The idea of the re-visit sprang from a desire to do something special on the occasion of the fortieth anniversary of our marriage. We had the first anniversary in Tokyo in 1972 and a re-visit seemed just the right thing to do; retouching the memory of us as young couple, but this time together with the our young daughters.
Then in 1971-72
That was my first ever travelling abroad to live in an unfamiliar country; compounded with the fact that my companion, my wife, was hardly familiar to me too; for we were just married. The post-doctorate fellowship of Japan Society for Promotion of Science (JSPS) coincided with the marriage and we rushed to Tokyo– turmeric marks, literally, all over my neck and arms.
It was a Boeing 707 flight from Calcutta to Tokyo; two refuelling stops, first in Bangkok and then Hong Kong. The last stretch was longer and suddenly except for a pair of companion wing-lights blinking at the tips it seemed we were piercing through the darkness till Tokyo’s skyline came close. The constant whining noise of the engine was the other sensory signal to the brain. All kinds of imaginary circumstances flooded the mind and our hands clasped in tight contact. It was her first foreign trip too and she has just seen off her parents at Calcutta airport earlier in the day. The reality seemed very unreal.
True to what I was informed, ‘You will be hit first thing at the airport on arrival in Tokyo is the loud thud of ‘Hi’ coming from all around, all the time’. True, indeed. Prof Furuta, my sensei at Tokyo Institute of Technology (ToKoDai) sent two of his research students to receive us at the airport and since then till we left on completion of my term of JSPS post-doctoral fellowship it was a smooth sailing all through – published a paper on ‘Controllability’ of a class of Control Systems (stochastic non-linear) with Prof Furuta and presented at a conference in Nagoya, made friends at the institute and outside, did enough of touristy travels in groups and as a couple, even visited Nikko to assert that it was ‘Keiko’, enough. We could say the honeymoon year could not have been better.
This time in 2011
If you don’t ask you don’t get.
I learnt this to my advantage in USA. So I asked the General Manager of The Imperial Hotel in Tokyo how he could make our stay very special on the occasion of our Ruby Anniversary. We used to barge in to the lobby of the impressive hotel when we felt the need for the restroom while grazing in Ginza on weekends. The original set piece Frank-Lloyd Wright’s design of the vast lobby was impressive. A beer or coffee in the open bar would have upset our monthly budget. That was a pastime then to just feel the opulence for free, but why not splash a bit this time. Bang came the response: please be our guest and we shall do the best.
Huge excitement as the aircraft landed in Tokyo. A much longer non-stop flight, but the interactive in-flight entertainment system kept us engaged. Airbus 380 is a great leap forward compared to the first ever jumbo Boeing 707. It was a different airport this time – Narita, much bigger. We followed the process of immigration and baggage clearance as seasoned travellers, for now we know how these work. No surprises. We were advised of two things though, to (a) rent a telephone at the airport for Japan’s compatibility with the rest of the world in adopting mobile telephony protocol is much to be desired and, (b) to carry cash, for Japan is still a cash-intensive society. None of these were a matter of concern then – mobile phones or card payments were not thought of even in sci-fi books or movies and the fellowship money was assured every month.
Armed with a Japanese mobile phone and some decent amount of Japanese currency, we found ourselves in to the Imperial’s lobby. True to the promise, at every touch point for four days, from the check-in to check-out, it was just perfect. The high point was on the 14th October during the dinner at the 17th floor restaurant when the manager quietly brought a cake with ‘Happy Fortieth Anniversary’ written on the top and served coffee, took our photo and gave us a print in no time.
The information propagated through the system seamlessly – efficiency with a personal touch. Earlier, on that day of our anniversary, Indrani and I went to Akasaka Shinto shrine and soaked in energy from the environment of quiet contemplative meditation and sought the blessings of the deity.
Next morning, the kiddos arrived. They were on the ball soon after a snooze. The location was Ginza and our rooms were adjacent, overlooking the Hybiya Park, the ramparts of the Palace a little distance away; easy to hop in to a metro few steps away from the hotel that we discovered after we checked out.
We kept 17th October for reconnecting. We wanted to first find the apartment where we lived as young couple, began our life together in a foreign land. Before setting out for the Japan trip, I raked my memory for the address, but no joy until, fortuitously, I discovered an aerogramme my father wrote to that address. Consider it done: it was 3-4-17 Nogata, Nakano-ku. We traversed the route from ToKoDai – my daily travelling chore earlier and among vast changes in roads, underground, buildings and layouts, voilà! that small two-storey house in the corner of an inside lane stood there in tact. It was the same straight up, ladder like stair case, a small landing, same type of aluminium framed sliding glass windows and the same little balcony on one side – the sight of my young wife waiting at the balcony for me to return from ToKoDai flashed in my memory.
It was truly a memory trip. The kiddos were excited and we took many photos from the outside. It was a working day and venturing inside would have been pointless and we left at that.
There was a bigger surprise waiting for us. As we came out of the lane onto the main road, Luke’s Hospital appeared in front, unchanged. We said to ourselves, ‘Let’s give it a try and check if Dr. Takeuchi is still there and if we could meet him.’ He and his wife Yuuko became good friends and we visited their home couple of times and they gave us a ‘Sayonara’ party before we left in 1972. The young receptionist asked if we meant the old doctor; yes, yes we responded with alacrity and explained we knew him and his family and that we lived nearby some forty years ago. The messages were relayed back and forth few times and soon we were ushered in to his chamber. It was an instant recognition, for he looked the same, pretty much and Dr Takeuchi could connect with us too, quickly. We remembered him and Yuuko for their kindness and generosity from the point when we were complete strangers and we felt happy to have met him again after so many years, un-announced. We called the kiddos and he was pleased to meet them. Later, Yuuko told Indrani on phone that she was annoyed with her husband that evening when he relayed our meeting, for Dr Takeuchi did not introduce Hiromi, their daughter, a doctor and working side by side with her father. She was apologetic not being able to meet us, but she remembered our earlier contacts in great length of details and spoke about those meetings in her broken English. The picture below is from Dr Takeuchi’s album and he retrieved this no sooner he reached home that evening. It was on the occasion of our first anniversary.
What a joy! The other priority of the day was to meet Prof Furuta. He has retired from ToKoDai and is now the President of Tokyo Denki University. Ms Honda, his secretary, set up the meeting in his office towards the evening and a dinner nearby with the magnificent view of Tokyo and the garden of the Imperial Palace.
It was a delight to have been able to reconnect with him; we spoke of our first meeting, his helping to settle me in my work and taking care of the usual teething aspects in a new environment. Mrs Furuta joined us in the dinner and was genuinely touched that we as family wanted to revisit Tokyo and meet my old sensei.
The dinner was grand, elaborate French cuisine served in Japanese style. During the dinner, Furuta sensei talked about his India connections and narrated us a story. Looking at the Golf course from his hotel room in Bangalore, he thought of practicing his swings. Everything he needed, such as the clubs, balls and a caddy were available on rent. But considering his handicap, only a caddy-boy was given to him. Later, he told his host professor that his caddy-boy costs him less than a missing ball he had to replace. ‘Not quite’, the host replied, not exactly in tongue-in-cheek, ‘A missing caddy-boy would have cost a great deal more.’ A response, Indian style. At one point, Prof Furuta surprised me when his mobile buzzed and he handed over his phone to me and said, ‘Would you like to talk to Ken’? Ken is now a professor in Chiba University. Locating Ken was a bonus. Mori-san is in LA and I hope I shall be able to find him now.
The remaining schedules of our stay were left in the able hands of Tinni and Tatum. I felt relaxed and preferred to become a follower; a division of responsibility that worked extremely well. Left to myself or Indrani, we would not have probably done half the things Tatum planned for Tokyo: we went up the 45th floor of Tokyo Hyatt Regency at Shinjuku after dinner for drinks with a view; Roppongi Art Centre whose entrance is exactly where one does not anticipate it to be and where after lunch, one could easily have a meditative snooze if one chooses to on its expansive garden with water channels partly filled with pebbles; Tokyo’s Fish Market at 05:30 in the morning or, not in the same day though, coffee at the basement of Sony Building in Ginza that is open till 04:00 AM. It was sheer ecstasy.
Then the experience of being hurtled by Shinkansen to Kyoto. ‘We have Euro Star and the TGV’, they said – not awfully impressed. We were, however, when we travelled first time back in 1972, for that surface speed on rails was nowhere then to be experienced. The landlady of the Ryokan immediately figured Tinni was in charge and communicated only with her. She would so sweetly call her, ‘Dottaal, mummy-fathal get bathroom, you- sistal get common room; when vely vely tirl come after 14:30, normal 15:00.’ Crystal clear. She advised the shrines to visit, the places to go and so forth that Tinni had figured out already, but gave her a patient hearing. The Fushimi Inari shrine aka the shrine of Thousand Golden Gates was an excellent idea and we did that first. Soon I realised, a track of four and half kilometres of upward incline, paved with chunky rocks of thousand years vintage wearing a pair of shoes not fully broken-in was not going to be pleasant. I paced easy and watched others walking briskly like pilgrims in procession. Then, I saw a middle-aged lady, pardon my presumption, waiting by and supporting an old person to sit on a mobile, folding chair and helping him taking photos in an SLR camera. He frequently needed to recoup his strength and the lady was very mindful of his needs. Indrani and I decided to stop at some point and so did they. As they got up for the next onslaught, I could not but ask, ‘Your grand father?’ She replied, ‘No, my father’ and volunteered to add, ‘He is 92.’ Then, we had more exchanges and Dr Tori joined the conversation.
He was a professor of Immunology at Osaka University. She takes her father to different places and helping him to cultivate a new hobby in photography – age cannot be a barrier. That was a gem of an incident to remember. We told our story of the memory trip to them and by then the kiddos returned and we followed a different track.
A lunch break and then Keio Mizu shrine that independently houses a second shrine dedicated to Japan’s Cupid. A two-in-one deal! The legend has it that if you succeed in traversing blind folded a distance approx 10 metres between two holy rocks, conjugal happiness is guaranteed. I mused: Would it enhance the prospects by traversing backwards, blindfolded? This place was teeming with school going kids, excitment all over their faces, giggling. Commitment from an early age. Tinni and Tatum queued up and looked triumphant having touched the stone in steady forward steps.
We were not yet finished with the day’s agenda. A Japanese-style dinner and sighting a geisha were to follow. The food street of Kyoto, Sajo dori is in the traditional entertainment area of Kyoto- Gion. A river flows by the side, enchanting to take a leisurely stroll. After two sprawling shrines and milling with thousands of visitors, I didn’t need a walk! Remember, I was wearing un-broken-in pair of shoes. We wanted food first; Japanese stake of the finest Kobe beef at Mikaku – a speciality restaurant. The hot plate runs along the rectangular periphery of the large dining room and the chef prepared and served with elegance and it was delicious. He looked every inch a samurai warrior, nimble and muscular, but ever so gentle when he spoke.
Oscar Wilde’s conclusion on experience was certainly not well founded as we considered the dinner was an experience. However, that evening, after dinner stroll down the dimly lighted street by the river and looking out for a geisha was a futile experience. You cannot have everything; be happy. I reminded myself.
Next day, the 20th was scheduled for what the every tourist in Japan aims not to miss: Kinkakuji Golden pavilion and the Zen Rock Garden. We didn’t miss either earlier; well etched in our memory. The pavilion, a ZenTemple is beautiful and its beauty is entirely, like Taj Mahal, on its architectural aspect ratio – perfectly dimensioned.
The rockery is a good twenty minutes walk, good to be there for meditation. Those were in the memory and the places are real, immutable. There is a difference though, simply for one reason: the number of visitors, that is. Unimaginably vast streams of visitors of all ages and hence, restriction was unavoidable. But what was mot enjoyable afterwards was the quiet lunch sitting on Tatami floor. In the evening, as the luck would have it the timing and location were just perfect for sighting a geisha – not one, hordes pouring out from a Base House and alighting limousines parked outside, one in each.
Click, click, click. Captured. Satisfied.
Then an encapsulated programme of Japanese Performing Arts: Koto, Noh, Kabuki, Comic and a Tea-Ceremony by the side as an accompaniment. The lady in front of me in the queue for the ticket confirmed the programme is worth a tourist’s while. She has been to it forty-five times or more – a Tour Operator from Finland. Every winter, she brings loads of Finns few times saving them from their suicide attacks, she said with sly smile.
Nara was the eastern end point of the Silk route. It was the capital city of Shogun period and became the fountain-head of Buddhism in Japan. We planned Nara for the next day, a short distance of forty minutes by train. The Todaiji Temple is the numero uno attraction and we took a bus, skirting the town in a circular route. While waiting for the bus, the forlorn stop suddenly came to live like a mobile phone jingling as if an SMS message has arrived; we surmised it meant the bus is in ‘One minute’. Application of appropriate technology. Again, thousands and thousands of visitors, mostly for sure Japanese school children and one other living creature that kicks: deer – loitering in abundance in thousands. The deer park and the temple co-exist.
Having had our fill of Nara, a beautiful place, we took the Shinkanshen from Kyoto back to Tokyo.
One more day in Tokyo and then the kiddos fly back before we do two days later. We peeled off during the day doing different things and planned to meet in the evening at Hachiko, the meeting point of Tokyo. It was indeed the place where everyone, young things, used to meet then and the practice is undiminished. The same nagging difference though – the number of people thronging in that rather tiny space. As a result the statue of the dear dog, loved by every Japanese, old and young is remarkably invisible even from a short distance. Secondly, smoke you must to meet someone at Hachiko. But, what the heck! despite breathing lung-full of smoke, it is a convenient, identifiable location at a junction of trains, buses, shops and spectacular displays coming to live at night. A quick dinner at an unpretentious place and an Italian joint was on the way. Italian it was – spaghetti in a bowl with Japanese sauce. Fusion at work.
Then & Now
Nothing seems to have changed much: the same polite people ever ready to help a stranger; the most stable pair of hands to ask someone to take a photo; seriously fashion conscious younger generation, abundant use of face-masks despite admirably clean surface and air and pushing the technology with ever new applications.
The considerable pains of the last World War, the financial strains for decades since Seventies and the most current Fukushima disaster, but none of these were apparent in the buzz of Hachiko, Sinjuku, Roppongi or Ginza. The experience of rediscovering the past with our daughters was a sheer ecstasy. We were at loose end for two days when the kiddos flew back to the UK and we continued touching the old connections with the past, ticking the list of ‘Things to do’ before we took the long flight back on 25th October.
A fantasy trip that was real.
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Suvesh,
enjoyed reading the blog. I could relate to many things and share your experience. traveling with kids is fun.
I guess you were at your ‘best behaviour’ during those 4 days as you were then!
Shinjuku is my favourite!