Eastern Promises

In this, our annual longevity issue, what better place to take our wanderlust than to Asia? Its ancient cultures are still on the vanguard of spirituality and design and show why being older is aspirational. Here we explore the land of the rising sun, the

Ilost in translation. It’s easy to get lost in Tokyo. Its subway map looks like a spider web mashed up with Silly String, yet it runs like clockwork; its street corners a vivisection of crisscrossing pedestrians every which way, yet they all march completely within the lines; the Shinjuku neighbourhood’s alleyways a maze of jewel box-sized booze joints, sushi bars and, well, a few seedy hideaways. It’s raining, it’s midnight and we’ve just jumped out of a taxi from the Park Hyatt, where we played our best Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson at its sky-high lounge. But the sky was full of thunder, grey billowing clouds that blocked the view of bright lights and big city. Time to take it to the street.

And street we do. The taxi driver, too, seems lost, and circles more than once in an effort to drop us off somewhere that he deems a good spot to let go his foreign cargo. But, heck, we’re lost anyway, in one of those neighbourhoods, Golden Gai. The alleys here are, at most, 10 feet wide; at its narrowest, it’s a stretch to stretch our arms to their widest wingspan. This rabbit warren of seven streets laced together through the cheek-by-jowl drinking holes – more than 250 of them – has a Blade Runner vibe under the pouring rain, but inside there’s an intimacy that some might find claustrophobic. Some of these places seat fewer than six; some of them allow smoking, most don’t open until after 8 p.m., and stay open until the wee hours of the morning; all inspire conversation. Heavily tattooed lady barkeeps pour shots while businessmen, bikers and the odd couple – Japanese and foreign – all sit elbow to elbow. We prefer to walk and window shop, so to speak. Observing this city after dark and this close to the ground is a