Why Japan?
“Why did you go to Japan?” you may ask.
Well… it wasn’t necessarily my choice.
My son, who I travel a lot with, had always wanted to go to Japan. More specifically, he wanted to sit under a tree surrounded by cherry blossoms during cherry blossom season.
He’d originally made plans to go on his own.
Then his mother had what I can only assume was a moment of clarity.
She decided I should go with him.
Why?
Well, my son is geographically challenged.
He can get lost on a daily basis in our own hometown, so apparently sending him halfway around the world on his own wasn’t considered a particularly sensible idea.
And that’s how I ended up going to Japan.
Not because it had necessarily been on my bucket list.
Not because I’d spent years dreaming about cherry blossoms.
But because apparently, at 53, I’m still the designated adult when my son needs to find his way around.
Who Actually Planned This Trip?
To this day, if you ask my son, he’ll tell you that he planned everything.
And technically… I suppose that’s one version of events.
I’ll give him this: he did pay for my ticket and gave it to me as a Christmas present. So he absolutely gets credit for getting me to Japan.
But there was one small condition.
I wasn’t allowed to make him feel like I was taking over the planning.
Apparently, this was his trip.
So I had to be very careful.
Every suggestion had to somehow sound like it was his idea. Every decision had to feel like he was making it.
Where we stayed?
His decision.
How we were getting from A to B?
His decision.
What we were doing and where we were going?
Yep… his decision.
I merely provided 95% of the influence behind those decisions.
Basically, I was running the trip from the shadows while allowing him to maintain complete ownership of the planning.
And to this day, he genuinely believes he planned the whole thing.
I’m not going to correct him.
After all, keeping the peace is part of travelling with family.
And Here’s Why I Had to Be Involved…
You might be wondering why I had to be so heavily involved in the planning.
Well, here’s a perfect example.
We’re looking at a map of Tokyo — the biggest city in the world — trying to work out where we want to go.
My son knows exactly what he wants to see.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I want to go to X, Y and Z.”
“Okay. Where are they on the map?”
“Oh, they’re over on the west side of Tokyo.”
Right.
Except…
Google Maps said they were on the northeast side of Tokyo.
And this wasn’t a one-off.
This was the level of geographical confidence I was dealing with.
So when I say I influenced 95% of the planning, it wasn’t because I wanted to take over his trip.
It was because I quite liked the idea of actually finding our way home.
Remember, this is the same son whose own mother had decided that sending him to Japan alone probably wasn’t the greatest idea.
Suddenly, her decision was making a lot more sense.
Part 1: Planning the trip
So, When Do We Go?
But as I said, like every great trip, there’s a lot of planning that goes into it.
First question: when are we going?
Easy.
April.
Why?
Cherry blossoms. 🌸
You can do your research online and get a pretty good idea of when cherry blossom season is expected to happen, so we picked our dates and started working backwards from there.
And I have to give my son credit for one thing.
The day he actually booked the flights was Good Friday.
That might not sound particularly important, but Good Friday was a holiday from work for us.
Which meant one less vacation day we had to use.
So, credit where credit is due.
He may have been geographically challenged…
But he knew how to book a flight on a statutory holiday. 😂
Japan was officially happening.
So Where Are We Going?
Okay, so now we knew why we were going, when we were going, and how long we were going for.
Two weeks.
Now came the next big question:
What part of this beautiful country are we actually going to visit?
Obviously, Tokyo had to be number one.
We couldn’t go all the way to Japan and not spend a good chunk of time in Tokyo.
So we decided on almost a week there.
And when you look at Tokyo on a map, you quickly realise why.
It’s absolutely enormous, and there’s so much to see and explore that you could probably spend weeks there and still only scratch the surface.
So Tokyo was going to be our first big stop.
But it wasn’t going to be our only one.
Two weeks gives you enough time to see a fair bit of Japan…
…but not nearly enough time to see everything.
So now we had another problem.
Where else were we going?
And Then We Had to Figure Out Where Else to Go
And I’m not going to lie to you…
When it came to geography in Japan, it wasn’t exactly my strongest subject.
Tokyo? Obviously.
I’d always wanted to see Mount Fuji.
And, unfortunately, the only other place I’d really heard of was Hiroshima.
And that was pretty much the extent of my Japanese geographical knowledge.
So now I’m thinking:
Okay… where else is there in Japan to visit?
Fortunately, this is where having a son who had actually done some research came in handy.
Because it turns out Japan is slightly bigger than Tokyo, Mount Fuji and Hiroshima. 😂
There was a lot more to discover.
And that’s when the itinerary started to take shape.
Apparently, There’s More to Japan Than Tokyo
Apparently, Kyoto was the former capital of Japan.
Who knew?
Well… my son, apparently.
So Kyoto was added to the itinerary.
It also made perfect sense geographically. Osaka is relatively close, and both cities are easy to get between, so rather than constantly packing and unpacking, we decided to base ourselves in Kyoto and use it as our home for the second part of the trip.
So that gave us roughly our first week in Tokyo…
…and our second week based in Kyoto, travelling out from there to explore some of the surrounding areas.
The plan was starting to come together.
Tokyo.
Kyoto.
Osaka.
Mount Fuji.
And a few other places that, at this point, I was only beginning to discover existed.
Not bad for someone whose original knowledge of Japanese geography consisted of Tokyo, Mount Fuji and Hiroshima. 😂
The Plan Starts to Come Together
Okay, so now the plan was really starting to take shape.
We would take off on Good Friday at 1:05 p.m. from Toronto Pearson Airport.
We’d arrive in Tokyo on Saturday afternoon at 3:40 p.m.
So, technically, it took us a day and a bit to get there — for a 13-hour flight.
Thank you, international date lines and time zones. 😂
The plan was to stay in Tokyo from Saturday through to Friday.
Then, on Friday, we’d head down to Kyoto, where we’d spend the next week based there and travelling around the surrounding area.
That took care of most of the trip.
But there was still one little problem.
We had Thursday, Friday and part of Saturday left in Japan before we flew home.
So where were we going to stay for those final couple of days?
Do we go all the way back to Tokyo?
Do we stay somewhere further away and then have a long journey back to the airport?
Or do we find somewhere that makes sense geographically?
And this is where the planning — and Google Maps — came back into play.
We started looking at the map and working out where would make the most sense for getting back to the airport without spending half our last day travelling.
And that’s how Yokohama ended up on the itinerary.
And Then There Was Yokohama
So, after looking at the map and working out what made the most sense for our last couple of days, we decided on Yokohama.
Now, I’ll be honest, when I first heard Yokohama, I thought, Yokohama… aren’t they the people who make the tyres?
Apparently, yes.
But apparently they’re also a beautiful port city in Japan.
Who knew? 😂
It hadn’t been anywhere on my original list of places to visit, but it made perfect sense for the last couple of days.
It gave us somewhere different to explore and also put us in a convenient position for getting back to Haneda Airport.
So Yokohama it was.
Another place added to the itinerary that, until we started planning this trip, I knew absolutely nothing about.
One Final Bit of Preparation
So, with the flights booked and the itinerary starting to come together, there was one final piece of preparation I thought might be a good idea.
Learn the language.
Now, coming from the UK, I do sometimes struggle speaking English, so obviously the logical next step was to learn Japanese. 😂
And I didn’t just give it a go for a few days.
Oh no.
I committed to it.
For 115 consecutive days, I sat down and learned Japanese.
115 days.
That’s dedication.
That’s commitment.
That’s the sort of preparation you do when you’re determined to arrive in Japan and actually be able to communicate with people.
I wasn’t expecting to become fluent.
But after 115 days, I thought I’d at least be able to hold a reasonable conversation.
Maybe ask someone how their day was.
Discuss the weather.
Ask for directions.
Have a bit of a chat with a local.
You know… basic human interaction.
So, after 115 days of studying Japanese, what could I actually say?
Well…
I could ask for a bowl of rice.
I could ask for a glass of water.
I could ask for a cup of green tea.
I could say hello, Hannah.
I could ask, “Where is the lawyer?”
And I could tell you that Hannah was cute.
That was it.
115 days.
One hundred and fifteen days of learning Japanese…
…and apparently I’d prepared myself for Japan by becoming extremely good at ordering lunch, staying hydrated, drinking tea and potentially getting sued.
In fairness, I felt ready. 😂
Our Two Weeks in Japan
✈️ Friday, April 3 — Toronto → Tokyo
Our adventure officially began at Toronto Pearson Airport, with our flight departing at 1:05 p.m.
🇯🇵 Saturday, April 4 — Arrive in Tokyo
After the 13-hour flight, we landed at Tokyo Haneda Airport at 3:40 p.m.
🏙️ April 4–10 — Tokyo
Almost a full week exploring Tokyo and everything this enormous city had to offer.
🚅 Friday, April 10 — Tokyo → Kyoto
We left Tokyo and travelled to Kyoto, our base for the next part of the trip.
⛩️ April 10–16 — Kyoto
Almost a full week based in Kyoto, travelling around the area and exploring places including Osaka.
🚄 Thursday, April 16 — Kyoto → Yokohama
We left Kyoto and travelled to Yokohama for the final couple of days of our Japanese adventure.
🌆 April 16–18 — Yokohama
Two final days exploring Yokohama and enjoying our last bit of Japan, while also putting us in a convenient position for getting back to the airport.
✈️ Saturday, April 18 — Tokyo Haneda → Toronto
Our flight home left Tokyo Haneda Airport at 6:00 p.m.
And then Japan did one final trick on us.
We landed back at Toronto Pearson at 5:00 p.m. on Saturday afternoon.
So after two weeks in Japan, we’d somehow managed to travel back in time.
We left Japan at 6 p.m. on Saturday…
…and arrived in Canada at 5 p.m. on the same Saturday.
Brilliant. Two weeks in Japan and we came home an hour before we left. 😂
The Final Plan
April 3: Toronto → Japan 🇨🇦✈️🇯🇵
April 4–10: Tokyo 🇯🇵
April 10–16: Kyoto 🇯🇵
April 16–18: Yokohama 🇯🇵
April 18: Tokyo → Toronto ✈️🇯🇵🇨🇦
Two weeks.
Three bases.
A whole lot of trains, walking and exploring.
And one geographically challenged son who still thinks he planned the whole thing. 😂
Part 2. Japan…..Well almost
Good Friday — April 3, 2026
After all the planning, the maps, the arguments over which side of Tokyo things were actually on, and 115 days of learning Japanese…
I was actually going to Japan.
As all loving husbands do, having a wife who absolutely hates driving on the highway, I had her drop my son and me off at the airport.
We arrived at Pearson Airport at around 10 a.m.
The flight wasn’t until 1:05 p.m., but my wife wanted to make sure she could get back home at a reasonable time.
Which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.
What we didn’t realise was that she was about to get lost leaving the airport.
And not just a little bit lost.
It took her three and a half hours to do what should have been a one-hour drive home.
Yep.
Three and a half hours.
Which makes me wonder…
where exactly does my son get his geographically challenged issues from? 😂
While my son and I were sitting comfortably inside Pearson, preparing to fly halfway around the world, my wife was apparently having her own geographical adventure just trying to get home.
Suddenly, my son’s inability to navigate Japan didn’t seem quite so mysterious.
Finally, We’re Through Security
Check-in done.
Security done.
We were officially in the departure lounge.
So, naturally, it was time to do some last-minute shopping and stock up on chocolates and little snacks.
Because let’s face it, when you’re diabetic and you’re about to spend 13 hours on a plane, you want to make sure you’ve got a few little goodies with you.
Nothing excessive.
Just a few things to keep me going.
Or at least that’s what I told myself. 😂
Then came problem number one.
I’d bought myself a brand-new backpack specifically for the trip.
It had a little built-in combination lock on it, which I thought was a great idea.
You know, just in case anyone decided they wanted to get into my bag and help themselves to my stuff.
Except there was one small problem.
I couldn’t get into it.
I’m still not entirely sure what happened.
Either the lock broke…
…or I’d forgotten the combination I’d set.
At this point, I’m not prepared to rule out either possibility.
But there I was, sitting in Pearson Airport, about to fly 13 hours to Japan…
with a brand-new backpack that was apparently more secure from me than it was from anyone else. 😂
Problem number one had arrived.
And we hadn’t even boarded the plane yet.
But as all good mechanics, I wasn’t going to let this put me back.
So I spent the next 45 minutes to an hour trying to break into my own backpack.
Which, in the middle of an airport departure lounge, probably looked very suspicious.
There I was, fiddling around with a locked backpack, trying different combinations and generally looking like I was attempting to gain access to something I probably shouldn’t have.
Thankfully, nobody came over to arrest me.
Eventually, I managed to get the bloody thing open.
I still don’t know whether the lock had broken or whether I’d simply forgotten the combination.
Either way, I’d successfully broken into my own backpack.
And we hadn’t even left Canada yet. 😂
Issue Number Two
Shortly after finally getting into my backpack, issue number two arrived.
Apparently, Air Canada had overbooked the flight.
There were no spare seats anywhere.
In fact, they didn’t just need one or two passengers to give up their seats.
They needed 15 passengers to get off the plane.
Fifteen.
I’m not sure what sort of maths was being used when they booked that flight, but apparently 15 people had somehow become optional. 😂
And there we were, sitting in the departure lounge, ready to fly 13 hours to Japan…
…and now there was a possibility we weren’t even getting on the bloody plane.
They started offering $1,000 to any passenger willing to give up their seat.
That didn’t seem to be enough.
So they doubled it.
$2,000.
Still not enough people volunteering.
Then they tripled it.
$3,000.
At that point, my son and I looked at each other.
We’d been waiting around in the airport, we’d already had one problem with the backpack, and now Air Canada was basically asking us if we’d like to get $3,000 each to not go to Japan today.
And we started thinking…
Well… we could stay in a hotel tonight and go tomorrow.
Japan wasn’t going anywhere.
And apparently, neither was the money. 😂
We decided that if it went over $4,000 each, then we’d seriously consider giving up our seats and leaving on the Saturday.
After all, we’d only lose one day in Japan.
And at that point, $4,000 each was starting to make one day seem like a pretty reasonable trade. 😂
Thankfully, they managed to get enough volunteers at $3,000, so we didn’t have to make the decision.
We were going to Japan.
We quickly found our seats, and I was very glad I’d booked the extra legroom.
It turned out I’d got a seat over the wing, by the emergency exit, and I swear I had about ten feet of legroom in front of me.
At 6’4”, this was basically luxury.
There was just one little bonus.
Because I was sitting by the door, during take-off and landing I had the lovely air hostess sitting opposite me, talking to me.
So not only did I have enough room to stretch my legs…
I had company as well. 😂
All in all, it was a pretty good seat to have for a 13-hour flight.
Problem Number Three
Then came the moment that mattered.
The captain went full throttle.
We hurtled down the runway.
We hit V1.
Then VR.
Shortly afterwards, V2.
You could feel him pull back on the stick and…
……problem #3.
April 3rd, 2026 was a warm day.
The plane had been sitting at Toronto Pearson Airport with the air conditioning running for quite a while.
And as some of you may know, when you’ve got air conditioning running for a long time, condensation happens.
Condensation builds up.
Condensation turns into water.
And water has to go somewhere.
Unfortunately, on this particular flight, some of it decided to go straight onto me.
The captain pulled back on the stick.
The nose lifted.
And somewhere above me, a puddle of condensation changed direction.
Then suddenly…
WHOOSH.
A load of water came straight out of the overhead locker and all over me.
I got a shower.
Not exactly the kind of shower I was expecting to have on the way to Japan.
Problem #3. 😂
The poor air stewardess sitting opposite me must have thought her day had just taken a very bad turn.
You could literally see the colour drain from her face.
We’d just left Toronto for a 13-hour flight to Japan.
The passenger she’d been sitting opposite and chatting to for the last five or ten minutes…
was now absolutely drenched.
I think she was probably wondering what the hell had just happened.
And to be fair, so was I. 😂
Luckily for her, I was the one sitting in that seat.
There’s no point getting upset about it.
The plane was in the air, we had 13 hours ahead of us, and there wasn’t exactly anything I could do about it.
So you may as well just laugh about it.
You may as well be jolly. 😂
Thankfully, the next 12 hours and 58 minutes were actually uneventful.
Which, after the first couple of minutes, was exactly what I was hoping for. 😂
The Other Problem With a 13-Hour Flight
One thing that did become apparent throughout the flight was that I wasn’t the only one who had noticed I’d booked the extra legroom.
Other people had started coming up and standing in our space.
Initially, yes, I did get a little bit pissy about it.
But I kept it to myself.
Eventually, I decided to just stretch my legs and make the most of the space I’d paid for.
I got talking to one nice gentleman who’d come up from the Southern States. He was explaining to me how difficult it was being 6’5” in the smaller seats at the back of the plane, and how much he wished he’d booked the extra legroom.
I looked at my son.
He looked back at me, trying not to laugh.
Then I looked at the 6’5” gentleman standing next to me…
…and looked down at him.
I’m not entirely sure how bad his tape measure was the day he decided he was 6’5”, but I wouldn’t have put him anywhere over 5’11”. 😂
Keeping the Nicotine Levels Up
As I mentioned earlier, I’d done some pre-flight shopping before we boarded, making sure I had a few chocolates and snacks with me for the flight.
But there was another issue that both myself and quite a few other people on that flight were facing.
I was a smoker.
And if you’re a smoker, you know that a 13-hour flight, on top of three or four hours at the airport before you even take off, is a long time between cigarettes.
By the time we’d actually left Toronto, I’d already been at the airport for several hours.
Then came the 13-hour flight.
There wasn’t much I could do about it.
But I’d travelled across the Atlantic several times and flown all over North America, so I was used to not smoking for periods of time.
Just not necessarily 16 to 20 hours.
So I prepared for it in exactly the same way I always do.
Nicotine patch on the arm.
I also had a Nicorette inhaler, which is TSA approved. There’s no smoke that comes out of it. It’s basically something you hold in your hand, suck on, get a little hit of nicotine, and carry on with your day.
And then I had the other option…
Nicotine pouches.
You stick one under your lip, leave it there for a while, take it out, spit it out…
Then, for some reason, you convince yourself it might be worth putting it back in again.
So you put it back in.
Spit it out again.
Put it back in again.
And keep doing this about 20 times, despite the fact that they taste absolutely disgusting.
I have no idea why I kept doing it.
But when you’re a smoker sitting on a 13-hour flight, apparently taste becomes less important than nicotine. 😂
Between the snacks, the nicotine, the extra legroom and my unexpected shower, we’d finally made it through the flight.
Now all that was left was to land.
After months of planning, 115 days of learning Japanese, and three problems before we’d even left Toronto, we were finally about to arrive in Japan.
Time to see if all that preparation had actually been worth it.
Part 3. Japan…..Finally
Finally, after 13-plus hours, we were coming in to land at Tokyo Haneda Airport.
As usual, the pilot did an amazing job and we had a great landing.
And then it was time.
Just like the build-up to the Olympic 100-metre final:
Ready… set… grab your bags, run to the front of the plane and wait.
My favourite part of the flight.
I learned a long time ago that I’m getting too old and too tired for this shit.
So my son and I finished our candies, picked up the many wrappers that had been dropped on the floor or down the sides of the seats throughout the flight, got everything ready and, eventually, stood up.
I clicked a few aching old bones back into position, had a stretch, a crack, grabbed our bags…
And calmly became some of the last people off the plane.
This was actually one of the many strategic parts of the trip.
Why?
Because think about it. You get off a plane anywhere in the world, let alone Tokyo. You don’t really know where you’re going, do you?
So you put your faith in the guy at the very front.
And suddenly you’ve got a 500-person conga line, all leaving the aircraft, heading down multiple corridors, upstairs, downstairs, left, right, following the person in front and hoping that the guy at the very front actually knows where he’s going.
My thinking was simple.
Stay at the back.
If they’ve taken a wrong left turn or a wrong right turn, by the time we eventually get there, surely somebody will have figured it out and we’ll be back on track.
After all, I didn’t want to be the one who was geographically challenged and accidentally led everyone in the wrong direction around Haneda Airport in Tokyo.
There are some mistakes you only make once.
Now comes the part that separates the men from the boys.
I wouldn’t say I was a control freak, but I like to know what’s happening, what I’m doing, where I’m going, and what time I’m going to be there.
Basically, I like a plan.
Preferably one with a backup plan.
And a backup for the backup.
Unfortunately, Japan was about to put that theory to the test.
Problem number one.
I have a company phone.
If I turn the data on in Japan, I don’t think that’s going to be a very good career move at the time.
Solution to problem number one.
Six months earlier, if you’d said to me, “Hey Jolly, what’s an eSIM?”
I’d probably have thought, possibly a Japanese car.
Fast forward six months.
I pull out my iPhone, switch on my roaming, connect my eSIM…
Boom.
I’ve got a data package for Japan.
Problem number one: solved.
Problem number two.
You need a special entry visa to get into Japan.
Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time.
You can fill it in at the kiosks at the airport with the other 499 people, or you can do it in Toronto before you leave and save it onto your phone.
Guess which option I chose?
I did it for my son too.
Turn on the app, retrieve the barcode, scan the code…
Skip the queue.
Win-win.
Problem number two: solved.
A short walk to passport control.
The usual stuff — take some photos, fingerprints, colour of underwear, whatever else they decide to ask for that day.
Passport stamped.
I’m in Japan.
At this point, I wasn’t getting overconfident.
I knew the biggest challenge was yet to come.
During the days, weeks and months of preparation, the first thing we needed to work out was where we were going to stay in Tokyo.
Tokyo is one of the biggest cities — if not the biggest — in the world.
So we decided we wanted somewhere close to a train station.
Being the expert of international travel that I am, and knowing the Japanese train system so well, we stumbled across a place called Shinagawa.
It looked like maybe a few trains came in and out of there.
So we decided Shinagawa would be where we’d stay.
Next, we needed a hotel.
Where better than the Shinagawa Prince Hotel?
It basically has Shinagawa in the name, so it has to be pretty close.
Problem number three:
How the hell do you get from Tokyo Haneda Airport to Shinagawa Station?
Again, not that I like to be a control freak, but I had set up every part of the trip on Google Calendar.
So, out comes the iPhone.
Flick to Saturday, April 4th.
Scroll down.
Approximate arrival time: 4:26.
Click on my little link.
Right.
I now needed to find the Keikyu Airport Line, Haneda Terminal 3, which would take me to Shinagawa Station in approximately 12 minutes.
Simple.
What could possibly go wrong?
As you leave the customs area, you turn right, walk out of the international arrivals area on the second floor and look for signs that say Keikyu Railway or, even better, the universal symbol for trains.
And I’m not going to lie — those were the ones I was looking for.
Turn right through the exit doors, then right again.
Next, it was time to see if my IC card would actually work.
What is an IC card, you might ask?
Basically, it’s a travel card. There are a few different kinds, but the two most popular are Suica and PASMO.
We’d gone for the Suica card because we both had iPhones. We could download it through the app and have it sitting right there in our Apple Wallet.
Unfortunately, at the time, Android didn’t let you do the same thing.
So, like a hero, I pulled out my iPhone yet again.
I walked up towards the gate.
Phone out.
Suica ready.
Wallet open.
Find the big shiny area…
Tap.
Beep.
The gate opens.
Success.
Another win.
This Japanese thing was starting to feel easy.
But I should point out, this was probably one of the only times I managed to get the Suica card to work on my phone first time.
At this point, I just didn’t know it yet.
Then down onto the platform.
And I can only describe it as probably one of the cleanest train platforms I’ve ever been on.
It was well lit, well signposted, with multiple vending machines if you were after a drink or a snack.
The arrivals board was clear.
You knew exactly how many minutes until the train was due.
This was the train taking us from Haneda to Shinagawa on a 12-minute journey on the Keikyu Line.
Everything was looking good.
So far, so good.
Japan was starting to feel easy.
Some 12 minutes later, we arrived at what I had earlier described as a train station that looked like it had a couple of trains coming and going.
What I didn’t know at the time, but do know now, is that Shinagawa is a major multi-level transportation hub, handling roughly one million passengers a day.
Multiple levels.
Fifteen train stations.
Four Shinkansen bullet train platforms.
Maybe…
just a little bit bigger than I had anticipated.
But again, everything was clean, well posted and easy to navigate.
Find the exit.
Out the doors, turn left, down to the main road, cross at the crossing, turn left, turn right…
And within two minutes, we arrived at the Shinagawa Prince Hotel.
Check-in was easy. The queues weren’t too long — probably five or ten minutes.
Got our key, up to the 28th floor, found our room, chucked the bags off…
And then, after what felt like a millennia, but was probably only about 20 hours, I could finally think about having a cigarette.
Now, one thing I had discovered during my research before we went to Japan was that smoking in Japan isn’t quite as straightforward as it is in some other places.
You can’t just smoke in public spaces.
You can’t walk down the street having a cigarette.
You can’t simply stop wherever you fancy and light one up.
You have to use designated smoking areas.
Thankfully, I had found one in the Shinagawa Prince Hotel.
I believe it was on the seventh floor.
So, back in the elevator, down to the seventh floor, and then off I went wandering around a hotel that, quite frankly, was almost as big as Shinagawa Station.
Eventually, I found it.
A set of glass doors.
I had no idea what to expect.
I pushed the button.
The glass doors opened.
And there it was.
A big room absolutely full of smokers.
Now, admittedly, I didn’t exactly look like the rest of the people in the room.
Mainly because I was smoking an actual cigarette.
They were smoking these electric cigarettes that, at the time, I’d never seen before.
They had what looked like a filter, just like a normal cigarette, but it was attached to some little machine thing.
I had absolutely no idea what they were.
I just knew that I’d finally found somewhere I could have a smoke.
After a couple of smokes, I decided I’d waited long enough and went back to meet up with my son.
Thankfully, by this point, we were starting to get tired, and luckily the hotel had a food court.
We decided to try some traditional Japanese food.
After all, this was why we’d come to Japan.
Try the cuisine.
Try new things.
We were up for this.
My son went for the full Japanese ramen bowl experience.
And I, in true Jolly fashion, went for the traditional Japanese pizza.
Ordering it was our first real taste of Japan.
Because, as we’d find out over the next couple of weeks, when you order food there, especially in the tourist areas, a lot of it is done on an iPad or a computer.
You click on what you think you want.
The problem is, you don’t always know what you want.
Or, more importantly, what the hell it is you’re actually ordering.
So you go by the pretty pictures.
Click a few buttons.
Put your card in.
Pay for your meal.
And wait.
And what you’re waiting for, in this particular scenario, is for someone at the food counter to call your number out in Japanese.
Now, if you can imagine it, this food court was huge.
As most things were turning out to be in Japan.
There must have been ten or fifteen different food vendors, if not more, arranged in a circle around the outside, with all the tables in the middle.
I’d ordered my pizza and sat at a table fairly close to the pizza place.
The ramen place was probably 180 degrees away, on the other side of the room.
My son was waiting over there.
I waited.
Nothing.
I waited some more.
Then a lady started shouting.
I ignored her.
She carried on shouting.
And carried on shouting.
For what felt like five minutes.
Eventually, I accidentally made eye contact with her.
And it wasn’t a particularly friendly eye contact.
She looked at me.
Shouted something in Japanese.
Now, after 115 days, I knew we weren’t talking about water, green tea or rice.
Then she pointed at me.
Then she pointed at the pizza.
It kind of looked like the picture I’d ordered.
I kind of figured it was mine.
So I walked over, took the pizza, received one final evil glare…
And went back to my table.
Had I finally met Hannah?
And was this why I might need a lawyer?
Now we were fully fed, fully watered, and, of course, there was just time for a quick stop on the seventh floor to make sure nobody had moved the smoking room.
Thankfully, it was still there.
So, smoke had been had, food had been eaten, we’d survived the flight, the airport, the train, the hotel and apparently even ordering a pizza in Japan.
It was time to go to bed.
And after travelling for that long, we definitely needed it.