Tokyo, Japan – The sun finally breaks through the knotty black pines as we make our way past Tokyo Tower and through the grounds of the Imperial Palace. 
Sky, tree.
Following an overcast morning, I figure this might be my best chance to see Mount Fuji, so I turn my map to Tokyo Skytree, the world’s tallest tower, at 634 metres.
It’s a 40-minute train ride away, which should really give me an idea of how large this city is. To this point, I’ve been more surprised by how incredibly clean and quiet everything is than by the size or the pace.
It’s disorienting: I still haven’t heard a single siren, street racer or car horn – not even anyone yelling. It’s hard to imagine more than 14 million people live here. Or, incredibly, that a population nearly equal to Canada's 38 million can be found in the Tokyo Metro area.
 |
| Lego, scattered across the floor. |
The illusion evaporates into miles of city stretching into the clouds in all directions. It's as though endless Lego bricks are stacked onto each other, scarred by a gauzy web of roads, neon and the Arakawa River.
But Fuji-San is bashful today, cloaked in a mist of mystique, fog and distance.
Dusk begins its slow descent and the city transforms again. I’m lost in the mess of train lines and stations and opt to abandon the final rails home out of frustration, choosing instead to walk the final hour home.
But I’ve certainly not cheated myself on my first day: 22 kilometres by foot and twice that by train.
Take that, jetlag.
No comments:
Post a Comment