In the Land of the Rising Sun

Cherry blossoms

They say nothing can ever prepare you for Japan. They are absolutely right.

Having been here for a little over a week, we can report that Japan is a mighty strange place. A completely unique, separate outpost that must have evolved for millions of years in quiet parallel to the rest of humanity.

We are fairly convinced that at no point in time did the Japanese ever live in caves or make fire by striking rocks together. The Japanese Neanderthal man probably did not walk hunched over at all; instead riding a small green electric golf cart with cup holders in the arm rests and a big yellow Pokemon Pikachu painted on the bonnet. As he popped out of his capsule hotel, yawned his morning yawn and reached out to the dash board to pour himself another perfect, automated cappuccino, his cushioned leather seat would have reached its pre-programmed optimum bum-warming temperature of 37.3 degrees Celsius.


Techno

As you probably figured by now, our Japanese experience has been almost exclusively wonderful. Our arrival, for starters, was silky smooth. Our airplane door popped open and the ultra modern Narita airport sped us quickly and painlessly through it, via an uninterrupted sequence of elevators, escalators and conveyor belts, till we'd been reunited with our backpacks and were well on our way to our first hostel. And that, incidentally, was where our tears of joy dried up.

Because, as we opened the door to our 85 dollar youth hostel cell, our new-found Nippon-love took its first hit. To say that Japanese hotel rooms are small is a big understatement. Our miniature bunk bed, new sheets suggestively stacked on top of it, was so tightly wedged against the four encroaching walls that once we had fitted ourselves and our backpacks inside the room, we had to take turns to breathe.


Kyoto Gate

Unfazed by this smallness, the next morning we went out to explore Fukuoka, our randomly chosen first destination in the south of Japan. It was clean like you wouldn't believe. Fukuoka, for a fact, is a city without a single discarded cigarette butt. We checked. It was beautiful and awesome and blustery, and in an instant Japan was worth any awkward jet lag, to experience first hand.

The people are lovely, too. They are nice and polite, suspiciously so, as if in the back of their head planning some dastardly deed when you least expect it. In fact, they are probably the nicest, gentlest people we've ever met. So nice that they make the people of Lao (who were, until about a week ago, "the nicest, gentlest people we've ever met") look like evil barbarians.

And it goes for everyone, not just shop attendants, receptionists or other people who are after your money. The Japanese are so respectful to each other that every evening the main national TV news broadcaster bows so deeply that the whole country sees his bald spot.

And so, Japan is a joyous delight. A sugary pause in our odyssey of the world. Birds sing. Children laugh. It's like being in a corporate promo for Perfectville. Everything is right where you need it. On every street corner 24 hour vending machines obediently wait to serve a variety of refreshments, all in perfect working order, of course. As you enter restaurants or shops or post offices, the staff greet you in unison, as if that is what human beings do to each other.

The train stations are unlike other train stations. For one, the trains run on time (we've actually set our watches by them). Secondly, there's no loitering, littering or other unsavoury behaviour. And for the first time in our lives, there is no drunken man on platform 12 talking gibberish to his invisible friend.

Since our Japan Rail Passes allow us to board nearly all Shinkansen - the world famous super fast trains - we have used them for almost every journey so far (it's so fast it needs to lean over during cornering, otherwise it would fall over). Bursting with childish glee we took one to Hiroshima, so visibly thrilled that an elderly conductor on the platform spontaneously presented us with a small gift wrapped Shinkansen plastic ruler, normally intended for 10 year old trainspotters. Sweet. Arigato conductor-san.


Bullet train

Hiroshima was, as one would expect, a sobering experience. We visited the site where at 8.15am on the 6th of August 1944 the 'Enola Gay' dropped 'Little Boy' - the world's first atomic bomb. An obliterated skeleton of a building, now known as the A-Bomb Dome, still stands untouched at the hypocentre, as a mark of respect to the 90 000 people who in less than two seconds lost their lives. A further 40 000 people who died from radiation sickness, leukemia and burns are remembered in the amazingly well-curated Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum.

Out of solidarity we sent a symbolic post card to Gordon Brown, to remind him to get rid of the UK's remaining 200 nuclear war heads. Hopefully he'll get round to it one of these days.


A-bomb dome

Then we took a view-blurring Shinkansen ride to Kyoto, one of Japan's main cultural hubs, where we rode bicycles to Buddhist temples and watched beautiful Geisha's pose for crowds. The famous pink cherry blossoms weren't quite blossoming yet, but a few early branches gave us a lovely sneak peek.


Geisha

Now we're in Tokyo, the mega metropolis that once upon a time was a small fishing village called 'Edo'. On the agenda is the Tokyo Fish market (sushi breakfast), Anime Centre, beer museum and photography exhibits.

Who knows, we might even get to see a cigarette butt or two.

Sayonara, for now.