The latter is a workman's dormitory. After diplomatic efforts culminate in a traditional meeting with Tokyo's number three man, I again hit the streets in search of sponsored onward passage, initially feeling like one of the Buddhist monks that walk almost blindly along the Ginza, alms bowl in hand. At its Tokyo headquarters, I finally meet the polite but officious woman who had been assigned to respond to the introductory letter I had sent from Gatwick Airport 15 months earlier. I am dumbfounded by the emptiness of my reception. I am not amused.
Japan seems like a bazaar of mix and match clich s.
By and by, I acclimatize to the bizarre congested worlds of Tokyo. The language barrier is by far the worst here but some Japanese go out of their way to guide me through the unaddressed maze of Tokyo's streets. Once such Japanese is Takeshi, the young executive met on the flight from Singapore. Most notably, he shows me Shinjuku, which is more popular with the Japanese than the Ginza. I see some of Japanese life.