Feeling none too interested in venturing far from the hotel (an impulse, I indulgently allowed myself to think, that in some sense made me a bit of a jaded, experienced "old Japan hand"), in the gathering darkness, I threaded myself through a shopping arcade closed for the night in order to buy myself a salad and a beer for dinner at a 24-hour convenience store. I discovered only when I got back to my room that that I'd forgotten to buy a packet of dressing to accompany it. So experienced that shopping is routine, eh? There's a moment's illusion shattered for you.
|The ultra-modern ghost town that is Shinjuku on a Sunday night.|