By Paul Topping

It’s early April and we arrive in Tokyo for the first time. It’s the peak of the short blossom season, our guide, Mari, takes us to Shinjuka Park. It’s only a glimpse of this amazing, colourful annual blossom event . We’re advised to have breakfast in the old fish market, as the newer one doesn’t offer the same access to the stalls and feels a bit clinical. The taxi drops us off and, within two minutes, we’re looking at the biggest oysters and crab I’ve ever seen.

We go down a narrow corridor and sit in a large room with no windows behind the stalls, and await a menu. Along comes a waitress with a green drink. It tastes like water that’s been used to wash fish. We recover when our sea food platters arrive. 

Mari, an officially registered tourist guide for the day, comes up trumps. She finds out there’s a sumo demonstration at the Sumo Yasukuni Shrine  – a celebration of 150 years of the organization. We’re told to get there early, but on arrival, a thousand people have already beaten us to it. What looks like two stables of sumo wrestlers are putting on a full day of presentation in a purpose-built arena. If visiting this city for the first time, it’s worth getting an official guide for your first day. Ours became an advisor and friend, staying in touch by phone throughout our four weeks in the country.

We find a seat, it’s baking hot. People trickle in consistently in front of us, which is a big distraction for everyone. After three hours, we leave but stop by to meet the sumo teams. They’re so friendly and accommodating, speaking in English as we take photos with them. These heavy bulky men have a life span of twenty years less than the national average .. quite sad .  This was a chance in a million, and we didn’t even pay an entry fee. As we leave, we notice the war museum, Yūshūkan, next door. It offers an interesting Japanese view of the Second World War. Later in the tour, we gain deeper insight into Japan’s wartime history in Hiroshima.

It’s five degrees and rain is forecast. Free umbrellas  are everywhere, as this community seems highly organized for walking in the rain. Locals deposit them at their next destination, placing them in a sleeve provided. Imagine doing that in Colombo – they’d soon end up on a market stall in Pettah.

We separate, I can’t shop with Jezzabel. I arrive at a large bookshop where I spot one of my favourite books, Travel Round Ireland with a Fridge. “You must have a plan B even if you don’t have a plan A.” The café, called “Books and Café” at JP Tower, is a delight. Good coffee and loads of magazines to read. I happen upon a big welcoming sign:

INTERMEDIATHEQUE – JP Tower Museum

On entering, I look for somewhere to pay. Lo and behold, it’s free to enter. This museum makes great use of my time, offering insight into the city, the country, and its scientific and cultural heritage. I find the biggest stuffed bird collection in Asia, the largest known crab preserved, and many exhibits of scientific equipment from over the years.

An hour later, I text Jezzabel that I’m at the rendezvous location but not to rush, as I’ve only just arrived. The girl at the entrance of the café/bookshop greets me in perfect English, with an American accent. I make the mistake of saying, “You sound like an American.” To which she replies, “No, I’ve never been out of the country.” 

Jezzabel’s strategy, I know, will be to walk each of the five retail floors systematically and find the brands and shops she enjoys. We look up our next venue online and pick a top sushi bar. We get there and the receptionist says, “We have no rice.” The place is packed, and clearly, we’re not getting in. Our time in Japan will be filled with recurring disappointments between online descriptions and reality. We’re in a non-tourist area but find a Japanese restaurant. Packed again, yet they find us two seats. Little rice selection lots of meat, which surprises us.

We go to a jazz bar, four people in a room smaller than my lounge at home. I ask where the band is, and it turns out it’s the four people already in the room. We check the wine list, 6,000 yen for a bottle of poor wine and 4,800 yen entry on top of the bill per person. Tokyo is not an easy place to find good live music.

We return to our “shoebox” hotel room, having previously placed anything non-essential in the hallway – the only way to fit all of Jezzabel’s luggage in the room.