Re:Tindale — Starting Life in Tokyo and Tsu From Zero
By: Jack Tindale
Tags: Sustainability, Industrial Strategy, Local Government, Tokyo, Japan

I don’t travel much.

This isn’t an affectation. A blend of being an introvert and a lack of disposable income means that I am not the sort of person who relishes getting too far out of my comfort zone. However, I am also a sucker for a freebie, especially if said freebie involves visiting one of the few countries that I am keen to visit.

Therefore, when a friend suggested that I apply to take part in an exchange with the Japanese Council of Local Authorities for International Relations (CLAIR), it didn’t take very much convincing. Apparently, neither did they, which is how I found myself mulling over a bacon roll in Heathrow Terminal 4 and wondering what the hell I had let myself get in for.

Part One: Let’s Go! Gutsy Tindale-kun — Fly! Run! Ascend!

Goodness me, but isn’t flying tedious? I know that lots of people book to go in business class for the free champagne and the like, but I think people who actually do it regularly do so plurely so they can take a Forget-Me-Now and make use of the extra leg room.

It was my first time flying on KLM and I can understand why the more experienced aviators than I tend to focus on the fact that the planes seem to be mainly held together by masking tape. I don’t understand what it is about aeroplanes that they seem to get shabby and worn-out the second they roll off the production line. Given that I know only slightly more flying machines than the North Sentinel Islanders (otherwise I’d be writing this post from prison, having tried to attack the air steward with an improvised spear made out of a rolled-up copy of The Spectator and a USB pen), I cannot really say anything more than both flights involved getting on something with two wings and one was slightly larger than the other.

An otherwise faultless transfer at Schiphol was marred by a broken air conditioning unit, which delayed departure for two hours. Whilst this would have usually driven me up the wall, I seem to be mellowing in my old age, considering that I expected us to have to decamp and have an unplanned twelve hour stay in The Netherlands.

Incidentally, in one of the most passive-aggressive efforts in the industry, I was recently informed that the Chief Executive of Schiphol sends a cake to his counterpart at Heathrow Airports Group every year the third runway is delayed. I was told this by one of my colleagues on this trip, the Chief Executive of Slough Borough Council, who added that the proposed expansion would take up five percent of all the land controlled by the local authority.

After requesting an aisle seat away from the wing on KLM’s website, it was only fair that I was plonked in the middle of the plane next to a Korean student from the University of Wolverhampton. Whilst I find it impossible to sleep on flights, my new best friend managed to fall into a stupor about sixteen seconds after the meal trays were taken away, utilising a sleeping technique best summed up as a ‘mesh of limbs’. Credit where credit is due to her, I suppose.

With the movie line-up on the flight being almost as bad as the Christmas Day line-up on BBC One, I packed it in as we were going over Novaya Zemlya (a place that always makes me imagine that I’m a New Dane trying to destroy the Magisterium’s Experimental Theology Atomkraft Weapons base before it can be used to destroy Central Tatary), and stretched out as best as I could.

To my credit, I can usually trick my body into thinking it has fallen asleep every month or so without too much ill-effect. I have developed this technique from various election day all-nighters — with the travel version variation consisting of a face mask, noise cancelling ear-phones and basically inhaling two small bottles of free liquid that claimed to be red wine. I therefore arrived at Narita feeling as fresh-faced as could be expected. In the space of ten minutes, I managed to find the Nintendo Welcome Centre, meet my first mascot — a red owl dressed in Sumo ceremonial dress, representing the Western Tokyo Tourism Council, and get a free set of chopsticks for answering a survey.

All very on brand, I suppose.

One of the benefits of being on an official trip is that all the effort of airport transfers are handled for you, but I get the impression that I would have managed perfectly well by myself. We used the limousine bus service, which as we know from all those Holiday episodes of British sitcoms, takes you around much nicer hotels than the one you end up in. Unlike Carry On Abroad or The Inbetweeners, at least our one was built.

I was delighted, however, that our route took us over Tokyo Bay’s famous Rainbow Bridge, which I had actually seen the previous day when I went to a very well-timed London screening of Weathering With You. Although it wasn’t lit up, it nevertheless offered the first ‘oh wow, I’m in Japan’ moment of the trip, with a wonderful vista of the city and DOKYO DAWAAAAAAAAA!!!

According to my tour guide, the bridge was named by public vote in 1993 to replace the interim title of “Shuto Expressway №11 Daiba Route — Port of Tokyo Connector Bridge”. It speaks testament to the reserved nature of the citizens of the Metropolis that they didn’t pump for Bridgy Bridgeman-san.

Our home for the next couple of days was a bland but perfectly serviceable business hotel in Akasaka, the Government/Diplomatic centre of Tokyo. I was keen to avoid succumbing to jetlag and keeping my mental state in the right-time zone, so after dumping my bags, I dragged myself out for a run that I’ve always wanted to do, the perimeter route around the Imperial Palace. I set off, and within about two minutes I found myself in the centre of a big pacifist demonstration outside the Diet.

Because of course I did.

“Sumimasen” is such a lovely phrase to use, and found myself employing the informal version for “I’m Sorry” about a third of the time I said anything on my first day in Japan as I jogged next to the numerous Article 9 protesters. Fortunately, both they and the police seemed to take the Baka Gaijin in good humour, and I soon rounded down the road and joined in the afternoon runners around the route. I was soon feeling the efforts of the lack of sleep, but dug in and marvelled at the views, which really was Japan in microcosm. The medieval gatehouses and walls in the foreground, coupled with a handful of Meiji-era European buildings such as the Station Hotel, the 1960s modernism, and the skyscrapers skirting around Kanda and Akiba made it clear that I could only be in one country.

One of my favourite manga, Akira, really is an ode to this sort of thing. One of the most fascinating bits of it, which isn’t as pronounced in the film, is that Otomo’s vision of modernity is so steeped in the 1980s and the sense of Japan entering a period of perpetual decline and hedonism. The hellish future of Neo-Tokyo is brutalist. Despite all the problems modern Japan has, it is fascinating to see how much one set of fears and pessimism has not taken root.

Apparently, just before the market crash thirty years ago, the notional property price of the Imperial Palace was about the same as all the real estate in California.

My run was just what I needed, and I was pleased to see that I wasn’t the only person to have had the idea. Despite the fact that it was about three in the afternoon, there were hundreds of people — of all ability — jogging around the route, and I was far from the only Westerner. I have been told that one of the most visible changes Japan has seen over the past twenty years or so is the rise in non-Japanese people living and working in the major cities, and even a gangly, fair-haired British person like me wouldn’t stand out in all but the most rural areas these days. I made a note to check if I felt the same way when we arrived in Tsu City in a couple of days.

A quick change and encounter with my first Japanese toilet passed uneventfully. Although I spent over ten minutes desperately wondering over what button was used to flush the damn thing before realising that it was the large silver thing that looked and was located exactly where it would have been on a ‘normal’ loo.

I am a graduate of the London School of Economics.

After a brief introduction to our minders from the Local Government Association, we had a forgettable dinner at the hotel. I was flagging at this point, it was only 6pm local time and I was terrified that if I went to my room I’d crash and wake-up in the wee hours. Fortunately, our main minder, a British guy based at the CLAIR office in Whitehall, suggested that we walk to Shibuya and visit the Sky Deck viewing platform. I was glad we did. The cold air perked me up massively, and it also meant we could visit a bar serving some very interesting local microbrewed beers.

I wasn’t properly prepared for seeing Tokyo by night — but I was glad I did. Seeing the Shibuya Scramble from above was a particular highlight…

Whilst not usually averse to walking, a combination of my run, the late hour, and having been effectively awake for over twenty-four hours made the decision to take the subway back a sensible idea.

Returning to the hotel, I decided to check out the adjacent 7/11 to see what it was like. I’ll go over convenience stores and konbini culture later as well.

Carry On At Your Convenience Store: A Tragedy in One Act Jack Tindale: Well done! You’ve gotten through the whole day without mentioning Evangelion. Why not pop into this 7/11 to get a celebratory beer. The 7/11:

Yes, after that, of course I had to have a bloody Yebisu.

Part Two: The Day Tokyo-1 Stood Still

I am not a man who breakfasts. It was somewhat of an act of rebellion after my mother forced years of dry porridge on me. Nevertheless, holidays tend to be one occasion where I drop the habit and turn into that guy from the Key and Peele skit. “Can you believe this? It all comes with the room!” With that in mind, I forwent a morning run for a change and decamped to the hotel’s buffet. The Japanese, being the sort of illustrious people that they are, have gone one better than most places by offering three approaches to the most important meal of the day, 50 percent more than you usually find.

Whilst I know that starting the day with curry is normal for many millions of people around the world, not all of whom are students nursing hangovers, I have to admit that I balked slightly at the idea of an early-morning katsu, but I have a passion for fish, and a particular passion for smoked fish. I would eat fish with every meal if I could. A small spread of salmon, mackerel, the ubiquitous omelette, and tofu therefore set the day up very well indeed.

​One thing that amazes me about Japan is how efficient land use seem to be. Obviously a great deal of is down to the post-war reconstruction efforts, but despite being a city that we hold to be synonymous for size and sprawl, Tokyo manages to feel compact but not claustrophobic. I can really recommend this excellent blog post about how zoning and planning works under the Japanese system, largely because of policy being set at the national level and aimed at maximising the most efficient use of space. The city is also a lot less high-rise than I expected it to be. That isn’t to say that there aren’t a large number of skyscrapers and the like, but outside the very centre, buildings rarely seem to get above five stories or so. One thing that the Japanese tend to be very good at (and certainly something I would bring in if I became Minister for Transport) is selling air-rights above train stations. We’d explored the huge new development at the new Shibuya Station the previous evening, and it appeared to be the norm basically everywhere. I cannot help but think you’d make a decent stab at solving the housing crisis in London if you built a few thousand flats above Clapham Junction.

I pondered this on the way to our first appointment of the day, which was at the CLAIR headquarters a short drive away (whilst I prefer to walk wherever possible, one of our handlers said that Europeans tend to have a habit of meandering off, so they try and keep us confined to vehicles as often as possible, which I guess is fair enough.

We then had a (un-)surprisingly informative lecture on local government by a Profession from Meiji University (which I thought sounded a bit odd before I realised that we have Queen Mary, University of London, and formally all the various Victoria University offshoots…). One of the main takeaways I got from it is how there is no contradiction between unitary states and giving genuine financial autonomy to local authorities. In our obsession over “federalism” and grand ideas of constitutional reform in the UK, it really seems that just giving councils proper control over their own tax-varying powers would have an immediate and transformative effect on their ability to bring about genuine change for the citizenry.

I mused this whilst helping myself to a coffee from the best vending machine I’ve seen for ages. Another thing that I found amazing about Japan so far is the oft-remarked contradictions in the application of technology. You have absolutely hilariously bad websites for even official organisations, fax machines still in routine use, whilst putting far more effort than expected into vending technology.

- How many levels of coffee machine are you on? - Like, maybe 五 or 六 right now, my dude. - You are like a little baby. Watch this…​

We then popped over to a hotel across the road which was obviously owned by the Tokyo Police Pension fund and had an absolutely exceptional lunch. Another takeaway I got early on is that people tend to eat quite early in Japan. I usually don’t bother sitting down to my meal deal until at least 1pm, but by noon our restaurant was already filling up. I had my usual fluster about the order to eat things in, but I don’t think I offended anyone.

We spent the rest of the day touring around a few site visits. Our first engagement was at Deiwa House, a housing company that is doing a lot of work into old age care and assistive technology. I was very pleased to meet Paro, a robotic seal that is used for pet therapy. We also managed to find the time to race around on some foot powered wheelchairs!

​Our final engagement of the day was at the Metropolitan Government Buildings. Now, I know that the Tokyo Urban Area covers an area that would even make British Republic go “hang on” even without having a Hokkaido Prolapse, but it really does make London’s City Hall look like one of those parish council headquarters based out of the local vicarage. We had a meeting on carbon trading and sustainable business in a suit of conference rooms on the 5000th floor that looked like a cross between the interior of the Death Star and a city in in one of those depressing 1970s movies where the protagonist realises that he’s living underground and the rest of the place is run by clones of his death brother. Hilariously, the talk by the sustainability team about how they were planning to reduce excess plastic waste was accompanied by us all sitting down to a set of printed off PowerPoint slides and a plastic bottle of water.

We got two lapel pins as well though, so I could hardly complain.

Ahead of the Olympics, the City has also started a rebranding exercise for tourism, which is quite clever and involves the word Tokyo being printed twice, once in a modern typeface and again in an old brush stroke to showcase old meets new. I’m sure that the smart-alec branding firm charged a lot of money for that, but it works quite well. Inevitably, one of the posters has a traditional Ukiyo-e image, and Hatsune Miku. I suppose the British version would be Wallace and Gromit standing atop The Fighting Temeraire.

After a quick change at our hotel, we returned to the place we went for lunch for a formal dinner with the main staff of the organisation hosting us. We got into the lift with a distinguished gentleman who I vaguely recognised, but mainly because he was wearing his House of Representatives lapel ribbon (these are really important by the way, Yasuo Fukuda was once famously denied entry to the House of Representatives for not having his badge, despite the fact that he was Prime Minister at the time, he ended on getting in by borrowing one off his Deputy) When he got off on the floor below us, I realised that it was Yoshihide Suga, the Chief Cabinet Secretary. Here he is announcing the new era name.

​This really was turning into a very Tindale holiday.

We ended up eating in a banqueting suite which was so obviously out of a Bond film that I felt it had to be deliberately designed that way. We had a set of floor to ceiling windows looking out to the Imperial Palace and the Diet Building, and I was half convinced that we’d all be shot to bits by an ultra-nationalist with a machine gun as we offered a toast. Fortunately, all ended up being well for what ended up being a very good East meets West dinner. Sashimi followed by Steak ended up being the sort of thing. I was worried that conversation would be somewhat stilted but a few sake and a glass of wine ended up loosening tongues fairly effectively. I ended up trying to explain the concept of a ‘deep fried mars bar’ in Japanese, and eventually hit on the idea of チョコ天ぷら, or ‘choco tempura’.

Feeling a little bit worse for wear, I ended up retiring soon after we arrived back at the hotel, and drifted off with a few evening game shows. After years of convincing myself that Japanese game shows obviously aren’t as silly as they seem in sitcoms, I guess it was inevitable that the first one I saw seemed to involve a contestant wearing black tie winning a set of samurai armour during a game of rapid fire kanji logic problems.

Part Three: Northern British Laughing Comedy Brothers Assemble For Televised Happy Show! To Mei, To Tsu!

​I don’t know where my interest in Japan came from. Certainly, it was never a factor in my life growing up. I was always the best in school at geography and history, so unlike most people my age I at least knew where it was, but beyond that and the odd project on it when I was ten where we had to label the four home islands on a map, that was it. It wasn’t until I was at sixth form and I ended up watching Last Exile at a friend’s house the odd evening after college that I thought about the country in terms other than that of a simple location. At university, I was both an officer of the Anime and Manga Society and did my economic policy essay in Second Year on the privatisation of the Japan Post, so I like to think that I at least combined weeb-dom with a sense of a country beyond pop culture.

I woke on Tuesday slightly hungover thanks to a spare bottle of rum that we shared in the hotel. It was meant to be one of a set of gifts for our hosts at CLAIR but we didn’t end up handing it over, so we hung around the hotel bar surreptitiously pouring it into a collection of cokes purchased from the bar. Given that I’m the youngest person on this excursion by at least twenty years, it felt almost like being on a school trip again!

Nevertheless, I managed to have another jog around the Imperial Palace before we collected our belongings for the second leg of the tour. On my way back, I noticed that next to our hotel was — inexplicably — a Nordic restaurant called Stockholm that had totally passed me by the previous evening, despite the large relief map of the city. In 1957, the manager of the Imperial Hotel in central Tokyo visited Sweden. Whilst he was there, he came across the concept of the Smörgåsbord and realised that it would probably be a good fit for a post-war Japan where the economic boom was finally starting to take root, but where budgets were still a bit tight for many people, even those staying a posh hotels.

He was a bit worried when he returned to try out the concept, but he found that both the staff and the guests loved the idea. I suppose you can see why, given that Sweden and Japan both have a lot of interest in cold cuts and fish as a staple of the diet. The menu was also very simple and soon a lot of people started to eat at the Imperial Hotel buffet even if they weren’t staying there because it was such good value for money.

However, there was one major issue to address, which was what to call the restaurant. Smörgåsbord isn’t the most natural fit for the Japanese vocabulary, even for a language that makes such heavy use of foreign loan words. The proper term is スモーガスボード or sumougasuboudo, which doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Fortunately, another member of hotel staff had an idea. He’d recently gone to see the Kirk Douglas film, The Vikings, and felt that it would be an excellent name for a restaurant that was specialising in Nordic cuisine. So, the “Imperial Viking” was born.

Before too long, the concept had been taken up throughout the country. As is so often the way, バイキング (baikingu) soon became the term used for any sort of buffet style dining, rather than an explicitly Swedish one, but you can nevertheless still find theoretically authentic Nordic places such as the Restaurant Stockholm in many areas.

​A quick minibus took us around the block to Tokyo Station. The Japanese railway network operates their stations in a very logical way, I have found. Most are largely underground, so there’s very few that have the great trainsheds you see in European cities, but they are also busy in a way that you don’t see in places like Penn Station. They are surprisingly bland and utilitarian in that respect, although Tokyo does at least have an original station building. Designed by Tatsuno Kingo in 1914 and survived both the Great Kantō Earthquake and the Second World War. It is nevertheless considerably less Neo-Baroque on the inside!

As we were waiting for the train, I mused on the nature of the trip. As noted, CLAIR always host the tour in two parts, the first in Tokyo, and the second in a second-tier provincial city to showcase how local authorities outside the mega cities react to a range of various issues. Because Japan is a sensible country, all their local authorities and prefectures have very sound flags. Basically all of them are based on a stylised hiragana character of the place name in question. Here we have つ (Tsu) — for Tsu-City, and み (Mi) for the Mie Prefecture, which we were about to visit.

​Our journey would take about two hours but involve a bullet train to Nagoya, followed by the local direct service to our final destination. The Hokari sisters from Evangelion are all named after the three different high speed services on the Tokaido Shinkansen. Hikari, as well as Nozomi and Kodama, recently appeared on a crossover on the kid’s train anime, Shinkalion, as part of a crossover with Shinji Ikari’s Depression Express.

​I have wanted to catch the Shinkansen (New Trunk Line) since I was seven and went on the newly acquired bullet train at the National Railway Museum in York. So, thinking about it, perhaps that was my first infatuation with Japanese culture. I am sure that the majority of you all will be familiar with how the Shinkansen works, but it was nevertheless amazing to see the troop of cleaners waiting outside as the train arrived, followed by a military operation to entirely scrub and clean the carriage, as well as rotate all the chairs to face the right way. The bullet train is actually rather understated inside. It doesn’t have the sleek futuristic stylings you see in China, or the mixture of compartments and glass doors you have with the TVG or ICE trains in Europe. However, they are large, comfortable seats that offer a great deal of legroom. In some respects, it is a bit like sitting in your granny’s favourite armchair.

The journey to Nagoya was quick, painless, and unremarkable bar for one thing — Mount Fuji. I obviously knew that the train went past it, but as with so many things, like Stonehenge or the Statue of Liberty, you have already seen it so many times on television or elsewhere that by the time it rocks up, you’re almost bored of it.

Then you see it for real.

A snatched photo on an iPhone isn’t going to do it justice. You need to see it for yourself. Yet, in the magnified January air, it was clear why it is the foundation of so much myth and legend. I’d worship it as well, if I could.

We arrived at Nagoya station and walked down to the underground tracks to catch the local train to Tsu. It was time for lunch. Again, unlike the great high-speed services of Europe, Japanese trains don’t have a bar or restaurant car, and many don’t even have a trolly service. They do, however, have something much better. Ekiben!

​Every station in Japan will have at least one store or kiosk selling ekiben. A combination of ‘eki’ (train station) and ‘ben’ (short for bento). The one above is a fairly typical example. Very heavy on vegetables, either steamed, raw, or pickled. The somewhat horny thing on the right is pumpkin, which was the only thing I didn’t finish or care for much (I don’t like dry-tasting fruits and vegetables, which is one of the reasons I hate bananas), at least two different sorts of rice (here we have plain boiled, as well as sesame-fried, and cooked with red bean paste), as well as a small amount of protein — usually chicken or fish. It was just the thing to perk me up after the journey.

We decamped at Tsu Station just before 1pm. Unlike Tokyo, which is a global city and feels like it, the city of Tsu was as typically Japanese as you could expect, and very much the idea of Japan in microcosm. There were far fewer westerners, the vast majority of buildings were low-rise or lower, and overhead power cables dominated the streetscape. I love things like overhead power cables. They are so mundane, yet really highlight the alien nature of the country from the UK in a manner that something far more incongruous, like a different language, does not. I can see why so many anime and film directors use them as establishing shots.

​The rest of the day was taken up with a meeting with the Mayor of Tsu, followed by presentations by various bigwigs at City Hall about the efforts that they are doing to improve healthcare outcomes for the elderly, and improve the environment. It felt a bit like that episode of Parks and Recreation where the Venezuelans visit (boy, that one has really not aged well…), although we were a lot less chippy. As has been noted, it really highlights the fact that Japan is surprisingly low tech in many respects when the idea of a smartcard giving free bus travel for senior citizens is seen as being innovative. I was able to use my experience in big data and from my old job at TfL to discuss some of the potential problems and potential that the scheme had, so I felt I earned my keep. They also had a poster of Astro Boy encouraging people to use them. Which was nice.

​Dinner that evening was at a local izakaya (tavern), with the city staff. This was probably the best meal I had Japan, given that it was utterly delicious but also informal.

The food was phenomenal and, naturally, beautifully presented. I was delighted that one of the opening dishes was fried chicken, which was more like tempura than KFC, followed by a succession of excellent dishes. The octopus as seen above was a particular highlight. It was served as sashimi, with no dressing aside a tiny amount of lemon and vinegar. I simply don’t understand why people feel the need to faff around with fish when it is already excellent. I ended up eating half of the table next door’s as well as our own, because some people are heathens. The rare beef was also superb, with toasted soy sauce on the side. The meal finished with soba noodles, which I (sensibly) asked to have cold. A final toast and sake was enough to finish off the night in a sensible fashion. I had much needed early night.

Part Four: The Inevitable Hot Springs Episode

I will start this update by talking a bit about about combini. According to a colleague on the trip, one thing that people in Japan like is things being “benri” (handy). If you are ever in the country, I would struggle to think of anything that came more benri than the “combini”. The term is short for “convenient store”, small retail outlets that tend to be open all day and night and in which you can find just about anything that you would need at short notice.

There’s a host of them and you’d struggle to not find one if you walked for less than five minutes from any hotel. As with supermarkets in the UK, combini tend to be franchised, with companies ranging from Lawson, to 7 Eleven, to Family Mart. It is said that even with Japan’s population decline, that there is a combini for every 2000 inhabitants. They are found literally at every street corner in the major cities, but are also present in smaller cities and rural areas. The combini stores are so widespread that people are surprised when they hear of a place without one. Nevertheless, they fill a number of key benefits. I personally have only been for beer and snacks, but it’s orders of magnitude better than any Tesco Express. Most of them also have free wifi and a terminal to buy bus and train tickets, as well as counter for hot food.

Beer is a common sight in most combini

Weekly Shōnen Jump magazine

Anyway, I woke early enough to go out for a run through Tsu.

One of the reasons that I like running is that it lets you get a genuine feel for a city. I woke fairly early and headed off on a vague route that I had planned to let me see more of Tsu. It was a bit colder than I had been informed, and I made sure to set off at a firm clip. I had finally gotten around to reading Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running on the plane over, and I had found myself agreeing with basically all of his key points. The greatest living Japanese novelist, like me, came into the sport at a fairly late stage in his life, but his claims of using it as a solution to everything from meditation to overcoming writer’s’ block is something that I could only agree with.

I headed down to the small beach near the harbour, once again marvelling at the effortless way in which the streets in Japan manage to be narrower, but facilitate pedestrians and the concept of space in a way that seems to simply be beyond urban planners in the United Kingdom. It was an early morning run through a really picture postcard Japanese city. I stopped about twenty times just to take photos of stuff like power lines. Simultaneously mundane and alien.

​We spent the rest of the day visiting a range of industrial sites and areas in the area. The trip was not a holiday, but a way for us to see how local authorities in Japan are dealing with the pressures of things like an aging population, sustainability, and industrial strategy. We visited a wood-chip power station by the coast, the headquarters of a local wind-power company (wind power is still rather uncommon in Japan for a number of reasons, not least typhoons limiting the utility it has for off-shore purposes) and a recycling plant. One thing I like about the Japanese aesthetic is how boxy things are. I don’t mean this as a criticism, but it’s a bit like living in 2000 as imagined by people in 1985. The country is weird for design in this respect. Many vehicles are really square, blocky affairs, but a bit sleek nevertheless, as are municiple buildings. When you combine this with how clean everything is, it’s a bit like living in a first-person shooter from 2004.

​En route, we also met up with some more mascots! Shiromochi-kun is the mascot of Tsu City, and is a white (shiro) sweet rice dumpling (mochi). He was joined by his friend Misugin, a tree spirit who protects the local forests. Yes, I don’t know who the one on right is either, you’re really funny people. Do sent more of those.

Tindale-kun (centre) is a jittery bearded man who wants everyone to love him. He is the mascot of Southwark Borough, London Prefecture.

​The highlight of the day, and I think the trip, was an evening at a nearby hot-spring or onsen. I have wanted to visit one for many, many years now. They are incredibly common in Japan, due to the country being such a hive of geothermal energy. Although the resorts a bit old fashioned these days (it’s mainly old people who go), they are still very popular. Although the quality of them varies massively, the majority tend to be traditional and fairly austere. I think the best comparison is between a spa and a bed-and-breakfast. You go to look after yourself and unwind, rather than to have a luxury holiday. I am not a man who really likes luxury though, so that suited me very much indeed.

​An onsen is technically the term for the hot spring itself, but is almost always used to refer to resort as a whole. The typical room in an onsen is like the one above, which I stayed in. You have the traditional bamboo floor mats (tatami), and sliding doors. My colleague and I shared a room before dinner, and changed into the yukata provided. This is one of the many different types of national dress. Unlike the most famous kimono, it is very informal and easy to put on. You then tie the thing together with a simple belt called an obi, and then make sure to put the knot at the back, because having it showing apparently indicates that you earn your money in a somewhat dubious way.

The only issue I had, because I’m dyspraxic, is that you never wear the thing with the right fold showing, because that is the traditional way that one dresses a corpse. I genuinely spent fifteen minutes worrying if I’d done it right (is it my left, or their left?!) before my colleague informed me that I was doing the correct thing. It was a bit chilly (most of the resorts tend to be unheated in private rooms), so I put on the hanten as well, which is a short coat that adds a bit of extra warmth (the sleeves also allow you to carry some money, a phone or (as I found out later) a can of beer!).

I think I looked quite sharp, to be frank!

You Only Live Twice

​Our meal almost felt underwhelming, given how well we had been eating previously, but was still delicious. The new addition was a Japanese hotpot, which unlike the Mongolian and Chinese styles, usually comes pre-mixed. The onsen served it with a locally brewed ponzu, a type of fermented sauce usually made with seaweed and a citrus fruit, and was absolutely divine. I even bought a bottle of it to take home!

Also on the menu was a sweet potato puree, and as you can see from the photo below, a shrimp so large that I thought it was a crab or lobster when it was first served to me. It was served with a wonderfully aromatic sauce, which set the whole thing off perfectly.

Itadakimasu!

I spent an hour after dinner waiting to cool down before I headed down to the spring. As with most onsen, the water is piped in and heated if the hot spring itself isn’t available. You first remove your clothes and put them in a basket in the waiting area, and then wash yourself (naked, there’s no shame here) with a tap and showerhead usually available at short stools near the bath proper. As with most of these sort of things, you are meant to be clean before you enter the water. I sat down and washed thoroughly, and headed in. The water was hot, bordering on uncomfortably so, but that’s the point of a treatment like this. I enjoyed a wonderful half hour flitting between the bath and having a cold shower under the nozzle to make sure that I didn’t poach myself. You are usually provided with a small towel to cover the wedding vegetable in between the shower and bath, which I soaked in cold water and used as a flannel on my head for a bit of extra relief (don’t let the towel dip in the bathing waters, that’s also a big no-no).

I left feeling totally invigorated, like I’d had a once over with a pumice stone, and noticed that our futons had been made up for us. I was asleep in about six seconds.

Part Five: God’s Blessing On This Wonderful Prefecture Capital!; or, Aggretsutindale

​We left a rainy onsen for our final full day in Tsu after another typically Japanese breakfast. The morning meetings took place at the local business development centre, where we discussed international partnerships and development, as well as national and local lending facilities. It was rather dry but still interesting to hear about how much more power councils have over matters such as that compared to those in the UK. Speakings as someone who knows how much of a challenge it is to even get permission to set up any sort of council-run bank, it was a clear sign of how far the UK has to go.

We then had one of the most pleasant surprises of the whole trip, a meeting at a family-run soya producer in the business park, which is currently on their fourth successive female manager! In a country where attitudes to women in the workplace are still, despite rapid improvement over the past decade or so, still very old-fashioned, Shoko’s efforts are really worthy of the highest praise. I have to say that it was the most modern and minimalist soya factory that I have ever been in, as you can see from the image below. It was effectively an Ikea Showroom crossed with an architectural studio. Shoko’s company product a range of soy milk and dairy foodstuffs, and are working to develop an export business. Given the great packaging, quality of their product, and the wonderful story behind everything — I could only wish them the very, very best.

​After a quick lunch, we spent the early afternoon visiting a local temple complex. The Honzan Senju-ji is one of the most important centres for Buddhism in the whole of Japan. As a point of principle, I don’t take photographs of religious buildings, but it was a real hidden gem and an example of the sort of thing that is very much off the tourist trail. I don’t imagine foreigners visit Tsu any more than you’d have a city break to Wolverhampton or Des Moines, but it was nevertheless a great thing to see. We also had time to have a potter around the local backstreets, and as I have noted in earlier posts, I think that the streetscape of most Japanese cities is perhaps the most ‘alien’ thing I encountered. Most streets are very narrow affairs and can only accommodate traffic going one way or the other. You don’t tend to have pavements, but that’s fine because the traffic is minimal and tends to go very slowly anyway. This hodgepodge has mainly developed because of how the planning system works, where you don’t really have any sort of zoning regulations so people can basically put up what they like. This also means that the life-span of most Japanese buildings is very short. The average house is only up for twenty or thirty years, at which point it is demolished and the people owning the freehold just start up again. Although it isn’t perhaps the most sustainable way of doing things, given that they tend to be constructed out of very lightweight materials, it isn’t as bad as it seems.

The one downside is that this tends to make addresses completely pointless. Only the most important of streets and highways tend to have names, so if you’re looking for somewhere you usually have to just be given a local landmark or station, and find your way by trial and effort. This isn’t something that is done to catch out foreigners, by their own admission, most Japanese people tend to have to rely on directions and hand-drawn maps to find a specific house or apartment. The chaos, naturally, only adds to the charm, although given that I haven’t really been in a rush to find anywhere and have largely been taken around by locals, any issues haven’t really raised their head so far.

Our final engagement of the day was at Tsu City Hall, where we had an ‘opinion exchange’ with local bigwigs. I was the last person to speak, so rather than re-hashing what my colleagues had said, I mused on my feelings about Tsu, touching on the lovely scene that I had encountered the previous day. I’d run along the seawall and seen the little fishing boats silhouetted against the brand new power-station. It was “Japan in microcosm” (and credit where credit is due to our translator, who handled that awkward turn of phrase magnificently). I added that it was clear how the Japanese planning system and devolution of genuine fiscal powers contributed to this. I thought that I’d gone off message a little bit, but both my colleagues and the Tsu delegation seemed to appreciate it — and the Head of Legal Services at Southwark Council, who was one of the other British people on the trip — said that I needed to go back into comms.

​The Council then hosted us for a final meal at another local restaurant, which was very much entirely in the Japanese style, including seating arrangements. This was the sort of thing that you’ll have seen in every film set in Japan, seated at low tables on tatami mats. Japanese people traditionally either sit crossed legged (胡坐 “agura”, which is literally ‘barbarian sitting’), or in the more formal seiza (正坐, or “proper sitting”). The latter involves kneeling forwards and sitting on the balls of your feet, and is absolute torture after about two minutes. Our hosts, including the foreigners working for the organisation we were with, made it quite clear that seiza was not required even at a formal event like this. Indeed, even natives struggle to sit like that for more than half-an-hour at a time. Old folk are usually exempted from it, and a law being introduced in April 2020 will make it illegal to force people to seiza for extended periods of time.

Dinner was fairly typical and, frankly, not the best one of our trip. It was still excellent, however, and the drink and conversation flew by in no time. A few colleagues went off for a nightcap at a local izakaya, but I was tired and had an early night.

I woke early and had a final run around Tsu, after which we caught the train back to Nagoya and then another Nozumi to Tokyo. I didn’t have breakfast, but managed to find room for a (hot) canned coffee at Tsu Station. Another wonderful thing about Japan is the abundance of vending machines. Whilst I think that the ones selling used schoolgirl knickers is a bit of a folk myth, it is certainly true that they are ubiquitous. You will find ones selling beverages, cigarettes and food on basically every street corner. Even if you cannot find a combini, you will find refreshment elsewhere. I do mean ubiquitous, by the way — there are over five and a half million of them in the country, enough for nearly one in twenty-five people. On the more popular trails in the countryside, you’ll see them at the side of country paths, at the beach, and even inside caves. One of the reasons for this vending machine culture is in part due to their durability and ease of use. However, many also have the function of being able to detect when an earthquake has struck, and will dispense their produce for free to assist people who made be struggling for food and water. Naturally, vending machine culture is dying out slightly as Japan enters the digital-era and online shopping, but they aren’t going away anytime soon.

Tokyo Station Square

The Olympic Countdown Clock…

…and the Paralympic Countdown Clock!

We arrived in Tokyo in time for lunch. After checking the Olympics (which are on this year) were all on schedule, we had our one bad meal of the trip. Hilariously, at the insistence of one of the members of staff accompanying us, who is from Tours, we went to a French bistro overlooking the square in the photograph above. I know that sashimi is popular across the world, but I don’t think chicken sashimi quite works. Two of my colleagues sent their (actually raw) plates back, only to have two equally raw ones returned to them (I am quite convinced that the staff just swapped them around). We all took it in good stride (and not a little bit of teasing at our handler’s expense), and had the rest of the afternoon free to enjoy Tokyo.

I went off for a bit of a wander to the north of the Meiji-era Akasaka Palace — a neo-Baroque western style building that is wonderfully hideous — where I naturally stumbled across the staircase from Your Name.

I did a genuine double take, which is always fun to do (and witness presumably, given by the short titter from a passer-by). I finished wandering around and then went to meet some of my colleagues in Ginza, which is basically Tokyo’s version of Oxford Street. We met up at the largest Uniqlo in the world, where I indulged in my jet-set lifestyle and bought one (1) pair of half price chinos.

We then had our final meal as a group at a great little izakaya on the street next to our hotel. To thank the four members of staff who had given up so much time and energy to organise such a wonderful trip, we made sure to get the bill for them, although given the nature of Japanese pub food, this wasn’t actually that generous. We nevertheless had the full gamut of izakaya staples, from the usual fried chicken and edamame, to some more unusual stuff like fermented squid guts. I am a complete omnivor, and I had the whole lot. One of the interesting things about the Japanese pub is that you almost always get a small nibble when you go in. This isn’t free, you are charged a few hundred yen for it in place of a service or cover charge. Even the most high-end of places don’t approve of tipping, so this seems like a perfectly acceptable alternative.

We rounded off our final night as a team in a karaoke bar next door. As a rule, I do not sing in public, but I felt obliged to give an absolutely belting rendition of Zankoku na tenshi no tēze (which continues to be at or near the top of the karaoke charts) and had a very pleasant final night together. Karaoke bars are literally as you’ve seen them in movies. You hire a booth — usually for an hour or so — and either have a free drink or a one drink minimum during that time. The other great thing about karaoke is that, unless it’s licensed, none of the English-language songs use the official music videos. Instead, you’ve got a load of western men, presumably young expats desperate for money, walking around in hilariously bad scenes that have absolutely nothing to do with the lyrics. We had three in a row that all involved the same male lead just walking around a park, sat on a train, or reading a book next to a squirrel (who was frankly a better actor).

I think that there has to be a Guardian long-read in them.

Part Six: The Rising of the Public Policy Hero

I woke at eight in the morning on Saturday, which is late for me. The good people at CLAIR had ensured that we didn’t need to check out until 1pm to help facilitate those of us with afternoon flights and who had check ins at other hotels, which meant that I could drag myself off for a jog around the Imperial Palace again. There is actually a Parkrun in Tokyo, but as it was located a bit of a shlep away in Futakotamagawa, I decided not to bother with that. Perhaps next time!

I returned in time to have the last sitting of breakfast, and checked out. I was keen to fit in a bit of sightseeing before heading off to my new hotel, and I felt that if I didn’t formally leave the hotel, I’d just hang around pointlessly for a couple of hours. I had managed to keep my weeb tendencies in check during the official part of the trip, but my blurting out of the theme tune to Neon Genesis Evangelion had unleashed the pent-up pressure. As release, I took the subway to Akihabara.

​Even if you don’t know it by name, Akihabara is probably what you most associate with a Japanese cityscape. Bright lights, noise, incessant billboards, and people in cosplay dominate the area around the station. It is generally accepted as the hub for Japanese popular culture, with dozens of shops selling anime and manga products, light novels, DVDs, cosplay outfits and just about everything you can imagine. I am obviously a nerd for this sort of stuff, but I am certainly not as openly engaged with the whole community as you tend to assume, so I did my best to look as respectable as possible amongst the ocean of otaku. That said, I spent an enjoyable couple of hours wandering around the area, and did buy a couple of things that I had my eye on. Most of the stores, are set out over multiple floors catering either for specific series’ or for types of products, and you usually have to pay separately on each one. It certainly saves time and probably helps with security. Most places also ban photography, but a few will allow you to have a few snaps of the displays. I especially liked this NieR stuff, even if it was far beyond my budget!

I then wandered over to the Tokyo Dome, an entertainment complex that offers a combination of old-fashioned fairground style rides, as well as a roller coaster, but decided against going on anything, and then collected my baggage and headed for my home for the last couple of days in the city.

After a week spent in Western-style hotels (with the exception of the onsen outside Tsu) I had decided to spend another couple of days in Tokyo exploring by myself. The Japanese Government did not offer to put me up for this at their own expense, which I found to be rather unfair, but as I am a magnanimous fellow, I let it slide. I am a penny pincher at the best of times, and working for a think tank is not known for being the most extravagantly paid occupation, so I booked myself into the Kimi Ryokan,in the Ikebukuro area, a few miles north of the Imperial Palace. A ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn, and the nature of them varies about as dramatically as you’d expect.

The Kimi was actually more of a minshuku, more akin to a hostel or a bed and breakfast than a hotel, but I can still recommend it. As with many buildings in Japan, it is a modern construction, but remains very traditional on the inside in terms of decor.

Shoes are not allowed past the small, lowered entrance hall (you keep them in a cupboard with your room number on, the floors are covered with the ubiquitous tatami bamboo matting, toilets and showers are shared, and the sleeping arrangements are a futon. Frankly, I always feel rather out of place in luxury hotels, and I was keen to have a simple base of operations for the next couple of days. It was also remarkably cheap, with the three nights only coming to £103, which even out of season is a good deal. As people have noted, it seems to be a bit of a myth that Tokyo is an expensive city. I know that I’m coming from London saying that, but even a skinflint like me could get by without spending too much during my time here. If you aimed to go for cheap attractions and kept eating out to the cheaper end of things, I think you could do most days for not much more than ¥3000/4000 (about £22 to £30).

Travel guides are not exactly complimentary about Ikebukuro — most describing it as a forgettable part of Tokyo. I disagreed with this, although as a forgettable person myself, I may go into bat for the less beloved parts of a city (I am currently Head of Press for Enfield Council).

Ikebukuro is split in half by a large train station, which acts as a hub for a number of commuter lines heading into the centre of Tokyo, making it the third largest in the world. As with many large transport hubs in Japan, it is dominated by commercial and office buildings. In this case, the rival department stores of Seibu and Tōbu glower at one another from either side of the train tracks. After checking into the Kimi and inspecting the facilities, which took about sixteen seconds, I went out for a bit of an evening explore.

I headed through the underpass of the station to the eastern side of Ikebukuro, which is perhaps best known for Otome Road — one of the largest centres for anime and manga culture after Akihabara. Unlike the latter, which is very male dominated (as noted by the large number of billboards with typical, scantily clad anime girls on), Otome caters more for much more of a female audience, with a large focus on shōjo and josei, and women-led light novels. It makes for a much less off-putting atmosphere than Akihabara, especially for a fairly reserved person like me. I wandered through to the Sunshine 60 complex — as well as being home to what was previously the tallest skyscraper in Japan, it also holds the Sunshine City shopping centre, so I indulged my inner kid and had a walk around. The complex contains a number of major attractions, including a concert hall, a big Namco amusement centre and various things like cat cafes — it really put me in mind of Tokyo’s version of the Barbican, but a bit better because the Barbican doesn’t have an aquarium or a Pokémon Center. The whole place was built on the site of an old prison complex for war criminals.

Anyway, I bought a Bulbasaur for myself and a Pikachu for my friend Tom.

I was tired and overly hungry by the time I was halfway to my hotel and wanted something cheap but filling, which made me naturally pop into the first place I saw that looked cheap and full without really paying attention to what it was. Thankfully, rather than a brothel, it turned out to be an outlet of Yoshinoya — Japan’s pre-eminent fast food chain. Yoshinoya specialise in gyūdon, which is a great counter to people who think that Japanese food is purely based around fish and beautiful presentation. I had a bowl of their speciality for less than the price of a Tesco meal deal and felt very pleased with myself. Gyūdon is basically just rice topped with beef and onions but somehow manages to be the best thing in the world if you are either drunk or just in need of comfort food. During the height of the BSE crisis at the start of the Millennium, the chain was forced to stop selling their signature dish owing to the ban on beef exports from America. When it was lifted in 2006, the queues for “the beef bowl revival festival” reached for over a mile in some areas of the country.

Feeling thoroughly sated, I collapsed onto my futon and woke the next morning feeling entirely refreshed.

The next day, I woke early and headed off to the station by way of a local branch of Moriva Coffee. I am a firm believer that it is fine to go to generic cafe chains so long as it is a local generic cage chain, and I was also craving a flat white after over a week of green tea and morning miso. There is a big fad for kōhī to tōsuto at the moment, as a recent Guardian article notes, and as the only westerner in the place, I felt that I could pass it off as a fairly authentic breakfast.

I like museums, but I tend to avoid going to the large, national ones if I’m abroad. I usually find that they are either so expensive you end up feeling obliged to spend the whole day in them, or they have an excellent collection but nevertheless isn’t really “about” the country in question. At least the British Museum is free so you can dash around it, but as much as I love Paris, I don’t think it’s the best use of a city break to fritter around in the Louvre to see a load of art from Italy (it’s why I much prefer the Musée d’Orsay). Likewise, I felt that the considerable merits of the National Museum could be saved for a future visit to Tokyo. I therefore headed out of Ikebukuro into the western suburbs.

I alighted in Suginami, which is rapidly becoming one of the more Bohemian areas of Tokyo. Many artists and live here, so there is the usual influx of small galleries, hipster cafes, and the like. There isn’t a huge amount of interest here bar the odd shrine, but it struck me as a very sensible place to base yourself if you were visiting.

I visited the local animation museum, which was located on the third floor of the local community centre, which — like many municipal buildings in Japan — looked to have been built to a very high standard in the 1970s and then just left to age like a fine, modernist wine. The museum is actually part of a local university specialising in media studies and art, and was small but very well put together. They have a pillar at the centre of the exhibition, with signatures by hundreds of leading manga artists.

Yoshihiro Togashi, of Hunter x Hunter fame.

Many of these people were entirely new to me!

Ah, the three genders.

One of the highlights was they have perfect mock-ups of desks belonging to some key anime directors and artists, including Yoshiyuki Tomino of Mobile Suit Gundam fame, as well as a signature wall of hundreds of people from across the industry. They also have a regular new intake of the latest posters. I was quite annoyed that you cannot buy them. They have perfect mock ups of some key anime director and artists desks, including Yoshiyuki Tomino of Mobile Suit Gundam fame.

They also have a regular new intake of the latest posters. I was quite annoyed that you cannot buy them. The first one here is for Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! which has just started airing an is an absolute banger. Basically a non-sexist Bakuman.

Easy Breezy

Or Boku No Hero Academia: Heroes Rising, if you’re annoying.

Haikyu!!

Moe World War Two Combat — The Series

Had I had more time, I would have also visited the nearby Ghibli Museum, but instead I wandered up to up Kami-Igusa Station to catch the train to my next destination. Outside, I was nonplussed to encounter a bronze statue of a Gundam. I had never heard of this one, unlike the famous life-sized mecha near Tokyo waterfront. I later found out that about ten years ago, the residents of Suginami paid for it to be constructed in honour of the makers of the premier mecha robot series, Sunrise Animation, who are based in the area.

​I took the train twenty minutes further west to Hana-Koganei, where I had a small bento box of something that I think was chicken and a squid tentacle with rice, but wasn’t really paying attention because for some inexplicable reason, you weren’t allowed to eat inside (which I was confused by given that the store had a row of tables and chairs — must be something to do with trading hours, I suppose). It wasn’t an especially warm day, so after scoffing it down outside I went to an outlet of Mr Donut and had a coffee and cruller to warm up.

I did a full Twitter thread about my visit to the Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architecture Museum, but I cannot recommend it highly enough. If you are in the city and have even a vague interest in the subject, go. I think Churchill’s maxim about us being shaped by our buildings is one that is entirely accurate. If you wish to get a feel for a nation’s way of looking at themselves, look at where they live and work.

The cost of both of these museum visits was ¥400. The animation museum was free. The train fare there and back literally cost me more.

I was tired and a bit grumpy at this point but I nevertheless alighted at Shinjuku Station (now this is the largest one in the world) and wandered over to the Metropolitan Government Building. I had been there around a week ago for an aforementioned meeting, but hadn’t had time to visit properly. I was keen to visit the observation deck, and had got lucky as it was just turning to darkness. There is something wonderful about seeing a city slowly turning on night mode, and I spent an hour watching the lights of Shinjuku and the rest of the metropolis lighting up.

I returned to Ikebukuro via Star Wars. Owing to the number of people working in Tokyo City Hall, they’ve built a subway from Shinjuku station for effectively the whole mile or so to their place of work. It’s a bit Death Star.

​I wandered around near the Kimi for a bit before, on a whim, popped into an izekaya. I had thought that my limited Japanese would be sufficient, but it was not. Aside ‘hello’, I couldn’t make a single word stick, although I think that they were putting it on a bit, I mean, even with my accent I think ”Bīru ippai kudasai?” is fairly unambiguous. Nevertheless, via a mixture of pointing at the table next to me, I managed to have a wonderful set of nibbles for not much more than £20. As noted, I’m including what I assume had to be a 50 percent gaijin mark-up.

Kobe beef sashimi

Squid

Yakitori

I still felt obliged to go home via the 7/11 for another beer and some packaged dried squid. Now, it looks, smells, tastes and feels exactly like you’d imagine packaged dried squid to taste like.

It’s not bad, it just feels vaguely wrong in the same way pork scratchings do.

I suppose it’s the same way most people think about me.

After doing my laundry, because I’m a sixty year old woman who doesn’t want to travel with a load to do when they get home, I fell asleep, watching a bit of anime trash. After what had been a very cultured day, I felt something brainless was absolutely justified.

Part Six: The Beast the Shouted “Aye!” At The Heart of the Diet; or, Departure With No Wasted Draws​

Since I can remember, I have always been a man with an almost pathological fear of missing a train, plane or ferry. I often hear from friends complaining on social media that they’ve arrived for a flight a day early by mistake, and often think “ surely that is eminently sensible?”

Nevertheless, I saw my KLM check in email with a look of resignation and filled it in in a similar sense of irritation.

After over a week of clement weather and unseasonable warmth, my final day in Japan was cold and miserable. Fortunately, I was neither. Taking into my erstwhile fear of missing my now checked-in flight home, and wanting an excuse to visit another part of Tokyo, I took the train to Nippori Station to buy a ticket for my train to the airport for the next day (a pointless action, given that it never gets booked out, but like I say, I am neurotic for this sort of thing).

My travel plans secure, I had an excuse to walk from Nippori to the Diet. This wander took me via Yanaka cemetery, one of the most important in the City, although there are very few physical burials. Given the lack of suitable space in Japan, as well as the country’s historic links with Buddhism, cremation is overwhelmingly done after death. The Meiji Government attempted to ban the practice shortly after the Restoration in an effort to promote domestic Shintoism, but this proved impossible to implement, and the ban was repealled after less than two years.

Whilst wandering, I came across a teru teru bōzu (shine shine monk). These are little handmade charms that are said to bring good weather and ward off rain. It seemed to just about be working that day!

​The walk then took me through the rather wonderful Ueno Park, which basically houses all the museums and shines the powers that be cannot find room to put anywhere else in Tokyo. It also has a zoo. It is not the most beautiful park in the world, nor is it the largest, but even on a Monday morning in January, the crowds were considerable. Had I been in Japan a few months later, I would probably have struggled to move at all, given that Ueno is one of the most popular places for hanami (cherry blossom viewing) parties.

I wandered out of Ueno and back towards the city proper, and once again found myself in Akihabara. Finding an excuse to buy some new wireless headphones to replace the ones that I had left carelessly in my hotel room in Tsu, I also noted — obviously — a pop-up raman bar for the popular comedy anime, Konosuba, but decided against going in. I felt that that really would have been too far, even for me.

Given that she’s a masochist, I’m not sure that it makes sense for Darkness to be one enjoying the noodles.

​I have one tradition when I visit a capital city, which is to try and visit the national legislative building if at all possible. I had secured a ticket for a free tour of the Diet before I left the UK, but was surprised that I wasn’t the only person to have shown up for one of the daily English-tours. As I waited in security, I recalled my old readings about the curious nature of Japan’s political system.

I will go into history mode here — so for those of you more interested by buildings and food, feel free to skip to the manga portrait of former Prime Minister, Junichiro Koizumi.

Japan’s political system can best be summarised as the Westminster System under the aegis of an American eye. To understand the modern Japanese polity, it is important to note the history behind a nation that simultaneously combines the oldest continuous executive office in the world, with a system of government that was rebuilt from the ashes of total war. This hybrid of ancient and modern, combined with issues regarding national identity and responsibility, have created a political system that is both familiar and alien to western audiences.

The Meiji Revolution (commonly referred to as the ‘Restoration’) was one of the most significant events in the history of East Asia. Spurred on by the cultural shock associated with the Perry Expedition, reformist leaders from Satsuma and Chōshū overthrew the ruling Tokugawa shogunate that had ruled Japan since 1600. The hereditary Shoguns had governed as feudal strongmen, with the Emperor left as an effectively vestigial figure, carrying spiritual respect but no real political authority. The Restoration (which can more accurately considered to have been part-Civil War, part-Counter Coup), led to the Emperor being given absolute authority over both the Spiritual and Temporal matters of state — with a new political structure being created as a hybrid of the British and Prussian systems. The Emperor was invested with absolute power over the new Diet — although no laws could be entered into force without the approval of Ministers of State.

Japan’s membership of the allies during the First World War brought the country Great Power status. Despite common perceptions, the country gained a great deal from the end of the conflict — including a permanent seat on the Security Council of the League of Nations. However, a proposal by the Prime Minister and Lead Delegate to the Versailles Peace Conference, Hara Takashi, to entrench full racial equality in the organs of the new international system, was not taken up. Whilst largely supported by France and the United Kingdom, it was vetoed by Woodrow Wilson on the grounds of latent controversy.

For Japanese conservatives, the rejection of the racial equality clause was taken as a sign of the country not being treated as a true partner on the world stage. During the 1920s, this resentment would linger, as would the effects of economic depression — not helped by the protectionist tariffs imposed by the United States on Japan’s heavy industries. A financial crisis in 1927 (a precursor to the Wall Street Crash) led to the further discrediting of civilian governments amongst the general public. This further gave rise to a deepening of ties between the Zaibatsu industrial-banking conglomerates and the armed forces, which increasingly held sway over political figures.

The London Naval Treaty of 1930 limited the size of the Japanese fleet — proved to be a perceived humiliation too far for members of the armed forces, resulting in a wave of political violence that cumulated in the so-called “May 15 Incident” of 1932. Although the plotters were unsuccessful in their original goal of forcing war with the United States by assassinating Charlie Chaplin, democratic government was fatally undermined by the inability of the authorities to hand out more than token punishments to the ringleaders of the plot. Within a few years, a further coup attempt — the “February 26 Incident” — led to the consolidation of military authority over the entire Japanese body politic.

However, even during the Second World War, a semblance of democratic accountability remained. The 1942 election to the House of Representatives — although by then a rubber-stamp legislature — still led to a third of delegates being elected without the endorsement of the Imperial Rule Assistance Association — an organisation intended to be the precursor to a new single-party state. Unlike Nazi Germany, totalitarianism never truly came to Imperial Japan, and the basic principles of the Meiji Constitution remained invoked.

Nevertheless, the Treaty of San Francisco and the subsequent occupation of the Home Island spelled the end to the old system. Under Douglas MacArthur — Military Governor and Viceroy in all but name — the modern-day Constitution of Japan came into force. Technically an amendment to the Meiji system, it nevertheless represented a huge shift in the levers of power. Written largely by two senior American military figures with legal backgrounds, the new document was presented to the newly elected House of Representatives after the 1946 general election. With two significant amendments prior to ratification (explicit references to the role of the Emperor, and the introduction of a bicameral Diet rather than MacArthur’s preferred unicameral system) it entered into force the following year. It has never been amended. However, the clause committing Japan to neutrality and formally banning the existence of armed forces, Article 9, remains one of the great shibboleths of Japanese politics.

The immediate post-war period was — naturally — a time of great political upheaval for the country. After the 1946 General Election, Shigeru Yoshida — a former Diplomat who had been one of the leading opponents of war against Britain and the United States — became Prime Minister. Although he stepped down after only twelve months, he returned to the post just over a year later and remained in office until 1952. Under the Yoshida Doctrine, the Government established a foreign policy committed to non-intervention in international affairs, with a close security and economic partnership with the United States. With no formal armed forces, Yoshida placed economic reconstruction at the heart of Japanese domestic and foreign policy, paving the way for the economic boom of subsequent decades.

The history of post-War Japan could therefore be said to have been on a similar course of that of Germany. However, many of the tropes associated with modern-day Japan; a dominant-party state, historical and constitutional revisionism, and uneasy diplomatic relations with neighbouring states — place it quite at odds with its former ally in the Anti-Comintern Pact. The reasons for this are naturally complex, but the key issue is one of geography. With the Communist victory in the Chinese Civil War in 1949, and the North Korean invasion of the South less than twelve months later, the focus of the American occupation became increasingly focused on assisting the Truman Doctrine and ‘containing’ the spread of Communism in East Asia. The General Elections of 1947 had allowed the Japanese Socialist Party to enter Government, with Tetsu Katayama installed as Prime Minister. Despite Katayama’s moderate leanings, a rise in Marxist agitation within the party, coupled with corruption scandals, led to the coalition collapsing and the return of Yoshida as Prime Minister. Although the brief period of socialist rule led to profound changes to the country, including the establishment of labour laws and healthcare reform that remain extant to the present day, it nevertheless proved a shock to both centre and right, as well as the White House. The risk of a left-wing Japan — even as a neutral non-aligned power — was seen as being a grave threat to the post-war order.

The Korean War offered a solution for all concerned parties. Demand for materiel by the allies gave a needed boost for Japanese industry, whilst also allowing for a major political realignment. Under Yoshida, the Liberal Party moved increasingly to the right, whilst his successor as Prime Minister — Ichirō Hatoyama — likewise consolidated power within the Democratic Party. In 1955 — the two parties formally merged to create the Liberal Democratic Party. Winning the General Election later that year, it would remain in power until 1993.

The post-war constitution — written in less than a week — has remained in force, unamended, since 1947. It establishes Japan as a constitutional monarchy with supreme power vested in the Diet and the Prime Minister.

Japan’s Parliament (Diet) is a bicameral body consisting of a lower House of Representatives and an upper House of Councillors. Both chambers are elected by all citizens above the age of 18 (reduced from 20 in 2016) under the principles of universal suffrage. The House of Representatives is comprised of 465 members elected for four year terms. Japan’s semi-proportional electoral system allows for 176 members to be elected from eleven multi-member constituencies via a closed party-list system — with the remaining 289 members elected from single-member constituencies. As a result of this, a party needs to have 233 seats to have an overall majority. The House of Councillors is comprised of 242 members, who are elected for six-year terms, with half of the chamber elected every three years. Unlike the House of Representatives, the House of Councillors cannot be dissolved by the Prime Minister. Each election therefore sees 73 members elected from the 47 prefectural districts via the single non-transferable vote, with the remaining 48 are elected from a nationwide list by proportional representation with open lists.

The minimum age to be elected to the Diet is 25 for members of the House of Representatives, and 30 for members of the House of Councillors.

As in most other Parliamentary systems, it is the lower House that has the most power and the Prime Minister and most Ministers are drawn from there. Whilst laws must be passed in both chambers before coming law, the House of Representatives can override the House of Councillors by a vote of two-thirds. The lower chamber also has total authority over matters pertaining to the Budget, the ratification of foreign treaties, and the election of the Prime Minister. Whilst any member of the Diet can be elected Prime Minister, in principle, it always ends up being the leader of the majority party/coalition in the House of Representatives.

Unlike other nations with ceremonial Heads of State, the Emperor does not even exercise nominal executive authority — but rather serve as a ‘symbol of the State’. All executive powers are vested in the Prime Minister and the Cabinet. Additionally, whilst new laws must be signed into law by the Sovereign, he does not even have the nominal power of veto.

However, the Emperor still formally appoints the Prime Minister and the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, dissolves the House of Representatives, as well as receiving Ambassadors and the awarding of Honours. The Emperor is the head of the oldest continuous monarchy in the world. Although the supposed founder of the Imperial Dynasty, Emperor Jimmu, is believed to be mythical, most historians consider the Emperor Ankō to be the earliest figure to be historically verifiable — he is believed to have reigned around 450 AD. Upon assuming the Chrysanthemum Throne, a new era name is announced. It is considered very disrespectful to refer to the Emperor by his previous name or the name of his era until his death. The Emperor-Emeritus, Akihito, abdicated in 2019 and was succeeded by his son, Naruhito — an event unprecedented in modern times and which demanded a new law to be passed. The new monarch will be known to history as Emperor Reiwa. This is officially explained as “beautiful harmony”, but which could also be read as the somewhat more ominous “ordered peace”.

In a very on-brand innovation by the current Prime Minister, the new era name is the first one to be taken from Japanese literature, rather than Chinese.

The Imperial Family Law was traditionally very complex but was simplified after the Meiji Restoration and the Post-War Constitution. Today, Japan follows a system of strict Agnatic primogeniture wherein only men can inherit the throne. This, coupled with the abolition of the Imperial cadet-branches during the American occupation, and the prohibition on women remaining in the imperial family if they marry a commoner, means that the Imperial Family is very small. Only three people currently stand in the line of succession of which one, the Emperor’s uncle, Prince Hitachi, is in his eighties. Prior to the birth of Prince Hisahito of Akishino in 2006, discussion was held into reforming the succession law to prevent the dynasty dying out. The Prince’s birth — the first male child to be born into the family since 1965 — lessened these calls, but it may well return the years to come. Despite this, at present, Prince Hisahito is second in line to the throne after his father.

The Prime Minister heads a Cabinet comprised of Ministers of State, who are in turn supported by various Junior Ministers. A unique aspect of the Japanese Executive is the power and influence of the Cabinet Office headed by the Prime Minister, which enjoys more influence than the equivalent in the United Kingdom. The day-to-day running of the Cabinet Office is dealt with by the Chief Cabinet Secretary, who is usually the ‘face’ of the Government on a day-to-day basis. Since the war, it is traditionally seen as being a stepping-stone to the Premiership.

Many junior positions are suitably cyberpunk sounding…

Owing to regular reshuffles and short tenures of Ministers, the power of the Ministries and the wider bureaucrats is considerable. Additionally, an independent body, the Board of Audit, reviews government expenditure and delivers an annual report to the Government. It is constitutionally protected from interference by either the Cabinet or the Diet.

This dominance by a single party has therefore led to a system where the key characteristics of Japanese politics are largely synonymous with the interests and structures of one organisation. This is not to say that Japan lacks a meaningful or influential system from outwith the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), only that they have not been able to bring about institutional reforms associated with opposition movements in other comparable countries. The key characteristics expressed by the LDP are:

Factionalism: Policy shifts and political changes are dominated by internal movements within the Liberal Democratic Party. Whilst factions are a common feature of many East Asian political parties — Japan is notable for having ones that are usually stable and institutionalised. These factions themselves usually wax and wane according to the fortunes of their leaders, but are usually considered to fall into two camps based on the 1955 merger between economic liberals under Yoshida, and the more revisionist conservatives under Hatoyama. In recent times, successful Prime Ministers such as Junichiro Koizumi and Shinzo Abe in his second term have been able to straddle the boundaries between the two, but have nevertheless had their powerbase focused in one camp over the other. Within these two broad strands, the factions are further developed around areas such as regional interests, think tanks, and ideological movements. The number of factions in the LDP usually ranges from five to eight. The current Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, and most of his inner Cabinet, were members of the Seiwa Political-analysis Council — strongly associated with the nationalist trend of the old Democratic Party. For clarity, whilst the official names of the factions are used internally, most media outlets refer to them under the names of their party leaders. Whilst the power of these factions has greatly waned under the unprecedented dominance of the current Prime Minister, there is no sign yet of them fading away entirely.

Family Cliques: More than many equivalent countries (aside, perhaps, the Republic of Ireland) — Japan is dominated by family links and cliques. Members of Parliament regularly inherit seats from their parents or other close relatives, which further leads into the institutionalised nature of the factionalist system — and, consequently — senior political positions being dominated by family groups. The current Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, is the grandson on his mother’s side of former Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi (like him, an economic reformer and ultraconservative), whilst his Deputy Tarō Asō (a former Prime Minister himself) is the grandson of Shigeru Yoshida. Rising star and LDP policy wonk, Shinjirō Koizumi, is widely considered to be a Prime Minister-in-Waiting himself and is the son of a former Prime Minister. As a mark of his popularity beyond opinion polls, green tea rolls branded with his face became the second best-selling item in the National Diet Gift Shop in 2012, only narrowly beaten by sweet dumplings bearing the likeness of the Prime Minister.

Anti-Socialism: Despite harbouring genuine disagreements over policy issues ranging from privatisation, to constitutional reform, to foreign policy, the main harbinger of party unity remains opposition to a socialist government in Japan — whilst the threat of such has declined with the end of the Cold War, continued threats (both real and imagined) from China and North Korea has continued to dominate internal debates within the LDP. Factions that in other countries that would naturally be separate parties continue to clutch one another close for fear of losing influence.

Corporatism: Linked to this is the revolving door nature of Japanese politics, industry, and civil administration. Whilst the formal structures of the old Zaibatsu were destroyed after the end of the Second World War, the LDP is still nominated by old industrial families and the post-war Keiretsu (“System”) structure of interlocking business interests — often centred on a large bank. Reforms in the 1980s and the Asian Banking Crisis at turn of the century has weakened this system yet further, but it is still common for people to move from the family business, to a policy unit, to the Cabinet, and back again. Taro Asō’s family — for example — own one of the largest mining companies in the country.

Rural Malapportionment: The final strand of the LDP’s dominance has been the historic over-representation of rural constituencies over urban areas. Originally a natural response to the devastation and depopulation of the cities during the Allied Bombing Campaigns — rural areas, aided by the divergence between closed-list PR seats and the First-Past-The-Post single member districts, has led to a situation where country voters can have almost three-times as much influence as those living in the inner cities. A key element of the LDP’s historical political success, therefore, has focused on favouring the countryside over more urban areas in terms of welfare payments and agricultural subsidies.

​Our excellent tour lasted approximately one hour and took us around the majority of the public areas of the National Diet Building. Unsurprisingly, this is the third structure to house the post-Meiji parliament — the previous two having burnt down in 1891 and 1925 respectively. The current building, completed in 1936, is an austere but interesting combination of Western and Japanese styles.

A few years ago, I acquired an excellent book on the layouts of Parliamentary buildings by a Dutch firm, who have also done an excellent companion website. As a write-up in Wired notes, the layout of a legislative chamber is often a good indication of that nation’s approach to politics.

​The vast hemicycle used by the House of Representatives (the style is similar in the House of Councillors) implies a vaguely consensus-based approach to politics, but given the aforementioned dominance of the Liberal Democratic Party, the Diet is not known as the most adversarial of debating Chambers. That said, fights have occasionally broken out, especially on matters pertaining to constitutional reform.

I had totally missed that most of the opposition parties have all started to caucus with one another, so we’re clearly nearly ready for yet another merger of everyone from the liberals to the far-right united purely on the grounds of “not liking the LDP”.

“…and the Independent.”

​I didn’t have time to ask what the numbers in parentheses refer to, but I believe that it indicates the number of female members of each parliamentary grouping. Despite considerable steps forward in recent years, politics in Japan remains very much a man’s game.

Our tour concluded outside, with a brief walk through the arboretum on the side of the Diet complex facing the Imperial Palace. Rather sweetly, the trees there have all been donated by each Prefectures. I was delighted to see Mie’s one, a Jingu cedar. The city of Tsu — the prefecture capital — had very kindly given each member of the group a pen made from the same wood.

​There was — of course — time for a quick photo opportunity.

I think I’d probably be a Kadet or a Communist.

​One thing I was delighted to have discovered over the past year is that I can absolutely rock a collarless shirt. This is one of a tiny number of positive fashion choices for me, and I now intend to wear them wherever possible.

Evening was beginning to fall as we were escorted out of the Diet complex, and sadly meant that I was unable to visit the gift shop. This was one of my few regrets of the whole trip, as I had very much wanted to stock up on some politics-themed confectionary, such as the aforementioned Koizumi-rolls.

​I instead decided to cap off my final night in Japan by visiting Tokyo Tower. At over 330 meters in height, it was Japan’s tallest structure until it was roundly trounced by the Skytree, nearly double the height. Despite this, the Skytree is unloved, whilst it’s Eiffel Tower inspired predecessor has become almost as symbolic of Japan as Mount Fuji is. I had intended to walk from the Diet to the Tower, but a long day had sapped most of my energy, so after getting slightly lost around the new development by the Imperial Hotel (which naturally included bumping into the ubiquitous kaiju statue in Godzilla Square).

I decided to take the subway to shave off the last two miles of walking. As another example of Japan’s transport being excellent, but not quite as efficient as you would expect, Tokyo has two subway systems. The larger and more extensive Tokyo Metro was privatized in 2004, whilst the Metropolitan Government owns and manages the Toei Subway. The two systems are linked, but not fully integrated — which also means that you have to pay a small surcharge if you transfer between them. For someone who is used to contactless payments and effortlessly changing between the Tube, Overground, and even National Rail, it is one of the many things that makes Japan seem a little more antiquated than you’d expect,

Nevertheless, I was glad to see Tokyo Tower, lit up majestically in the winter night. I wandered around the base, but declined the opportunity to climb it. I was hungry.

​My final dinner in Japan was at a small but highly recommended katsu restaurant (one I later found to be one of a small chain) in the northern bit of Chiyoda, near Senshu University and a short walk from Tokyo Dome. For less than £10, I had two huge bits of breaded pork, prawn, tempura vegetables, miso, and a beer. I really do get the impression that Japan can be a much cheaper holiday destination than people imagine it to be.

​Sated, I had just about enough energy to spend some of my last remaining Yen on souvenir KitKats before I had an early night. After all that worry about getting a Skyliner ticket, it seemed foolish to risk over-sleeping.

I woke up the next day at 6:30, and checked out by 7. Even in the early morning rain (the shine shine monk I had seen the other day had clearly run out of magic), Ikebukuro Station was busy, and I was worried that I’d struggle to get on the train for the short hop to the Skyliner terminal at Nippori. Fortunately, the carriage was busy, but not rammed, although I got the impression that taking a commuter train with two huge suitcases was not really the done thing. Nevertheless, I arrived without feeling too shamefaced, and the ticket officer even had the good grace to change my Skyliner reservation to an earlier booking.

​Thanks to jetlag and excitement, I hadn’t realised how far out Narita Airport is from Tokyo proper. Even with our sleek direct connection, it took the best part of 45 minutes to arrive at the terminal station. In the 1980s, there had been an aborted effort to build a Shinkansen link to the centre, but the plans fell through thanks to a combination of financing and local opposition. Now, only a short concrete spur exists, which is just about visible from the Skyliner line.

Check in was routine, although I had to transfer nearly three kilograms of weight from my big suitcase to my carry-on one. Considering that I had deliberately underpacked, I had clearly been on quite a spending spree — but everything was neatly reconciled in the end. The flight back was routine, although KLM had the same (poor) selection of movies that they had had on the outbound flight. After ignoring most of Interstellar (terrible film, don’t bother) and reading Shoshana Zuboff’s excellent (but very pessimistic) book on surveillance capitalism. I largely contented myself with eating my own weight in complementary stroopwafels.

After a fairly stress free transfer at Schipol, I arrived at London City with a spring in my step.

It was my first visit to Japan. I don’t think it will be my last.