In Tokyo...Day Six – at Narita Airport

Checking out of the hotel and the journey to Narita airport was simplicity in the extreme: a short walk to Roppongi's metro station and then a train to station number 17 (Roppongi is station number 4). I was back on the Hibiya line all the way to Ueno and from there I followed signs towards the Skyliner train (Tokyo's equivalent to the Heathrow Express). I purchased a ticket and was allotted seat 11a in coach three – all the seats on the Skyliner are reserved and details of my reservation is on the ticket itself. This didn't stop me sitting in seat 3a in coach 3 and having to get up when the real occupant showed up at the next station. I apologised and shuffled along the coach to my rightful seat and then spent the rest of the 45-minute journey looking at the passing fields and houses as the train sped along the track towards the airport.

I could have flown to Vladivostok and taken the train...

At the airport, security was straightforward. It was so simple it was almost pleasurable. I unloaded my lap top in the usual manner, placed it in a tray (a very small tray compared with those you get elsewhere in the world). Nothing untoward happened with the scanner and soon I was heading for a brief stop at passport control. It all went smoothly and suddenly I found myself in the awful world that exists beyond passport control, where all the boring brands are waiting and where everybody thinks you're a wealthy bastard. I found myself getting irritated by this thought, I hate rich people at the best of times and I hate the big brands too – the perfumes, the watches, you get the drift. They didn't have the sports car raffle, which seems to be a permanent fixture at Gatwick airport in the UK. Again, the assumption is that everybody pines for an Aston Martin DB9 or something similar. Not me. Once you're in the driving seat, it doesn't matter what car you're driving as all you can see is a dashboard, a windscreen and the bonnet (and the road ahead). Give me the money instead and I'll buy a house on the south coast and paint it white and then just sit there looking at the sea – that's all I want from life: a beach, a sea breeze and a push bike.

I'd love to go on the rampage in Duty Free, smashing bottles of whisky and perfume and stamping on expensive watches, throwing Toblerones at the police, but of course this is little more than a fantasy, but one I would like to become reality one of these days. It's probably worth going to prison for, but I wouldn't want to pay back any money for my blatant, intentional and highly enjoyable criminal damage.

I ordered chicken with rice and noodles at the airport – the food offering at Narita leaves a lot to be desired, or is it something to do with the fact that I'm becoming a bit of philistine, expecting to find a Starbucks so I can enjoy a large mint tea and a piece of cake? I've just added another tea and a banana to my breakfast. The chicken noodles were consumed in Café Avion, or something like that, and the additional tea and banana in Bowl Bowl, a larger establishment. Café Avion was a little too cramped for me; Bowl Bowl was bigger and brighter and I sat at one of their Formica tables enjoying a last bit of relaxation before heading for the gate – gate 72.

That whole idea about taking the long way home: a boat to Vladivostok then the Trans Siberia to Moscow, another train from Moscow to Brussels and then the Eurostar to London took on a whole new life when I noticed that it was possible to fly from Narita to Vladivostok at 1540 with S7, a Russian airline. I was looking over from a galleried walkway at passengers waiting to board my flight, BA0006 to London Heathrow, when I was approached by an old man who was conducting a survey on why people travel to Tokyo. There was link to Tokyo 2020 when Japan hosts the Olympic Games. He ran through various questions and then gave me a tiny plastic model of Mount Fuji.

What never fails to annoy and unnerve me about flying is that whenever I head for the airport, the weather starts off fine, but gradually deteriorates as my departure draws closer. This morning as I sat on the Skyliner looking out at the Tokyo suburbs that whizzed past me, there was sunshine and relatively cloudless skies, but as time progressed the cloud thickened. Very, very annoying especially when a 12-hour flight awaited me. I'm glad to be heading home, but I wish I was there now and didn't have to bother with the flight bit. And when I arrive back in the cuntry, of course, I'll have to deal with the racist cab drivers or the crappy cab drivers who can't drive to save their lives or the useless cab drivers that have been known to take their customers to the wrong airport, not forgetting the taxi drivers that stop in the fast lane, get out of their cars and proceed to kick the tyres of their taxis before jumping back in and simply going the wrong way to the airport. Brexit has made all the racists who voted for it a little bolder. They are quite happy nowadays to express their views and always make the assumption that we're all racists at heart, without stopping to question that other people are not scumbags like them. Anyway, I must not work myself up into a lather over the issue. 

In Bowl Bowl, Live and Let Die by Paul McCartney and Wings comes on the sound system. "You used to say live and let live (you know you did, you know you did, you know you did...). But in this never-ending world in which we live in..."

Perhaps that's what I should do: live and let live. 

The flight home was smooth. Smooth, but long – 11 hours and 40 minutes to be precise. We chased the sun for a while, across Siberia, but then the night time caught up with us until we were almost in the UK when we were briefly greeted by the early evening twilight. During the flight, to pass the time, I watched Incredibles 2 and Unsane, which starred Claire Foy. Both movies were good. I then watched an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, not to mention an episode of Family Guy. The rest of the time I spent at the back of the plane, standing up, stretching my legs and chatting to the cabin crew, munching the occasional mini Fudge bar, a couple of chocolate digestives and a Miniature Hero Mars Bar. So much for healthy eating.

The flight was late taking off and we reached London Heathrow Terminal 5 just before 7pm – we should have landed at 5.20pm. I thought about a taxi, even called my racist cab company, but there was nothing doing. The only options were a black cab or the train and I knew how much the former would cost me so I headed for the Heathrow Express, took the Circle Line to Victoria and then the East Grinstead train, getting off at Sanderstead where a much needed lift awaited me. 

I slept well from around 10.30pm until 6am, got up, had breakfast and then thought I'd finalise my blogposts on Tokyo, this one being the last.

In Tokyo... Day Six – saying goodbye

It's 0620hrs on Saturday morning and I've been awake for about an hour. My mouth is dry and, fortunately, there's a bottle of mineral water in the room, left by the housekeeping staff. There's some kind of kerfuffle going on. I think it's outside of the building, but I can't be sure, somebody shouting, raised voices, some kind of altercation, but that's not what woke me up; for the past week or so I've had a dry mouth and a sore throat, not to mention a dry cough too, nothing a sip of mineral water won't cure. Either way I'm not ill – meaning I don't feel ill – and I don't appear to have a cold on the way, so all is well.

Friday (yesterday) was my last day in Tokyo. I had some business to attend to in the morning (in Osaki) but then the rest of the day was free, my job done.

A last chill-out in Precious Coffee Moments

Breakfast was at a coffee shop on Ebisu station, a quaint place, where I had a French toast and a mint tea, both very pleasant if a little unhealthy, the latter being dusted with icing sugar. When your hotel doesn't do breakfast, the only option out on the streets is to eat 'rubbish'. I say it's rubbish, that's not strictly true, but what I mean is this: I normally eat fresh fruit and porridge (as I'm sure I've mentioned in a previous post) but with that out of the question here, I'm reliant upon the delights of coffee shops, which don't always offer the most nutritious of breakfasts. That said, the French toast was really tasty and a little over-indulgent.

I was early. Very early. I left Ebisu around 0830hrs and arrived with plenty of time to spare in Osaki. It could only mean one thing: a visit to the Gate City Starbucks for something a little more substantial for breakfast. But again, it had to be 'rubbish' – in this case a cheese and ham roll heated in a microwave and accompanied by a mint tea (a 'grande' mint tea, meaning really large, but needed). I sat there reading Michel Houellebecq's Platform and writing a few notes, but also people watching. Nothing much to report as everybody was behaving themselves just like I was, sitting there with something to eat and drink, waiting, no doubt, for when the working hour kicked in. I wouldn't mind working in Gate City – basically, it's a huge building, a massive building, with offices and a central area where people can enjoy the delights of Starbucks and other facilities, including an Italian restaurant, or simply chill out at tables in the central area, eating their own lunches.

Hibiya Park, Tokyo...

Oddly, Gate City Ohsaki, as it's called, has an added letter H. Back at the train station it's plain old 'Osaki'. Earlier, at Ebisu, I nearly weakened again. I walked into the McDonald's opposite the station and seriously considered a McDonald's breakfast, but opted instead for that French toast in Antico's, the coffee shop.

Meeting over I headed back into town, not that I'd left the town. I now had free time and to be honest I wasn't really sure what to do with it; one thought was simply to hit the sack, get some sleep. I've noticed, all week, that if I sit still for a few minutes I fall asleep. The other day, actually it was Friday morning, I'd switched on the television and was watching a movie starring Owen Wilson and Eddie Murphy (dubbed over in Japanese and amusing for that only) and the next thing I knew I'd fallen asleep. For a split second I was in a blind panic, thinking I might have missed the meeting, but I must have nodded off for all of five minutes.

I dropped off my case at the hotel and then hit the streets again, taking the metro to Hibiya and checking out a small park with a lake and fountains. The skies were overcast and it was 'trying to rain' – to borrow an expression from dad. It eventually did rain, but I must have been back on the metro because when I emerged the pavements were damp, but that rain itself had all but stopped. In all honesty I was tired, I could feel it in my eyes, a kind of weariness that hit me in waves as I walked along the streets. I wasn't really that bothered about my surroundings. There were lots of people milling around, looking in shop windows. I was in another shopping district of town – there are many –but it was all passing me by, I simply couldn't drum up any enthusiasm. I wasn't far from Roppongi so I jumped back on the metro and headed for one last visit to Precious Coffee Moments where I sat and read Platform after ordering a cup of tea and a small chocolate, which was wonderful. In fact, I sat there for some time, just chilling out and wishing I could simply curl up in a ball and sleep with the jazz music in the background.

The shower in room 302 – best in the world

Just before 1800hrs I headed back to the hotel and called home and then I dragged myself back on the streets to find a decent restaurant for dinner. The thought did cross my mind of returning to the Hard Rock Café, but I found a really good Italian restaurant, Sicilia. It was down some steps. Once at the bottom I was met with a bustling restaurant and I had to wait for a table. Then I was sandwiched between two couples. I sat facing a wall and perused the menu, eventually choosing a shrimp cocktail followed by Canelloni and, of course, a Suntory alcohol-free beer. It was a pleasant meal, especially the shrimp cocktail, but also the main course. I considered dessert, but there was only vanilla ice cream and I kept thinking about that awful apple cobbler the night before (see previous post). After paying the bill, I considered a mint tea at the Starbuck's close to Precious Coffee Moments, but in the end I went back to my room, too tired to chill out, and started packing things away for tomorrow's journey home.

It is now tomorrow: Saturday morning and nearly 0700hrs. I unpacked the computer and charger just to write this post.

A few thoughts on Tokyo: it's a great place, a friendly city with an efficient metro system and friendly people too. Those who say the metro is complicated or complex must be a little thick. When I arrived at Narita Airport last Saturday I went all the way to my hotel in Roppongi in next to no time and I've been using the metro a fair bit since I've been here. Being in Tokyo is a bit like living inside a fruit machine, complete with the electronic music. Everything is colourful, but the signage – in Japanese – makes everything strange until, that is, you read the English translation (normally available at the metro stations). English translations aren't always offered and then I'm reliant upon the Japanese people and only some of them speak English to a level that means they'll understand me. But listen, it's not a problem. I've been here all week and while I did have trouble in one restaurant ordering a mint tea (again, see previous posts) by and large my time here has been trouble-free and I've managed to get around and get by.

The hotel has been fine too, apart from not offering any catering bar a bottle of mineral water left by the housekeeping team. However, if breakfast had been offered, I might never have found Precious Coffee Moments.  I still don't know if I've got to pay for the mineral water*, but I'll find out in a few minutes when I check out. Not having breakfast in the hotel has been a bit of a hassle as I've had to get up early, get dressed and head out in search of something to eat. Fortunately, I found Precious Coffee Moments, which was fine, and there are plenty of Starbucks floating around too, not to mention McDonald's, but I've managed to resist a McDonald's breakfast.

Antico Caffé in Ebisu for a French toast...

The food has been good too. I've eaten two Italian meals, three if you include the pizza restaurant, and I've tried Indonesian food too and dinner in the Hard Rock Café, which was great except for the dessert. I'm beginning to think I'm a bit of a philistine, sticking with pizza and pasta and seeking out Starbucks.

Tokyo is a safe city. At no stage have I ever felt threatened by anyone or anything. There is no sense of danger, not even late at night.

I've been here one week, to the day, not really enough time to fully appreciate Tokyo. I'd like to come back and spend a fortnight travelling around, not just the city, but further afield using Japan's highly efficient rail network, which is clean and punctual.

While my hotel room is limited for space, it's been fine, and as I've said before, I prefer small rooms to large ones. A wardrobe would have been nice, though, and a window that offered a view of some sort. Frosted glass is not a good idea. I wish I could have worked out the air con system, but instead I simply opened the window to get fresh air, but this caused the wind to whistle throughout the night, although nobody complained and I got used to it. If there was a big bugbear it was the 'no breakfast' thing – that was a real pain as it meant I survived on tea and toast or mint tea and some kind of rubbish food item, like a cheese and bacon roll or a French toast, although Precious Coffee Moments did the trick on most days even if they had difficulty understanding what I meant by 'mint tea'.

The absolute best thing about the hotel was the shower. I'll say this now, and I mean it: the shower in room 302 of the Act Hotel in Tokyo is the best EVER; it's so invigorating it beggars belief and I'm looking forward to having my last shower in a few minutes from signing off on this post.

... and here is that French toast. Tasty, yes, but not particularly healthy

I'll sign off now as I need to find somewhere to eat breakfast (perhaps one last visit to Precious Coffee Moments or there's always that Starbucks – or perhaps I'll head for Uedo and get breakfast there or at Narita Airport.

You know what I'd rather do? Take a boat over to Vladivostok and then catch the Trans Siberia Express to Moscow and then a train to Brussels and the Eurostar home, but that would take a week or two and at some stage I need to be back in the office.

* the mineral water was free-of-charge (I figured as a kind of compensation for not offering breakfast). But remember one thing: nothing is free, I would have paid for that water somewhere along the line.