In the morning the Borealis docked at Yokohama after passing underneath the impressive Yokohama Bay Bridge. The dock is an imposing sight with bold modern buildings not intmidated from displaying architectural flair. I watched the docking from our balcony and could survey the dock area, with the customary large ferris wheel, while in the View buffet restaurant. Approval by the Yokohama Port Authority came fairly quickly this time. I took Albina down her corn flakes and she was soon up as we prepared to disembark and join our coach. We had booked a straightforward city tour as some of the other tours could require more walking than Albina could probably manage. My hope was at the very least to catch a glimpse of magnificent Mount Fuji, as I had failed to see it even once during my visit to Tokyo ten years ago with Sandro. Just as were leaving the ship we heard Sammie announcing that the length of stay of the Borealis had been extended for a few more hours. Consequently, our latest time for returning to the ship was now 6.30pm, and not 4.30pm.
On the way to the bus we came across a Polish couple from Ealing. She was a lady still walking heavily with a stick, but although she was slow in her steps, she certainly had stamina and resilience. She had been on at least four tours with us and she never shied away from getting off the bus and going on a walking tour with the guide. She had told Albina she had run a pub in Earls Court. Currently she was walking to the bus alone. "Where's your son?" I asked. "Is he coming on the trip?" "Yes, he should already be on the bus," she said. "But he is not my son, he is my husband. A few years younger, I agree, but still my husband." Both Albina and I apologized for our faux pas. "Oh, don't worry", she replied. "I had so enjoyed my holiday trip to Dubrovnik, that I needed something for a souvenir. So I took him and married him. That was 35 years ago now, but because of that I still fondly remember Dubrovnik," she chuckled. "Maybe getting a magnet souvenir for your fridge would have been cheaper?" I suggested.
We drove through the steets and expressways over Yokohama, aware this this is still the second largest city in Japan after Tokyo with 3.5 inhabitants, so far larger than Osaka or Nagoya. Finally we crossed the equally impressive Rainbow Bridge into Tokyo proper. We were soon struck by the sheer mass of humanity, 37 million strong, residing here in large but neat residential blocks, quite often sheer skryscrapers with some twenty floors, and working here in city office blocks equally as high and imposing. The sheer volume of the residential and office blocks, the former distinguished by having balconies, soon made me feel claustrophobic. I was aware too that we were most travelling at a second higher level of express ways over and above the humanity scurrying about and driving their cars below us. The guide quickly made reference to half hidden landmarks, like the amazing 634 metre Tokyo Sky Tree, which was soon hidden behind the office blocks boxing us in like high canyons. I remember from my earlier visit in the hot humid summer, how the overhead expressways added to the closeness of the atmosphere and the suffocating heat when we moved around at street level. However because of these expressways we were mostly unaware of the height of the surrounding buildings, while now we were fully exposed to them. I also remember the pedestrian passageways above street level, adorned with occasional gardens and fountains amidst all the concrete structures. I also remember the air conditioning cooling us on the smarter open air pedestrian passages. Of course there were also shops and cafes and restaurants in this area under the expressways, and below these we had the underground shopping centres and the metro. Today, however, I was not aware of any of this human side of what was happening below the expressways.
Reaching the centre of the city the coach descended to street level as our guide pointed out to us the National Guest House in neo-Baroque style, at which the Emperor or Prime Minister received Ambassadors and distinguished foreign guests. Next we drove past the National Diet Building. I could hear some of my co-passengers asking what all this talk of diets entailed. That is until I briefly threw out the word "Parliament" to them and heard their sense of relief at finally understanding what the guide was talking about. To be fair to today's guide, she was able to arrange for some quick 30 second stops when referring to a planned point of interest and it was easier to take an appropriate picture.
Eventually we drove around the picturesque moat surrounding the Imperial Palace gardens. Here our coach parked and we were invited to take a picture of the so-called double bridge, which is to the side of the Imperial Palace, and virtually all that you can actually see of that building. Albina did not want to move as she felt it would be somewhat cold outside. She was right. Although officially it was 12 degrees centigrade, there was a brisk north-easterly breeze, which I felt keenly even through my sleeveless jacket. Of course, as soon as we had got off the bus, the first question was the location of the loo. So our guide gamely held up a stick with her silk scarf and boldly led our group to the nearest public convenience. As I had no immediate need of such a facility I made my way on my own towards the so called double bridge. On the way I passed a striking monument of a samurai on a prancing horse. His name was Kusunoki Masashige, and he restored an Emperor to power in the XIVth century after defeating the Shogun at that time. It was a brief interlude because the shoguns returned to power some years later and ruled until 1867 when the Emperor Meiji challenged them successfully and the modernization of Japan began. Long though the period when the shoguns ruled, it is as nothing compared to the 2883 years of continuous emperors all from the same family. The chrysanthemum throne of the Japanese emperors dwarves the history of the British royal family with its many dynasties. Certinly no British monarch could claim to be descended from the Sun Goddess.
I walked on across a road to the site of the bridge(s). To me this is a bit of a con because the imperial family remain half-hidden to their own people and this view of one histrocic stone briadge and a more modern metal bridge behind it, as well as the white front facade to the Palace, is the only glimpse they allow. By intensifying this mystery they gave added symbolic meaning to what they do allow the public to see, and this is the iconic picture that tourists and Japanese photograph so incessantly. It is like a grand dame retaining both her mystery and her allure by displaying a bit of ankle.
As returned to the coach I suggested to Albina that we stay in Tokyo a little longer, especially as the ship's deperture time had been extended. Our coach was due back by 12 noon, so we wold have at least six hours to send ashore. Albina asked what we would see but I did not have a clear picture in my mind other than I wanted to see Mount Fuji, if possible from the Tokyo Sky Treet. This did not appeal to her. She said she would stay on the coach. I noticed that the next points on the tour were Tokyo Station and then the trendy Ginza district and the Kabuki Theatre. After that it would return to Yokohama. I felt that if I wanted to see more of Tokyo it would be a waste of time to drive back to Yokohama. I spoke to a rather alarmed guide and explained to her to stop the coach and drop me when we were leaving the Ginza district. Sure enough after we had passed the classic European style Tokyo Station building and the high skyscrapers around it, including the Marunouchi Building and the redbrick Mitsubishi Museum, to coach travelled to Ginza and stopped for me. Albina confirmed that I was on my own. . As I got up one of the passengers asked if I was sure I wanted to leave. "Yes, but don't worry," I said, "if I miss the boat tonight then I will see you next week in Honolulu." That was a bit of bravado really, s I was apprhensive as to whether I would get back to Yokohama on time. I threw an "arigato" to the guide and driver, and got off.
So I was free of the conventions of the coach and on my own in Tokyo. The first thing I did was to throw off my face mask, which we had all been wearing in public ever since we entered Japanese waters. I noticed that the majority of Japanese no longer wore them. As I was on my own I thought to revisit the Meiji shrine in West Tokyo and try to see Mt Fuji from the Sky Tree. Inside my guidebook, I had found a much folded worn map of the Tokyo subway system, in Japanese on one side and English on the other. I had loved the Tokyo subway system. The map looks like a bowl of spaghetti with all the different coulourd lines twisting and turning, forming incomplete circles and criss-crossing each other. With practice you learn to follow the colours to work out where you can go from and where to, once you know your decstination. After studying it carefully I came to the conclusion that the Meiji shrine, tucked away in a large woodland site, would not be practical. When I was last there I remember it took a long time to reach a metro station afterwards. I am short of time. So I opted for the Sky Tree and hoping to visit a Buddhist Temple on the way.
I found the nearest metro tube to me was Ginza. I walked down, bought a ticket for 300 yen and sought out the Ginza Line to take me directly into Asakusa station. I remember from my previous visit that there was a readily accessible Buddhist temple there. From there the Sky Tree woud be a walking distance. Once in the station the rule is to follow the colour of your line until you reach your platform. Once on the platform you are sure to catch the right train. The trains come every few minutes. A barrier prevents you getting onto the track, and a gate opens to let you in on the train once it arrives, just like the Jubilee Lne in London. After passing seven stations I soon reached Asahusa. I emerged from the station. There were many steps as the Tokyo subway is not suitable for those with disabilities, let alone wheelchair users. Albina would not have been able to travel in the subway for long. My memory reminded me how to reach the Asakusa Kannon temple, which is the oldest Buddhist temple in Tokyo. Kannon is the mercy deity, always something worth praying to. The temple is at one and the same time a temple and a shopping mart with stalls. Both the magnificaent gateway and the temple at the far end of the shopping stalls are bright red in colour with huge bright red paper lanterns hanging at both ends. The long corridor between the gatehouse and the temple itself consists of around 30 stalls on each side, also red in colour and surmounted with sprigs of cherry blossom, still in flower. The shops sell all sorts of mementoes, religious and otherwise, especially dresses, shoes, paper drawings, fans and umbrellas, all brightly coloured and adding to the gaiety of the scene. The place was packed with tourists and young Japanese, with many young ladies gliding around in geisha clothes, ready to be photoographed and thanked with a tip. There were also horse drawn taxis and rickshaws for hire. On the left of the main temple was a tall traditional Japanese tower with six picturesque curved slated roofs.
On the right was a shinto shrine with the traditonal wooden torii gate, the two lions on each side of the entrance walk and the purification stall where a Japanese father was teaching his young son all the rituals.
Happy to have seen this I then made my way to the Sky Tree, which turned out to be much further than I thought. It was now 2 o'clock and I needed to be aware of the time if I was to get to Yokohama and the ship in time. I joined the queue to buy a ticket. It snaked around the arrival hall and I was getting more and more anxious as time dragged by. It was nearly nearly 3 o'clock when eventually, having bought a ticket for 2500 yen, I got into the lift. Once I had entered the crowded viewing platform I looked with amazement at the city some 600 metres below. I had been here before of course but the sight is breathtaking because you are looking at the megapolis of 37 million people and with no end in sight of continuous conurbation, except where it reaches the sea, The view shows up the many rivers crossing this vast mass of humanity, including the Sumidagawa, the Arakawa and the Edo, after which the former capital and therefore the entire period of history of Japan for 250 years got its name. I could distinguish the red TV tower nearer the Rainbow Bridge and skyscrapers around Tokyo Station, but the rest of it was just an anonymous mess. Perhaps I could have looked more carefully but I was too upset to notice the details, because when I looked to where the cityscape map indicated as a view of Mount Fuji, there was nothing to be seen. Mount Fuji was missing! Despite all my efforts to get here and my hope that the view would be clearer in the spring, rather than the high summer, I was robbed of my prize view by the haze and smog of the city.
I felt crushed. All that was left for me now was to get off this ungrateful structure and make my way to Shinjuku Station, Yokohama and the boat. Getting off was not so easy either. I had to walk down two floors before I eventually reached the jumping off point to catch the descending lifts. That eventually took me to the fifth floor, where I emerged in a large shopping area. I was sorely tempted to buy a couple of attractive souvenirs, but once I saw the queue to the payment desk I panicked and decided to drop them. It was 3.30pm and 6.30pm was the deadline to rejoin the ship. That may seem like a long enough period, but I was in a strange city trying to make my way to another strange city and then to find the pier at which Borealis had docked. I had to leave aside any purchases now.
Luckily I was helped by my old friend the Tokyo Subway. With help of my Flint's Map, the Tokyo Subway Route Map, I was able to locate the nearest station as Oshiage. From there I identified the best route to Shinjuku station, from which I knew that trains travelled to Yokohama. I chose the orange Ginza line again which travelled through Asakusa to eventually reach Shibuya, but with a crossing at Bakuro Yokoyama Station. There I could catch the green Shinjuku Line to Shinjuku. Everything went well until I got out at a station with the name Shinjuku clearly showing. Looking for an exit to the mainline I quickly discovered I had got off at the wrong station. It was actually called Shinjuku-sanchome. I should have gone on to the final station which was just called Shinjuku. Luckily the next train arrived at the same platform 5 minuteds later. I had at last reached Shinjuku station.
Here everything was a maze. I was looking for signs of any mainline station or Yokohama. I asked a train guard who indicated where I had to exit and cross a main road in order to reach the mainline station. There I came across a young lady in an Information Office. She told me to buy a ticket for 580 yen (about £5) and find platform No. 1 and the Shonan-Shinjuku Line. Shinjuku Station is apparently even bigger than Tokyo Station with some twenty or so platforms but I had enough information to find my way to the right platform now. I noticed people were standing in short queues in the spot marked out on the platforms where the carriage doors would appear, Very organized. I asked a lady in one of the queues if I was in the right place for Yokohama. She nodded. Five minutes later a train, described as a rapid express, turned up. I sat down and soon the train was off. Not as smooth as a shikansen ride but smooth and fast enough. Yokohama was the fourth station and afer half an hour we got there. It was now past 4 o'clock and I was not home yet.
I still had my copy of The Daily Times, the Borealis daily bulletin. There it had stated that shuttle buses would run to and from the ship and Sakuragicho Station up until 4.15 pm. At Yokohama Station I asked an official at the ticket check out and he told me which platform to catch the next suburban train from Yokohama to Sakuragicho. I waited at the indicated platform. I was feeling peckish, as I had not eaten anything since breakfast. There was a sushi shop selling some of those delightful Japanese lunch box meals. I choose a tasty looking one for 900 yen which the lady packed beautifully for me and tied with a string. I took it with me just as the train arrived.
Sakuragicho was the next stop and I was there some ten minutes later. It was now 5pm and I was not expecting anymore shuttle buses. I knew from The Daily Times that the Borealis was docked at Shinko Pier. I found a notice at the station showing a map which located the pier. I could see how I could get there on foot with what would be a 15 to 20 minute walk. However, it was now getting quite cold with a strong sea breeze blowing. My sleeveless jacket did not give me sufficient protection against the breeze. I decided to opt for a taxi ride instead to cover the distance. He drove me to a large terminal. I got out and went inside. It looked quite bare and there was a large ship docked outside. But it was not Borealis. I enquired at the desk and discovered I had been driven to the wrong quay. It was called Osanbashi. Luckily the lady at the information desk knew where our ship was docked. It was good twenty minute walk along the marine pathway skirting the seafront with the different piers. It was a popular place for the young Japanese as the former warehouses had a number of cafes and shops on the way. I passed something called the Japanese Overseas Migration Museum and a sign showing the Yokohama Cupnoodles Museum. Not top of priorities at the time. However, I had seen the welcome funnels with the Fred Olsen logo sticking up over a building called Yokohama Hammerhead. I saw that I could reach the vessel through this building. Staff inside led me to the hall with the immigration officers.
Suddenly, I found myself in the same hall as the sad brigade that clutters each exit every time we return to the ship after an excursion. All of them are glued to their phones feeding off the terminal's free internet and linking up with their families or their work, or just playing games. These are the people who choose not to pay for their internet on board the ship and to rely on these desperate moments ashore to catch up with their lives. Each time I see them I think of those smokers hanging around outside public buildings or offices, indulging shamefacedly in their addiction. Still I have to say that on this occasion I was relieved to see them. At the immigration desk I finally handed in the photocopy of my passport with the attached stamped landing card with which we had been issued in Hakata. I finally walked back on to the vessel's gangway. It was 5.30pm. Perhaps still with a sufficient margin of time, but still not trying something worth risking though neglect or by getting lost. In the last 2 tense hours I had been haunted by my own earlier comment about seeing everyone in Honolulu. I had to salute all those Japanese officials and civilians who had heped direct me in the right directiom. Despite occasional language difficulties they all gave me information that proved correct.
When I got back to our cabin Albina had been reading one of her romatic love stories she had picked up in the ship's library. She had been waiting for me, but pretending not to show any anxiety. I opened up the sushi lunch box and she took some nibbles from it, while I woolfed down the contents. It was both tasteful and quite filling, so much so that I did not bother to go dinner and neither did Albina. Even as were eating the sushi an announcement came over the tannoy asking a number of people to surrender their copies of their passport with the stamped landing card attached. Until these were surrendered the Japanes would not give us clearance to leave the port. Luckily all that got sorted out in the next hour and eventually we slipped out of the port and under the Yokohama Bay Bridge to face the Pacific Ocean. As son as we left staff and passengers removed their face masks with a great sense of relief. I guess like prisoners having their handcuffs removed.
The General Knowledge Quiz was tough that night. We got only 8 out of 15, and the best tean got 11, which indicated it was going to be tough. In the meantime Ranald and Sharon told me about their trip to the foothills of Mount Fuji. Sharon showed me the pictures of the mountain at the sight of which I could only salivate my lips.This was a picture of symmetrcial harmony, not man made like the Taj Mahal or Karnak Temple, but still causing you to stop your breath and gaze open mouthed at the sheer perfection. As a consolation prize she copied thesee images of the snow capped mountain to my phone.
That night we got instructions to move the clock forward by one hour.
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