TRAVEL: FOUND IN TRANSLATION
48 Hours in Tokyo
Whizzing along on the sky train at 160km/h into the beating heart of Tokyo, I am humbled to be welcomed into this ever-moving, everchanging city; a city that manages to embrace the advances of technology yet still maintain its sacred past, ancient traditions and unique culture.
As soon as I leave the train station, I really am in a totally foreign world. Nothing is in English any more. I float along with the crowd, my heart beating fast in a combination of excitement and panic. My Airbnb gave me an address I hand to my taxi driver and we arrive at my ‘box’ apartment.
As per Japanese custom, I remove my shoes at the door. When you enter any home (and many restaurants), you need to take your shoes off and put them in a specific place. There’s a definite difference between outdoor and indoor shoes in Japan. In a city where space is limited, major innovations have been made in minimalist living. My new temporary home is warm and efficiently laid out, given the limited space: tatami mats provide seating during the day and double up as bedding at night and, where possible, floating flower gardens have been created for some aerial greenery.
I’m still acclimatising to my new environment when I start to feel wobbly in the knees and somewhat shaken. It’s not the jetlag; I’ve just experienced my first small earthquake! The blinds that were pulled up suddenly drop – and then there is calm.
Feeling a little isolated after the experience, I decide to take a walk. It’s very reassuring that
Nothing is in English any more. I float along with the crowd, my heart beating fast in a combination of excitement and panic.
nobody outside seems at all perturbed by the earthquake. (Unsurprisingly, because it’s a fairly common occurrence: approximately 200 earthquakes can be felt in Tokyo each year.)
A bit hungry after all the excitement, I fall in line at one of the many self-serve eatery/supermarkets. I point blindly at random items, the check-out assistant hands me my meal and indicates the price. I haven’t a clue what I’ve just bought, but I’m later pleasantly surprised by how delicious it is – an experience repeated at almost every meal. Initially, I’m perplexed when a young cashier in one of the shops doesn’t take the money from my hand; instead, he passes me a small tray and signals for me to place the money on it. These payment trays are used across Japan. The basket ensures that our hands do not touch (it’s part cultural custom and part hygienic practice). This polite distance is maintained with minimal eye contact and a respectful bow – there’s no hand-shaking here!
That respectful distance is a big part of Japanese culture. Coming from lively, loud and vivacious Africa, I feel as if I am literally lost in translation, unable to bridge the respectful distance between myself and the city. I embrace it: the invisible gap between tourist and Tokyo is where the magic happens. I wander down to the lively Yoyogi Park and on to the Meiji Shrine, where I’m drawn in by the hundreds of wooden prayer tablets known as Ema; they hold the prayers and wishes of worshippers.
Each tree in the forest was reportedly planted by a different citizen of Japan to pay respect to the Emperor Meiji, and there are barrels of sake (traditional rice wine) wrapped in straw that add a beautiful element. The sun peeks through the trees and casts dancing shadows over the barrels; all around me, tourists snap pictures of one another.
SENSORY OVERLOAD
Next morning, I’m up at dawn to meet the fishermen as they arrive in what is undoubtedly the busiest fish market in the world. If you’re planning to go there, you’ll need to pick your outfit carefully: although I hop-scotch to avoid the fishy waters underfoot, the potent smell settles into my clothes by the end of my visit and I spend the rest of the day smelling of fish. It’s worth it though; seeing blood red octopi, tuna, giant crab, eel and piles of salmon, all laid out.
A few hundred metres from the market I duck into a miniature counter-kitchen restaurant in Tsukiji, where an elderly sushi chef prepares some of the best sushi I have ever tasted. I savour every mouthful! Completely absorbed in creating his edible art, the
chef doesn’t say a word to anyone, although I hear him mumbling to himself as he works. The tiny eatery seats all of eight people – I was lucky to snag a seat.
Afterwards, I hop into a taxi and provide the driver with my next destination (in written format): the shopping district of Shibuya. This is where you can ‘shop ’til you drop’ – the designer hub of Tokyo. As I’m about to step into the hustle and bustle, I remember that one does not tip in Japan, so I simply thank my taxi driver as he hands me my coins. ‘Keep the change’ is not accepted here.
To my surprise, I find some great bargains: a leather handbag for under R500 (on sale), and down jackets for the family that are a third of the price you’d pay in South Africa. There are also some international retailers that originate in Japan such as Uniqlo and Muji.
Although it’s rumoured to be the busiest intersection in the world (and people cross from ALL directions), the crowds sweeping across Shibuya Crossing are structured and well-organised; no one bumps into anyone else.
Of course, you can’t come to Tokyo without seeing the cherry blossoms when they’re in bloom, so the gardens of the Imperial Palace are a must-visit. These vast gardens sit calmly amidst the high rises; they’re a perfect spot to wander among the blossoms (although it’s winter, the blossoms are out!) and manicured cloud trees. The palace itself is built on the site of an old castle and remains the primary residence of the Emperor of Japan. Its historical grounds are encircled by moats and sprawl across 280 acres.
I end the day with a nod to Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray: on the top floor of the Park Hyatt, I watch the sun set over the city, sipping a cocktail and listening to the tinkling sounds of the piano.