Tokyo Travel Blog – Getting to Asakusabashi

It may be 9am in the old country, but it’s 5am here in the city of the future.

We’ve been away from New Zealand for nearly two days now, and it’s been long and tiring. I don’t think it matters how much you plan for it, you can never really get away from Jetlag.

Our trip like all good trips starts at Auckland Airport. I enjoyed the friendly banter between myself and the Immigration Officer as we debated the relative merits of leaving New Zealand for Japan for only 8 days, and whether this seemed reasonable, or infact I was trying to smuggle Mangos back to New Zealand on my return. After then going into detail about how the leave scheme at Hamilton City Council works, and my recent arrival there, he seemed to lose interest and we were through… to wait.

Be early. Always be early when travelling. When you’re early your biggest stress is waiting. When you’re late, your biggest stress is not flying. However, being five hours early means extra prepared. If there was a crash on the motorway, we would have had enough time for that. If there was a bicycle race for toddlers, we’d have enough time to watch it and still be able to travel. Earlyness is next to godliness.

So we waited in Auckland Aiport for our flight to Sydney. There’s always the temptation to purchase stuff there at Duty Free before flying. Don’t do it. Mainly because you have the whole rest of your holiday to buy stuff, it seems a little rash to buy stuff at the first chance you could. Then again, there’s not really much else to do once you’ve gone through to the other side of the airport. A friendly Burger King (I did not check – but it should have been duty free I guess), a Whitcoulls with all the prices increased by 12.5% and then GST removed at the counter (I could be making this up), and a whole bunch of Tongan Rugby Teams who’s flights were delayed for four hours. Luckily, they had time up their sleeve.

The flight to Sydney from Auckland was relatively un-eventful. I’m including the meal in this. Ever had the McCains Cheesey Potato things you cook in the microwave from frozen? That was what the meal was, with additional chicken. Thankfully, I happen to love those things, so I was in heaven. Kathryn however, not so impressed.

Sydney Airport was where we had another 5 hour wait. Prepared. If you’re in transit you don’t pass through customs, but you do have to pass through security. Which is why I have no belt. Either here or Auckland, I was asked to take off my belt to stop said alarm machine making an alarm. Afterwards, it was not seen again. Advice – always remember when something leaves your body, and make sure it comes back. Except for you know whats. Kathryn got frisked here, just a gentle pat on the breasts from a kind Australian, and I thought wow, she didn’t even buy her a drink first. Australians, so direct.

For someone who’s never been to Australia apart from the airports, it’s like a distant cousin of New Zealand. It’s all familiar, but just a little different. All the chip brands are the same, Twisties, Burger Rings, but their designs are straight from the 80′s. Same with Just Juice. White Sans Serif Arial Font on black background, which the New Zealand Just Juice looks positively like a party in comparision. The people seem the same, just less helpful. I ask the guy if there’s a Westpac ATM in the airport, he says no. Didn’t mention the ANZ ATM just across from him. I guess he didn’t want to disapoint me. Purchase a bottle of Deep Spring Orange and Mango (different design again) from the lady at the Newsagent, and no hello, how are you, just a demand for money, and change promptly received – that’s efficient. All those plesentries = money down the toilet.

One thing I saw at Sydney Airport I haven’t seen at Hamilton Airport (apart from people) was the Airbus A380. A fully double decker plane. Amazing, simply amazing. I mean the plane has 500+ people on board. That’s more than the population at Taumarunui High School, including Teachers. Wow.

Anyhoo, after watching Mike Myers in The Cat In The Hat (worst thing on TV ever), and Australia’s Funniest Home Videos (I stand corrected), it was time to board the plane. The plane was set to leave around 10pm Australian Time, and get to Japan at 6am Japan time. I figured we could sleep on the plane, and boom, we’d be ready to hit the town first thing. But alas, it just didn’t pan out.

After about a day of travel, even the best Rexona Sensitive for Men gives up. I would too. And hence a pleasent aroma of home brew replaced it instead. And thankfully, this wouldn’t go away, but would just increase in pleasentness over time. So that’s one thing against instant travel. And the other is you can’t fight jetlag, you can’t even trick it. Weirdly we were just supremely tired at 5pm in Sydney, delerious by 10pm, and wide awake by 4am Japanese time, to be tired again at 10am.

The flight was also uneventful. I did see a Japanese woman try and eat milk using a fork. I thought you’re doing it wrong – should have used chopsticks instead. I also saw another woman spread butter on the outside of the fruit scone (without fruit) instead of the inside. I thought wow, that’s efficiency.

Finally, we arrived at Narita Airport. Unless Hamilton, City of the Future (year 3000), Narita is City of the Future (year 1980). It’s what the future looks like, if you were in the 1960s, and trying to think forward. Like those old VCRs, everything was black, grey, and full of technology. Hey, why walk, when you can use a flat escalator that talks. I did. Don’t feel ashamed, it goes for like 300m. I guess in New Zealand we just use concrete instead.

After picking up our matching bags (travel tip – use matching bags with pretty coloured ribbons, you’ll feel full of life), it was on to Immigration and Customs. Unlike New Zealand, Japan was a breeze. Just finger prints, smile for the camera, and you’re done. The camera even talks to you and counts down. I didn’t see if there was the option to add words like Hello Kitty Loves You on the photo. Otherwise, all done. No questions, hardly a word. Customs likewise. Not even a blink.

And so we were through to Narita Arrivals Hall. After carefully researching at home all the options for trains and buses leaving Narita (and I mean carefully, like two or three hours), in Narita I just picked the next train. Take that research. 1,280 yen later, we were on the Rapid Express Train to Tokyo Station. The first four carriages were only going as far as a random town, leading me to consider – were we on these first four carriages. Thankfully, my fifth form Japanese kicked in, and finding the only people willing to set next to the foreigners, Japanese Schoolgirls, I asked if they were going to Tokyo station, no, train, go station, this train, station, go tokyo? And so, they left the train.

Thankfully we arrived at Tokyo Station. Not too thankful though, since it only has like a hundred exits. When all is lost, catch the next train on the Yamanote line. It’s the light green line, and goes around in circles. Since it was Sunday, the train wasn’t packed, so this advice might not work for you on a weekday. Being in Tokyo Station at 8.25am, and with checkin at Anne Hostel at 4pm, we only had a cool 9.5 hours to wait. Prepared.

Like any geek would, we headed to Akihabara, if only because we had to go somewhere. One cool thing about the trains is, you pay for a ticket when you get on, hold onto the ticket, and then use that ticket to leave the station at the other end. If there is a difference in fares between what you paid when you got on, and where you departed, fare adjustment machines will take your old ticket and money, and turn it into a new ticket that will let you off. Turns out there’s no difference between Tokyo Station and Akihabara Station when coming from Narita. But good to check.

When in Akihabara, why not do what the french do, and go to a faux-French cafe. We did. There’s always certain rituals you need to do in other countries, and here it’s no different. It’s easy to figure out though, just follow others. Some pastries, a sandwich, a coffee, and 1000 yen later, we were having breakfast. My home brand aroma was getting to me though – I had to do something. Off to the toilet where I had a shower for my armpits. A little soap, a lot of water, and they were smelling nude again. a bit of Mitchem would ensure all day I’d feel light and refreshed.

After Akihabara, back on the Yamanote line for Harajuku. Remember, always buy the lowest fare (130 yen) and pay the difference at a fare adjustment station. At Harajuku we looked for the Gothic Lolita girls at the bridge to Yoyogi Park, but we found hardly any. Instead, we found a massive tori. I started to do my first Five Minute Travel episode, and Kathryn the cameraperson chased me backwards into a Japanese person. Great. I should have just said I was Australian, he would have understood.

Carrying around travel cases, no matter how small, is a pain. Coin lockers fix this. However, they’re inside the train station barriers. So I purchase a ticket (130 yen), get to the coin locker, and pay 400 yen, for a space. How long you say? Forever I think, then again, being mostly in Japanese, how would I know. After getting rid of the bags, something dawned on me. I did not grab the ticket to get out of the station. I should have remembered, anything that leaves the person, should come back to the person. No to worry though, I head to the manned booth and then just speak the fastest English with hand movements coupled with the odd Japanese word, and then really slow English words, to explain my predicament. Thankfully, he let me through due to a lack of understanding.

No matter where you are, and Harajuku is a shopper’s paradise, if you feel tired and smelly, you just want to have a shower and nap. That describes our experience in Harajuku. So we headed back after a couple of hours to Asakusabashi, where we are staying, to just wait two hours before we could check in. After waiting in a shrine for an hour, we moved on to McDonalds. Ordering isn’t too hard, but my tip is either to not care what you eat or learn Katakana. One chi-ku-en-fu-re-to later, we had a burger, and for an extra 60 yen you can upsize that to family size – we had enough chips to sponsor an African kid. I also through the magic of my Japanese ordered a ma-ku-fu-ra-rii-o-re-o. A McFlurry Oreo. That’s right, still here. Only 12,000 km away, but I had a McFlurry. No KFC Krusher from Grey Street for me.

Thankfully, it was now time to check in. We did, paid, and promptly fell asleep. And then it was 5am and I started typing this, and now it’s 6am, and I’ve finished typing this.