The arrivals area in Tokyo airport was a sea of chaos.  As we made our way towards passport control etc there were a number of young people waving placards at the stream of arriving passengers and calling out instructions.  The placards bore red and blue images and the instructions were to follow the “fast track route” or not.  On one of the Japanese tourism/government sites you can fill in various forms and upload documents which allegedly results in a set of QR codes being sent to your phone and which will speed you through arrivals.  I’d tried that before I left but couldn’t get it to do anything useful for me.

So I became part of the melee that constituted the non fast track crowd, and it really was a crowd.  I joined a group around a young Japanese girl who was holding up a transparent plastic folder of the type you stick into an A4 ring binder.  It was a trifle crumpled but you could see there was a sheet of paper inside that bore a QR code.  She urged us to aim our phones at this code.  If you can imagine half a dozen fractious tourists waving their smart phones at this wee girl’s upheld arm amidst a crowd of tens if not hundreds of people, because she was not the only person charged with this task.

Unsurprisingly my phone did nothing.  So I was ushered /dragged through the crowd to a little laptop where the girl and I filled in a form of vital information – my name etc.  All of these readily available from my machine readable passport and from the landing card I had filled in on the plane but let’s pass on.  Having filled in the form a button was clicked and a sheet of paper issued from an adjacent printer bearing a QR code.

I was then directed to a line of desks where the QR code sheet was processed in some way and I presented my PCR report.  No question of vaccination certificates or apps thank God.  The PCR reigned supreme.  £65 well spent.

Next it was passport control where photos and fingerprints were taken.  Just as in Miami the camera needed a few attempts to get my likeness.  I was relieved of my landing card, my passport was swiped and stamped and I was through to the baggage hall.

My bag appeared promptly and I headed for customs.  My heart sank when I saw a number of people whose luggage was in a state of undress but the man took my passport and the customs declaration I’d filled in on the plane, glanced at them, handed the passport back, smiled at me and said “finished”.

Next it was domestic transfers where they tore up the boarding card I’d been given in Edinburgh and gave me a new one. I was told to take the shuttle to terminal 1 which I did.  It was a long way.  The boarding card said Gate 21.  I couldn’t see any signs with gate numbers so I asked one of the various official looking fellows who directed me upstairs.  Here there was a long corridor.  It appeared to be split into sections A to G and a bank of numbers above those sections I assumed were the gate numbers.  21 was at the rightmost end of this bank so I set off for the far end of the corridor and headed through the security control.  But I was turned back.  Here the airport does not provide the security screening.  Each airline does its own.  So I had to go back to an earlier section, go through their security control, turn right and head again for gate 21 at the far end of the corridor.  

It was straightforward thereafter.  Flight to Komatsu, airport bus to Kanazawa.  Queuing for a taxi I chuckled at the funny accents of a couple of French Canadians in the queue.  Who’d you think you are Neill?  Modern taxi drivers the world over seem to have abandoned learning the names and locations of hotels in favour of keying them into a GPS system.  He got me there.  The guides tell you there is no need to tip taxi drivers in Japan.  Some suggest it’s likely to be taken as an insult.  Maybe, but this chap didn’t raise any objection when I told him to keep the change.

The hotel was fine.  Lots of stuff you wouldn’t expect to find in a cheap hotel room in the UK.  An actual alarm clock, slippers, a shoehorn and polishing cloths, a multi connection phone charger, a LAN cable and a garment which may have been a dressing gown or a sleeping coat.

Given that I hadn’t had much sleep for a couple of nights I didn’t stay up too late and didn’t get up too early on the Friday.  I had a good wander around town, took lots of picture, had a pleasant lunch of what I think was minced raw tuna and rice. I washed it down with a nice Japanese draught beer.  I was still pretty tired in the evening so I didn’t go out.

I’d been in touch with my AirB&B host about getting into the apartment on the Saturday.  We agreed he’d pick me up about 12 so I had a leisurely breakfast and sat in a park enjoying the sunshine till then.

Keita is a really nice guy whose broken English is a great deal better than my broken Japanese.  The apartment is pristine.  It’s furnished in Japanese style.  Those chairs without legs are a challenge.  The floor level bed is not so bad though the work of getting up confirms my decision to give up skiing on the basis that when I fell over (as one does) it would take a miracle to get me upright again.

He's taken pity on me since and added a western style chair and a small worktable of a reasonable height.  

On Saturday night I walked up to Kenrokuen Gardens, deemed one of the three finest gardens in Japan, which in honour of the season was lit up and open late into the evening.  It was absolutely packed with enthusiastic cheerful crowds.  Various food stalls lined the entrance road and were doing roaring business.  The castle grounds opposite were also open and the castle was floodlit.  All very lovely.

Keita took me out with a couple of his friends on Sunday for a picnic and some cherry blossom viewing.  We went to Noto, a town not far away where he comes from.  It was an interesting day with a drive along a beach and a visit to a place where a local building company had developed a little cherry tree park.

On the way back we drove along a 10 kilometre stretch of road bordered on both sides by cherry trees in full bloom.  

On Monday I started my language classes.  It's hard work and a trifle overwhelming at the moment but I'm sure it will be worth it.  It's a very pleasant 20 minute walk from the apartment to the class between the gardens and the castle and through a large park.  Serendipity of course.

I haven't done very much other than wander about and try to get a feel for the place and the people.  There are lots of museums and historic whatsits to investigate and I'll do my best to fit some of them in and report here.