For those of you who have followed my past exploits, you know that the highlights for me are often culinary. This trip did not disappoint. I wish I could give you the whole story but... well, I'll explain in a minute.

Henry & I decided to go out to Teppanyaki. If you've ever been to Benihana's, that's what teppanyaki is. You sit around a hot metal stovetop, and a chef prepares your dinner for you in front of you. Typical meals typically are composed of grilled meat and vegetables with assorted sauces.

We talked to the concierge, and she recommended a restaurant called "Mon cher ton ton" in the Roppongi district. This was where I had my most spectacular dining delight two years ago (at Inakaya). We took a cab, and after some terrifying corner-careening we arrived.

The decor at the restaurant was unbelievable. There was a stream, but it was running over a rock-strewn brick floor. One wall was covered with enormous rocks, with small trees growing out of them and a few subtle trickles of water running down the side. The centerpiece of the restaurant, though, was an enormous round bar, with the teppanyaki grills inside, and the chefs in the center. Overarching the entire area was a colossal scalloped sculpture, with intricate lighting and careful venting such that we could not even detect a whiff of the chain smoker lighting up next to us. And incidentally--there was not another gaijin in the place.

Dinner was a procession of carefully prepared courses. We had an achingly delicate tuna sashimi plate, an unbelievable abalone asparagus tempura, a tiny plate of corn that was sweeter then any dessert, and an assortment of flavorful but unidentifiable vegetables.

It is at this point that I am afraid I must fast forward. Our entrees were absolutely spectacular, but not for the gustatorily faint-hearted. If you enjoy the illusion that meat comes from supermarkets and no animals were harmed in the making of your dinner, then suffice it to say that the main course was sublime. If your curiosity is more intense and the dark side of fine dining does not frighten you, then by all means inquire and I will happily supply you with the lurid details of our entree.

In any case, we returned back to connect with home and determine what our plan was for the next morning. It was here we ran into trouble. I connected with my email without incident; Henry was not so fortunate--and it was Henry whose email had the directions. He spent three hours trying to connect. We woke up the next morning at 7:30 and spent two MORE hours wracking our brains and running up ludicrous phone bills to Microsoft tech support, until we finally solved the problem (just three clicks away from success) and headed out to the taxi. Two steps towards the door and Henry realized that he locked himself out. We called the front desk, hung up, and Henry promptly discovered that his room was, in fact, open. Not one to disappoint, he closed the door, put the keys on the desk, locked it, stepped outside, and patiently waited for help to arrive. I am not making this up.

Which brings us to the present, an eight hour long meet-a-thon in a conference room on the top floor of Toshiba's Tokyo headquarters. 39 floors up, we have a spectacular view of the city, but the shades are drawn so we can see the overhead projectors. The walls are a disturbing shade of puce and completely barren. The tables are tiny and the chairs are uncomfortable. To top it off, it's 80 degrees fahrenheit (which is a lot of degrees centigrade) and I'm in a dress shirt with a neck a half-size too small.

I love my job.

Yours,

--dan