After two intense days of shows, I decided to treat Sunday as a proper downtime. The plan was nothing ambitious: sleep when my body asked for it, eat when I felt like it, and get some laundry done. The hotel in Otsuka had a small outdoor smoking area where people naturally gathered, and I ended up chatting with travelers, musicians, and locals between loads of laundry. Those casual conversations turned out to be surprisingly useful — by the end of the week, several of the faces I’d met in that little cluster came to my gig at Naru Livehouse. It felt like the kind of slow, accidental networking that only happens when you actually slow down.
I woke up earlier than I expected, threw a load of washing on, and wandered over to the Lawson next door for a simple breakfast. There’s something comforting about quick convenience-store meals in a foreign city: familiar packaging, the smell of hot coffee, the tiny rituals that make a place feel a little less unknown. After breakfast I went back to the room and sank into a long, restorative nap — jetlag and adrenaline from the concerts demanded it.
In the late afternoon I felt human enough to leave the hotel. I took the metro to Ikebukuro, which is an assault on the senses in the best way: neon signs, crowded arcades, and clusters of stores stacked on top of one another like a vertical city. I wandered the streets with no agenda, poking into tiny shops, watching late-afternoon commuters, and soaking up the glow of storefronts. I stopped for a small bowl of ramen — nothing fancy, but perfect comfort food after a sluggish day. The broth was warm and straightforward, and the noodles did exactly what I needed them to do: settle me down and give a little kick of energy.
Later, Johan texted his location. Turns out he and Marie were also in Ikebukuro, which felt like a tiny stroke of luck. Finding them was a comedy of urban navigation: multiple restaurants in the same buildings, signs everywhere, and my jetlagged brain insisting I should be able to spot them immediately. I asked Johan to step outside so I could pick him out of the crowd, and once we met up we headed into a conveyor-belt sushi place nearby. These places are fun in a casual, slightly chaotic way — plates circle the bar while you can also order specific items from a big touch screen. We decided to order from the menu, and Johan went a little wild with selections, scrolling through and tapping options like a kid at a candy counter.
Everything we tried was tasty. The sushi moved fast, conversation flowed, and laughter came easily — the kind of evening that makes jetlag and exhaustion recede for a few hours. After we’d eaten our fill, we took the train back to Otsuka. Before bed we swapped plans for the next day: Johan and I wanted to visit a saxophone shop near Shinjuku. As fellow sax nerds, any time spent rummaging through horns and mouthpieces sounded like a perfect follow-up to a relaxed day of rest and good food.
