We had plans to go to the seaside … but when we woke up this morning, Tokyo had all but disappeared under a blanket of mist and rain.  Not exactly beach weather.  However, most of the journey involved train travel, so we figured we’d start out dry, so we set off regardless.  Captain K had to stay home, as fluffy bears and precipitation are not a good mix.

We took a local train to Ofuna, meeting two American friends who had arrive in Japan two days ago.  They wanted some information on Osaka, so we shared our expert(?) knowledge; at least we were able to give them some pointers about catching Shinkansens to Hiroshima and Kyoto.

The rain was heavier at Ofuna, so we headed straight for the vehicle for our next leg – the Shonan Monorail.  This engineering wonder carries a suspended train for 15 km from Ofuna to the coastal town of Enoshima.  It was strange being able to look down at houses, yards and streets; the train passes extremely close to some buildings!

At Enoshima we’d planned to walk across the bridge to the nearby island (good for views of Mt Fuji on a clear day, so we’re led to believe).  It was still pouring, so island strolls were struck off the list.  But the best part of the day was just around the corner.

We walked onto the teeny tiny station platform, to wait for the grandly named Enoshima Electric Railway train to pull in.  The first thing to note is that the train doesn’t quite fit on the platform!  There is a teeny tiny boom gate across all of the teeny tiny streets that the single track rail line crosses.  Between the first few stations, the track is so narrow, that the train squeezes its way down between back yard fences, holding its breath as it goes.  The train shares the track with cars and pedestrians, like a tram.  The drivers all wear a spiffy uniform, cap and white gloves, and they all wave to each other as they pass.  The train plays its jaunty little tune before pulling out of each stop (I am going to miss the musical trains and pedestrian crossings).

After a little while, the teeny tiny train emerges onto a section of track which parallels the sea.  On a nice day, this would have been gorgeous.  Even in the rain it was lovely.  We went through a teeny tiny tunnel, and waited for a teeny tiny train coming the other way, before proceeding to the end of the line at Kamakura.  The entire 24 minutes of this ride was a joy.

At Kamakura we went looking for some Japanese food for lunch.  There were any number of takeaway food stalls and cafes, but nowhere out of the rain to sit and eat, so I settled for some “authentic” 7-11 hot food, and we ate on the station platform (no eating allowed on the trains).  We whizzed back from Kamakura to Shinjuku in about an hour, glad of the floor level heating which dried our socks.

We were back in time for me to visit the National Garden, a short walk from Shinjuku Station.  I only had an hour before it closed, so I concentrated on the traditional Japanese garden, which is the centrepiece.  I was expecting it to be compact, like the others we’ve seen, but this was much larger, with paths in all directions.  Pine needles sparkled with raindrops, and everything looked a picture.  How did they get the grass to be that perfect shade of emerald green, and not a blade out of place?  It was very charming, and I’m glad I had the chance to enjoy it.

As I was walking there (Ian was at one of the massive department stores at the station), it struck me that Tokyo is a lot like London.  They don’t look alike, but both are made up of hundreds of neighbourhoods, connected by an efficient and extensive underground system.  They both have a never-ending supply of glitzy shops and restaurants, and architects trying to out-compete each other with skyscraper design; but they also have their gems like the vast parks and green spaces, and the little pockets of history (London more so than Tokyo on that one).  They are both walkable cities which are really well geared for tourists.  Like London, Tokyo is a city that is easy to feel comfortable in relatively quickly.

I met Ian at the Breizh Crepe restaurant, on the 13^th floor of yet another massive department store.  We had savoury and sweet GF galettes, while looking out on twinkly lights.  We then walked off the calories just in crossing from the east side of Shinjuku Station to the west side; if you did that in Melbourne you’d have walked across half the CBD, underground!  We emerged onto street level and climbed up onto an overpass, to see the neon lights.  As we walked home, a tiny shrine lit with lanterns reminded us that not everything in Tokyo is big, bright, shiny and new.