Glimpses of a familiar Japan - Day 1

 

(Thumbs Up!)

I was up early looking out my window.  The morning was clear and the buildings that surrounded the hotel were so reflected that they seemed to capture all the light.  The hotel had three areas for food, and we had a delicious breakfast in a café which was located at the far side of the hotel.  It was quite a spread of traditional western and some traditional Japanese breakfast items.  We ate well and as much as we could with the knowledge that lunch might be a harder gamble to find while out.   Then, with breakfast done, we stepped out onto the Tokyo streets.   The Hotel Okura is located near a train station, and we had a vague idea that the station connected to the main lines of Tokyo’s underground.  The problem was, we had no certainty where the station was.   We’d done a Google Maps of it and followed a specific street to a certain point, but actually standing there was more daunting than we’d imagined.

One doesn't simply step out into the streets of Tokyo.  They open up like winding broadways in every direction.  There are tall buildings all around with scattered trees, apartments and office buildings.  Here and there are restaurants or bars that hunch in the shadow of the larger buildings like un-presumptuous squatters.   The street led down a hill through an area dominated by business towers.  When we reached the end of the street, we stopped.  Nothing here looked like a subway entrance.  The only thing that did was conspicuously closed until 10 am, two hours too late to miss the commuter rush.  This was also confusing because everything we read and found said the subway opened at dawn, and the rush was at 8.  Why would this large, obviously underground going stairwell be closed?  It had the name of the station on it after all.  

We decided to turn around and get our bearings, and right then a young Caucasian woman approached us.  I will pause here to state a fact that when you are in Japan, you come to look forward to people of your racial origin.  Being surrounded by Japanese people, listening to Japanese language, reading Japanese signs, you quickly realize that everything and everyone here is on one plane of existence and you are on another completely separate one.  As such, when you meet someone who speaks English, or isn’t Japanese, it's rare and you accord it a sort of special notion in your daily journals as I did here. 

She immediately knew that we were lost.  Heck, if I was on the outside looking in I would have seen three Americans fresh off the plane, with maps spread, staring with the vacant and googley-eyed expression of cows.   She offered to not only show us to the subway, but explained in the simplest terms how to operate it.   After all, simply going to a place wasn’t so self-explanatory as how it sounds in the Tokyo subway.  There were rules, you see, specific steps to take and things to look out for.  I have to say, if the Tokyo Metropolitan Subway System was to ever have an English speaking guide, it should be her. 

It turned out she was visiting Japan long term and was on her way to the station to collect her purse which she’d left on a train and which had been left, in turn, at the station’s office for her to collect.   I found this quite intriguing.  Tokyo is one of the safest cities in the world, despite its size.  In all the time we were there, I think we saw two police officers carrying guns.  Certainly I am sure there are pickpockets. There is organized crime, unsavory types.  Yet, this conversation encapsulated a lot of what I had heard of Japanese honesty and integrity.  Someone had found her purse and returned it to the office apparently with everything in-tact. 

 

(If you can read this map without going crosseyed ... congratulations)

As we descended into the underground station, the hum of electricity filled the air, and the sound of machinery met my ears.  There was a louder sound of people walking, but no talking, and an acrid smell of old cigarettes.  Our guide brought us to a kiosk and explained how to ride a subway.   Each subway had a color, letter and number in addition to the name.  All we had to do was find the corresponding color, letter and number of our destination station and then apply it to a fare listed on the kiosk.  

We were so grateful for this knowledge, and it was among the many wonderful encounters that were to come.  We thanked the woman and never saw her again.  I presume she went and got her purse, and went on to have other adventures, perhaps to become a spokeswoman for the subway after that.  In any case, I wish her all the best.

 The subway itself was not unfamiliar to me.   I’d been on subways on other trips like to Washington DC.   This subway felt older, but not in a bad way.  It was certainly more crowded.  The train that pulled up had a good number of people in it, but thankfully we timed our departure perfectly throughout the entirety of every day we were in Japan.    The inside of the train was cramped, and it was a little strange and unnerving to sit or stand there.  Japanese people don’t stare at you, but you feel them look without looking.  You know you stick out like a sore thumb.

We arrived at Tokyo Station to pick up our official Japan Railways Pass for the remainder of the trip.  I have to say the people at the Japan Railways know what they’re doing.  They’re professional, courteous and above all timely.  We were in and out in about a half hour with more maps and information than we’d previously had.  Our passes would allow us unlimited passage throughout the JR rail system which is very extensive throughout greater Japan but not so much in the Tokyo Metro system itself.

 

(Tokyo Station Dome)

Tokyo Station was a wonder in itself.  The station is a massive structure of red brick, with great concourses beneath huge domes.  The front of it is stately facing busy city streets.   This isn’t counting the many levels underground, the shopping streets lined with goods and services unseen in the states.  There are whole neighborhoods beneath this place devoted solely to the gastronomical delights of Japan.  There is a mass of humanity here on a level unseen by me ever before.  I suppose this is what it must be like at Grand Central Station in New York.  Most everyone stops under the domes and stares up, gawking, and everyone else either walks straight through them or around them.  You can tell who the tourists are and who the Tokyoites are.  You can almost sense Tokyoites roll their eyes and think to themselves, “Yeah, I thought it was impressive and awe inspiring the first hundred times through myself, but after a few thousand, you kind of get used to it.”

 

(Palace Entryway) 

We exited outside after staring with the rest of the out-of-towners, and walked to the Imperial Palace East Garden which opened at nine.   The Garden is a part of the Tokyo Imperial Palace though slightly detached from it by walls and moats.   It’s a huge green space that is what used to be a part of the whole complex back in the days of the shogun.   Approaching the Palace is akin to approaching the White House, only you don’t visibly sense the snipers taking your hat size through their scope. 

  

(The moat and one of the palace guard towers.)

 There is a visible guard presence in the garden, and the actual palace itself obviously has higher security.  Still, it’s a bit unnerving to walk in a place that has been the seat of power in Japan for many, many centuries.  There is an auspicious and awe inspiring sense to the Palace grounds.  The walls of the moat are huge with huge stones and deep ravines.  If there weren’t bridges, there would be no way an invading army could get past and into the grounds.

 

 (One of 3 gates to enter the old palace.  This is supposedly all original, and it's immensely impressive.)

The garden itself was mostly grassy landscape but it included small caves, walkways, long stretches of tree lined paths, and a foundation of one of the medieval towers.  We climbed to the top and took in the sight of old Edo Castle.  At one time, this was the largest feudal castle in Japan, dwarfing the more modernly famous Himeji Castle and supposedly far more beautiful.  We would learn more about the castle later.  There were several older buildings, guard houses and stations for samurai approaching the shogun in his time there.  

 

 (Base of one of the old Edo Towers above, palace grounds below)

  

 One could imagine samurai standing at these little wooden buildings, and in all it was a wonderful experience and free of charge.   There was a lovely art museum that was a part of this place, with imperial treasures on display.  Almost all were screens or ukioe woodblock paintings.   These were very beautiful.  My favorite depicted a village with buildings hidden in snow.  The artist had used splotches of white paint to make a distinct impression of falling slow.  I wanted to walk into this scene, to approach the warm light of the houses beyond and smell what delicious scents rose from their chimneys.

 

(Front Courtyard of Yakukuni Jinja)

 

Leaving the palace garden, we found Yasukuni Jinja Shrine.  This is an infamous shrine that dignitaries aren’t supposed to visit.  It enshrines the war dead of Japan and acts as a sort of tomb of the unknowns as well.  It also enshrines many war criminals, as it encompasses all those who served.    This was one of the few places we as westerners felt stared at and out of place.  I didn’t want to go to it at all, but it was very pretty and very quiet.  Supposedly the shrine is much larger than what we saw, but we remained in the central courtyard.  

 

 (This one struck my eye because of the hole in the rock there)

 There were lovely displays of bonsai and chrysanthemums for autumn, and these were nice to see.   The mums would become another continuing theme at many other temples throughout the trip.  The shrine itself is a sweeping structure, with white awnings emblazoned with golden chrysanthemums of the Imperial crest.  I didn’t look inside.   I suppose I felt awkward, given its history.

 

(There are such lovely and vibrant colors here)

Thankfully, we didn’t stay long at the shrine.  We took the train from there to Tsukiji, home of the famous fish market.  Tsukiji is the gateway to Tokyo’s stomach and has been for many centuries.  There are shrines dedicated to fish and fisherman nearby though we did not stop at any that day.  Our goal was simple, to see the sights and to have our first sushi meal in Japan.  

I don’t profess to be very handsome or the stereotype hunk.  I’m kind of tall and gawky and I stick out like a nail in a board.  This said I had one uniquely strange Japanese experience.  It was on the way to Tsukiji market and I was going down an escalator.  There was a group of group of jr. high or high school aged girls who noticed me and were giggling among themselves watching at me.  I must have looked very odd and embarrassed to them, and they were clearly kind of amused to see a tall western man riding an escalator like the rest of them.  I just smiled and continued on and felt very old.   

 

(Tsukiji - This image from Wikipedia, I never got to see this kind of scene)

Our visit to Tsukiji was very interesting, but also a little disappointing.  We’d arrived, it seemed, at the end of the market’s career.  A newer, larger market is supposedly being built, so many parts of the market were closed to visitors.  I had envisioned walking among stalls where wiggling things moved in deep barrels of water.  We would have been too late to see the tuna auctions, but we could have seen so many odd sea-dwelling animals that are only eaten by the Asian cultures.  Still, we managed to enter into a part that was opened.   There were long rows of buildings where stalls would normally sell fish, and intermingled among these were places that could have been restaurants were they opened.  There was still a hustle and bustle.  Little trucks they call turret cars/trucks were whizzing by.  All in all though, there was not much to see and worse, we weren’t sure there was anything to eat.

As we ventured down one of the alleys, we discovered that one restaurant was open and there was a little man outside.  He waved to us and ushered us over with his warm smile.   He couldn’t understand us, nor we him, but there seemed a genuine interest on both parties.   This was the second little miracle of the journey.  This man, with his white hat, white apron, yellow boots, stood there and grinned at us with a mouth missing most of his teeth.  Even despite that, there was a genuine joy in his eyes, twinkling to see three famished gaijin coming his way with cash to spend on really, really good seafood. 

 

(Chuck Norris doesn't have anything on this guy.)

I don’t know the name of the restaurant, but the space was only just barely wide enough inside for a single counter and a bunch of stools. Heck, if you were to sit at a four foot wide dinner table, it would be larger than this place was wide. Even passing the space behind the stools was a precarious proposition to the waiters, but the men behind the counter welcomed us with menus labeled with the most remarkable pictures of sushi.   It was here we had our first and sadly only sushi of the trip, but what a meal.  

My dad and I stuck to the classics, ahi, salmon, halibut, etc.  My mom was more adventurous and she ordered eel.   Go, Mom.  The fish was remarkably fresh, served with piping hot green tea and a genuine miso soup.   We, in the states, think we know miso.  I will say, here and now, every bowl of miso I have ever had is bush league flavored water compared to what we had at this place.   This was hearty fish broth, full of nutrients and seaweed.  It put hairs on your chest. I even ate the tofu which I usually despise.  

My dad and I had the singular best and perhaps simplest meal of sushi in our lives.  He and I are used to seafood, to sushi.  We go out regularly to a local joint in my hometown, and we have splendid meals there.   Even with that, though, it was no comparison to this.   My mom, still on training wheels when it comes to chopsticks, devoured her eel.  As my dad said, “She didn’t share!”  We were sad to go and took a picture with the little man outside.  He was the perfect encapsulation to the experience of Tsukiji.  Despite not seeing much, we’d had a wonderful meal at the end of the market’s life.  We’d met a distinctly warm and welcome man, dined elbow to elbow with fishermen and Japanese people in a tiny spot.   It was superb, and I want to be back there now, though it's likely gone and moved.

 

(Shrine in Hama Rikyu)

Our next stop was the Hama Rikyu garden which was a duck hunting ground of the shogunate at one time.  It’s a very nicely sized garden, surrounding pools and waterways and a central tea house.   We had genuine green tea served with pastries at this tea house.  There was even instruction on how to properly hold and turn the tea in a ceremony styled way.   The tea was true green matcha style, bright green and foamy, the pastry delicious and small.   

 

(The Tea House)

 We had lovely views of Tokyo Bay and the Rainbow Bridge.  The grounds themselves teemed with plants and trees and flowers.   We walked a long time along these paths, looking at the structures the shogunate had built to coax ducks from hiding.  Many of these were very ingenious.   There was also a small Inari shrine, interestingly enough, our first of the trip.  I knew it was because a sign said so, and because of the guardian foxes in front of it.  

 

(View of the Rainbow Bridge)

 (View of the Fuji TV Building.  Very odd looking structure, but I was so glad to have seen it!)

Our plan was to travel to Roppongi after this.  My goal was to explore a place I’d studied in college, a city within the city.  Supposedly, it had remarkable shopping and the main tower had views of Tokyo.  My hope was to go to the top and take in Tokyo by night to see the lights come on.  Unfortunately, by the time we were going to head there, it was already mid-afternoon and we’d been out for about seven hours.  Jet lag had kicked in so we decided to return to the hotel and rest at 3pm.   As I sat in my room, I recalled the prints at the museum, the fish market.  I was ecstatic at how wonderful things had begun.   We never got out at night there, which is a shame and something I have to correct next time.  I think if anything, our pace that whole trip was very quick, trying to get in so much at once.   Then again, there is so much to see in such a short time.