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Size matters):
First of all, Tokyo is huge, densely populated, impossibly crowded at any time of the day and strangely devoid of character. The giant conglomerate of buildings, trains, shops and people.
There are few historical patches of course but they're like an oasis lost in a vastness of a concrete jungle.
Enormous ants nest that doesn't sleep but consumes everything in large quantities: food, people, character, years, you name it.
Weird fascination with skyscraper 'architecture' is only an indication of being from out of town. In any case, those will be scraped away in 10-20years to accommodate newer versions. That's another thing about this city - nothing ever stays the same. Buildings rise and fall, shops open and close, train stations are built and rebuilt with insane frequency that's hard to follow. It feels like a giant self-rearranging mechanism is always in motion.
Coming to the same corner of the city after few years of absence may leave you wondering if you've ever been here before.
Nothing is permanent, absolutely nothing. Except for ever increasing number of citizens. They seem to multiply progressively contradicting all the data about falling population rate.
Things are built in most incredible places, squeezed in between various loosely shaped structures to accommodate whatever space is available.
You need to find another definition for the word 'space'. All buildings: offices, shops, restaurants, private houses are crammed together leaving almost no space between them. Natural light will find it hard to get to these corners even on a bright like a passing comet summer day. That explains the fact that a lot of windows are just blind opaque glass. Just imagine rooms without any natural light. Bluish fluorescent lights replace it with depressing reminder of a lab or morgue throwing ghostly shadows on faces.
There's constant rush at all hours of the day. Standing on the train platform at 5am surrounded by quiet, half-asleep early morning crowd makes you wonder what drives people to do that even on weekends...
Close proximity is exhausting.
Personal space concept hasn't been invented yet. It's so easy to develop claustrophobia by just looking at streets or rush hour trains.
Grim and drowsy morning crowd gives way to rushing, alcohol lubricated evening commuters. It's getting louder and hotter and it'd be prudent not to comment on various odors, as apparently this city people are fresh-air phobic to the extreme. Try opening windows on trains or in offices and you'll be met with horror looks, like you've just broken all the commandments in one try.
The motto of Tokyo is: Be cold when it's cold and hot when it's hot. Fresh air is irrelevant.
Any question, surprise, shock, is rebuffed with the only possible explanation - 'tradition' - that covers all the territory. Meanwhile, people professing 'traditional values' mostly have very little grasp on what it actually is. But it serves it's purpose - to retort without any meaningful consideration.
Streets of this city are almost identical, so looking for landmarks will prove a seriously challenging task. City is navigated from under via elaborate network of corridors connecting everything to anything.
You could get in any building from any level from B1,2,3,4 to street level. Actually, you can never be completely sure what floor you are on. Mystifying reality is that buildings are accessed from various sides, levels or entrances.
With time you learn to navigate this elaborate maze with the certainty of a city rat without any need for maps or directions. The true meaning of 'rat race' is right here for you to experience in its full glory.
You try to hide away in suburbs and it's nice at the beginning with all the green and horizon you can finally see but then the crowds start to follow you, more buildings, shops, and ever increasing number of people that take away your space inch by inch with the noisy determination of busy ants on a spring day.
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