In Tokyo...Day Two

I never know whether it should be Day One or Day Two, but I've called this post Day Two because, theoretically, I was here yesterday too. It's odd being in a place where, technically, I'm living in the future by eight hours. When I woke up this morning at 0600hrs – yes, I finally did fall asleep and I can't remember any strange dreams – I realised it was only 2200hrs on Sunday evening back home in the UK, so I'm living in the future. I'm living in a box too, and by that I mean the size of the room. At least it's not made out of cardboard.

Room 302, Act Hotel, Tokyo – it's small!

One big plus point for the hotel is the shower. It works, that's the main thing, but second to that, there's a kind of shower fitting in the ceiling measuring something like 10in x 12in and it's what I would call a proper rain shower. I switched it on and was greeted by an invigorating downpour of warm water, it was like standing in the rain during the monsoon in India. It was absolutely wonderful and such a downpour I could hardly hear myself yelping with delight at the experience. Well, alright, I wasn't yelping, I was probably saying out loud something like, "Wow! Wonderful! Excellent!" The usual stuff that might confirm to others that I'm barking mad or simply pleased by small things, which I am. Take my new Peter Storm walking shoes (I thought they were trainers, but they're walking shoes). They're brilliant: comfortable, they lace up well, they fit well, they look good, I love them and I've just taken them on a stroll around Tokyo.

I was showered and dressed by 0700 hrs and I went in search of the hotel's breakfast room, until I discovered that there wasn't one. The mild-mannered gentleman on the front desk said, simply, "Outside, outside." I'd have to go in search of breakfast and very nearly weakened and ended up in a McDonald's until I spotted a place called Precious Coffee Moments (Estd: Kobe 1933). They even had an English menu, which helped, believe me. I ordered a BLT and a black tea, no milk, and sat there listening to jazz music while watching Japanese commuters make their way to work. They've got power points and free WiFi too so my plan is to head back there very shortly to do some work, although one might question why I want to do that when I could simply stay here in the room, but being cooped up in this tiny 'cell' all morning, without access to water or tea, might prove problematic, and besides, working is something best done in a conducive environment and Precious Coffee Moments seems to me like the place to be.

Dessert at Hills Café Space, Roppongi...

Sadly, when I got to the Precious Coffee Moments café I found I couldn't access the WiFi so it was all academic, and Japan is not the sort of place where you ask for somebody's help on what could be a complex task; I just knew it would be more trouble than it was worth considering the language barrier in the café. I did, however, get some work done and then, after dropping off my lap top in the hotel, I went out in search of the Grand Hyatt, strolling off first in the wrong direction before realising that it was very close to where I'm staying. I then took a wander around the Roppongi Hills shopping complex, which demonstrated to me that however far I travel, I'm never more than a few feet away from a Zara, Adidas, Reebok outlet, not to mention (as I have already) McDonald's and Starbucks (I've found two of the latter now). There's also Armani and I've spotted Stella McCartney's name too. They're all here basically.

Lunch was the best meal of the day at Hills Café Space where I enjoyed a kind of Thai green curry with a no-alcohol beer by Suntory (and very good it was too). I finished off with a cherry cake and a Moroccan mint tea and then continued to wander about for a bit. That's what I tend to do: I wander about looking for places to eat – once the work has been done, of course, I'm not simply ambling about all day doing nothing, but let's not talk about work, this blog is all about having a good time and I enjoy ambling about, whether it's on a bike or wandering around some strange city somewhere in the world – in this case, Tokyo.

Colourful Roppongi at night...

Right now I'm back in the room considering another one of those refreshing rain showers and in the end I had one: perfect. There was work to be done and a cocktail reception to attend and the latter involved a trip to the top of the Mori Tower to check out the view of Tokyo at night. I should have taken a photograph, but there was too much in the way of reflection so I didn't bother. Later, after a quick change into jeans and a fleece, I headed off in search of something to eat. It was getting late, but that didn't stop me from wandering around trying to find the right place, which is difficult here as a lot of the places seem to exhibit photographs of their food offering, which I've always steered away from, and it's hard to walk into a restaurant with confidence because it's difficult to work out whether it's a good place or not. At the higher end of the market it's easier because there's decor and vibe and surroundings and, of course, pricing, and let's not forget that Tokyo isn't cheap. However, if, like me, you're not drinking alcohol and you're dining alone, then it's considerably cheaper than it could be. The downside of being 'the loner' is that it's very depressing, sitting on your own, playing with the mobile phone and then simply eating your food and leaving the restaurant.

I chose a place called Tango Trattoria and Restaurant and it didn't disappoint. They seated me at the bar, the only solo person in there, and I ordered pasta with bacon and peppers, which was chilli hot, along with a couple of Suntory alcohol-free beers, which, like lunch time, was very good. Desserts didn't tempt me further so I asked for the check and left. This place had a nice vibe, a pleasant, friendly and efficient waitress, decent food and a good selection of background music. I could have stayed there longer, but decided to heat back to the hotel.

On the way back I noticed how colourful Roppongi (which is a district of Tokyo) can be after dark: plenty of colourful signs and lots of hubbub – taxis picking up and dropping off, people walking in all directions, touts trying to get you to visit their bar and so on. I'm now back in the hotel and ready for what will hopefully be a good night's sleep, or at least better than last night. I was thinking this morning that Saturday and Sunday turned into one huge day without sleep. I was reminded of my late teens and the concept of FriSatSunday.

I'm amazed that I had so much wakefulness. Today should be slightly better and then the real work starts in the morning, but not before an amazing shower, easily the best I've ever experienced anywhere in the world.

In Tokyo...

After losing an entire night's sleep, I seem to have found a new lease of life – but I know it's a false economy and a very temporary situation. My original plan was to reach the hotel, having flown from Heathrow Terminal Five with British Airways to Tokyo's Narita airport, and immediately hit the sack. But it seemed like such a waste, arriving in a city like Tokyo, for the first time, and simply going to bed. So I took a wander, as I'm prone to do, in search of somewhere to eat lunch, albeit a late lunch at around 3pm. Not that I was that hungry. I'd touched down around 11am (Tokyo time) and then had the faff of making my way to the hotel – without using a cab (which I am told is very expensive).

Ueno station on the Hibiya line heading for Roppongi station

Getting around was easier than I thought. To reach my hotel, which is in the Roppongi district of the city, I took the Skyliner train to Uedo, changed on to the Hibiya line and rode all the way to Roppongi station. In the carriage people came and went, nobody said a word, but there was a general politeness about everything and it gave me a tremendous sense of calm. There was nothing threatening about the situation and everybody was relatively well turned out, no scruff pots, not like in the UK. When the train arrived at Roppongi, I jumped out, walked about 100 yards, turned right and then right again and there it was, my hotel, my conveniently located hotel, no more than a few steps from leaving the subway; it's great when things work out so smoothly.

A train arrives at Narita Airport – not for me, mine's next...

I don't want to make too big a fuss about it, but the room is, well, let's say tiny, compact and bijou – alright, you'd be hard pushed to swing a hamster, let alone a cat. But everything works, it's clean enough and what else could I possibly wish for in a hotel?

Mint tea and a chocolate chip cookie...

I was in the room for all of 15 minutes, feeling fidgety, restless and, no doubt, in need of a long sleep, but that urge to do a little exploring, albeit miniscule, proved too much so out I went in search of a restaurant I'd both understand and enjoy. To be honest, I didn't fancy anything too 'Japanese' – not at the moment at any rate, just something straightforward and westen – so I skipped the noodle bars and a rather odd-looking pizzeria – and ended up in, of all places, a Starbucks, and only for a mint tea and a chocolate chip cookie, and then I went back to the hotel to try and get some shut-eye, but as you can tell, I'm up, out of bed and typing these very words you're reading.

One of many things I don't understand is this: why do some Japanese people walk around with surgical masks on? What do they know that the rest of us don't? It'll bug me until I ask somebody. I'm going to crawl back into bed now and see if I can get some sleep. Needless to say I'll be back soon.

I say I'll be back soon, it's now 1010hrs and I'm awake. The sound of voices outside in the corridor clearly disturbed a light sleep. My daughter has texted me a photograph of Karl Pilkington because she thinks (quite rightly) that I'm an idiot abroad. I am. This room, room 302, really is very small, although in all honesty, it's no smaller than the smallest bedroom in my house and they've managed to cram a lot in. The bathroom squeezes everything one might need: a shower, a toilet, a washbasin and outside of that there's a bed, a flatscreen television, a desk space and a small, square window of frosted glass, affording no 'view' whatsoever, it barely opens more than a couple inches. There's a mirror in front of me and I can see my naked self, illuminated by the halogen glow of the computer screen from the waist up. I don't like what I see, I never have, but does anybody really look at themselves and think 'oooh, very nice!' I don't think so. There's a full-length mirror by the door, but I'm not going to get up and stand there, although I'm sure I will as soon as I walk to the bathroom (in that sense it's unavoidable).

Dimly-lit hotel corridor...

It's ironic that such a small room has a minibar and that it's empty. There's also a coffee machine but no coffee. In essence, this hotel must be familiar with the phrase 'the bare minimum'.

I have just opened and taken a swig from a plastic bottle of still mineral water left on the desk by the hotel. There's nothing to suggest it's going to cost me any money, but I won't find out until I check out  in a week's time, as I assume there will be a fresh bottle tomorrow once the cleaner has been in. My guess is they will charge me, but I might be wrong.

Outside of the room, the corridor is dark and dimly lit and despite the voices earlier on, it's one of those places where you don't really see anybody, apart from at breakfast time. In fact, I'm really wondering about breakfast time and what it will bring. I can't imagine a full Japanese breakfast will consist of sausages, egg, bacon and tomato with a literal sprinkling of fried mushrooms and a few slices of toast. I hope it is like this, but I seriously doubt it. Not having a hearty breakfast is going to be very disheartening as it will mean I'll have to seek out some kind of restaurant outside. Earlier, I passed a Wendy's burger kiosk, but whether it was the actual American chain, I don't know and besides, I'm not a burger sort of guy and who wants to eat breakfast walking along the street.

There are more voices in the corridor, Japanese voices. At least I'm making that assumption; they might be Korean or Taiwanese or Vietnamese, who can tell the difference? Well, they can, I guess, but I'm no expert of the region.

It's quite strange being in Japan. It's a long way away and the plane travelled across the desolate Siberia and then across the ocean. I feel odd being so far away on the other side of the planet and again amazed at how it's only a 12-hour flight away. Not that a 12-hour flight is in any way a short flight. I found it fairly taxing and passed the time watching movies: Leave No Trace was good and so was a British movie, Ghost Story. As always, more for comfort than anything else, I watched Toy Story 1 and after that little lot there was about three hours to go. Two meals were served on the flight: chicken with rice and then breakfast, the full English, which was very enjoyable. During the flight I also skimmed through a copy of the Daily Telegraph that I picked up in a WH Smith at Heathrow.

From where I emerged on to Tokyo streets...

If there's one thing I can't stand it's those situations, like yesterday, when I get to the airport and find I have to go straight to the gate, no time to chill with a cup of tea and a cookie or, better still, a proper meal. I had to make do with a chicken salad sandwich, which put me in a bad mood, knowing that I had a good 12 hours on the plane. As always, the plane was packed, but I was fortunate enough to have an exit row seat, which meant I could stretch out my legs in front of me.

Long flights are bad enough, but they're even worse if there's nobody you know on the flight enduring the same ordeal. I was flying alone so I only had myself and my thoughts and they were fretful. I'm glad I had the movies to distract me and in that respect, they were all worth watching.

I should really be getting some sleep, but I feel awake. Back home it's a quarter past three in the afternoon on a Sunday and oh how I'd like to be there, probably going for a drive to Chartwell or some sleepy Kent village for a cup of tea and a piece of cake, or perhaps even further afield, like Felpham, to the Lobster Pot followed by a walk along the beach. But no, I'm here and don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful (not everybody gets to be in Japan on a Sunday afternoon, apart from the Japanese, of course). In many ways, the fretful, unrelaxing state of mind I found myself in on the plane continues in this tiny hotel room, which instead of flying through the air is flying through time. A long night ahead awaits me, it's an ordeal and it won't end until the morning. In a sense it's not sleep, it's another flight and I still have eight hours to go. All I can do is get through it. I might give mum a call.

There's an eight-hour time difference between Tokyo and London. In London it's now around 3.27pm on a lazy Sunday afternoon.