…in which Stu and H have a lot of rides on different things.

We travelled to Shinagawa station with excitement in our bones. Today was our first ride on the Shinkansen - or Bullet Train as it’s more widely known.

You jump off the Yamanote Line and go through a transfer gate where they check that you actually have tickets, and scrutinise your seat reservations (which is interesting because it isn’t actually obligatory to reserve seats), and let you into the hallowed Shinkansen bit of the station.

The Shinkansen bit of the station is bigger, better and cleaner. I’m not actually sure that ‘cleaner’ is possible - absolutely everywhere in Tokyo is immaculately clean. For example, our hotel manager came out at 11pm to hose down the street. Yes. It’s that clean.

Anyway… we waited behind the big metal barriers, by the label marking where our carriage would stop. 43 seconds before our allotted departure time, the train came into the station. Those Shinkansen engines are truly serious looking things, you know? The doors stopped exactly in line with the barriers, and both promptly opened, and within the allotted 43 seconds, we were on the train, doors shut and we were moving already.

H set her watch by the train. I’d always thought it was just a turn of phrase “You can set your watch by it”. But no. You really can set your watch by a Japanese train.

The Shinkansen is a big, wide train. Three seats, a wide aisle and two more seats. If you have large luggage, it fits between you and the seat in front, with plenty of leg room still remaining.

The Shinkansen is a fast train. It travelled more rapidly than I’ve ever been on land.

The Shinkansen is a classy train. Gone are the American accents of the Yamanote line. All English-language announcements on the Shinkansen are in RP. Ok… that’s an exaggeration, but they do have an English accent.

The Shinkansen, characteristically for Japan, is a polite train. On entering a carriage, the ticket inspector pauses and bows. On leaving, he pauses, turns to face the carriage, and bows. It reminded me of my Aikido lessons - we used to do the same in the dojo. The buffet trolly lady does the same.

We arrived in Odawara where we could buy our Hakone Free Pass and our adventure could begin. In summary, our trip around Hakone national park involves the following:

Local Train to Hakone Yumoto station, bus to Moto Hakone, and walk down the Cedar Avenue to Hakone. Then a trip across Lake Ashi to Togendai on a boat, which docks at the cable car station which takes you up to Owakudani. After visiting the hot springs, another cable car to Sounzan. Next, onto a funicular railway to Gora where you can board the Tozan line switchback railway back to Hakone Yumoto.

My favourite bits were… all of them. More soon…

This story confused me.

US wildlife officials who tried to capture a bear that had a jar stuck on its head, have shot the animal after it wandered into a busy Minnesota town.

“Oh,” I thought, “why did they not just tranquilise it?

Efforts to tranquilise the animal failed because the bear “stayed in forested areas”, he said.

Ah… so they couldn’t tranquilise it because it stayed in the forest. That makes sense.

EXCEPT they shot it because it came into town.

Japan day three is coming soon. Honest

Cashier: That’s £21.73, please.
Me: Ok… there’s £22.23 to make it easy for you.
Cashier: Er… yeah… thanks…
[mumble whirr type count whirr re-count]
Cashier: Um…
Me: It gives 50p change.
Cashier: Er… are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Cashier: Oh.
[mumble whirr think]
Cashier: Here you go… 50p
Me: Thanks. Aren’t you glad I made that easier for you?

I really must stop doing that.

…in which Stu and H unexpectedly go exploring.

We had a rest stop at our hotel, the wonderfully informal, yet comfortable Sakura Ikebukuro (I realise I haven’t mentioned that yet), then went out for tea.

After the failure of Strategy I last night, we decided on Strategy II - to go to a Japanese place where we don’t have to speak Japanese; the Vending Machine Restaurant.

These things were all over the place, and theoretically very simple. Look at the plastic food in the window and find something that looks ok…

Peruse

It looked like pork, so I turned to the guy next to me who was also perusing the window, and asked “すみません、これは豚肉ですか”, to which he replied “Yessu. Rawst park.” and entered. We followed them inside.

Once inside, having noted either the squiggly symbols on your dish of choice, or more likely the number written in a circle next to it, you approach the vending machine, deposit your cash, and press the appropriate button.

Pay

An electronic voice speaks the order in the kitchen on the other side of the establishment and gives you a little ticket. What could be easier? We reached the counter handed our tickets over to the chef, who inquired…

“cn23$toeiGFmtpoeitu43908,503-498fux03149u-=45£$%EROI£Rd23?”

Or he might as well have done. I can speak Japanese fine, but understanding an unsolicited query at a million miles per hour is another thing.

Luckily, our new roast pork friend translated for us… apparantly, there’s a choice of two types of noodle. There’s also the choice of hot or cold noodles.

Anyway… what arrived looked - and tasted - pretty good…

Eat

Neither of us are slouches with chopsticks, but it was here that we realised the Japanese generally do not do food. It’s a minor inconvenience to be got out of the way as quickly as possible. In the, maybe, ten minutes we were eating, countless people came, slurped and gulped, and left. Later we would see “Standing Sushi Bars” where you don’t even have to waste time sitting down to eat.

After our tea, it was off back to the station. We bumped into an Irish bar, and decided to give it a go. It was very… un-Irish. They did Guinness, of course, but the atmosphere was very unlikely. There was a waiter almost hovering most of the time waiting to see if we wanted another drink, or maybe some Bantry Bay mussels. We didn’t.

After a pint each, we set out, once again, for the station. We bumped, once again, into a pub. This time, the Hobgoblin. Exactly the same chain we go play table football in nearly every Thursday night. However, it was getting late, and we could always save it for another day. This turned out to be a GOOD MOVE™

The Hobgoblin, Shibuya

A long, long time ago, we decided that it was always a good idea to go for that last extra drink. The reason being that if we hadn’t, we would have been involved in this incident rather than arriving shortly after it was all over.

That idea was well and truly quashed tonight, but we didn’t know this yet. We walked past the Hobgoblin to Shibuya station, leapt on the wonderful Yamanote line and started heading towards home.

On arriving at the ever-amusingliy-named Takadanobaba station, we noted that there didn’t seem to be much around this station and we were glad we weren’t getting off here.

The train remained in the station for slightly longer than the usual 27.4 seconds and an announcement came over the tannoy…

“rpower8983498r felkj34 f3lj4k2£$R VDF^%ERWF sdf vv sdff43f4^EG!*TRET(ER*VCCf werwe fg”, he said.

Some people left the train.

We waited.

Another announcement…

“RPOWER8983498r FELKJ34 F3LJ4K2£$R VDF^%ERWF SFD VV SDFF43F4^EG!*TRET(ER*VCCf WERWE FG”

Everyone else left the train.

We picked up the gentle hint and left the train. Going down the steps of the station, we discovered an information board, stating:

Oh dear.

We were stuck - luckily only two stops from home - in the middle of Tokyo, in the middle of the night with no map. Had we had that extra drink, the rail line would have broken while we were seven stops from home.

I did my best to keep my brain oriented with the direction we had been brought in to the station, and we went adventuring through the backstreets. Half following the rail lines (and noting the split where another line went in completely the wrong direction for us), half using street maps which, while accurate, gave no idea of the big picture, and half using our wits alone. It was like exploring the jungle, but in the middle of a city. Fortunately, Tokyo is a very safe place, and at no point did we feel in any peril.

I think it took about 40 minutes to find our way back, not too bad, really, and when we arrived back, the reasonably-priced hotel bar was, fortunately, still available.

A lucky escape, and one of many times on our trip when we NEARLY DIED!

Haha! I just found this page dating from the 14th of November 2006.

Good job I kept that up-to-date, then.

More on Fuji later - I’m in the process of editing the video diary. But suffice to say we made the summit. Along with only 2 other people - US Army chaps no less - from our coach of 50, and 8 other people who’d done most of the climb the day before.

Rather than the promised HOARDS of people, it was a rather exclusive crowd up there in the gale-force winds and zero visibility at 4:30 in the morning on Friday July 4th.

The weather was the most hideous I’ve ever seen in my life, and we ALMOST DIED* several times.

(*may be an exaggeration)

But like I said… more later.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it!” said H, “I’ve never been this far away from home!”

Today was the day to venture out. See Tokyo. Feel the heat and humidity. Hear the dentist-drill insects in the bushes. Contrast the rush of the city streets with the peace of the gardens.

Onto the lovely Yamanote line for a trip around the north of the loop to Hamamatsucho station. On the way, we passed 鶯谷 Uguisudani station. It was here, that my Japanese really came to the fore…

tani - 谷 is an easy character to recognise… it means valley.

uguisu - 鶯 is not a character I’ve ever seen before. However, it’s made up of elements I recognized… two hi 火, or ‘fire’ characters on top, then a lid, then a tori 鳥 or ‘chicken’. Uguisudani is therefore the valley of the flaming chicken sheds. Easy!

The platform tones around the north end of the loop were notoriously samey - it wouldn’t be until later days, we’d enjoy the delights of The Third Man at Ebisu, the one with tubas somewhere, and other such fun.

From Hamamatsucho it was a short, but slightly confusing walk to the Hama Rikyu garden. The Japanese really don’t do “north”, and any map you care to look at could generally be oriented in any direction. They do always point out which way you’re facing on a “you are here” note, though.

Hama Rikyu garden

The garden, the first of many, was an oasis of calm within the bustle of the city. Trees around the edge cut most of the traffic noise, and water, rocks and plants are all used artistically to create a wonderful ambience.

Even the looming skyscrapers around the perimeter fail to dent the tranquility of the garden. In fact, in a way they accentuate it.

After an hour or so enjoying the peace, it was back into the city to our first temple. In this case, the Zojoji temple in Shiba park. Proximity to a Japanese temple can be determined in two ways:

1) The smell of incence, gently drawing the passer-by to pause reflectively on the country’s most holy ground.

2) The surfeit of souvenir shops, peddling tat.

Zojoji was big on number 1 and low on number 2. Other temples and shrines varied in their proportions.

One particularly poingant part of the temple contains Jizo statues - a deity appointed as a guardian to children, particularly those who die before their parents. There were hundreds of statues, each representing a still-born or aborted child…

Jizo statues

Looming over the temple is the Tokyo tower - a replica of the Eiffel tower, except for being 30 metres taller and being painted in the Japanese ‘tall structure’ regulation red and white. Views from the top were amazing… Tokyo went on in all directions for as far as the eye could see. Of course, this was helped by the 98% humidity and smog, meaning that the eye could see only approximately two miles. The sign above the window promised a view of Mount Fuji, a mere 97km away…

Tokyo tower view

…and it was here that we were reminded that Japan is very active tectonically. A seismograph is not exactly what you want to see when umpteen metres in the air…

To be continued…

We disembarked from the train and followed the excellent directions to the hotel - addresses don’t work in Japan, so you have to have directions. En route, we walked past our first plastic-food shop; restaurants typically display plastic versions of their food outside in the window, so you can see what you’ll be getting when you enter.

decisions, decisions

We checked into our hotel, had a little rest and then went out in search of food.

The Japanese restaurants looked a little intimidating, so after a little wandering, we settled on a Mexican place. The food looked pretty familiar, so we thought it’d be a good bet. What we hadn’t thought of, naturally, is that if the proprieters are Mexican, and they’re in Japan, they probably won’t speak a word of English. This turned out to be the case.

But with pointing, miming, and my Japanese skills we managed to get fed and watered at reasonable cost, despite not quite understanding what the deal was with drinks and half-price food.

Now, Finland does not have a drinking culture. Sure, people go out for drinks, but the prohibitive tax curbs it somewhat.

Japan most certainly does have a drinking culture.

This particular Mexican place, hands you a complementary tequila on entry. You know how some places might hand you a menu, or a place-mat, well this place gave you a tequila.

In fact, whenever Japanese people came in (the majority of clientelle), the chef would demonstrate how to do a tequila slammer.

H points out that it’s worth getting there early, since the food quality must deteriorate significantly as the evening draws on and the chef becomes more inebriated.

Another thing handed to us - as in every single establishment we visited - was a facecloth. Sometimes a proper terry-towelling one, sometimes a wet-wipe. Sometimes hot, sometimes not. “Facecloth” is a bad term, because we learnt that you should wipe your hands (and not your face) with the cloth, and keep it on the table (not your lap) for wiping fingers, mopping spills and so on. Very civilised.

After tea, a hop on the Yamanote Line to Shinjuku and a night-time trip up to the 45th floor observatory of the Metropolitan Government Building.

I should talk about the Yamanote Line for a minute. It’s a one-hour loop around Tokyo, trains every two minutes, stations two minutes apart. It just works (well, I’ll elaborate on that in the Day Two report).

With our Rail Passes, travel on the Yamanote Line was free. Walk into the station, flash your pass to the manned gate, pick a direction, jump on train. The ease of travelling around Tokyo really helped to improve our trip.

Anyway… the Metropolitan Government Building was found through miles of underground tunnels from Shinjuku station (the busiest railway station in the world), the lift entered (with buttons for 1st, 2nd and 45th floors only), and Tokyo viewed from on high for the first time.

view from the top

If you’ve seen Lost In Translation, you’ll recognise the red lights on the corners of buildings. Rather than flashing, they smoothly fade on and off. Very hypnotic.

Worrying about the last train time, we headed back to the hotel around 11pm and went to sleep.

Day One. Success!

While in Japan, I found that being able to read Katakana was one of the most useful skills I took along with me.

You’d go into 7-Eleven, peruse the sandwich/pastry counter and be met with things like:

ブルーベリー＆チーズクワソン

or

ツナ、コーン、メイヨ

Which, if transliterated to Roman characters would become:

burūberī & chīzu kuwason - blueberry & cheese croissant.

and

tsuna, kōn, meio - tuna, corn, mayo

So… can you see what’s coming? Yes, I shall complete the series on How to Read Japanese T-Shirts. It’s probably worth popping back there for a bit of revision, and I’ll shortly pick up where we left off.

Then you’ll be able to read stuff in lots of the photos I took (for example, the Lady’s Plate).

Apologies for taking so long to get back round to this… I was just a little busy in November ‘06.

We learned about the Japanese and forms.

On the plane, we were handed a form to fill in, containing name, date of birth, passport number, a questionnaire on whether we were bringing swords, drugs or doubtful things into the country… if you’ve travelled outside the EU, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

We landed.

We were told that our forms were very nicely filled in, and now could we fill in another form with exactly the same information on, please, ‘k, thanks? Both were required.

Then to the extremely friendly and welcoming immigration desks. They even took our pictures so they could remember how much fun it was meeting us. Baggage reclaim, customs and into the arrivals hall without a hitch.

Here’s where we could exchange our “Japan Rail Pass Exchange Order” for a “Japan Rail Pass”. Once we’d filled in a couple of forms. The pass was already paid for, and had all our details on. We just had to fill out a couple more forms with the same information on. Transaction done, seats reserved on the Narita Express - Narita to Tokyo in 90 minutes - and out to the station.

Forms out of the way (and, indeed, I don’t think we encountered another form all trip thankfully) and in to Tokyo.

I was incredibly snap-happy with the camera - mainly because I was trying to convince myself that I was half-way round the world. It was all like a picture-book going past the train window… a five-storey pagoda here, rice paddies there, concrete jungles filled with electric wires, everything you expect from Japan.

And it still didn’t sink in. I was IN JAPAN! After about 15 years of wanting to go, I was HERE! IN JAPAN!

To be continued…

Please tell me that it is just my dirty mind, and there is a perfectly innocent alternative explanation. Please…