No, I haven’t been sending out emails to say that I’ve updated my site. Apologies to those who were expecting me to, but I really don’t like unnecessarily filling up other people’s inboxes. At the end of my last Travel Log entry I briefly mentioned the site’s RSS feed. If you don’t know what RSS is, you can find a potted summary of the technology at the bottom of the sidebar on these pages.

If you really can’t be bothered with RSS (I do recommend that you make the effort if you’ve never tried before), I’ve set up an email-subscription service, to which you can subscribe from the same place. That service (powered by FeedBlitz) basically checks the RSS feed for you and then sends an email to its subscribers when the Travel Log (and therefore, feed) is updated. For the last few years RSS has remained solely in the domain of the über geeks: I firmly believe that the technology and support for it has now matured enough for it to be accessible to average Joe-Schmoe web user. Check it out.

Just a brief note to say how funny it is for me to receive much of my university email as if I were in Oxford. I’ve been getting announcements of the latest happenings in my College’s JCR, as well as things from the Classics Faculty, the Chaplaincy, CathSoc and the Newman Society, the Pro-Life Society, and OUANZ. An email just arrived announcing a one-off lecture about healing cults in Ptolemaic Egypt to take place on 13th March at Corpus Christi. Sadly, I’ll be forced to miss that one — I don’t think I’ll come in from Hong Kong specially.

I’ve begun the last few entries by saying that ‘this one’s going to be a short one, chaps’. Well, I think this one’s going to be a short one, chaps (and chapesses). I was busy in Tokyo, and never bored, but in retrospect, I didn’t ‘do’ very much: my time was characterised by an exhaustion which remains even now. Boo sucks to sleep deprivation.

Techno Tokyo

On my first full day in Tokyo it was raining, so I spent my time scurrying from subway to building to building. Tokyo is a very developed city, and much of it gives testimony to Japan’s continuing developments in the sphere of technology and portable electronics.

Ginza: The Sony Building

Ginza is quite hip and happenin’, and has quite a lot of department stores as well as many upmarket ’boutique’ shops. It is also the home of Sony, a Japanese company you might have heard of (for the fellow pedants, of whom you might have heard). I’m not quite sure how many offices there are in the Sony building, or how much corporate administration goes on there — it seems almost entirely to be a showroom of Sony products, and very swish many of them are too.

In fact, some of the space is leased out to BMW who have a couple of cars on show, but the rest of the space is packed with Sony gadgets: some of which I’d seen before, some of which were the infamous ‘Japan only’ products. Some of those VAIO laptops are pretty tiny, just don’t get me started on Sony VAIO customer service, at least how it was six years ago. I also had a good play with a pair of AIBO robotic dogs, which I’d never seen ‘in the flesh’, so to speak. They were fun, but pointless, and they seemed to me to be pretty slow to do anything — I’d throw its bright pink ball into its field of vision, and it would turn to look at it and then just stand and think for several seconds before getting to its feet and lumbering over to nuzzle the ball. Seemed like they needed a bit of a processor upgrade. Or leaner software. Or something.

It was only a couple of days later that I found out (from an American technology podcast) that the AIBO product line had been discontinued at the end of January. I was therefore pretty glad to have had the chance to try ‘em out, although perhaps someone should tell the people at the Sony Building. Apparently, however, the latest model (which was, I think, the one on display) is being supported until 2013. Do normal pet shops agree to cover veterinary services on their canine sales for eight years? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

Akihabara

Akihabara is the undisputed centre for all things micro-electronic in Tokyo: it is packed with massive shops which all specialise in electronics (and accessories, of course). I only actually spent time in one shop, but didn’t realise that I’d been there nearly two hours until I left the place as the sun was setting.

What was so impressive about this one shop was the breadth of choice, both in the types of products and within the different classes of products. Want a television? They’ve got a whole floor of ‘em. Want an LCD panel measuring 23″ — 28″? Fine, loads to choose from. Don’t want to buy a Sony? OK, there are about five other brands to choose from!

Compare this approach with that of most large electronics retailers in the West, at least in the UK and Australia, where they might have one or two LCD screens of that size available: take it or leave it, no comparisons possible. Don’t like that brand? [Sound of breath being sucked through teeth] Take it or leave it, mate. No wonder people are leaving the high streets in droves and going online. (Well, ‘in droves’ might be stretching it somewhat, but I’ve found that electronics shopping is best done from the comfort of your own home.)

The atmosphere of the place was pretty interesting, though. Certainly, the huge number of products available gives it the air of a supermarket. (They had a whole aisle of computer mice. I still couldn’t find what I’ve been looking for for a while now, a Bluetooth many-buttoned mouse which works with an Apple. There is apparently only one produced by a nameless Taiwanese brand and badged by some only-barely-less-unknown brands, but I’ve read reviews that it’s crap.) However, the ‘class’ of many of the products gave an impression of refinement.

At the same time, there was a jingle being played, first in Japanese and then in English, to the tune of The Battle Hymn of The Republic (”Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord […] Glory, glory, alleluia!”, but they used slightly different words). There were also taped announcements welcoming people the shop and describing the products on offer, first in Japanese, then English, French, Spanish and Chinese: so they’re clearly catering for foreign tourists. The shop was packed, however, with Japanese who seemed to be delighted to be there. And who could blame them?

Roppongi

Roppongi is something of an expat haven in Tokyo, although it’s also a centre for cool-boy Japanese. I’ve heard it said by many people that it’s like Marmite, in that you either love it or you hate it. Incidentally, how many times have you heard that simile? I wonder if the people who came up with that Marmite advertising campaign knew that they were onto such a great thing.

Anyway, Roppongi. Apparently, until a couple of years ago it was fast becoming a location with ever-seedier bars and clubs: an area to avoid. However, all that changed with the opening of the new Roppongi Hills development in 2003, which many consider ‘the place to be’, while others consider it ‘the place not to be’.

I went, and spent some time in Roppongi Hills. There are a lot of shops, as well as the main sight, which is the Mori building (the developer of the site was Mori Minoru), at the top of which is the Mori Art Museum (anyone smell a whiff of self-advertisement?). There is an observatory floor, from where I took many photos over Tokyo (starting with this one), as well as the museum itself.

When I went to the museum, there was an exhibition of mid-late 20th Century German domestic design (you know, door handles, fridges, plastic chairs, that kind of thing). There was also an exhibition which explored the artistic relationship uniting Tokyo and Berlin. I could think of one thing which united Tokyo and Berlin, but unlike Basil Fawlty, I didn’t think I’d get away with it and so just didn’t mention it. As far as I could tell, however, there was little more to this exhibition than a piece of work by a Japanese artist followed by one by a German, followed by one by a Japanese living in Berlin, followed by a German living in Tokyo. Not much symbiosis to my untutored eye.

There is also a cinema in Roppongi Hills, the Virgin cinema (the bearded one and his brand get everywhere, it seems), which the Rough Guide describes as “state-of-the-art”. It didn’t seem much different from either of the Odeons in Oxford when I went to watch Flightplan.

That is, incidentally, a really bad film. It was exciting, but it wasn’t nearly exciting enough to make up for the bad plot- and scenario-holes. The villain’s demands weren’t properly thought-out: he could easily have got away with nothing if the Captain had lied to him about the money being transferred, since he would have had no way to check. Furthermore, the fictitious E474 aeroplane designed and run (no really) by the fictitious Aalta Air (sic) seemed highly incongruous. Leaving aside the huge amount of wasted space in the nosecone and the ceiling areas (it’s a film, after all), the different cabin products were weird. In Economy there seemed to be quite a bit of room (for Economy). At one point Peter Sarsgaard mentions that the middle block of seats is six-across (resulting in a 3-6-3 configuration), although later on it’s shown to be 3-4-3. Although the film is set in the First and Business class cabins both seemed to be behind today’s equivalents — they appeared glitzy rather than comfortable (the seats didn’t even lie flat!). The lights in any of the cabins were never fully off. For a film that is set almost entirely on this aircraft, the set was pretty poor.

Gardens of the Imperial Palace

Not surprisingly, you can’t get anywhere close to the buildings of the Imperial Palace at Tokyo — this is, after all, where the Emperor of Japan lives to this day. There are, however, some gardens open to the public which I was happy to walk around. I was slightly hampered by the season: evidently in spring and summer they would be ablaze with colour. I did get to see the changing of a guard, however.

The Onsen Experience

I was glad on my last day in Tokyo to be able to have lunch with Tad, a friend of my brother-in-law Toby. I met him at his office south of the centre of the city and we went and had grilled fish at a nearby restaurant. When he asked, I told him that I hadn’t been to an onsen (public hot-spring bath) during my time in Japan. He said that it would be a pity for me to miss out on the opportunity, and suggested I go to one of the new ‘mega-onsen‘ which are springing up around the city.

So, I hauled myself off and tried it all out. I’m not really one for the public nakedness, so we won’t dwell on that aspect, but it struck me that the whole thing seems very Roman. You wash yourself first (not with oil and a sharp stone so much as shower gel and shampoo) and then dip in one of the pools, where you can sit for any length of time. The pools are all of varying temperatures — some are merely lukewarm, while others are blisteringly hot. There is also a cold plunge-pool for you to cool off in (or that you can go into shock, the water’s so cold). At the moment, I can’t remember all the Latin words for the various pools, but I know they exist. I didn’t avail myself of the hot pools outside (enclosed by four high walls, admittedly), but they were well patronised.

The whole experience was really very relaxing (like sitting in a hot bath, I suppose). Indeed so relaxed did I feel that I was compelled to cancel my dinner plans with Tad that evening, since I knew that I would probably flake on him if I did ever make it to his house.

Watchless in Tokyo

As I was pulling my clothes out of my locker at the onsen, my watch tumbled out and fell face-down on the floor from a height of about four feet. Fearing the worst, I picked it up and was relieved to see that it was still going. However, one of the hands had come off one of the chronometer faces and was now floating aimlessly around the watch face.

Of course, later on that evening the whole watch stopped — the free hand had lodged itself under the second hand and couldn’t be dislodged. I’m one of those people who depend on his timepiece, and I’d forgotten quite how disorienting an experience it is not to have a watch that works. As a matter of fact, this watch was the one that I’d got when we transited through Seoul-Incheon airport in 2003 (between Almaty and Ulaan Baatar, since you’re asking). The significance of the fact was that I was due to arrive in Seoul-Incheon airport the following day. That’s called syncopation, or synthesis, or syncope, or something. Oh yes, I believe it’s called karma.

Anyway, I knew that I wouldn’t have a chance to get a watch at Incheon since I would be heading direct through immigration, so when I got to Tokyo-Narita airport I went hunting through the duty-free shops for something that would fit my needs. Since Helen and I could now appear on Mastermind with our special subject as the Swatch catalogue after our buying spree before Christmas, I knew where I was headed. Sure enough, I found a very nice Swatch which fulfils my requirements. I can breathe easy again. I have to say, though, that that time before leaving Tokyo for the airport was pretty hair-raising.