Dearest Rachel -
No, to the best of my knowledge, it's not so momentous as yours; we're just getting everything packed to be taken to our ship. There is a twinge of concern, as we won't be absolutely sure we'll be able to get on until we're actually on. But that's not something we're going to focus on, as there's nothing we can do about that for now.
Instead, we enjoy one last breakfast at the cafe overlooking the garden we'd wandered through when we first got here. It seems appropriate to bookend our stay this way.
The checkout process is straightforward enough, and we'd unpacked so little here that it's simplicity itself to zip our bags up and leave them for the porters to bring downstairs to the bus that will be taking us around town before dropping us off at the terminal. For the moment, though, we're just waiting for everyone else to assemble.
Eventually, the rest of the cruisers staying at the hotel do show up, and it appears there are more than there were yesterday; the group has to be split between two buses, in any event, which would suggest as much. Just eyeballing the crowd, though, I'm not exactly seeing it; there seems to be about the same number of travelers as before, give or take a couple. We don't look like a big enough crowd to require two buses, but hey, I'm not the expert here.
***
Our first stop on our meandering route through Tokyo is the Imperial Palace, right in the center of the city, like a cross between Central Park and Buckingham. As we step off the bus and make our way from the parking lot, Daniel observes how it would be nice if we still had those whisper things so that we can hear the tour guide describe the points of interest. As it is, we have to stick to Kaoru-san like glue to keep up with what she has to say. Which for the most part isn't hard, except that when we're crossing a busy street, we really have to hurry; it's a lot of lanes, and not much time for all of us to make it in.
I wonder if you remember how the 'don't walk' signs here chirp like birds as we make our way across the street. I know how you used to talk about your Dad herding you and your Mom along, always saying "I think we can make this light," but I don't recall that particular observation about the sounds the lights would make when he was trying to do so.
One of the police stands in front of the double bridge leading to the imperial residence.
Daniel poses in front of the first of the two bridges.
Being gaijin, we can't get any closer to the imperial palace from this direction; effectively, we're walking around in the equivalent of the Court of the Gentiles. Even normal Japanese are only allowed so close but twice a year, on January 2nd (as part of New Year's festivities) and February 23rd (for Emperor Naruhito's birthday - I still think of the emperor's birthday being December 23rd, but that was Akihito, the previous Emperor).
Daniel compares the officers at this police stand to the Beefeaters, although they don't wear the fancy garb of the English guards. By comparison, these gentlemen look very much like normal policemen.
We are also told about the East garden, but as it's Monday, the area isn't open for visitors. Indeed, at this point, we need to hurry back to the bus as it is. Still, I try to catch a few sights while we do.
Such as this stand of black pines on the outskirts of the palace grounds.
We passed by this building on the way to the imperial palace, and Daniel was asking Kaoru-san about it, as to what it was, since the neoclassical pillars on the lower floors, while not unusual back home, seemed out of character in Tokyo. However, without a picture to show her, we weren't able to describe it adequately, in order for her to know what we were talking about. I snapped this picture from the bus on our way out. It turns out to belong to an insurance company. Kind of anticlimactic, but that's how it goes sometimes.
As we drive along the Sumida River that flows through the city, Daniel points out the Bandai/Namco building on the opposite bank. Perhaps he was thinking that it would interest Logan.
On this side of the river, he pointed out rows upon rows of bicycles. Curiously enough, he claims that he doesn't see any locks on them.
Another piece of interesting architecture: the Asahi Brewing Company's headquarters, which is literally designed to look like a giant mug of beer.
And you just know that it would have been a race between the two of us as to who would point out the oddly-worded Engrish ad copy on the awning of this restaurant we were dropped off at just outside Asakusa.
The Kaminarimon, or 'Thunder Gate,' marking the entrance of the Asakusa shopping district. Originally built by Tokugawa Iemitsu, the third shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, in 1612, the gate was rebuilt by the founder of what ultimately became Panasonic, one Mr. Matsushita, in gratitude for prayers that cured his arthritis, or so the story goes.
Photographs simply don't do justice to how crowded the street is.
There are even arcades branching off from the main arcade, as well.
Daniel points out that at least, unlike Israel, folks aren't pushy around here. It's crowded, yes, but people just go about their business without running into you for the most part.
The pink banners on the temple gate, referencing April 8th is announcing a celebration for the birthday of the Buddha.
Inside the temple, the air is heavy with the scent of smoke and incense - recall, if you will, the Church of the Nativity, with its hanging censers.
Next to the Buddhist temple is the Shinto shrine; the gate in the middle of the torii is to prevent mere mortals from walking in the center of the path, as that is for the gods.
Much of this area is still here from the 17th century, rather than having to be reconstructed due to earthquakes, fire or air raids. I don't know what that says when it survives, while the Buddhist gate and temple had to be rebuilt; I leave it to readers to draw their own conclusions.
Daniel wonders if there's any significance to passing by on the outside of the torii - as opposed to walking through the center of the path - to which I have no answer.
We make our way back down the length of Asakusa, through another alley en route to our restaurant.
The place might be considered unassuming, apart from the fact that it's by the entrance to the Akasuka district.
It's very Japanese - but what would you expect? - down to the need to take your shoes off before you sit down, and put on wooden geta in order to walk down the hall to use the restroom.
You know that your dad would say "We could make this, if we hurry." Also note the jinriksha cart waiting for its driver and a customer; it wouldn't have occurred to me that this was still a thing.
We walk several blocks, and across a fair number of streets crowded with traffic, to our next stop on our tour; a Japanese tea ceremony. The place advertises 'Japanese cultural experiences,' which is all well and good, but the deliberate nature of it all makes me question whether or not all somewhat contrived, and if so, to what extent.
Kaoru-san mentions that many Japanese don't engage in tea ceremonies and other old traditional cultural activities. "The tourists know more about Japanese culture than many Japanese," she laments. Maybe that's how a place like this can stay in business, as there are so many natives as well as tourists to educate.
We're among the last to enter the ceremony room; not sure how that happened, although we were shown up to the room through a rear entrance as opposed to the front stairway, so there's that.
Our hostess doffs her geta before setting herself on her knees on the tatami platform, and shuffles herself forward to position herself in front of the center boiler.
Her presentation involves physical slides, as it were. The pages she's showing here mention that, in the old days, tea houses would be surrounded by a garden, and would have doors that required one to crouch to enter. Samurai, in particular, would have to divest themselves of their swords. Considering that the tea ceremony is meant to induce a sense of peace and tranquility, these seems more than reasonable.
Several of our number are asked to volunteer to learn how to mix matcha tea in the ceremonial way.
At the ceremony's conclusion, our hostess holds up a quartet of characters, similar to those in the alcove behind her. They translate to 'one life, one encounter,' and carry a similar meaning as the old Greek philosophic axiom about not being able to step in the same river twice. It means that our meeting here may very well never happen again, particularly not with the same collection of dramatis personae. It was certainly something for a samurai on the eve of a great battle to contemplate, seeing as the following day might well be his last.
As we file out after the ceremony is finished, I spot that they're using store-bought sweets. Well, was I expecting them to make their own?
Once outside, I notice a hotel nearby, and find myself compelled to check something out.
Yes, it's one of those hotels.
Do you remember how we considered visiting one of those places if we ever got over here together? Of course, you'll pardon the expression, but that ship has sailed.
Although… that's really a whole other story for today for me to cover, if I can.
Anyway, keep an eye on us, honey, and wish us luck. We're going to need it.
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