by JayasankaranKK
In Kobe, actually.
But first…never take the word of a railway guard.
We were trying to catch the 10 am Shinkansen (bullet train) to Kobe from Tokyo’s Grand Central Station which was large and difficult to navigate: English seemed in short supply.
Till said guard that is. He scrutinised our tickets, nodded and commanded: “Platform 17.”
It was delivered with the magisterial authority of a Tun Suffian and we believed him utterly because it was easier. The platforms were marked so it was doubly easy.
The thing is, bullet trains don’t hang about. Two minutes max and when we piled into the scheduled tenner, we found our “reserved” seats occupied.
Wrong train!
Turned out to be Platform 18 and we only just made it.
We had to sprint.
Travelling by Shinkansen isn’t cheap – about RM440 a piece for a journey of over 2 hours. But it’s comfortable and you get a grandstand view of the countryside flashing past at 285km/hr (180mph).
There were rice plots everywhere although we never saw anyone actually tending them. Indeed, Japan is wholly self-sufficient in rice, amazing for a wholly-industrialised nation of 124 million.
It all looked green and orderly from where we sat, with everything in place, even Mount Fuji which looked serene and detached-from-it-all.
Apart from fish – Fifty Shades of Fish is a best seller – the Japanese love their beef. And nowhere is that flaunted more in the country than Kobe, the place synonymous with beef so tasty it practically leaps off the plate.
I’ve mixed feelings about it though. On our second day in the city, we boarded a hop-on-hop-off bus that took us around part of the city. We got off at Nanking-gate, an entrance into a rabbit-warren of alleys boasting all sorts of items for sale, including all manner of Japanese food.
It was 19 degrees out and pleasantly crisp when we stopped at a stall that was especially crowded. It boasted “Kobe Beef Steak” with government insignia that proclaimed, in several languages, this was, indeed, the Real Deal.
The Nepali chef – a Hindu grill master no less – assured us of the sanctity of his steak. But while tasty, the meat was cool to the taste which implied if it were any rarer, it might awaken to hail a cab.
It was, to say the least, disconcerting.
But what struck me most was the overall cleanliness of the place. The stall was off a side street crowded with people and yet it – the surroundings, its floors – was scrupulously clean.
It was the norm everywhere I went. The bathrooms in Japan made Singapore’s look like the public toilets along our North-South Highway.
On our last night in Kobe, Becky spotted a hole-in-the-wall outlet that promised “killer” KB sliders.
We tried them. They were the best I’ve ever had.
It isn’t cheap to eat out in Japan. We went to a hawker centre in Kobe and ordered bowls of ramen which was as hoi-polloi as it gets. They cost RM32 each.
Even so, the country tries. You can get cheap do-it-yourself meals in any 7-11 outlet in Tokyo. They sell everything from freeze-dried rice meals to all manner of pies. You can also get whisky if that’s what floats your boat.
And did I say it was organised? You could put the entire Malaysian population in the Greater Tokyo Area and it wouldn’t be enough: it is host to 37 million people.
But I never witnessed a traffic jam in Tokyo.
Not once in my two days there.
WE