At the Cat Cafe
After a quick stop at Amber’s place to drop off my shopping haul, I headed straight to Asakusa. TripAdvisor had led me to a charming little cat café that looked perfect from the photos. Some quality time cuddling cats was exactly what I needed—I was already missing my little cutie pie back home.
I’d been planning to visit Asakusa anyway to see the Sensō-ji temple, so everything fell into place nicely. I texted Amber to see if she wanted to meet for dinner, and she was in. With that settled, I set off.
Exploring the metro
This time I decided to take the subway. Inarichō station was only five minutes away, making it the perfect opportunity to scout out the route. Both this station and Ueno would become my main transit hubs for exploring the city. Naturally, I managed to descend the wrong set of stairs and end up on the wrong platform. Sacrilege! Fortunately, the station was empty, and with Ginza line trains arriving every five minutes, it hardly mattered. I simply hopped on the next one.
I would quickly come to appreciate two things about Tokyo’s metro: its unwavering reliability, and the frequency of service—especially during rush hour—which meant I never had to sprint through the city like a startled rabbit trying to catch a train.
At the station
When I arrived at the station, the efficiency impressed me all over again. No fumbling with ticket machines—just tap your Suica at the entrance, ride, tap again at the exit, and the fare is automatically deducted. Done. If you need to top up the card, machines are everywhere.
That is, if you have cash. Because Japan remains stubbornly cash-dependent in many places. I later discovered that withdrawing cash at any konbini (Seven-Eleven, Family Mart, Lawson) is easy, and you can even recharge your Suica there with a credit card—something that’s not typically possible at train stations.
The metro system has other thoughtful touches too. Automated floor markers on platforms show you exactly where to wait and queue properly. Google Maps even tells you which carriage to board for the quickest exit at your destination, along with which station exit to use. That said, many Tokyo stations are labyrinthine nightmares. In Asakusa, despite visiting frequently, I kept getting turned around—the exits are spread far apart, and once you emerge from the platform, it’s anyone’s guess which direction to head next.
Cat!
Somehow, though, I navigated my way through, and GPS led me straight to the cat café. A flutter of nerves hit me at the door. This would be my first real interaction with locals. What if the owner didn’t speak English? Would I embarrass myself trying to mime “I’d like to pet your cats, please”?
But like every encounter throughout my trip, it turned out to be thoroughly pleasant. The owner spoke some English, and we managed a lovely conversation. I dutifully removed my shoes at the entrance and was then granted an hour of blissful relaxation:
