Made famous by Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation, the Park Hyatt Tokyo is described as many things by its guests: ‘luxurious,’ ‘world-class,’ ‘top-notch,’ even ‘the best hotel in the world.’ But I’ll cut to the chase and simply describe Tokyo’s most famous hotel as heaven.

I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to spend two nights in a Park Suite at the hotel. When I arrived, I was greeted and quickly whisked up to the 40th floor sky lobby, handed off to another employee, and led up another four stories to my suite, where I was checked in while sitting on the room’s sofa and the room’s features were explained to me in detail. The entire process was so seamless that I barely had time to blink before it was over and I was left staring out over the nighttime lights and hustle and bustle of Shinjuku from my quiet 44th floor sanctuary.

The view during the day was no less amazing, and the room itself was stunning: a large living room with comfy L-shaped sofa, chairs, work/dining table, huge minibar, and a giant HD plasma TV, a softly-lit bedroom with two oversized double beds and another giant HD plasma TV, and an amazingly large bathroom with shower stall, two sinks, deep soaking tub, and another HDTV.

The service was no less spectacular. The room was immacuately clean, and the staff went out of their way to be helpful. When the hotel mixed up the delivery addresses of our suitcases, the problem was dealt with quickly. The staff apologized profusely, sent us each a gift of handmade rice crackers in a wooden box, and saw to it that we were personally greeted by the manager of the next Hyatt property (the Hyatt Regency Kyoto) we stayed at.

After my two days here, I resolved to become wealthy enough to stay in these sort of places all the time. Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done, when a Park Suite will ordinarily set you back over USD$1000 a night.

Attempt to exit (or enter) any major train station in Tokyo and you are likely to find yourself lost in a maze of winding multi-level underground passageways and arcades lined with all manner of shops and restaurants. Make a wrong turn, and you’ll somehow end up caught on the designer handbag floor of one of the towering department stores attached to the station by a dizzying array of underground and aboveground entryways. For a first time visitor to Japan, a major train station and its associated passageways and tunnels can be both an amazing and frightening experience.

Last week, I spent a handful of nights at the Century Hyatt, a nice, four-star hotel located in Tokyo’s Nishi-Shinjuku skyscraper district. Of course, this meant that I would be making use of Shinjuku Station, the poster child for enormous and confusing Japanese train stations, and the underground tunnels connecting it with my hotel. It is often said that finding the same location in Shinjuku Station twice is impossible. I had previously used the station for visiting Shinjuku, but this was my first time using it as my jumping-off point for the rest of Tokyo, and I found that it definitely lived up to its reputation.

Each day, three and a half million commuters pass through Shinjuku Station (yet, like most other places in Japan, it somehow remains practically spotless). Six train companies operate over a dozen lines that stop at the station, which is connected to the rest of Shinjuku by miles of twisting below-ground walkways. Seven department stores are linked with the sprawling station complex. I only ever figured out how to get to one of them, though I can’t say I tried particularly hard.

Ah, yes, the department stores. Japanese department stores are amazing sights that have to be seen to be believed. Most are at least ten stories, selling everything from designer clothes, handbags, and cosmetics to stationery, electronics, and books. Department stores are also a great place to eat on the cheap. The top floor or floors usually have an array of reasonably-priced sit-down restaurants, but the real bargains are to be had in the basement. There, you’ll find a sensory overload of dozens of stalls selling every type of food imaginable, from traditional Japanese-style dishes to spaghetti. Countless varieties of sweets and bakery are also available. Employees shout out over the noise of thousands of shoppers, enticing hungry patrons to eat at their stall. Everything is freshly made and nicely displayed, and free samples are often available, if you can manage to pick them out from within the crowds of hungry commuters. Almost everything costs less than 1000JPY (about $8.50), so the department store basements make a great alternative to overpriced hotel food. The bento boxes sold by many stalls also make great lunches to take with you when out sightseeing.

For dinner one night, I found a stall at Odakyu called Chicken Deli that sold a rotisserie chicken stuffed with carrots, potatoes, and onions and seasoned with some of the most delicious spices I had ever tasted. I also picked up a great salad from an adjacent stall that went beyond typical American salad fare of lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese and added bits of pumpkin, beans, peas, and nuts. The whole thing cost barely more than an American McDonalds Extra Value Meal and tasted way better (and was no doubt way healthier).

One of the most amazing things about Japanese stores in general, and department stores in particular, is the care that goes into packaging your purchases. The salad I purchased was wrapped in no fewer than three containers - a small plastic box, which was placed inside a plastic bag, which was taped shut with an ice pack attached to the top of it, which was finally inserted into a larger paper shopping bag with handles. Items purchased are beautifully giftwrapped and boxed upon request at no extra charge. In contrast with most American department stores, where it is often nearly impossible to find anyone to help you, employees are always available and eager to assist.

Just in case the department stores don’t offer enough shopping and dining options for you, the shops and restaurants lining the underground walkways connecting the train station with other areas of Shinjuku are there to fill in any gaps in the department stores’ offerings. Convience stores, fast food restaurants, tiny sushi stalls, and even banks and post offices can be found tucked away in various locations inside the tunnels beneath Shinjuku’s streets.

While other train stations operate on a somewhat smaller scale, most major ones follow the same basic pattern: department stores and long underground shopping plazas connected to the station by dozens of tunnels and walkways. Tokyo’s Ikebukuro, Shibuya, and Tokyo stations and Kyoto’s main station all offer similar shopping and dining options.

Luckily for me, Shinjuku Station was fairly kind. I only got so hopelessly lost that I had to stop at a koban (police box) and ask for directions once. I managed to find my way back to the Odakyu department store’s basement each day to buy lunch, even though I never managed to get there in quite the same way twice. I found myself walking in circles or taking some horribly indirect path a number of times, but I always managed to get to where I wanted to go in the end. While sprawling and somewhat befuddling on occasion, I’m definitely looking forward to my next stay in Shinjuku. Now where is that Isetan department store?

Each year, millions of people across Japan enjoy hanami (花見). Although the word literally translates as “flower viewing,” it is most commonly used in reference to one specific flower: the sakura, or cherry blossom. From late March through early April, when the sakura bloom throughout Japan, friends, family, and co-workers gather for hanami at cherry blossom viewing parties to eat, drink, and enjoy the delicate pink blossoms.

Shinjuku-Gyoen, a large park located a few minutes east of Shinjuku Station that barely gets a mention in most travel guides, is one popular hanami location. It is one of the many oases of green space that dot Tokyo, and as with many of the others, you soon forget after walking through its gates that you are smack in the middle of the largest, most crowded city on the planet. As you enter, the noise from the streets dies away and all that remains is the sound of birds and muffled sounds of people enjoying the season.

The park, officially declared a “national garden,” is one of the largest and most beautiful in Tokyo. Originally designated as an imperial garden upon its completion in 1906, it was re-opened as a public space after World War II. The garden’s 144 acres are divided into formal French, English landscape, and traditional Japanese sections. It also containing a greenhouse featuring a variety of exotic tropical species.

Over 1,500 sakura trees can be seen at Shinjuku-Gyoen, and it is obviously these that draw the most attention each spring. The Saturday morning I visited, I arrived just as the first of the crowds of picnickers were flowing in, laying out their bright blue tarps and staking their claims to the prime hanami locations. Groups of sakura admirers carrying thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment surrounded the trees with the fullest blooms, planting their tripods in the ground to take the ultimate close-up of the blossoms.

Since this is the first time I have been in Japan while the sakura are in bloom, it was also my first experience with hanami. I didn’t have a group of friends and a blue tarp, so I just walked around taking it all in: the children running around on the grass while the adults sat and chatted under the canopy of cherry blossoms, the young couples sharing bento boxes, the men and women painting pictures of the beautiful landscape around them, and, of course, the beauty of the park and blooming sakura.

Aside from the sakura, the definite main attraction at Shinjuku Gyoen, there were a variety of other gorgeous flowers, trees, and buildings. The Taiwan Pavilion provided an excellent vantage point overlooking the sakura trees below. Exposed cypress roots in one section of the garden made me feel as though I had stepped into a fairy tale or onto an alien world. Outside a traditional teahouse (of which there are two inside Shinjuku Gyoen), a stone lantern stood watch. Walking around a corner inside the tropical greenhouse, I found myself face-to-face with a dangling mass of fruit that looked more like part of a squid than a plant. A giant lilypad floated in a pond among beautiful purple flowers. A bright pink azalea bush provided an eruption of color in front of a row of trees covered with the paler pink sakura blossoms.

The calm, leisurely pace that was dominant here was in stark contrast to the fast, frantic action of the city that loomed in the background and provided my jet-lagged mind with a nice break from the endless crowds of the Shinjuku Station area. After spending a few hours walking around Shinjuku Gyoen, I headed back outside, refreshed and ready to deal with the crowds of cosplaying teenagers, loud music, and hordes of shoppers in Harajuku.