Just One More Email

I woke up early, running on less than the recommended amount of sleep — but there was no time to rest. This is a workcation, after all. I spent the morning packing my bags for Tokyo, printing out all the important documents, and grabbing a quick breakfast before diving straight back into work.

I had a couple of time-sensitive things to wrap up: updating my authentication merge request and writing a consensus document to win over some colleauges. I worked right up to my airport alarm — and then hit snooze. Twice. I felt like my dad, insisting on writing just one more email before leaving for vacation.

Waiting at the Airport

I like arriving early at airports, just to be safe. I’d even received an email warning about long lines, so I wanted to be extra punctual — which made leaving twenty minutes past my self-imposed deadline feel mildly scandalous. I kept my eyes glued to the navigation app, double-checking stops and pacing through every transfer. I’d checked in online and only had a carry-on, so I breezed through security without any issues. When I finally reached the gate, I realized I still had an hour and a half to kill before boarding. Turns out “Sucker Tax” is not Duty Free.

Getting There

The flight was perfectly fine — appart from some turblence, but I was too busy writing blog posts to notice anyway. We even got a hot meal, which felt fancy for a flight that lasted just over ninety minutes.

Customs, however, was another story. The line moved at a snail’s pace, and it took over an hour to get through. On my declaration card, I’d marked that I was importing narcotics into the country, so I got pulled aside for some extra questioning. I handed over my paperwork, and the officer carefully counted my medication — all five pills — and compared the labels. After a tense pause, he smiled and said, “It’s perfect!”

From there, I took public transit to my hotel, which is conveniently located right next to a major transfer hub. As soon as I stepped onto the train, I was hit by a wave of culture shock — I couldn’t read anything. In Korea, I could at least read the words, even if I didn’t always understand them. Here, I was completely illiterate again. I expected that some Korean might accidently spill out while trying to speak Japanese.

Capsule Hotel

I booked a capsule hotel — partly for the experience, partly for the price. Check-in came with a crash course in rules and etiquette, most of which I only half understood. After locking away my shoes and storing my bag in a locker (since there’s no room for it inside the capsule), I somehow managed to break two more rules without realizing: I entered without changing into the provided pajamas and while still wearing the slippers.

Once I figured out my mistakes, I recovered quickly and spent the evening in the lounge publishing blog posts while munching on unlimited complimentary ramen and rice with furikake. Ten-year-old me would’ve called that heaven.

You might not hear much from me over the next couple of days — I’ll be turning my tourism dial up to eleven — but expect plenty of photos when I return on Tuesday.