Clean toilets, polite people and crazy neon lights. This is the Tokyo I've read about, and for the most part, found it was absolutely true, especially on the clean toilet bit. (I think Singapore can try to be as first world as it can, but the toilet situation back home is a dead giveaway to how first world the people may be, as glitzy as the cityscape is. But I digress.)

Those, like me, expecting an antiseptic wonderland will be pleasantly greeted with fast and clean automations, although reports of its vastly advanced phones are perhaps gross exaggerations. (On that note, I'd love for someone to tell me why their phone user interfaces are so text-heavy.)

The thing about big city holidays is it's sometimes difficult getting a huge whiff of the city's 'feel' at once, because concrete jungles and their chain stores can feel homogenous at a glance.

Tokyo is perhaps best digested in its districts, Which often delivered different stores and even different people milling about.

The perfectly coiffed hair in Roppongi, for example, explains how you can find a hairdresser at every turn. The hipster side of town in Ebisu was a delight to navigate as it uncovered little shops and eateries in its back allies.

No surprise, Akihabara turned out to be the highlight of the trip; an 8 hour jaunt whizzed by and I ended up being the last person in Yodobashi Cameras being gently urged out the door.

We also visited Super Deluxe, a trippy hipster bar that happened to be celebrating a hoola hoop charity drive. We stepped in and were greeted with video montages projected onto the walls as people gyrated inside psychedelic, flashing hoops.

And away from all that was the most pleasant walk through Yoyogi Park, although I haven't yet decided if its massive baritone crows added to the experience.

Amid Japan's fabled tough education and stringent work life, there is the sense that you can be whoever you want, at least on the fashion side of things. Guys wearing what can only be called a skirt (or a kilt, if you forced the matter), pairing that with tights or skinny jeans, the crazy hair and make up—I saw numerous girls walking casually down the street in full white-face mime make up and elaborate Victorian outfits.

One of the things I enjoyed most was ending the night at an izakaya, or bar where they serve a variety of small plates with your drinks. I don't know how often the Japanese do this, but I'd probably put on the pounds if I lived in the country and replaced dinner with cheap beer and fried finger food.

When it was time to go, it seemed like there were still a thousand things that were left unchecked. Pastries yet to be eaten, coffee joints not found, music venues not yet visited. Tokyo was what I thought it would be and more, and I felt like I had barely skimmed the surface.