Tokyo, Japan

On the plane to Tokyo, all I feel is trepidation. I've traveled far and wide but never without a guide or a local companion. Now I'm off to get lost in a city I've never seen, in a language I'll never speak, #tryingtofitin... all while accompanied by a large white guy. There will be no blending, there will be no hiding behind a tour group flag, and this time I’ll be standing at street level or sitting on a subway underground, far beneath the lofty perch of a private bus.

I've admired and even envied Japan for a long time, and this trip is very much a lifelong dream. Japan embodies a proud Asian nation, brings order from the chaos, and exists as living proof that size really doesn't matter. 

From the beginning, I knew my self-guided tour of Tokyo was bound to have its bloopers, but I was determined to start the first day right…with the breakfast of champions…from the local 7-Eleven.

Nothing else was open…actually I probably just didn’t know anything was open. Fortunately, Onigiri is great at any meal. This one has soy-sauced rice, and the textbook soft-boiled egg couldn’t be more perfect with a few morsels of pork. The other Onigiri was so deliciously different; briny with flavor-bursts of red, grainy roe.

Whoever said Wheaties were the breakfast of champions never had a Katsu Sandwich. The pork breading doesn’t get soggy in the microwave, and the dash of horseradish mayo is as pure as the crust-less white bread it comes on.

Fueled by a little food, we set off…to wait in line…for a little more food.