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Can Not Go Back

Flight YVR to Narita left at 1 p.m.  That’s an exceptionally low-stress and decent time to fly.  Regular morning, no early morning panic, coffee, get out after the traffic rush, check-in, smooth sailing.  Except for one small detail; I misplaced my phone.  So there was no blog.  But really, there was no email, there was no texting, there was no access to banking or passwords or contacts.  No phone and no way to double authenticate and just a series of endless loops of no access.  And, worst of all, the nearly 600 day Wordle streak was toast.

Start of a new streak. Sigh…
Air Canada could take a page from JAL

So, you know, not an auspicious start.  We had a decent flight, smooth until approach, good seats up front.  Skyliner to Ueno.  Hotel 700 meters from station but, like, Japan…  Japan, right?  The only way to walk across a road (which was of course fenced) was up stairs and onto a pedestrian overpass that had umpteen entrances and exits or follow a numbered and lettered directional system underground.  So we took a taxi 700 meters.

 

Lovely modern, new build, Ueno Tokyo.  Compact but efficient, spotless.  The usual toilet: Separate room.  Heated seat.  Automatically lifts.  Automatically flushes.  Bidet on demand.  If there’s a metaphor for the efficiency and attention to detail of Japanese society it’s their toilets.  Who needs AI?

 

We crashed pretty soon after check-in.

 

Stunning day Friday.  Clear, cold, crisp.  We decided on some high culture.  Off to the National Museum for a taste of, wait for it, Hello Kitty.  SNL may consider itself an American comedy institution, but its 50 years have nothing on HK.  We braved the crowds for displays of memorabilia, fashion collaborations, and just plain silliness.

“How Long it’s Been, Since our First Hello” is a poem that greeted us in the first diorama.  I quote in full (get a Kleenex ready):

On clear days

With bright blue skies

Or when the clouds begin to cry

Enjoy in sorrow, far and wide

She’s always by my side

As I change, so does she, forever friends: Kitty and Me

If that doesn’t bring a tear I don’t know what could.  Kitty and Me.

 

Education. Fashion. Teen hysteria. HK covers all the bases.

Afterwards we toured the various National Museum exhibits.  Samurai warrior costumes, burial markers, pottery from cultures past.  And I bet none of the Imperial Class of centuries past saw the power of Hello Kitty coming.

Samurai burial shoes which, and I quote, “came over from Korea.” Correct. They just, you know, came over.

PETA approved horse armour
Placard read: Retainer of a Drunken Persian King. I kid you not
Like doing research for a Tarantino movie

After a long slog of culture we took a quick lunch at a place with 15 seats, a queue, cutlets, tempura, buckwheat noodles, that sort of thing.  In the afternoon we walked the neighbourhood, popped up to Ginza, checked out some bling and the white gloved valets overseeing the bling, then retired to our room.  Dinner in the hotel.  Jazz trio, celebrating Valentine’s.  Lovely.  Except when they sang the consonant V.  Like the V in L-O-V-E or, say, My Funny Valentine.  Ferry Funny Falentine indeed.

In Japan. No phone.

The author of Here Hare has traveled to over 45 countries on six continents, and has lived in Canada, the UK and Australia.

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