Japan by Barbara Erasmus

First impressions are surprisingly rural as the plane dips over a network of paddy fields, green with food for a populous nation. The buzz of urban Japan is immediately evident at Narita, Tokyo’s huge, immaculate airport where our queue moves with legendary Japanese efficiency. I board the sky train– a sleek, bullet-nosed train from the space age. It departs exactly on schedule and speeds silently towards the never-ending concrete sprawl of urban Tokyo. I notice the lack of litter – and, paradoxically, of dustbins – in the subways, crowded with their cargo of commuters. Some trains are painted with cherry blossom – different from the gloom of the more familiar London tube.

Train travel – and everything else – is expensive in Japan and I was advised to buy a budget Rail Pass before I left. But be warned – read the small print. They can only be redeemed at certain stations. This exposed me to my first cultural insight in Japan. The Japanese are reluctant to say no. Don’t imagine this means you can do whatever you like. They just won’t tell you what you can’t do. I approached a clerk at the wrong station with my voucher. She nodded and bowed and sent me off to someone else so she wouldn’t be the one to break the news. Eventually, an official with a smattering of English admitted it might be difficult to redeem my voucher - Japanese for totally and utterly impossible! It’s a very foreign country. If you get lost in Italy or France, you can always hazard a guess at the meaning of the road-sign. It’s a lost cause in Japan.

Rural Japan, with its densely wooded mountain spine, is beautiful – surprisingly like Ireland, with narrow country roads under a canopy of trees. Lakes, in colours ranging from azure blue to milky green. We dropped into a local onsen – a hot water spa offering a selection of scented pools – herb, milk or coffee for example. The Japanese are comfortable with nudity and you wash yourself before you bath. Showers, soap, shampoo and hairdryers are provided – western amenities for an eastern tradition.

Japan’s volcanic origins are apparent on a country hike. It’s easy to loose your footing on the scree slope. Steam pours out from fissures in the rock, condensing as the hot air rises. Mt Fuji is always covered in cloud, so we tackled the six-hour ascent at night- along with over 2000 others. A snake of torch-light winds up the pathway, reaching the summit as dawn breaks over Tokyo, spread out below in a pink-tinged panorama. It’s worth the climb.

The heart of Japan is urban. Her cities, rising from the rubble of war-time trauma, are modern and ugly. We drank cappuccino in a Starbucks coffee house overlooking the Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo – the busiest pedestrian crossing in Japan. As the lights turn green, a relentless human wave spills out from the interlocking streets. All in brand-name T-shirts, platform shoes. It’s a wealthy, first world country – no beggars at the robots. The homeless are a small minority in Japan – I saw their plastic shelters in the parks or station alleys. More orderly and confined than the sprawling shacks of Africa.

The juxtaposition of opposites is what struck me the most. Functional western architecture, side by side with ancient shrines, magnificent parks and gardens. City streets jammed with cars and pedestrians fade into quiet, tree-lined residential areas, with kids on bikes. Mothers with push-chairs. The famed Shibuya girls are garish with orange hair and faces painted white, dressed in outrageous punk - millenniums apart from the traditional, kimono-clad geisha we glimpsed in Gion.

There’s a range of food on offer. Eastern or western, on demand. The menu is incomprehensible and the price daunting. I had no idea what I was ordering, in spite of the detailed plastic replicas of the food in all the restaurant windows. We ate cheaply with the locals. Sushi bars where I made my selection from colourful platters moving along a conveyor belt on the counter. Okonami-yaki - noisy, family restaurants where food is cooked in front of you – a miscellany of noodles, meat and vegetables. Izakaya-yakitori – a variety of starter portions, ranging from kebabs to rice cakes and prawns. Different but delicious!

Wanting an authentic Japanese experience, we chose to stay in ryokans, traditional Japanese inns, complete with tatami mats, yukata robes and futons. I can recommend a home-stay in Kyoto – in walking distance of the most famous shrines. It’s in a quiet street with a small but magnificent garden, run by a gracious Japanese lady with a degree in English literature. She can tell exactly where to go, what bus to catch and where to eat – an intoxicating experience for the baffled traveller! It’s also amazingly cheap for Japan.

The service ethic is remarkable. As soon as you enter a shop, smiling people materialise to help you. Much nodding and bowing. Admittedly, no-one knows what you’re asking for but they watch your pantomime with rapt attention.

Every apple is individually wrapped at the fruit stall – packaging is an art form in Japan. One of the ryokans had forgotten to put towels in our room. Literally one minute after I reported it, there was a knock on the door. Piles of freshly laundered towels. Abject apologies. Much bowing...

Timing a visit to Japan is important and depends on your priorities. Each season is special. Postcards show the magnificence of the flowering cherry trees in spring. Autumn looks like a Persian carpet, rich in shades of red, bronze and gold. The problem is the crowds. I walked along the Philosophers Pathway all by myself in summer – it was quiet and the cherry trees were lush and green. I’d have felt less inclined to meditate in a slow-moving throng of spring-time tourists. I can recommend a summer visit, despite the overwhelming heat.

There a several tiers in a Japanese holiday – historical, spiritual or shopping. With my limited knowledge of historical Japan, the most interesting expedition was to the Peace Monument at Hiroshima. At the monument, set in a riverside park, there are huge piles of origami – intricately folded paper symbols of peace – a tradition started by a terminally ill Japanese schoolgirl, now copied by children all over Japan who post their hopes for a peaceful future. The exhibition is a sobering experience. I learned about the bomb in a distant classroom. A necessary sacrifice to end the war, we were told. It didn’t sound a valid explanation in Hiroshima.

If spiritual insights are your goal, Kyoto should be your destination. The ancient capital has a rich legacy of holy shrines in beautiful, structured gardens. Kneel barefoot in a gold-encrusted temple. The smell of burning incense. The hypnotic chanting of the brown-robed monk, reading out the prayers of passing travellers. The mellow gong. You can easily believe that your troubles will dissolve, like the paper you dip into the holy water at the entrance.

The more secular can always resort to shopping. Akihabara is the electronic mecca in Tokyo. Neon signs. Shops full of high-tech gadgets. English speaking salesmen. They even take Mastercard. I didn’t see a single ATM while I was in Japan. My daughter was paid in cash when she worked there. Huge bundles of yen stuffed carelessly inside her handbag. That’s another difference. No-one in Japan would steal it. It’s hard for a resident of a more criminally-minded country to come to terms with unlocked cars; strange to walk around the city at midnight without feeling threatened. You have a different mind-set in Japan. It’s the most essentially foreign city I’ve visited but that one of the many reasons I’d like to visit it again.