The Big Day

Tuesday, March 5, The Big Day.

Finally! After weeks of planning and second-guessing every detail, it was time to kick off what I’d been calling my “adventure outbound flight.” You know that feeling when you’ve been talking about a trip for so long that it starts to feel like it might never actually happen? Yeah, that was me until this morning.

Mia had already made the journey to Keiko’s place a few days earlier, and despite all her dramatic yowling in the transport box, I had a sneaking suspicion she was going to love it there. Classic cat behavior – complain about everything, then secretly enjoy every minute of it.

Being the typical Swabian that I am, I’d packed everything the night before with military precision. One massive suitcase, a trusty backpack, and a carry-on that I’d stuffed to the absolute brim – because hey, if you’ve got 2×23 kg of checked luggage allowance, you’d better use every gram of it, right? 行きましょう – let’s go!

The departure wasn’t ridiculously early, but here’s the thing that gets me: a two-hour journey to Stuttgart Airport. Two hours! For what they call an “express bus.” And naturally, I couldn’t buy the bus ticket online. That would’ve been way too convenient. Of course, I didn’t have the exact change either (€9.60, because why make it a round number?). Little did I know this was just a taste of the delightful surprises Japan had in store for me.

After some theatrical complaining and random button-pressing on the ticket machine, the bus driver finally waved me aboard with a shrug. Turns out sometimes you just need to play the confused tourist long enough, and people take pity on you. Who knew that would become such a useful travel skill?

Made it to the airport with time to spare, which felt like a small victory. Of course, checking in my luggage was another story entirely – my smartphone boarding pass decided to have its usual meltdown. That thing has literally never worked when I need it to. So off to the counter I went for the usual dance with the “machine guards” trying to steer me back to those self-service kiosks.

Security was its predictable self: “No, those breast implants aren’t bombs either.” Then coffee, breakfast, and a ridiculously short hop to Frankfurt that went smoothly for once.

Finally boarded my ride for the next twelve hours – a gorgeous Boeing 747 with a window seat and a Japanese guy next to me, plus an empty middle seat. Travel jackpot! I’d brought some orchestra work to keep busy during the flight – program notes and project prep, perfect for those pathetic airline data allowances.
(Travel tip: Despite being slow and unreliable (works maybe one-third of the time), I still recommend getting Lufthansa’s FlyNet package. If you’re not into the in-flight entertainment, have work to do, or need internet access in case something goes wrong, it’s worth the peace of mind.)

When Travel Goes Sideways (Literally)

So there I was, wheels up and officially airborne, doing that little post-takeoff ritual we all do – shuffling through documents like they’re suddenly going to reveal some profound truth. Boarding passes? Probably useless now. Luggage tags? Well, surely I’d recognize my own suitcases…

Wait. Hold up. MAD… shouldn’t that say HND?

What. The. Actual. Hell.

Cue the mini panic attack. A frantic Google search confirmed my worst fears: MAD is definitely not the airport code for Haneda. It’s Madrid. As in Spain. As in the complete opposite direction from Japan.

The cabin crew tried to reassure me – “Oh, it’s probably just a mix-up with the tags!” Yeah, right. Even my fancy AirTags weren’t offering any comfort at this point. What else could I do but pop in my headphones, try to zen out, and pretend this wasn’t happening? Sleep would’ve been nice, but let’s be real – I’ve never slept on a plane in my life. That’s actually how I met Amber, but that’s another story.

Still, this gnawing anxiety wouldn’t leave me alone. When I checked those cursed tags again the next morning, reality hit: my perfectly packed luggage was now enjoying tapas in Madrid while I was supposed to be savoring ramen in Tokyo.

Apparently, my “adventure outbound flight” was going to be more adventurous than advertised…

Raiders of the Lost Luggage

So there I was, somewhere over the Pacific, contemplating my brilliant situation. I’m heading to Japan with zero gear for my trip, while some poor soul in Madrid is probably staring at a suitcase full of sweaters, wondering what the hell they’re supposed to do with winter clothes on their beach vacation. The irony was almost poetic.

Thank God for modern technology – those AirTags were worth their weight in gold. I managed to convince the flight crew with the GPS evidence, and they actually got the whole luggage mix-up sorted while we were still airborne. Sometimes the system does work!

But landing at Haneda? That’s where the real adventure began. Picture this: me and this incredibly patient ground staff member spending over an hour in what felt like the world’s most polite interrogation. “Was it a blue backpack with a red cover, or a red backpack with a blue cover?” she asked with genuine concern, probably for the fifteenth time.

Honestly, I couldn’t be mad at her – she was doing her absolute best with what had to be the weirdest luggage situation she’d seen all year. I mean, how often do bags actually end up on different continents? The whole thing was uncharted territory for pretty much everyone involved.

The Japanese efficiency kicked in eventually though, and they got everything sorted to deliver my wayward luggage to the right address. Crisis averted, adventure level: maximum.

Travel tip #2: While I definitely don’t recommend the luggage-goes-to-Spain route for your peace of mind, having your stuff delivered directly to your Tokyo address is actually brilliant. Way better than dragging three massive suitcases through the monorail and metro system.

Finally – Terra Firma and Familiar Faces

Full disclosure: Amber handled the entire transaction because my brain was still floating somewhere over the Pacific, and my Japanese definitely wasn’t going to cut it for card negotiations. Sometimes you just gotta let the locals work their magic.

Monorail and My First Cultural Fumble

Then off to the Monorail! Coming from sleepy little Tübingen, the sheer automation blew my mind – felt like stepping onto the Machine Planet from “Galaxy Express 999.” Everything was so smooth and futuristic.

Naturally, I had some travel trash to toss, so I spotted a bin and went for it. Big mistake. Turns out that particular trash can was exclusively for bottles from the adjacent vending machine. Oops! Welcome to Japan, where even garbage has rules.

And that, folks, was faux pas number one. Little did I know I was about to get a masterclass in the art of Japanese waste sorting. But hey, we all start somewhere, right?

Chow

Welcome to Tokyo: Population You + 14 Million Strangers

After a few smooth train changes, we made it to Ueno. Amber started giving me directions, but I was already completely lost – a feeling that basically lasted my entire trip.

Tokyo’s signage is incredibly detailed, which somehow made everything more confusing. Panda Bridge? Iriya Gate? Metro entrance? I felt like an explorer dropped into an urban jungle without a compass. Thank God for Amber, or I probably would’ve wandered into traffic within the first five minutes.

First Meal, First Success

But I wasn’t flying solo just yet! My stomach started making those subtle “feed me” noises, and since dinner was still hours away, we ducked into one of those ramen joints at the station. You know the type – fast, efficient, and utterly mystifying to foreigners.

Amber walked me through the whole vending machine ritual like a patient sensei. I basically closed my eyes and picked something at random, but honestly? It was fantastic. First lesson learned: in Japan, even blind ordering gets you something delicious. Sure, I had a minor battle with those ridiculously slippery noodles (they seemed determined to escape my chopsticks), but I managed to slurp my way through the entire bowl like a proper local.

Home Sweet Temporary Home

By this point, I was probably looking like a zombie tourist. Time to crash at base camp – Amber’s apartment right in the heart of Ueno. Talk about location, location, location: ten minutes from the train station, four minutes to the nearest metro. Perfect for someone planning to get hopelessly lost on a daily basis.

After a quick crash course in Japanese apartment living (which shoes where, which mysterious toilet buttons actually work, the usual cultural minefield), Amber made me a proper cup of tea. That’s when the jet lag finally caught up with me – I was practically asleep standing up. Sometimes your body just waves the white flag, and this was definitely one of those moments.

Power Nap to the Rescue

After a quick recharge session (nothing beats a strategic nap when you’re running on travel fumes), I was back in action. Amber had scouted out this gem of a restaurant just around the corner – one of those tiny places that looks unassuming from the outside but absolutely blows your mind once you sit down.

Seven courses of pure Japanese magic. We’re talking proper sushi, incredible starters, and sake that was so smooth it practically disappeared before hitting your taste buds. I’d completely forgotten my camera, which was probably for the best – sometimes you just need to put the phone down and actually experience the moment instead of documenting every bite for social media.

It was the perfect end to what had started as a complete disaster of a travel day. Somewhere between the third course and the second round of sake, I realized I’d almost forgotten about my luggage taking that unauthorized Spanish vacation. And right on cue, my phone buzzed with the best news of the day: my wayward bags had been located and were already heading my way. Sometimes the universe does throw you a bone!

Tomorrow’s Adventure Planning

Before crashing for the night, I did some quick reconnaissance for the next day. The Tokyo Skytree was completely booked (lesson learned: plan ahead when visiting major attractions), but honestly? I was cool with taking things slow. Day one was about settling in and getting my bearings, not trying to check every tourist box. Besides, after the day I’d had, just successfully navigating dinner felt like a major victory.