From Kamakura, I trained to Yokohama.  (About midway between Kamakura and Tokyo.)  There’s not much to see in terms of cultural highlights, but I wanted to walk around for a couple hours and see what Japan’s second largest city is all about.  For the history buffs: Yokohama is the port that was opened to international trade (Japan’s first) by Commodore Perry in 1853.

Increasingly travel weary in the blazing sun, I mostly just huffed it from one end of town to the other, taking pictures as I went.  I stopped at a small restaurant for lunch and had hands down the best meal I’ve had in weeks.

Nippon Maru Ship
  Weeks.  A giant bowl of some sort of noodle soup — not quite ramen, definitely not soba or udon, most closely resembled pho, with it’s heaps of crunchy bean sprouts and spicy broth, but also came with several delicious (and beautiful) mushrooms.  Whoa babie was that good eating.  Apparently this small gem is frequented by locals who know good food when they see it.  It was me and about two dozen businessmen, all of us slurping our noodles like it was a race with a prize at the end.  Not a word of English to be found, so I was all point and gesture and mumble horribly butchered Japanese and smile and bow and smile and bow and bow some more.

From lunch I continued my walk south and east across town to Chinatown.  Wandered the Chinatown area, checked out a temple, and snagged my first souvenir of the trip — helloooooo pretty new scarf.  From my scarf-fetching I promptly marched myself to the nearest train, collapsed in an empty seat, and horrified any Japanese within a three foot radius by stretching and wiggling and cracking my toes the whole way home, all while rocking out to Counting Crows.  That Adam Duritz sure knows his stuff.