Tokyo
The five ladies perched on the seat opposite stare openly at me, as if I’ve just arrived from another planet. All five wear bright kimonos, their painted faces suggesting that they’ve just stepped off the stage.
When I stand up at the next stop, the Harajuku railway station, they smile and nod at me politely as I disembark from the train. One puts her hand in front of her mouth and whispers something to her companions, setting them off into fits of giggles.
The Meiji Shrine in Shinjuku is the most visited shrine in central Tokyo, and it’s a popular venue for traditional weddings. A soaring arch marks the entrance to the shrine, and as I wander through the solid wooden gates I almost collide with the tail end of a wedding procession. In the distance I can see another procession approaching, the bride sheltered under an expansive yellow parasol. I take my opportunity to dart across the central courtyard.
On the far side is a strange wooden structure that draws me closer. It looks like a large wooden abacus, but instead of beads there are hundreds of tiny twists of paper tied to the horizontal bars. I discover that these are prayers, written down on long paper strips by visitors then tied to the wooden rack. I see this again later in the day at the Yasukuni Shrine, which featured in the film Lost in Translation. The white doves at Yasukuni add to the aura of calm, and make for some wonderful holiday snaps.
Before catching the train back to the city centre I walk across to Takeshita Street. It’s a stark contrast to the simple serenity of the Meiji Shrine. Schoolgirls still in uniform browse racks of tartan miniskirts, while every other shop sells T-shirts emblazoned with cartoon characters. After the tranquillity of the shrine I’m overwhelmed by the crowds of fashion-hungry teenagers, but I still can’t resist a few purchases. My final stop is the Sony Building in the Ginza shopping precinct. In recent years this has become a Mecca for gadget addicts from around the world, although the entrance is so narrow and unassuming that I wonder if I have the right place. A two-foot long robotic dog soon assures me that I do. I gladly collapse into a luxurious leather armchair in front of the largest flat-screen TV I’ve ever seen.
They’re showing Pirates of the Caribbean, and the near immaculate surround sound almost has me ducking as the main boom swings overhead. In Tokyo, it seems, the future is already here.
By the time I return to my hotel my feet are sore, my eyes are tired from staring at TV screens, and my mind is buzzing with newly-learned Japanese words. As I relax with a cup of warm sake in a Roppongi Hills restaurant I’m left with the overwhelming impression of an ancient culture pushing confidently forward into the technological age. Unfortunately I still have no idea why those five ladies on the train found me quite so amusing.
