Alone in Tokyo

Sunday, October 12, 2008 at 3:24pm

It’s Friday and we’re heading back to the airport. The Narita Express is a far different story to the previous journey on the bullet train. For a start, it’s far busier, but is a fraction of the price, especially considering our own extortionate Heathrow Express options in London.The issue is that train is swaying violently from side-to-side as it chugs its way onwards. My stomach is bloated from a vast array of rich food and I’m in danger of redecorating the suit of the businessman beside me.

I’d be far more likely to if I’d have had another late night. I have a feeling that somewhere along the line I’ve left the “Station of All Night Drinking and Flying” on route to “Early Night and Trying to Recreate The DVD Cover of Lost in Translation.” Just for giggles, of course.

In an ideal world, I’ll settle into my seat with enormous legroom and drift into a dreamless sleep, before I arrive, refreshed and with a spring in my step and a twinkle in my eye at Heathrow. In the real world, I’ll have to be forced into my seat like a Jack In a Box and feel like weeping by the time I get home through displacement and lack of sleep. The visit to Tokyo was swift – a two-day stopover for TGS.

Thankfully I managed to get some time to myself yesterday – a rarity on trips like this. I arrived back from the show, my legs feeling like they’d been treated to a hammering by a meat pounder and sat in front of my PC trying to decide where to spend my precious two hours alone in Tokyo.

It was a toss up between Chiyoda where the Imperial Palace is located, or Harajuku, the shopping district where the crazily-dressed punk kids hang out. I opted for the slower-paced option and headed over on the JR line. The Palace and Gardens are a short walk from Tokyo Station, a large western-looking building not too dissimilar in looks to St Pancras in London. Beyond this was a large park, with two large moats at the left and right edges. Each had these modern buildings built in the traditional style -white paint and triangular roofs around the perimeter of the moat. I walked towards the nearest one to take some photos. There was a businessman sitting on the curb, hands resting on his knees, looking straight ahead. I imagined that just below the surface of his smartly dressed exterior was a horrifically-stressed, near suicidal salaryman. I don’t know why.

As I walked closer, I saw that he was looking out towards the setting sun, with a slight smile that told me he was content with the world. I couldn’t have been more wrong.I finished with the photos and strolled across the full length of the park towards the Tokyo Tower and found Niju-bashi Bridge by mistake. I was so glad I did. A lovely bridge stretched across another moat; in the background, nestled among the trees was another perimeter building, overlooking the park like a silently imposing sentinel. In the failing light, the scene was pure serenity, and for the first time on any visit to Japan, I felt at peace. It turns out that content little smile was contagious. Sure, I’d seen ancient temples representing a more traditional side of Japan, but they seem so isolated and rare among the sprawling neon metropolis, as out of place as a rose would be, if it sprung up from between the cracks of one of the neverending concrete of Tokyo.

Here was a place that was modern, yet as timeless and majestic as any 13th century castle; an enduring symbol of Japan’s contrasts. Finally, when I least expected it, I’d found a bridge between two worlds.