3 August, Friday. Departure.
The final packing
of suitcases was completed on Thursday evening. According to our bathroom scales, we had 39.6 kilograms of
luggage in our two suitcases, just within the 20kg per head allowed by the
airline. This did not take account
of our flight bags, which probably weighed a further 5 or 6 kg.
We set the alarm
clock for 5.00 am but in the event did not have to rely on it. Excitement and anticipation woke us in
due time. Having fed our cat,
Pepsi, (our friend, Sue, would visit morning and evening to attend to Pepsi’s
needs and comfort), had our first intake of caffeine and lugged the suitcases
out to the car, we were ready when Sue drove round to accompany us to Heathrow.
I drove the 100
miles to Heathrow Airport and we arrived outside Terminal 2 at around
7.45. Sue drove away in our car,
taking it back home.
We were quickly checked in by the Aeroflot staff and secured window seats near the wing emergency exit in the non-smoking section of their Airbus 310. This done, we went upstairs to the departures lobby and stood around until Adrian, one of our sons, came to see us off. We went through to Pizza express for a breakfast. Terminal 2 had no restaurant where we could get a “normal” English breakfast, so my ham and eggs was marred by pizza-type tomato sauce all over it. Not good, although my coffee was OK.
Eventually it came time for us to go into the departure lobby and Adrian waved us off. Through Passport Control and into the “Airside” area. There were many duty-free stores. The only purchase we made was a battery for the camera. We saved the VAT but this may not have been such a bargain, because the same battery was for sale in our local convenience store in Japan for about half the price we paid to Mr Dixon.
Our flight was called and we dutifully (and in some cases, dutyfreefully) queued to be allowed into the departure lounge, passing through the metal detector while our hand luggage was X-rayed. I could see X-rays of other peoples’ luggage, which, sadly, was not at all interesting. X-rayed bottles of whisky and bulk packs of ciggies show no noteworthy features.
We sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. Our fellow passengers included some student-types, obviously backpacking around Russia or Japan, and a number of prosperous-looking Russians (probably travelling 1st or Business class). Some of these heavily-built men with glamorous blonde companions looked clear candidates for membership of the Mafiya. There were many “ordinary” Russians as well, travelling economy class like us. Judging by the voices we could hear, there would be only 4 or 5 English speakers on board, the rest being largely Russian, with a sprinkling of Japanese.
Finally, the Tannoy called 1st and Business class passengers to board the aircraft. This was a signal for the huddled masses to surge forward, in the spirit of the Potemkin riots, to claim their rightful heritage of getting to their pre-allocated seats before the bourgeoisie. We waited until economy passengers were officially called, and decorously took our seats on the plane. I don’t know if Aeroflot is particularly generous with the seats, but I had plenty of leg room. Chair width was OK, but had I been a couple of stone heavier (speaking as a 96Kg weakling) , it might have been a bit of a squeeze. Nonetheless, I found the seat very comfortable even through the 9hrs 35mins of the 2nd leg of the journey.
Our flight schedule was as follows:
|
Location |
Event |
London Time |
Local Time |
|
Heathrow |
Take Off |
10.55 Friday |
10.55 Friday |
|
Sheremetyevo, Moscow |
Land |
14.35 Friday |
17.35 Friday |
|
Sheremetyevo, Moscow |
Take Off |
16.30 Friday |
19.30 Friday |
|
Narita, Tokyo |
Land |
02.05 Saturday |
10.05 Saturday |
Aeroflot
delivered. We were pretty much on
schedule.
Sheremetyevo
airport is some distance outside Moscow.
My only experience of it is in the transit area, so my conclusions must
be limited. However, its
architecture is functional but some attempt has been made to decorate its
interior. The overall impression
is of darkness and gloom. On
disembarkation while the plane was being refuelled, we were forced to undertake
a route march all round a circular frontage and thence had to run the gauntlet
of the Moscow duty-free arcade.
There are two
gent’s toilets in the area, the nearest, of course, being closed for
cleaning. A long walk back (via,
of all things, an “Irish” bar!) took me to a gent’s at the far end that was in
dire need of being spruced up. It
was vile. I undertook the long
walk back to the embarkation area, developing a thirst on the way. Not being equipped with US dollars (the
only valid currency in Sheremetyevo, apparently) and feeling that a credit card
is excessive for a couple of Cokes, Val and I were unable to purchase a drink,
so we sat in the waiting area for an hour and a half until we were invited to
re-embark.
During the next leg
of the flight, we soon found ourselves flying in darkness. The Aeroflot cabin staff fed and
watered us and then distributed little packs containing velcro-fastened
slippers, eyeshades and a toothbrush and toothpaste, all in a tasteful maroon. There were blankets and little pillows
already provided. With seats
inclined, we managed to sleep quite well for a few hours. Aeroflot woke us up and provided a
breakfast. The food on Aeroflot in
general was good, at least by airline economy class standards.
By now, it was
Saturday, and a few minutes late we touched down at Narita. We got off the plane, and walked
through to Japanese Immigration.
(Somewhere in this process, we took the unmanned shuttle from the
arrival extension to the terminal proper, but I forget the order in which this
happened.)
At Immigration we
discovered that we had made a mess of filling in our disembarkation cards. We had to provide Stephen’s address in
Japan, which meant much ferreting in Val’s bag to find it. (In the event, the address we had for
Stephen had just been changed by the prefectural authorities, so what we told
Immigration in good faith was in fact wrong!) The disembarkation card was not very clear as to what address
was meant. The immigration
official did not seem very happy in his job, so we made a point of smiling
broadly and thanking him profusely for his assistance. The words “water” and “duck’s back”
sprang to mind as we walked through.
Anyway, on to
baggage reclaim, through customs and then on to the Arrivals hall, where
Stephen was waiting to greet us.
After much hugging
and general good-to-see-you-ing, we walked through to the JR (Japan Railway)
station within the terminal complex.
We validated our JR Rail Passes (effective from Sunday) (and incidentally
were mightily impressed by Stephen’s evident command of the language in the
process) and bought tickets from the ticket machines.
About an hour’s train and tube journey in air-conditioned
comfort brought us to Myoden station on the Tozai line, where I first set foot
on Japanese soil proper. And first
experienced the August heat and humidity.
It was almost like being punched in the solar plexus, such was the
impact of the temperature. It was
well over 30 Celsius, which was nothing abnormal during our stay.
Eschewing the papal
kiss (who wants a mouthful of dust, anyway?), we walked the half mile or so to
Stephen's apartment. Both
suitcases had wheels, but the smaller one had ideas of independence as it
negotiated the various bumps and kerbs, which made it difficult to
control. Every pavement in Japan
has a “track” of paving stones with raised markings. This is for the benefit of blind people, who can confidently
negotiate the pavement with the aid of a long stick. (Actually, I only saw one blind person during our stay, and
he was being guided by someone holding his elbow.) Advantage for the blind was a disadvantage for the wheelers
of luggage, but by no means begrudged.
A welcome cup of
coffee (tea for Stephen and Val) helped us as we unpacked. Stephen and I then went out in search
of food, while Val remained behind to rest. We went to one of the many “family restaurants” available –
it seemed - everywhere. This one
was called “Gusto”, operated by the Skylark chain. At Stephen’s suggestion, I ordered a “set” meal of sashimi,
miso, rice and as much non-alcoholic drink as I could take. The sashimi was raw tuna (maguro)
and (remember this was my first experience of it) was extremely delicious.
I think I impressed
Stephen with my prowess with chopsticks (hachi), but then of course, I
had spent three of my juvenile years in Malaya, where we frequently used
Chinese chopsticks. Japanese chopsticks
are somewhat thinner than Chinese ones.
In restaurants they usually are made of wood and are given in little
envelopes. The pair of chopsticks
is joined together and have to be snapped apart. There must be a considerable industry turning old chair legs
into chopsticks. I suggested as
much to an English-speaking waiter at one restaurant, and he was most
indignant: chopsticks come from sustainable forestry, apparently.
Back, replete to
the apartment for a bit of a rest.
Yasuko returned from work a little later, and we all went out to the
“DAN” Izakiya. An Izakiya is a
traditional Japanese restaurant, where they serve many small courses of food,
mainly raw and grilled. Among many
other things, I had octopus sashimi.
This is slices of raw octopus tentacle, where you could clearly see the
cross-section of suckers on the rims of the slices. Dipped in seasoned soy sauce (shoyu), it was
surprisingly good, with a crunchy texture.
Home
again, futons laid on the floor and into a deep and dreamless sleep. Thus ended our first day in the land of
the Rising Sun.