Lost in Translation

Victoria was an English rose nursing student form Brighton, who knocked on my hotel door seeking company. For her it was enough to realise Tokyo was the capital of Japan ("Finland, that's in the Netherlands, right?!") so I suggested we dine in Shinjuku because I'd enjoyed it more with company than I did alone.

Victoria had snaffled a forgotten umbrella on the metro (and I had to restrain her from taking a new pair of sneakers from a rubbish bin) so I could tell it was going to be a fun night.

Declining offers of strip shows and funk discos (just where is the sales training course for big black men that if you follow women muttering the words "strip show and funk disco" that they will respond positively?!)

We were in search of food; something with lanterns she declared and we chose a spot that looked like a yakitori (grilled meats and veges). We got as far as the door, Victoria proudly holding two fingers aloft as instructed in her Lonely Planet.

"Unagi" the waiter said immediately. Strange greeting, I thought, until he pointed at a snake like slippery thing.

"Ah... eel". Thanks but no thanks. We left in fits of giggles. Not really adventurous lasses.

After a more normal dinner (pork in miso and yam with ume for me; garlic chicken wings and fries for her ["I've never had them, I thought they'd take the wing off"] we jumped in a taxi for the Park Hyatt. Our taxi driver had a great time nearly killing us simulatenously; the middle of an intersection is never a good place to just stop.

Confidently we strode into the dark hotel. Hmm no haughty staff looking at us, we continued as high as we could go to the 43rd floor where by candlelight (very hard to see) we had delicious dessert (affordable too) and friendly service (surprised as we were both looking a but rough and covered in insect bites!). Turns out we needed to be on the 51st floor so hunt for the elevator ensued via the library (found atlas to show where Finland is), dining room (we posed on a cake tray) and conference room (where they had the press conference in the movie, and where we interrupted another one!).

The elevators opened to noise, laughter, light, jazz, smoke, cool people and a door bitch. We strutted quickly to the bar where Bill Murray sat and the door bitch was onto us before we could pretend to be Scarlet Johansson. 4000 yen cover charge?! "Oh we left our purses in our rooms," we lied and left to steal hand towels from the ladies toilets as revenge.

Lip my stocking indeed.

What kind of hotel has a lobby on the 43rd floor? We decided we didn't like the Park Hyatt very much, desserts aside.

Stills from the alternative movie...