Park Hyatt Tokyo

Trying to decide what to eat for lunch is tough. I’m almost never satisfied. The options in Time’s Square are generally atrocious. Jamba Juice is giving away free chai tea lattes today, so, there’s that. Not really a meal though; and definitely not a satisfying one.

Daydreaming about what to eat, I often think of a few of the best meals that I’ve had. For lunch, I’d have to say that the happiest midday meal that I can remember was brunch in the Park Hyatt Tokyo’s French brasserie, Girandole. The hotel’s website describes the food there as “simple, delicious fare that is satisfyingly authentic.” I couldn’t have put it any better.


But those words could be used to describe any number of amenities at the Park Hyatt Tokyo. Simple: The modern design of the rooms and corridors of the hotel seem to highlight and celebrate simple shapes. Upon stepping out of the quiet (and really fast!) elevators you are on the forty-first floor and in the first of three enormous glass pyramids.


Walking towards the reception area you pass through a wide hallway and by a circular stairwell so grand and deep if gives the effect of looking down the center of an enormous outstretched slinky; the light gradating in and out at each level.


After reception there is the library and another geometric engagement. The rows and rows of yellow lit, long and tall rectangular shelves have a romance about them that seems so human. After the triangles, spirals, and perfect squares there’s another set of elevators that are just as quiet and fast.


But even more than simple and refined, the pull of this hotel is that it is “satisfyingly authentic.” During our time in Tokyo, my boyfriend and I bought two very special bicycle frames, one for each of us. Being old but very well kept – mine was made by hand twenty-five years ago and still has the original paint – we wanted to wrap them up really well before checking them onto the plane home. We explained this to the gracious receptionist and without question were given yards and yards of bubble wrap and a new roll of packaging tape. Back in our room, buried in bubble wrap, we realized that we needed a pair of scissors too. A quick phone call, “Hello, how may I help you, Ms. Cizewski?” and less then five minutes later there was a knock on our door. I opened it, “Oh thank you,” and took the pair of scissors from her outstretched hands. “It is my pleasure,” she said slowly as she lowered her hands and bowed her head in traditional Japanese form. “Thank you,” I said again, this time really appreciating the exchange. I closed the door and returned to wrapping my bike frame like a mummy.