From Daikanyama to Shibuya
Everybody walked on summer’s red carpet today. At 31 degrees, I endured the heat that feels like home. I have a map but intentionally left it at home because I’ve learned to trust my eyes and my feet. Everything will lead me to where I want to go. I saw Westwood, Bonjour Records, Herchcovitch, Evisu, la Fuente and realized I was on the right track. It was like Harajuku but tamer. Where cars were pompous and the girls were trimmed and carried Goyards and Balenciagas. Cafes lining the streets brought sweet conversations that mingled with the calm atmosphere. Smart buildings, eye-catching labels, intriguing shops and the mo-hawked mother driving a Jaguar. You can’t not love Daikanyama.
An hour or so later the world turned upside down. I found myself awestruck by Shibuya’s splendor like it was my first time to see it. Love at first sight on repeat. The weekend spirit of Shibuya is an experience. Personal space is of no essence. You stick your tongue out and you taste the flavor of cacophonies. Summer sale season means war. Attack of the five million shoppers. And I was in the middle of it. Drenched in sugary sensation only Japan soil can give. I want to be there when Moses strikes his stick on Shibuya’s sea of people.
Time: 3 hours of non-stop walking