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Rachy struggling with the menu
Clearly, she has it upside down! Rach... Hello Blogmates, and “ohayo gozaimass” from Shibuya, Tokyo!
This place is intensely exciting. For the final stretch of our tour we find ourselves beyond the familiar domain of western society, yet (thankfully!) without having to forego the ‘cherries’ of civilisation, such as basic human rights, decent plumbing and access to white burgundy. We are revelling in the alien culture. There’s so much to remember; so little we recognise. Yesterday, for example, I tried to eat from a basket of pot pourri in the hotel foyer thinking it was a bar snack. But why worry about the faux pas we know we’ve made, when there will be a million others which we won’t know a thing about! We have learned a few basic Japanese phrases, and these are going a long way. We’re able to use the metro, we can order stuff in restaurants, and like a pig to a truffle, I have located the shopping district. And it is only day four.
I was dreading the flight from Perth to Narita airport. Take-off was scheduled at just before midnight, and few things could be more depressing than passing an hour in a small airport terminal, seeing the
lights go out on the perfume counters, and the waitresses wearily remove the last hardening sandwiches from the display cabinet for the night.
I must admit that for the first time on this holiday, I begged for an upgrade at the check-in desk. The ground staff lady had politely refused me, but perhaps our grey, hung-over expressions softened her heart because shortly before take off we found ourselves ushered to new seats in the emergency exit row. There we enjoyed the benefit of an extra micron of leg room, and the attentions of an endearingly camp steward who kept bringing us chocolate coated macadamia nuts.
Nine hours, two tropics and an equator later, the first lights of dawn appeared through the aeroplane window. On the final approach to Narita, we saw the nearby tip of Mount Fuji poke through the clouds, and we began our final descent into Tokyo.
Adrenalin replaced knackered-ness as we boarded the bus to the hotel. We watched impressed as the dispatch clerk counted down the very seconds until departure time, bowed deeply to our driver, and waved us on our way. The route into central Tokyo began with paddy fields, but soon
gave way to the increasingly impressive metropolis. The docks with countless massive cranes and vessels, and the motorway bridges and interchanges which swept out in loops above the bay were stunning.
After an hour or so we arrived at the hotel. We are staying at The Cerulean Tower in Shibuya. It is well over our budget, but what the hell. This is the last hurrah. I am thrilled with the place. (A free pair of slippers and a bath robe and I am anybody’s…) Lying in the bath in our room on the 25th floor, we can see the city extending as far as the horizon. Every skyscraper flashes demonic red lights at night, and at any given moment, half a dozen helicopters will be floating at that futuristic pace across the sky, like in the cityscape scenes in Blade Runner. Everyone knows about the high tech lavatories in Japan, but I had severely underestimated the nirvana like joy of experiencing the arsenal of water features available on our loo. From a gentle cleansing fountain, to a merciless water canon; it leaves one feeling so fresh!
Shibuya is the so called home of youth in Tokyo, so on
our doorstep are not only the usual offices, shops and diners, but also much added zing from the ‘Centre Gai’, a hub where Tokyo’s colourful teenagers come to strut their stuff for the evening. It is very crowded, lined with bright shops which never close, neon bars and restaurants of all kinds, some belching their delicious smelling barbeque smoke out onto the pavements. On our first evening at large we stumbled into a Sushi bar for dinner. The little train bought some unfamiliar items along with it, and Ian encouraged me to take the dish resembling baby vomit and cuckoo-spit. Brandishing a semi-translated menu, he assured me that it was crab. Crab it was not. I pride myself on my hardy palette, but I have now met my match in the so-called delicacy that is the Sea Urchin. Prepared sea urchin forms an amazing ductile slime which seems utterly unnatural outside a chemistry lab. Ian fell in love with sushi whilst we were in Hong Kong. His favourite pieces are the grilled eel ones, and he is consuming them in vast quantities over here. If he eats much more eel, I am convinced that he is going to develop an
electrical discharge. (He would love mild super-powers, so I suspect this is his game plan.)
Sushi bars are relatively easy for us, but other Japanese restaurants call for a bit of courage to get through the door. A friendly bar near our hotel has part of its menu translated, and whilst we understand what food will arrive, that does not necessarily help us when it gets here. I ordered something described as noodles with vegetables, and a tray two foot square arrived loaded with kettles, pots, bowls and even a pestle full of seeds and mortar. Thankfully my phrase book has “how do you eat this?” in Japanese, and the obliging waiter demonstrated the procedure. It was lovely. Ian had Japanese style tapas including an eel omelette which sizzled its way from raw to cooked on an iron griddle in front of him. It’s all so marvellous!
In terms of high culture, we have done nothing worthy so far, but will try to make amends in the coming days. We walked to see the Imperial Palace in its gardens, but the façade is shyly concealed by trees from the small crowd of tourists gathered there, and the massive
forecourt of plain gravel is really quite dull. No match for Buck House. The nearby Hibuya Park was much nicer, with attractive flower gardens, a band stand with a brass band playing at lunchtime, and best of all, many fat and happy-looking cats who darted about after the sparrows and paid close attention to the movements of the large carp in the ornamental pond, which occasionally arched above the surface, to tantalise them.
The main retail area of Ginza was nothing to shout about, but subsequently we have discovered the Omote-Sando district; much nearer to our hotel and a thousand times nicer. The main tree-lined boulevard is very smart, and I can feel Ian’s discomfort as I look in the shop windows. But the side streets here are the best. The glass high-rises give way to green and pleasant avenues. Scarcely a car passes, leaving us and the young locals free to wander and to gaze through the windows of the nice little boutiques. It was a delight to stumble across a little neighbourhood in the middle of this big city.
By the time the next blog is posted we will be Tokyo regulars. Though I am sure
we will still be baffled by a lot of things, I personally expect to be no less enthralled by the place than I am now.
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robin
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oriental delights
People talk about discovering america, but i can leave that. to go to a place so alien, so out of tune with ourselves would be great, still trying to convince jen! if you happen to meet emperor akihito, drop into the conversation the gobi fish. he is one of the worlds leading experts on the 2000+ varies and would surely invite you to the palace. will u be going to the square where all the rockers hang out with all the other odd balls on a sunday??