Shopping

I have often heard of Japan having a ‘bicycle economy’ - in other words, stop pedalling and you fall off. Well, most economies are like that, but shopping here seems to be something of a national sport. If you have enough yen and a tiny figure, clothes shopping could be great fun - especially if you love designer clothes, because even the scruffiest people here are fashionably scruffy. But I say ‘could’ because I have never attempted it. Apart from being a terrible shopper and having no interest in fashion, I don’t even bother to think of clothes shopping here; although I have no problems getting my size in the UK, in Japan I would probably have to find an outsize shop or look in a maternity section.

But the shops here are interesting. In swish malls you can find bright, fashionable clothes on the same floor that you might find all the necessary items for being a Geisha. Electrical shops are like an adult’s playground and there is no problem in trying out the goodies; while I was busy getting a massage a few days before by moving from one massage chair to another, my sister-in-law was having great fun trying out the exercise horses - little mechanical bulls designed for toning core muscles and thighs in the comfort of your own home (alternatively you could put it on its highest setting, get a couple of cowboy hats and invite your friends round for some beer and rodeo).

My weakness, however, is for homeware shops and 100-yen shops. Japan is big on cookery and food presentation, so it is a great place when looking for ideas. And as for the 100-yen shops, these are to be found everywhere. Surprisingly, they actually sell some pretty decent stuff too. (Just look for the Y100 signs, they usually can’t be missed.) And if you are between shops, you can always use a vending machine - cigarettes and non-alcoholic drinks are on sale everywhere in machines on the side of the street or at train stations.

The only disappointing thing about Japanese goods is that the really enticing stuff - the ultra-modern electrical items are for the very low Japanese electrical current (110v). If anything, I suppose it stops me from feeling tempted to buy a new stereo system, a massage chair and a mechanical bull. Shame. But I shall never be short of chopsticks.

Shinjuku

View of Shinjuku

"Did you see the Tokyo tower?" my friend Reiko asked. "You can see it from the bathroom."


"No," I admitted, a little embarrassed. "I was too busy admiring the toilets."

Sorry to lower the tone but I have to talk about toilets - because if I had my way, the UK would be flooded by Japanese lavatories. Okay, maybe that is the wrong choice of words but I know what I mean.

Anyone who knows me may also know that each time I return from Japan I spend at least two or three weeks mourning for the loss of the Japanese loo seat. So it is about time I explained. Not all but most of Japanese toilets come complete with a control panel at the side with buttons for heating the toilet seat, bidet, general wash or constant flushing sound. The heated toilet seat means that you get a hot bot when you sit down which, at first, can be almost as shocking as a cold loo seat, but is actually rather comfortable. The wash and bidet facilities are obvious, and the constant flushing sound is to mask any embarrassing noises you might be making. Instructions are usually in Japanese, but the pictures on the buttons are self-explanatory - it is very hard to not understand what a bottom being splashed with water means. But the ladies' loos in the Hotel Century Southern Tower in Shinjuku went one better in the cubicles with an extra finishing touch of pink ribbons adorning the spare toilet rolls. I was so impressed that even when I visited the ladies' second time round with the sole aim of sneakily taking a photo, I still forgot to admire the Tokyo tower out of the window.

Typical Japanese lavatory control panel

Best-dressed loo rolls. Well they do say the first bite is with the eye...

Shinjuku is a bustling shopping area in what might pass for central Tokyo. When people aren't buying clothes or lifestyle artifacts, they're drinking coffee or queuing up to buy Krispy Kreme do(ugh)nuts. The Shinjuku branch of that particular purveyor of the sweet stuff was the first ever in Japan and, according to my friends, people would queue for up to two hours before reaching the counter. Now the novelty has worn off the queue only looks about half an hour long.

Mum and I were in Shinjuku to meet Reiko, a friend of mine who has kindly shown me around the city in the past. She had booked Tribeks restaurant on the 19th floor of the Hotel Century Southern Tower because it commands fabulous views of the city. But it was after I privately nearly suffered a mild heart attack at the prices (one orange juice was Y1,000 - about seven pounds fifty pence in these days of the pathetic pound) that we ordered from a set menu; a goats cheese and mushroom cake to start, soup, roast lamb and dessert.

The descriptions on the menu were good and we awaited our food with anticipation. And soon our first course arrived, a delicious, white, savoury mousse atop.......erm..... what looked like a 3cm long crouton.

Okay, so whereas in America your plate will be piled up for a few dollars, Japan is known for tiny, expensive portions. Even so, I was a little surprised. I think we had all been expecting a bit more than a crouton, and I was wondering how it could have been described as a 'cake'. But nobody said a word as we tucked into our croutons appreciatively. Mum, who was brought up to always leave a little for Mr Manners even left some of her mousse on the plate.

Of course I felt a right twit when the real starters arrived. The crouton, it seemed, had been an appetiser and probably also a test to see how used we were to eating in posh restaurants - to see whether we would use the right fork, which to eat a crouton is a bit difficult I can tell you.

I am embarrassed to admit that along with photographing the loo (well, I had to photograph the toilet rolls and a control panel to illustrate what I was talking about) I did also photograph most of the courses. But in my defence, this was again to illustrate what I am talking about and also, ever since I saw a Japanese businessman photographing the peanuts in the upper class lounge in Helsinki airport, I decided the Japanese might understand. So here, for your delectation, is my dessert for the evening.... a white chocolate brownie, pistachio nut and fruit cake....

But the sweetest thing was yet to come (after Reiko fought for the bill and probably took out a small mortgage to pay for all of us). As Mum and I headed back to the outer fringes of Tokyo we jumped on a train which we hoped was heading for Tachikawa. "Tachikawa?" I asked a young girl who looked like she probably didn't speak English. "Mmm. Maybe," she said, before leaping off the train, having a quick look and nodding at us before getting back on. A few stops later she attracted my attention and showed me a notebook. There, in immaculate handwriting, she had written "that other train will be faster". She pointed at a train that had just pulled in on the opposite platform. While she hadn't had the confidence to speak, she had taken the time to construct a sentence for us before ushering us onto the other train. So sweet. Who needs Krispy Kreme, eh?

A star is(n't) born

A photo that has nothing whatsoever to do with karaoke

Even though karaoke has died a bit of a death in the UK, it is still big business in Japan, its homeland. And even though it has taken me since 2005 to try it here, I think it should probably be compulsory. Because while in the UK and elsewhere you can go to a bar and embarrass yourself in public, here in Japan you can go one better by booking a private booth where you can choose from an enormous selection of music, order food and drink, and howl to your heart’s content without embarrassment or annoying anyone else.

I have only vaguely tried karaoke in the past, but here in Japan I have - according to my brother - now discovered my niche. That isn’t to say that I am any good at it. On the contrary, I was rather embarrassed to discover that what has always sounded spectacular in the bath was pretty dire when put together with music and a microphone. I think my best performances were to Led Zepplin, Amy Winehouse and Queen, but trying to take off Robert Plant was bound to take its toll and soon my voice was worsening with strain to my vocal cords. It was probably for that reason that my brother looked horrified when his wife and I decided to add another 30 minutes to our two-hour slot as it was running out. But I was still there, squawking along to Whole lotta love long after my niece and nephew had passed out with exhaustion.

I would love to go again, but I’m not sure everyone else’s ears could take the abuse. Yet the beauty about Japan is that it wouldn’t be unusual or strange if I booked myself into a booth on my own. But it would be pretty sad, wouldn’t it…

Konichiwa from Japan

Stepping onto Japanese soil is like stepping into the future. From bathrooms with control panels, to electrical stores selling the latest and tiniest gadgets, Japan feels like a huge spaceship at times; quietly efficient and extremely advanced. Yet despite its modernity, it respects the ancient. Not only does it have its shrines to the native Shinto religion, but it also has that old-fashioned, quaint piece of technology - the public phone. Whereas the public phone is dying out in Britain for two reasons (people increasingly using mobile phones and morons vandalising them on a regular basis, making them expensive to maintain), in Japan, where pretty much everybody carries a mobile phone, they still exist because they do not get vandalised. Young people in Japan clearly have better things to do.

And if you head out into the city at night you will see the young Japanese out and about. Life expectancy in Japan is one of the highest in the world and maybe the younger generations, who have their own sense of fashion and aura of vibrancy, know that.

Of course it doesn’t mean that nobody misbehaves. A couple of days ago, as my family and I stepped onto a local train, a young man was completely sprawled out on the floor of the carriage, his t-shirt lifted up so his torso was on display, his head comfortably resting on his bag. He hadn’t just passed out, more bedded down for the night. So as everybody got on the train and walked to the seats away from him, my four-year-old niece, with a big smile, decided to sit on one of the seats near to him. We all then watched as a guard tried unsuccessfully to wake him, before fetching an emergency officer who also failed. Eventually they dragged the comatose man out of the train and propped him up, still trying to wake him. When he finally responded, they decided to put him back on the train where, faintly smelling of booze, he fell asleep again and probably spent the night going back and forth between Tokyo and Kawasaki.

I have been told that recently, after a heavy drinking session, a member of a Japanese boy band ended up publicly naked and shouting out that there was nothing wrong with being publicly naked. But generally people behave and so on this, my fourth visit to Japan, it still feels like the safest place I have ever seen.

A Japanese friend once told me that a characteristic of the nation was that everybody, regardless of their job, worked with a sense of pride. And wherever you go, everybody is extremely courteous. Even ticket inspectors on trains bow to and greet the carriage before carrying out their work. But then a Japanese ticket collector is unlikely to be abused or threatened…

This doesn’t mean that crime never happens. On my first visit to Tokyo in 2005 an apartment lent to me was broken into after my friend and I had left. Whoever did the deed smashed a patio door on the second floor balcony, let themselves in, stole nothing and then considerately patched up the window before leaving. Of course for a potential burglar it was all very polite, but we were left completely embarrassed because until the police found a man-sized footprint, it looked as though we had broken the window by accident, patched it up and done a runner without telling anyone. But from what I have been told, crime levels are low.

There are many things that I wish Japan would send to Britain; heated toilet seats with their built-in bidets, showers programmed to the exact temperature you want, really compact bread-makers, seasonal sweets made with cherry blossom, my brother with his wife and children, and shiatsu massage shops. Two weeks on from carrying my backpack and the hard bed in Dharamsala, India I was still suffering with a painful hip, sciatica down my left leg and problems with my left arm, so the first item on my Japanese list of things to do was to visit a walk-in massage shop in a busy shopping centre in Tachikawa. There, along with three other fully-clothed people on a line of massage beds, I lay face down as a young man with fashionably-dyed brown hair found all of my painful bits and poked them very firmly, transforming me into a new woman. My Japanese sister-in-law says that these massage shops can be found elsewhere but one word of advice is to look out for packets of tissues with slips of paper outside the shop. In Japan it is common to see people hand out little packets of tissues with a slip of paper. These are invariably discount offers and in the case of the Tachikawa massage shop, offered the first ten minutes for free. And when you have a sore back, painful leg and arm, and have to run after your fifteen-month-old nephew like a really decrepit old aunty, ten minutes of extra poking is a bonus.