nude highway driving

At Yebisu Garden Place (or Ebisu, depending on whom you ask), a mind-blowing urban development project that is the result of some scary-great planning and features all sorts of sights, shopping and dining, anything goes. Including, apparently, sex with dominant geese.

Walking through the area at night was surreal, partly due to the design of the place but mostly because of the Fernando Botero exhibit. I was walking among big-ass, bronze supersized naked people and tiny-ass Japanese dogs, all interwoven by eerie lighting and air that sticks to your lungs if you don’t breathe out fast enough.

Speaking of which, I have a new appreciation for the term mushi atsui. I’m told it means “hot and humid.” I think the direct translation is: “Holy shit, it’s so painfully humid I don’t want to make any movement whatsoever. Feel free to stab me to death as long as you use a knife that’s been sitting in a freezer for a few hours.” D.C., built on a swamp by some people who were obviously high, has nothing on Tokyo. Hell, southern Louisiana has nothing on Tokyo. While I am proud of my magic powers for bringing an abrupt end to rainy season, I now think I might bring it back.

But not until I climb Fuji-san.