Tokyo – 11h flight after.  No more mythical 747 on the destination and the good time of the passage through Anchorage is over. The route is more direct through the Siberian steppe. Too high to see a polar bear. There is still an impregnable coming on the Russian permafrost, it’s restful.

Tokyo Haneda airport is a taxi ride away from Ginza, my historical base in the Japanese capital. Finished the 70mn bus ride from Narita. Good news, we are faster in the center of the most exciting and amazing city on the planet. And above all faster at a Tokyo restaurant.

Because Tokyo is the interplanetary capital of food choice, the quintessence of papillary luxury, the earthly paradise of the gourmand, the Grail of the hungry.
With the flight arriving in the morning, we have time to rush to Tsukiji to have a first plate of sushi with a cold beer – it’s better for breakfast.
When we arrive in the evening, don’t panic. The Izakaya of Ueno are at a good temperature, heated by the salarymen who invade them when they leave the office.

But the hardest part is ahead of you. It’s not the flying time, it’s not the language. The hardest part is the choice… where to dip your lips in the sake? Where to go see duck liver skewers roast? Is it still the season for sea cucumber intestines?
All this choice is coupled with the near certainty that you will find exceptional quality for a student budget because every restaurant owner at his price level does his best. And that’s great. The common idea of an unaffordable Japan is rather false. Even if extremes are mixed and a single sushi can be worth the price of a whole meal here. There is such a thing as a €50 sushi. I say ONE sushi, one bite. Cut the fatty tuna they call Maguro in 10 different areas as they do and you’ll get your scale of values. But the price will be first of all that of quality and rarity, not that of ostentation or the address of the place.

And all I’m talking about here is salt. Because the temptation of Japanese sweet is terrible too. Terrible because it’s unknown to the occidental people who come here thinking they’ll lose a few grams with a diet of fish. I’m not talking about their macha green tea cakes that have crept in here. No! I’m talking about good old recipes from the old continent sublimated by the Japanese culinary art and their endless quest for perfection. I’m talking about éclairs, Paris-Brest, cream puffs…the cream puffs from Matsuya’s food department, light as a cloud, delicate as an Etoile dancer. You can’t stop, the Tagadas effect, the virtuosity of the execution in addition.