Why Here?
With a day’s cushion in transit between Mt. Takao and Sendai, you need a place within easy reach of Ueno Station where you have some shot at actually sleeping through the night.
As the lone spooner among Resol’s 19 other Japanese properties, each of which can only claim the mere title of Hotel, the Poshtel is so-named for its mid-swank tweener status. Neither hostel not hotel, neither business inn nor boutique, it is a chance to try sleeping in a capsule that doesn’t induce hyperventilation or throw out your delicate, geriatric back. And for a busy Tokyo Saturday, ¥8,606 ($56.57) beats even the swank-free hostels in Shimokitazawa.
The Approach.
With your only taste of Tokyo having come in the grungy calm of Koenji, arriving from the eastern exit of Asakusa Station is an absolute kick in the nuts. The ten minute walk across Nakamise-dori Street, past the famously large lantern of Kaminarimon Gate and the fifteen trillion humans who insist on posing in front of it, past the colorful arcades and Edo-era temples, you get the first real glimpse of the Tokyo you expected. The Tokyo you feared.
As hard as it is to resist the many stands vending crêpes and coffee and Hoppy and gyōza, nevertheless, you persist. Crossing Kokusai-dori Street, all the flash and freakery disappears, giving way to the occasional wine bar, sex motel, or fluffy bakery in an otherwise largely salaryman-spirited block.
Relatively charmless though it may be in its total lack of orange-red awnings, puffer fish windows and, well, mammoth, sacred lanterns, there’s a certain calmness to the air around here that seemed impossible just on the other side of the street. In a way, it highlights what’s just so goddamn lovely about Tokyo in general: one moment your nose is full of someone else’s B.O. and you’re thrashed around in a raging sea of stimulation, the next you’re like a little lamb floating alone in a pool of bland apartment buildings.
Either way, it seems there’s another entrance to Asakusa Station just a few feet from the poshtel, proving your entire journey thus far to be completely pointless. Mind your metro exits, people!
Checking in.
An automatic sliding door retreats into the wall like that of a space ship, welcoming you into a lobby that’s similarly sleek and squeaky. Three employees overflow at two check-in counters, each dressed immaculately in dark and seemingly traditional and undoubtedly uncomfortable uniforms.
With two looking on rather awkwardly, your specific concierge—whose English was likely better than that of the person who is writing this—takes on a tact that is remarkably thorough, walking you through a surprisingly long list of line items, from WiFi passwords to laundry (coin-operated) to luggage storage (available until the front desk closes at midnight) to you-don’t-know-what, all while checking me in on a tablet. Very impressive, very futuristic!
Hanging out.
The hotel’s lounge features a tea ‘n coffee machine, fridge for leftovers, lap desks to use on tatami benches, teetering hourglass-shaped chrome tables on which to (precariously) rest your brew, and a lovely mural of a Mount—Fuji, you presume—on the wall. Well isolated from the sleeping chambers, it’s actually quite perfect for remote workers, and you find yourself chatting with a young, antsy computer engineer from the Pitcairns named Jeff, or a corpulent and congenial Iowan who has arrived in Tokyo a full day earlier than his family and seems confused as to how that might’ve happened.
Getting Fed.
Breakfast is not included at the Poshtel, but there are plenty of 7-11s, FamilyMarts, or whatever other kind of konbini you could hope for within the vicinity. You have no problem drinking the coffee at FamilyMart. The coffee’s good. You enjoy the coffee at FamilyMart.
Prior to 3pm check-in, you lug your luggage around the corner to a cozy, sandpapery little ramen shop called Raishūken, and it turns out to be one of the oldest in the city.
Founded as a noodle shop by a Chinese family back in 1910, the place is not quite foreigner-proof. Indeed, a long look at the yellowed menu on the wall provides you, A Complete Idiot, with no clues as to what you could possibly hope to order. Still, after several minutes of struggling to communicate the words ramen, please, the kindly old lady holds out her phone’s translator app, which reads: “you have traveled a long way. Please allow me to offer you some shumai (steamed pork dumplings) as a welcome.”
So that’s what you have: one order of shumai, one order of Chinese-style shoyu ramen with pork belly and curly noodles (and one melted heart).
The Room.
You don’t know how many total beds there are in this place (110), or even how many there are in your chamber (12), but it does feel certain that there are close to to 10,000 beds in here. Your pod is the first on your left in an all-male chamber, and it is approximately just as economic in its orientation as you could’ve hoped. A raised-platform mattress has sufficient storage underneath for luggage and is lockable, oddly enough, by bike cable. Your lights are dimmable, with LED strips that can be detached and used as flashlights. There’s another lockable storage area near your pillow for passports and cameras, and as usual, slippers are provided, as are an abundance of single-use toothbrushes and combs in the shared bathroom.
Everything is remarkably quiet: even the shared bathroom feels like yours alone, even if your neighbors are likely lurking in the next stall over. It’s the kind of solitude you feel while driving on the freeway, surrounded by untold beating hearts locked away in their own isolation.
Reflections, regrets, and remembrances.
When it comes time for shuteye, your pod’s padded portal features a stylishly designed half-arched entryway that’s shaped with just enough clearance to ensure you hit your head each time you enter or exit the space. The bed is warm, clean, and robust, which is all you can hope for.
As a bonus, you have one chambermate who snores and another who sleeps through an alarm that they’ve set for 5am, though they could be the same person. Thanks to Resol Poshtel’s discreet pod design, you’ll never know who it is you’ve been cursing under your breath!
All told, the ol’ corporate Poshtel delivers on its promise, allowing you to feel like a fancy-ass upon passing through the lobby without spending Marriott money for the honor. $60 isn’t exactly cheap for a pod, but then this ain’t no ordinary pod hotel: it’s a Poshtel. A Podshtel, if you will.
And you will. Oh, you will, indeed.
2-25-1 Nishiasakusa, Taito-ku, Tokyo 111-0035 (Tsukuba Express Asakusa Station)
Phone: 03-5830-6118