I went to Japan in 2002, and I’d planned an elaborate itinerary involving Kuala Lumpur and Chiang Mai – that’s incidental to the Japan part except my plans had changed a bit (my friend Katie who had been living in KL now wasn’t, so I was spending less time there, and instead stopping in Bangkok to get up to Chiang Mai for a few days) which necessitated a whole load of attempted negotiations and calls with Japan Airlines which peppered my time in Japan in a frustrating way. I spent more time in Kinko’s than I otherwise would have, that’s for sure. (In the end, even though I wasn’t “allowed” to leave the flight in Bangkok because I was booked through to KL, I managed to get all my stuff on hand luggage…and just left. I still feel the odd twinge at the passengers who may have been held up due to my vanishing act.)
I’d been remarkably vague about booking things in Japan itself – much less than I would be now. I think I basically just had a Lonely Planet guide. I remember flying into Osaka, arriving late at night so just getting into a taxi (auto-opening door) and pretty much just asking for a business hotel. This resulted in one of my first words in Japan being a strong “Hello!” as one of the buttons on the WC console fired a jet of water up my jacksy. I suspect any visitor to Japan can tell an identical story, it’s part of the cultural package.
I had obviously sorted out my Japan Rail pass before getting to the country (a must, and I believe still the case), so could take proper trains anywhere I liked. As I had little plan, I went to Tokyo first, then Kyoto, across via Hiroshima to Nagasaki, then back to Osaka to fly out.
I’d also had a few Japanese classes – not enough to really make a difference, but I could at least say (and still can!) “JR-no eki-wa doku desu ka?” (where’s the Japan Rail station?).
I stayed in a ryokan in Ikebukuro and went to the big tech area in Akihabara (I may have got those the wrong way round). All the stuff you’d expect – there was constant frustration as my mobile didn’t work – all those calls with Japan Airlines meant hammering through phone cards, and internet use meant an internet café (often Kinko’s) visit. I did a lot of wandering round, visited a sword museum, tried a pachinko parlour and even went to a Sumo competition.
I also did take the tube, although was nowhere near rush hour so didn’t experience any of the legendary crowds or passenger shove-loading people. I remember the ticket machine only had Japanese characters on it, so it was necessary to translate the stop I wanted using the big printed map on the wall (something like “it has a Christmas tree and a TV set with a wonky leg”).
I had a great experience…could have been epic, mind you…at a club called Yellow in Roppongi. The most cost-effective drink was gin with lime, and I got talking to a Brit and an Australian girl who were TEFL teachers. It was good banter (they explained that the westerners all hook up with submissive little Japanese girls, while the Japanese guys were all disappointing both in terms of maturity, chauvinism and also weren’t even up for a casual shag. So, basically, I was definitely in, but somehow lost them (or they deliberately scarpered, who knows) when the club closed – something involving cloakroom and getting back the umbrella I’d borrowed from the ryokan, pathetically enough. BUT, it meant I kept to my original plan of walking straight from the club in Roppongi to Tsukiji fish market. I was still too late for the mythical tuna auction, but had a good explore and am pleased to say I had sashimi at a place in the market for breakfast. Happy times. Although, I confess I tend to struggle with sea urchin, abalone, octopus and roe-based sashimi or sushi – I did try some non-tuna options, at least!
I did also attempt to climb Mount Fuji. A half-arsed and ultimately futile attempt, as a) it was the wrong time of year, so not something to be trifled with (although I was pretty cocky about such exploits, what with being from Yorkshire and having done my Duke of Edinburgh Gold expeditions in the Lake District – surely climbing an internationally-renowned snow-covered peak in the off-season, alone, with no trekking kit or map, in a place where I couldn’t read signs, where my phone didn’t work, would be child’s play compared with a specialist, guided trek up Langdale Pike?) Anyway, the plan was torpedoed (fortunately!) due to the appalling traffic from Tokyo to the village at the foot of Mt Fuji, so I arrived far too late to consider getting provisions, let alone actually starting the walk. The weather was really overcast, so at no point did I even actually see Mt Fuji. I had a good bowl of rameny stuff, then, I guess, carried on towards Kyoto, although I have no recollection of that bit at all. Weird.
Kyoto was as beautiful as you always see it. My ryokan was in the red light district, which is a bit weird, as these services generally cater for the local clientele, rather than gaijin. The workers also dress in lab coats, rather than provocative gear, so my experience going to my lodging was doorways of attractive scientists turning away from me and going indoors, disappointed. Story of my life. I also have a clear recollection of desperately needing the loo whilst in one of the gardens, and using sign language with the proprietor of a restaurant to allow me to use his facilities. I recall the brief calculation as he considered saying no, but also sensing the anguish in my eyes and assessing the possible impact of a clean-up operation at his doorway shortly before lunchtime.
I have a very fond memory in Kyoto of going to a bar from the Lonely Planet guide, and it was pretty quiet except for a few regulars. I sat at the bar and had a chat with the owner, whose English wasn’t great, so he went off and woke up his dad, quite an old but vigorous man who spoke good English and we talked about how come I knew about the bar, and also conveyed the story of where the bar had come from. Not the venue, but the bar itself, which was a long and immaculate piece of pure, untreated wood. He said he’d commissioned and transported it specially down the river. It seemed impossible it wasn’t dented or stained – the owner explained he scrubbed it every night to restore it to perfection. Quite something. I also went to a great restaurant and had beef sukiyaki on a terrace brought to the table and prepared by someone dressed a bit like a geisha. I did wander through the area where there are still “genuine” geishas.
I’d harboured some idea of going as far down as the south side of Kyushu, but the logistics for an overnight train were too daunting. I’d never even considered going up north, perhaps strangely. Anyway, I headed west from Kyoto to Hiroshima and then on to Nagasaki (which is on Kyushu).
I did the obvious in Hiroshima – visiting the Peace Garden, still-standing blast epicentre and the museum decrying the evils of nuclear weapons. I remember the museum having a little video showing nuclear proliferation and how many warheads had actually been detonated since WW2 (I think this is the video).
Nagasaki has a similar heritage, of course, but it’s a really beautiful city, vibes of San Francisco or Vladivostok (i.e. a Pacific port city!). I enjoyed the cable car ride, and remember clearly at the top of the hill was a vending machine for Pocari Sweat. Odd the things that stick in your brain.
After Nagasaki, I headed back to Kansai Interantional (Osaka airport) to fly on to Bangkok then Chiang Mai. That will be covered in “Asia Memories” another time, but I remember the yen I had left in my pocket, which I converted to baht at the airport, was enough for my entire week in Chiang Mai…
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