Shabu Shabu, Kushikatsu ...

Lunchtime in central Tokyo

Where was I? Back in Tokyo, where we ate a few Japanese meals, not as many as we should have, perhaps, given the opportunity, because we were staying in the middle of the city where food of every origin is available, slightly modified to suit local tastes; we ate at north Indian restaurants, Thai and Vietnamese restaurants, at a very good Italian trattoria near the Nihonbashi bridge (twice) and at French bakeries for breakfast in the mornings where you could pick up croissants and quiches with the metal tongs provided and put them on clean trays to take to your table. To collect your cup of coffee you have to bring a paper receipt to the drinks station and wait.

Before and after eating, moist hand wipes wrapped in plastic are liberally supplied. In the posher places you're given a hot flannel roll for this purpose, also wrapped in plastic, more often than not.

The Japanese seem to enjoy eating beef; a popular thing to do is to eat at the places where they serve "steak and hamburg" (i.e. hambagu, a hamburger steak without the bun, smothered in Teryaki sauce).

Shabu shabu beef portion

A couple of the people with whom Chris was working in the city invited him and me out for a meal at a Shabu Shabu restaurant. The meal — of the sort sometimes called a Chinese Fondue — was cooked at our table, effectively by the four of us, although a waitress came by from time to time to supply the ingredients and scoop unsightly foam from the broth that was cooking in two shiny copper, lidded bowls. The amount of raw beef on each of our plates looked daunting (see photo) but the slices were so thin that they disappeared fairly quickly, once quickly dipped into the broth with our chopsticks, then consumed. "Shabu shabu" indicates the gesture and perhaps the sound you hear as you do this. You mustn't keep the meat cooking for long. You're encouraged to grind your own seeds and spices in which to coat and flavour it; each diner has an individual bowl of soy sauce too. We also had a bowl of fresh, raw vegetables, tofu and rice noodles to coat with sauce and add to the broth, one ingredient at a time. The finale to this meal entailed drinking the broth from soup cups, having cooked ramen noodles in it and eaten them also.

Shabu shabu sauce, seeds and spices

Shabu shabu vegetables with tofu and noodles

Left to our own devices, we found a small place one evening in the Kanda district where kushikatsu, a speciality of Osaka, was served. This meal was fun, eaten close to a table of noisy young men squatting on small stools. The kushi are the bamboo skewers, whereas katsu are the breadcrumb coated, deep fried pieces of meat, fish, prawns or vegetables (onion, Lotus root, pickled turnip, aubergines, green peppers, asparagus spears, mushrooms) or hard-boiled quails' eggs. You're meant to dip these delicacies into a black sauce to flavour them, presented in a stainless steel dish, but double-dipping is not allowed. In case you'd like extra sauce on your katsu, raw cabbage leaves are provided; again, don't dip them twice because it is unhygienic, but you can use them as spoons to scoop some sauce from the dish.

At one restaurant I ventured into, on an upper floor (many eating places are not at ground level), I was shepherded into a private annex; I'm not sure why. There wasn't much English vocabulary on the menu here so I chose from the photos, although what I was served didn't match the picture very well. 

On a hot afternoon towards the end of our stay we cooled down in the piano bar below our hotel, where we were treated to a sort of clarinet and piano recital as we sipped our drinks, an elegant place hung with splendid lanterns.

A quiet city of 83,000

Grave of Cecil Spring Rice, 1859-1918

On my way to pick up my bike that has been in for a tune-up at the bike shop this week, I walked through Beechwood Cemetery, Canada's national cemetery today. I was on the look out for a certain grave, the resting place of Sir Cecil Spring Rice ('Springy' Rice, as he was affectionately known). He died in Ottawa in 1918, having written the words of a hymn that nearly everyone knows: "I vow to thee, my country ..." (the music by Holst and its repeated use on Armistice / Remembrance Day are what makes it memorable). The motive for my quest was that I need to illustrate an article that one of the Ottawa-CFUW members has written about this, for publication in an upcoming issue of our newsletter, for which I'm currently the editor. We'd already found a picture of the grave online, but I wasn't sure we had permission to use it, so thought I'd take my own photo.

Knowing that there are a great many graves in this cemetery I thought I had best go into the office to ask where this one was located. The lady at the reception desk was very helpful, even giving me a map, having looked up the information in a thick reference book. The areas of the graveyard are numbered, in no very logical order it seems to me, but I'm sure there's a system behind it. I commented on how full the cemetery was, and the lady replied that "at the last count" they reckoned they had 83,000 people buried here. That is a lot. Some of their families have had memorial trees planted as well.

During my walk I started on Beechwood Avenue and walked all the way to the St. Laurent Blvd. at the far end, which is quite a distance, meandering to follow the roads and to search within Section 22. I did find his grave in the end but failed to find the grave of my friend Melita, whose funeral I'd attended here last year, the remembrance ceremony taking place in the "Sacred Space" indoors and at her graveside (but we were led there and I couldn't remember the exact plot). The place looks different in the summer.

The Chinese Pagoda at the cemetery

I'd been on a guided tour here once and remembered that at the eastern end there's a Chinese area with names on the gravestones written in Chinese characters. I found that again and admired the oriental pavilion with a cast iron incense burner beside it and a gateway that adorns the garden alongside. This no doubt gives comfort to the relatives of the people buried here: a touch of home.

Fish and kites

Former fish dock on the river (seen from Kachidoki Bridge)

I caught a whiff of the Tsukiji Outer Market area before I reached it. First I had taken a look inside the Buddhist Tsukiji Hongwanji Temple, as large as a cathedral, that had immediately caught my eye as I emerged from the closest metro station, H10 on the Hibiya Line. Walking towards the Kachidoki bridge over the Sumida River, the market area was on my right; I could smell the fish from the other side of that 6 lane road. The fishermen's dock where they sold their fish from the boat used to be here too, but has recently moved elsewhere (to Toyusu).

As usual, this was a very, very hot day and it was a relief to find that some of the stores and shopping areas in that crowded district had cool interiors, the market hall in particular, where I quenched my thirst with a bottle of freshly squeezed mandarin orange juice, a glass bottle for once (plastic is the norm, unfortunately, and most shopping in Tokyo, apart from the very high-end stores, involves plastic bags too). The fishes, large and small, the eels, octopus, turtles and so on for sale in that long, old fashioned market hall, recently caught, were displayed in crates and packed in ice. I found the squishy-looking dead turtles particularly revolting, but I suppose the locals get used to them. Shellfish is sold complete with shells. By the time I was looking round, late morning, a lot of the day's produce has been sold already. In the warren of narrow streets around this place, many other things apart from seafood were on sale, but it was mostly seafood. Tourists can pick up bargain souvenirs here, tawashi brushes, teapots, kitchen utensils, speciality teas, and many places sell viciously sharp looking kitchen knives that wouldn't be allowed through airport security checks. It was a great place for browsing, very atmospheric and noisy, the marketeers shouting out their wares, and two men on one corner literally singing the praises of a local restaurant, in counterpoint. Overhead was a tangle of electrical cables, as in the more chaotic parts of Chinese or Indian cities. I felt thoroughly abroad here. On one alleyway fish was being grilled on a barbecue, charred by means of a flame-thrower. Some shopkeepers and restaurant owners were coming outside to sluice down the pavement outside their premises. I caught one on camera.

My chef at the Sushi restaurant

Beginning to want some lunch, I paused outside one of the numerous fish restaurants, this one called Sushi Say Honten, and was persuaded inside with expressive gestures and welcoming words in Japanese from the man at the door. I was offered a high stool at the counter where I could watch my choice of sushi roll being prepared. The young chef had a sort of conversation with me in which he ascertained that I was from Canada, at which he beamed all over his face, saying "Ah, MAPRE SYLUP!" --- at which I smiled broadly, too. The young man also conveyed to me that he was going to prepare me a very good lunch: using hygienic gloves started slapping some sticky rice together and preparing thin slices of raw tuna, salmon and yellowtail, with serious concentration. It did taste good, with a small cup of miso soup on the side. Whenever any individual or party finished their meal, paid their bill and left the restaurant, all the staff shouted something incomprehensible and cheered: a lively farewell. I got the same treatment.

*****

Exhausted by the stimulating time I'd spent in Tsukiji, I didn't feel like discovering much more in the afternoon, but on my way back to the hotel, after a little searching, I found the entrance to the quirky Kite Museum in Nihonbashi. It appeared to be a popular restaurant, with lines of people waiting for a table; indeed the owner of this restaurant is also the kite collector who owns the small museum upstairs, the entrance to which is at the door of a narrow lift on the 5th floor. When I went, I was the only visitor at this museum. It was quite claustrophobic, packed with kites of every age, size, shape and origin. Most were made of paper, but some were quilted or made of cloth affixed with feathers, etc. Curious children must love it here. The exhibition includes paintings or drawings of kites and kite flying. I liked the demon faces and the extraordinary paper kite that looked like a sailing ship.

Means of transport in Tokyo

Skyliner train at its Narita terminus

There's a choice of transportation to reach the centre of Tokyo from Narita airport. On our first visit seven years ago we'd been met by a Japanese gentleman who helped us buy tickets for a direct "Limousine bus" ride to the Tokyo City Air Terminal near our hotel. This time, the TCAT was not so convenient because we'd have needed to buy a separate subway ticket from to this year's hotel. We'd had some advice from a citizen of Tokyo who told us that our best option was to take the fast, Skyliner train to Ueno, then change to the Ginza line. Taking the Narita Express train to Tokyo's central station and going the rest of the way on foot would have worked too, but the walking route at the end wouldn't have been straightforward.

The Skyliner is comfortable and fast, although you can't see much out of the window beyond the barrier fence that lines its tracks. Before we were allowed to board the train at the airport we had to wait while it was rapidly and efficiently cleaned. Seat reservations are compulsory. My only complaint is that foreign travellers ought to be warned the ticket office deals with cash only, not credit cards. We were encouraged to buy "Special Discount" return tickets that included full use of the city's underground train system, valid for 24 hours after our arrival. It was a shame we were too tired to take full advantage of this deal.

The subway trains in Tokyo are worth using, for the cultural experience. I was surprised at how full they were at 9:30 - 10 a.m. and around 7 p.m.; Tokyo office workers start and finish work later than in the countries I'm used to, so these are the rush hours. Most trains are air conditioned, which is just as well, but I often noticed people fanning themselves, either with electrical or traditional fans. Not so many people wear face masks in August as in February. The predominately solitary passengers use their smartphones to avoid too much eye contact. Children are brought up to keep quiet and still in the trains. At each stop, electronic signs indicate where you are, Japanese and English displays alternating, showing a list of possible connections and which side of the train to step from. The more up-to-date platforms have barriers with automatic gates that line up with the train doors, preventing suicide attempts. The trains are long and frequent. Stations are long, too, some requiring a good half kilometre's walk underground, and generously supplied with shops, eateries (numerous French bakeries / coffee shops associated with the commercial towers above street level), information centres and washrooms. Their passages are spotlessly clean. At the stairwells of our local station, Mitsukoshimae, lights in changing colours enhance the brick walls. I have read that the blue lights are another suicide preventative, that has proven effective in this nervy city.

Travel by road is another story. Chris rode a short distance in a posh limousine to one of his meetings. We saw regular taxis slipping down side streets, but didn't make use of one. An eye-catching vehicle was the little one-person EV we passed on our first morning in Tokyo, ready for hire on a street near the Imperial Palace; we also found one of these at Toyota's MegaWeb showplace on Odaiba island, where I sat in it. The driver's seat is the only seat; someone my size just fits, but it would be too small for Chris.

The Concept Car

The MegaWeb theme park, fun for the whole family, is really a glorified car showroom, a clever idea of Toyota's. It features one of their Concept Cars, a futuristic, "smart" vehicle that could be fuelled by hydrogen. The site also has a race track would-be race drivers can try out, and an area where able-bodied kids can sit in wheelchairs to play basketball, an allusion to the fact that Toyota is sponsoring the 2020 Paralympics.

I'm not sure where these cars come from, being enjoyed by young tourists

Speaking of the MegaWeb reminds me that this was located beside Tokyo's 115 m high Giant Sky Wheel, another vehicle we rode on, in a very small cabin that wobbled. It wasn't air-conditioned on that very hot day (Sunday, August 11th) and it did not feel at all safe up there, but no harm done. The choice was between that cabin and a larger one with a glass floor (no thanks!) --- more expensive, cooler inside. We were snapped by an opportunistic photographer at the entrance.

Skywheel seen from below

The hatless girl noticing a Fisheries Inspection ship

We couldn't leave Tokyo without taking a boat tour. We rode on a smallish river boat based at the Nihonbashi (Edo Bridge in the old days) the spot where Tokyo's zero milestone was set in the 17th century, now below concrete pillars supporting the overhead motorway. The authorities have done their best to beautify the underside of the motorway by having a section of it painted glossy white and by affixing lights that reflect in the paint after dark. We took the boat tour after lunch on a sunny, windy day. Straw sunhats were provided for passengers, but before we'd gone very far, one of the girls on the front deck lost hers overboard in a gust; it sank in the Nihonbashi River. We'd walked beside the wider Sumida River that morning and seen a pair of fire-brigade boats doing manoeuvres on it. Now we emerged from the canal further downstream on that river in choppy conditions that made for an exhilarating ride. We bounced along under several big bridges and past several important looking boats.

Firemen working on the Sumida River

Tokyo docklands , as seen from the Big Wheel

Bridge at a river confluence in Tokyo

On the river boat the Captain gave the commentary (in Japanese)

Out in Tokyo Bay

For me, the most fun in Tokyo can be had by riding on the Yurikamome Line train across the high Rainbow [suspension] Bridge crossing the mouth of the Sumida River into the docklands on the Odaiba island, the reclaimed, very modern part of town where my daughter stayed for a conference once, at the Grand Nikko Hotel. I went by myself on a weekday then brought Chris back for a more crowded experience the following Sunday. The quieter time was better because I could sit at the front of the driverless train on that day. It isn't only children who enjoy this. A train ticket allowing unlimited rides is the best bet for this line; then you can get off and on again as often as you wish. As a matter of fact I have written a blogpost about the experience before. On this trip I walked through the stations at Odaiba-kaihinkoen from which you can walk downhill to a beach, Daiba where a copy of the Statue of Liberty stands, the Tokyo International Cruise Terminal from which you can visit the Maritime Museum or what remains of it (after seven years they still say this ship-like building is being renovated), Aomi to visit the Mega Web, big wheel or "Venus Fort" (this being a fancy shopping mall in an architectural style akin to the Galleria Vittorio in Milan, not a sex shop as Chris assumed from its name), Kokusai-tenjijo-seimon where the Convention Centre is (the Tokyo Big Sight), Toyosu (the terminus, a residential area), and at Shimbashi of course, the first and last stop on the line.

The layers of Tokyo

Nihonbashi, with freeway above and canal beneath

We didn't go on the fast roads. We saw them, above our heads or beneath high windows, intertwining on concrete stilts. Below the roads are the surface railways, then the residential and commercial streets, some narrow, some wide. The river and its tributary canals are another level of interconnection. Under the surface lies the network of subway stations and underground trains.

Canal dredging under a motorway

Tokyo's houses used to look like this

This is so for most modern cities, Montreal springs to mind, but cramped and crowded Tokyo is a particularly impressive example of how the multiple layers of infrastructure work. Not only that, but the history of the place appears layered too. Concealed or partly concealed beneath one thing is another. Most of what we saw was super-modern, but below the modernity or in hidden corners we caught glimpses of how Tokyo used to be, in the past.

View of Tokyo station from the roof garden of the Kitte building

Yurikamone Line near Daiba station

Fuji headquarters on Odaiba, Tokyo's artificial island

Bank of Japan (built 1896), new skyscrapers beyond it

For all my observation in public places, I could not see below the surface of the Japanese people themselves. They are reserved people who would hesitate to let you penetrate their privacy.

Perhaps the reason the parks of Tokyo are so soothing is that they offer an escape from the multilayered modern city and its complexity. You are at last in a setting that looks relatively natural; even though the layout of the garden is artificially designed. Without distraction, you are free to concentrate on one thing at a time.