Spaghetti Sandwich - Foray into Japanese Haute Cuisine

This is the first in the series of posts about my six-day trip in Japan.

Two snow white swans paddled leisurely in the expansive moat. To the right, acres of precisely manicured lawns sat framed by cookie-cutter copies of dense, triangular trees. Each blade of grass, each leaf, each branch had been sculpted just so. To the left, massive stone blocks, each taller than a tall man, formed a fortress wall. Beyond, one could catch the most fleeting glimpses of the slate-tiled rooftops on the Imperial Place's inner grounds.

Structure and beauty, exclusivity and secrecy -- ladies and gentlemen, we had arrived in Japan.

From the climate controlled room in a movie theater, this scene, set against the backdrop of a breathtakingly sunny day, would be too good to be true. And while my travel partner, Kat, and I were grateful for the lack of the forecasted storm, in truth, it was hotter than Hades out here. It had only been 20 minutes since I stepped off the train, and already, I'd sweated through my clothes and likely the ones in my backpack, too. Next to me, Kat trudged red-faced, periodically heaving heavy sighs.

But this wasn't meant to be the "relax and recover" sort of holiday. This was going to be the power vacation to end power vacations, and we were in full "see stuff, do stuff" mode. To hell with the sun. We could take it.

It wasn't yet noon, and Kat and I had already traveled from Busan, South Korea to Tokyo, Japan to appear before the front gate of the Imperial Palace, where the emperor and his family take up residence. To my surprise, they wouldn't let us in. (Do please note the use of the sophisticated literary device, sarcasm.) So, we made do perusing the miles -- or kilometers, I should say -- of pristine gardens and historic guardhouses of the palace's outer grounds.

It was everything you'd expect Japan to be -- clean and orderly, well-mannered and courteous. You don't know if they mean it, but they're smiling to your face. It was all beautiful, but sweltering, and fair-skinned Kat was burning to a crisp, so we adjourned to a convenience store where I sampled my first snack of the trip -- a Japanese delicacy of soft, crustless white bread sandwich stuffed with ... wait for it ... spaghetti slathered with soy sauce. Can't say I loved it, but I'm broadening my cultural horizons one sandwich as a time.

Check out my photos, "Tokyo, Metropolitan Mecca," on my Facebook page.