Answer below the fold.
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Yes, it’s Japan. Specifically, Tokyo,

You can see a lot about Japan’s care for process and detail in even the most basic of human endeavors, where even the use of the bathroom is elevated almost to an art. If you’ve never tried the Japanese bidets, well, it is an experience, variable speed of spray, and temperature of the water. Some even have a drying mechanism. Best mall bathroom by far? The one in the first picture, Roppongi Hills and the heated toilet seat!

An incredibly large populous city and there is no dirt anywhere. Not in the bathroom, not on the street. None. Also, not easy to find any garbage cans, as that perhaps would spoil the immaculate streets. Where do they put their trash? NYC has garbage cans every block and frequent bits of garbage everywhere.

Also no crime to speak of, with restaurants and bars that one can find 24 hours, which makes it a perfect tourist mecca.

There is perhaps a price for this perfection.

After we struggled into our hotel from a wearying flight, we wandered out again looking for food around 10:30 pm. We decided to do a ramen crawl as they seemed the most likely places open and warm soup was an inviting thought in the cold winter weather.

We found a place down the street, and immediately noticed the difference from Nanny Bloomberg’s NYC. The man next to me lit up a cigarette, reminding me how long it really has been since I was near anyone that actually did that.

That man had just gotten off of work. He was soon followed by other men, also just off work. By this time it must have been 11 pm. These were the “salarymen”, whose days start early, end late and revolve around work.

One group headed off to a booth and immediately were brought plate loads of Japanese beer. They embarked on a great time, and being Japanese, drunk, but polite and not particularly loud.

Some sought comfort other than beer. The solitary man who lit up next to me ordered some dumplings to have with his cigarettes. He was soon approached by a lady. Again being Japan, the approach was exceedingly polite. No bald suggestion, but just a “may I sit”, more in subtle hand gestures than in words. He bought her a beer and some dumplings, apparently approach accepted.

We got our ramen which, given we picked the place out of the air, was only so-so, and then headed out to try another place down the street that had an air of sincerity and a classic look.

The ramen chef paid great attention to the detail of the plate and it came through in the nice taste of the broth, the delightful unctiousness of the fatty pork and the toothiness of the ramen. We also had a small plate of fried dumplings which were nicely crispy.

We were so hungry that I started eating before I took a picture, so here is the ramen after I destroyed the beauty of the plate.

Sorry, no Bahamas or bikinis, although I will likely be posting pictures of some exposed flesh and other fun things.

More to come…