Day 18: Dense and Intense

Friday May 23 - Roppongi Hills, Tokyo

There were two train journeys on Wednesday. The first was on a standard Japanese Rail train which put even the best British train to shame. Naturally, it arrived and departed bang on time. The sleek, silent white and red-striped beast sped through the flat coastal plain of Western Japan, past hundreds of perfectly rectangular paddy fields with just a few centimetres of green shoots, in geometrically precise rows, sprouting above water level. Some fields were no larger than British allotments, others were many acres in size, all were painstakingly maintained.

After about an hour, what looked like mis-shaped, pointed white clouds in the distance turned out to be the last remnants of the winter snow in the ravines and peaks of mountains. The bases of the mountains were the same colour as the sky which played a cruel trick on the eye. The summits seemed to be suspended in mid-air.

As we headed inland, the scenery changed. The paddy fields gave way to steep, wooded slopes and the train passed through numerous long tunnels. The terrain made the achievements of Japanese railway engineers even more impressive.

We arrived at Echigo-yuzawa and had just ten minutes to change platform and find the Shinkansen (Bullet Train) to Tokyo. It was four o’clock and the station was busy. But Dominic and I managed to find the platform, and even had time to grab a snack. True to his British roots, he grabbed a ham and egg sandwich. I took pot luck and chose a soft, rectangular item wrapped in clear plastic and a can of Asahi beer.

The Shinsanken drew into the platform and we found seats. The rectangular snack turned out to be rice with tuna in the middle, wrapped in a sheet of dried seaweed. It was the perfect compliment to the beer.

An hour and ten minutes later, we pulled into Tokyo Central, found the right exit and waited for Jim. He arrived on time, suited with a backpack slung over his shoulder and mobile phone pressed to his ear. We shook hands, I introduced him to Dominic. Before Dom and I wished each other bon voyage, Jim took us to a Citibank ATM – which definitely accepted MasterCard – and Dom withdrew some cash.

As we watched Dominic head down the steps of the subway station, I hoped that his luck would continue on the rest of his journey to visit his sister in Australia. There were times over the previous ten days when I shuddered at his lack of organisation and wondered how he had made it this far without a major crisis. He had no money belt or folder for his vital documents, merely a nylon duffel bag into which he would thrust a hopeful hand whenever he needed money, passport or an important piece of paper.

Dominic is a bright lad and good company but he plays the travel game fast and loose. Yet somehow, I am sure he will be fine; he has that rare combination of cheek and charm that will get him out of many a sticky situation.

Jim flagged down a cab and pointed out Tokyo landmarks on the way to his apartment. As we sped through the surprisingly fast-moving rush hour traffic, it struck me how well I know him and yet how long it has been since I spent any time with him. We met 28 years ago when we were doing our A levels. At the time, he was more interested in drinking, smoking and sport than studying and yet, even after messing up his education, he has become very successful in his career in the finance industry.

Jim has lived in Tokyo for 10 years, speaks excellent Japanese, has a Japanese partner, Miwa, and is a manager in equities at Mitsubishi Bank. His apartment and lifestyle is testament to his success and yet he remains as much a faithful, witty, hospitable and engaging friend as he was in our late teens. He no longer smokes or drinks, and he is much calmer than I remember him, but he is very much the same lad I met all those years ago. Indeed, I enjoyed his company even more than I did in the past. I just hope that I have matured as well as he has.

On Wednesday evening he took me out for a Korean meal, and we were joined by one of his friends, Mio, a diminutive, charming and attractive Japanese woman in her mid-thirties who speaks excellent English. Mio doesn’t drink alcohol; she is an enthusiastic yoga practitioner and exudes that serene, spiritual dignity that, in my experience, is so common among Asian women and so rare in their British counterparts.

We discussed cultural differences over delicate slithers of tongue cooked on a table-top barbeque, pickled radish and other Korean delights. Mio remained diplomatically non-judgemental throughout the conversation. This is another Asian trait that I admire immensely. I am not sure what Mio’s romantic status is but there is a very lucky guy out there who, one day, will capture her heart and, hopefully, not try to change her.

Thursday was a day of rest. I bumbled around Jim and Miwa’s apartment, wrote my blog, caught up on emails and slept some more. I sporadically leaned over the rail on the balcony, cigarette in one hand, coffee in the other, and tried to make sense of Tokyo.

It is an incredibly densely-packed city; modern, high rise buildings as far as the eye can see with not a square metre wasted. Compared to other capital cities, notably London and Paris, there is little evidence of history or open spaces. The reason is that the city was mercilessly fire-bombed by 300 B29s of the US on March 9th and 10th 1945 and all of Tokyo's traditional wooden buildings - and an estimated 100,000 civilian lives - were lost in the inferno.

Post-war rebuilding was very utilitarian and the rapid industrial expansion that followed made use of every available piece of ground, much in the same way that farmers can seemingly make rice paddies out of postage-stamp sized patches of land. Cities on the east coast just blend into each other. Yet somehow, in this human zoo, Tokyo is a peaceful place. Crime is very low and the atmosphere on the streets is non-threatening, even after dark.

This was evident on Thursday night when Jim, Miwa and I took a short subway journey to meet some of my ex-students – Mari, Jinmi and Kohei - for dinner. I smiled when I saw that Mari had booked a table at an Italian restaurant and then suggested we went to an English pub for a drink afterwards. But the lack of Japanese food and drink was irrelevant. It was great to see graduates earning a good wage and happy in their work, although none of them have yet got jobs in journalism.

At around midnight, Jim took me on a stroll through the harsh lights of downtown Tokyo on the way home and I was struck by how many people had obviously gone straight out from work. Suited office workers, mostly men, many carrying briefcases, were still going strong without the rampant drunkenness that characterises British cities. The staying power of the Japanese office worker is even more impressive when one considers that many people commute for an hour or so to get to work, and the start time is often seven or eight in the morning.

Many shops were also open at midnight. After dinner, very late on Wednesday night, for example, I bought a network cable for my laptop from a narrow-aisled, multi-storied and very busy shop called Don Quixote, which sold everything from cosmetics to televisions. Some, including the bookshop at the foot of Jim and Miwa’s apartment block, are open 24 hours.

Tokyo, like New York, is a city that never sleeps. This may suit some people but for an insomniac like me, who also needs space and appreciates peace and quiet, Tokyo is too intense. I can see the attraction for people like Jim and Miwa who enjoy the endless choices of shops, restaurants and experiences, and the city's incessant vibrancy, but I much prefer the sedate atmosphere and clean air of a small city like, erm, Cardiff.