I Came to Tokyo for the Temples and Stayed for the 7-Eleven

A love letter written on an empty stomach (briefly)

Okay, real talk: I planned this trip around shrines and gardens, and I did see them, and they were transcendent. But let me tell you what actually rewired my brain: a convenience store egg salad sandwich at 11pm. I'm not joking. I ate it standing on a curb in Shinjuku and briefly considered never going home. Tokyo is a city that takes food personally. The ramen guy behind the counter isn't making you dinner, he's defending a thesis. I did a standing sushi bar in Tsukiji, a nine-seat yakitori spot where I pointed at things and hoped, and one gloriously chaotic izakaya crawl through Golden Gai where I made four friends and lost my sense of direction entirely. Between meals, because there was some time between meals, the city kept surprising me. You turn a corner off a screaming neon boulevard and suddenly it's silent, just a little shrine and a cat judging you. Three visits in and I've barely scratched it. Go hungry. Go curious. Bring stretchy pants.