15 August A Japanese slow train
on the American Express, but fun later on.
So
we started the day by trying to cash some travellers’
cheques. The Japanese banking system, at least for personal
transactions, is utterly abysmal. It seems to work on 19th
Century principles. It has obviously served the nation well
insofar as it has fuelled the construction-led economy for a long
time, and the cosy relationships with industrial conglomerates
have produced some fine, if now unstable, wealth engines.
Trying
to cash some travellers’ cheques was a nightmare. The
bank we chose (not named here out of pity for its shareholders)
displayed an American Express sign in its window. Entering
the bank, we were greeted by – well, the greeter, for want
of a better title. This helpful gent looked at my documents
for a minute or two, and then exclaimed “American
Express!” in an awed voice. He had obviously
deciphered the words emblazoned across the top of the cheques.
(I’m not knocking him: I couldn’t begin to read
Japanese script, so he is definitely one up on me.) He then
indicated that we should go upstairs (all Japanese foreign
exchange transactions take place above street level). We
ascended the stairs and were greeted by – well, the upstairs
greeter. This greeter was in fact a young woman who,
judging by the depth of her bow, was extremely honoured to be
favoured with the custom we represented.
She,
too, looked at my cheques and exclaimed “American
Express!”. However, her tone was less awed than
puzzled. She took my proffered cheques to a bank clerk, and
conferred for a couple of minutes. The clerk took them to
the senior clerk, and they conferred for a couple of minutes.
The senior clerk took them to the chief clerk, and they conferred
for a couple of minutes. The senior clerk went back to the
clerk, and they conferred for a couple of minutes. The
clerk took them back to the greeter and they conferred for a
couple of minutes. The greeter came back to me. “I
am very much sorry”, she said, “These are sterling
travellers’ cheques, not dollar travellers’ cheques.
Our foreign currency systems cannot deal with sterling, only
dollars. Try the Citibank in central Tokyo.”
As
we intended travelling in the opposite direction to Central
Tokyo, Stephen saved the day by drawing a chunk of cash from his
own bank account. MORAL: take dollar travellers’
cheques (and incidentally, Visa credit cards rather than
MasterCard) if you want to use them in Japan.
So
we left the bank with a degree of frustration, being humbly bowed
to by the honourable lady upstairs greeter and the honourable
gentleman downstairs greeter. We hopped on a train to Kasai
Rinken Koen – the Kasai amusement park. There is a
huge Ferris Wheel there, but we decided to wend our way to the
beach. Kasai is in Tokyo Bay, and from the beach we could
see large concrete structures some distance from land. Stephen
said they were part of the Tokyo Bay tunnel. We could also
see a procession of cargo vessels sailing in and out of the busy
commercial port. Considering this was a Wednesday, there
were lots of people who had come out for a day at the seaside.
The sand was grey rather than, er, sandy. I guess it was
volcanic in origin. After stooging on the sand for an hour
or two, paddling in the Pacific, and quaffing a Coke, we bowled
along the beach and bought tickets for a cruise boat to take us
south along the coast to Odaiba.
The
passenger ferry boat zipped along at quite a pace, and we were
refreshed by the wind in our faces. After one stop, we
arrived at Odaiba and disembarked. A short walk from the
terminal took us to the Toyota showroom, which was rather
different from any other car showroom I have ever seen. Toyota
displayed their current, past and future models, and you could
sit in them, with no salesman in sight. At one location,
there was a system where you could press a button to select one
of fourteen (I think) cars. This activated an ingenious
elevator system which raised and lowered one of three columns of
cars, shifted the selected car to the centre column and then
shoved it forward before your very eyes. It was an amazing
bit of engineering.
It
was possible to take a ride in little cars on a
magnetically-steered track and visit all parts of the complex,
but we elected instead to take a “Megaworld” ride.
We queued for about thirty minutes and then sat in a four-seater
vehicle. This drove off on a roller-coaster track and after
a bit of gentle up-and-downing came to a halt. A screen in
the car offered us a choice of rides: under the earth, under the
sea, or in the air. We opted for the aerial trip. We
were instructed to put on the polarised 3-D goggles provided for
us and then we were off, with a huge video screen filling our
vision. The roller-coaster did its usual stuff, but
combined with the 3-D effect we could see, provided us with a
sensation of flying. The ride came to an end rather too
soon.
Leaving
the Toyota complex, we strolled across to the “Venus Fort
Theme Park for Ladies” shopping mall. This was quite
amazing. The corridors and shop/restaurant fascias gave the
impression of fashionable streets in Italy. On the roof of
the “streets” down which we passed was a blue sky, with
projected, moving white clouds, giving the impression of a warm
sunny day. At the end of one of these streets was an
Italianate piazza, and we arrived just at the end of a laser
show, projected on the roof of the piazza.
By
now it was early evening, and we left the international designer
shops of Venus Fort and strolled a little further on until we
came to the “Deckss” shopping complex. This gives
the impression of a luxury ship (hence Deckss, I guess). We
passed through the retail sectors and came to the Veranda Buffet.
There we had an excellent “as much as you can eat” type
meal, seated at tables overlooking part of Tokyo bay, with the
modern road bridge spanning it. We could see little
restaurant boats sailing round, and as night took hold, their
cheerful overall lights made a happy sight.
Leaving
Deckss, we entered Sega’s “Joypolis” indoor
amusement park, where we amused ourselves indoors for a while.
Val and Stephen took a virtual parachute jump, but I had eaten a
good meal back at Deckss and did not wish to see it again. I
did go on a car racing game, racing against Stephen in real cars
wired up to a video game. Needless to say, I crashed
repeatedly and was defeated by Stephen. I’m just not
used to automatic gears!
We walked down to the beach
in front of Joypolis and Deckss and listened to the fish jumping,
making cheery splashes in the evening darkness. Tokyo Bay
bridge was lit up and we could see the cars driving across.
Occasionally, we could see the
fish leaping from the water, their silver scales reflecting the
moonlight for a fleeting second before the splash. I told a
friend about this on my return to the UK. His only remark
was “Mullets”. At least, I think that’s what
he said.
There was a small bar on the beach, so we ordered drinks. I had a couple of “Zipang” cocktails, made with Schochu (a sort of half-strength Japanese vodka) and grapefruit juice. I quite enjoyed them.
We
bought tickets for what I assumed was the train to Shimbashi
station in central Tokyo. We boarded and sat in the seats
behind the driver. It was only when we were under way that
I realised that there was in fact, no driver on board. We
seemed to be travelling at breakneck speed, and I felt that the
absence of a driver was, to say the least, inconvenient. Feeling
that attention ought to be shown to the matter, I remarked on the
fact in my best stiff-upper-lip, let’s-not-panic,
steady-the-Buffs voice. Stephen had been playing a little
joke on me. This was the monorail, and was automatically
controlled, presumably by computer. Suitably relieved, I
enjoyed the rest of the journey. Among other things, we
could see the world’s biggest Ferris wheel, with
multi-coloured lights making gaudy patterns along its ribs and
around its diameter. We connected with the last subway
train for Myoden, and once home, slept the sleep of the just.