Time Travel

I’m not entirely sure what time it is, or for that matter what day it is.  Yesterday, or rather two days ago if you believe in the International Date Line, I boarded a big bird from San Francisco to Tokyo and commenced a twelve-hour trip that chased the sun across the Pacific.  After 24 hours of sunlight, my body finally conceded that sleep was an imperative.  My brain, however, continues to try to reason with being 19 hours ahead of myself in a day known colloquially as tomorrow.

 

HOW TO KILL TWELVE HOURS

The flight moved along nicely, given the diversion of two feature films, one symphony, two crosswords, two meals (“vegan,” in honor my lactose intolerance, is a word derived from the Latin root meaning “tasteless concoction, in a bowl”), one book and lots of conversation with the guy sitting next to me, who hails from a provincial town called Monte Sereno, California.  Having no familiarity with any of my hyperactive family members who also reside in that locale, his credibility was limited.  But, as a frequent traveler to Bangkok, he did provide me with the name of the preferred establishment for custom-made business suits and shirts in that city.  If only I weren’t retired.  (What am I saying?!?  Bite my tongue; a neuron must have slipped its synapse due to jet lag.)

 

A GRAND PRINCE

At Narita Airport in Tokyo, I met my friends Kay and Ken Drews, from Reston, Virginia, who were fellow travelers in the Serengeti and Egypt trips.  We’ll be here in Tokyo for three nights, and then join four other friends from previous trips for the next leg to Bangkok.  There, we’ll begin our month of travel, comprising half of the touring group.  Kay wisely did some internet homework, and arranged for accommodations here at the Grand Prince Akasaka at a great discount.  This is a stunning five-star hotel that towers over Central Tokyo, and makes a listing in most of the tour books for its architectural originality.  Its lower levels meet in a convergence of marble and glass that serves as a reception area, teeming with smiling guest relations folk in matching red tailored jackets, none of whom seem to be over 25.  There are 10 restaurants (no kidding), including an observation deck.  I mention these mundane details to introduce a word regarding dining in any of the downtown hotel restaurants in Tokyo.  Don’t.  A hamburger runs about $35; the breakfast buffet $50.  It moves up from there.  But we have located a number of terrific restaurants off-campus that have an atmosphere of authenticity, great food and don’t necessarily require a second mortgage.

GUIDEBOOK IN HAND

Today we did some light sightseeing, beginning with a half-day guided tour of some of the city’s highlights.  We started at the Imperial Palace, a nice 250-acre estate that serves its two occupants handily.  We knocked at the moat, but the Emperor probably wasn’t at home.  We particularly enjoyed a view of the city from atop one of the newer skyscrapers on Roppongi Hill, and got the opportunity to appreciate the splendor of Tokyo Bay and the expanse of this sprawling collection of architecture, most constructed during the past 60 years. 

The other highlight was a tour of the Asakusa Kannon Temple, a large Buddhist shrine complex begun in 628.  My smiling face is seen through a haze of incense, blocking one of its magnificent buildings.  Later, we shopped through the Ginza section of town, crowded with upscale department stores and thousands of Sunday customers, and braved Tokyo’s tangle of a subway system.

Tomorrow: some of the parks, a museum or two and perhaps some Kabuki.  And just in case I don’t get another chance to get online before my Nov. 11 flight to Bangkok, here’s a toast to my darling sister and brother-in-law, Arl and Stu, on the occasion of their 35^th anniversary.  Some may have said it wouldn’t last, but I think them wrong!