wolfing it again, patiently waiting for my intervalometer to wind down. Leaving the temple, I explored the nearby market-filled streets, grabbing a seaweed-wrapped rice cracker to tide me over until dinner.
The plan was to meet up again at the green subway car in Shibuya, so I made my way back down into the metro and emerged in that buzzing square. I waited for half an hour before resigning myself to sending a genuine green text message (not a free, blue iMessage) to find out where everyone was: at the other end of the car. I swear I checked there.
We spent a fair chunk of time searching for a place to eat in Shibuya, eventually settling on a different branch of Sushi Zanmai. There we ran into a couple guys who had attended the Digital Garage event who were more than happy to take us through some shadier-looking back streets to a bar called 180, where you could get Suntory Premium Malt for ¥180 a can (about $2 USD). The place was thick with smoke but the strange bar snacks and company and conversation were great. I was so worn out by the time we got back to the flat, I was happy to secure one of the proper beds for the first time in 3 nights.
Perhaps it was because we had time to actually get off the ship and sleep in the city for a few nights, but I felt totally enamoured with Tokyo in the short time I was there. I'm sure this will come as no surprise to all my friends who've been before. The city impressed on so many levels, from how clean it was, to the efficiency of the metro, to how well everyone dressed. The excellent thing about this trip is I don't have anything lined up yet for my next job, so I'm free to entertain fantasies about revisiting and spending more time in the ports we visit in the coming years – at the moment, Tokyo is right at the top of that list.
