Clayhaus Ruminations: Travels with Oka-san

After six hours of restful sleep, I feel ready for Tokyo.

I meet mama-san for what I swear will be my last Western-style breakfast in Japan and by 8 we are out the hotel door and ready for adventure. A light drizzle greets us but we remain undeterred from our day's goals: the Imperial Palace gardens and a stroll through Ginza.

For almost 300 years, until the Meiji restoration in 1868, the Tokugawa Shoguns governed Japan from their castle in Edo, modern-day Tokyo. Once the shogunate was deposed, the Emperors ruled from the castle. Nothing lasts forever though, and World War II saw the almost complete destruction via aerial fire-bombing of the palace, and indeed, most of Tokyo itself. Following the war, the palace was rebuilt and gardens re-planted. The emperor and imperial train still reside there, though 'ruling' is no longer their role. The buildings and inner gardens are not open to the public, however the extensive outer gardens are open for strolling. With a few remnants of the original walls, ponds, extensive trees and walkways mixed with splashes of flowering color, stolid rocks, and the occasional restored traditional building, the gardens are usually teeming with tourists and natives alike, seeking quiet respite from the modern chaos that is Tokyo.

By the time we emerge from our short subway ride and the long, underground walkway tunnel from the station to the Imperial grounds, the word 'teeming' can only be applied to the rain falling. From drizzle to torrents in short order. Donning rain-jackets and opening umbrellas we are ready for what Tokyo is gives us...I just wish I had galoshes with me as well.

It is hard to see the smoking ruin that we left Tokyo in 1945 for all the green now around us. Once again a reminder that re-growth and rejuvenation can always be possible, is, in fact, the 'natural' order of things, given time. The exquisitely built bashōs (guard houses) and tea pavilions, lovely ponds (with obligatory koi), swan-adorned moats and sculptured walkways transport one far away from the proverbial hustle and bustle outside the grounds. It is a pleasure exploring and despite the continuing, actually relentless, downpour, we are refreshed by what we see.

To a point. After a couple of hours, the completely soaked through shoes begin to chill as the squeege-squeege sounds of walking begin to annoy. The thoughts of food, hot tea and warm shelter entice. Where to go on such a beastly day? Mitsukoshi of course! The grand dame of Japanese department stores. The Harrod of the East (never mind American upstarts like Macys or Nordstroms), Mitsukoshi was founded in 1673 and began by selling kimonos. Now a huge conglomerate, the main store in the Nihonbashi area, is just a few steps from the Imperial grounds.

After beating our way through a few blocks of torrential downpours, we arrive at our destination. Petite Japanese women in matching uniforms bow and greet the soggy patrons as they enter, including us, the soggiest of the lot. We wander through ten floors, admiring the Japanese aesthetic in the various displays, and prices, not for the faint of heart. There are restaurants on the 4th, 5th, 7th, and 10th floors and when we finally choose one, the warming donburi ramen and tea are just what we need.

Fortified, we set out to wander more floors of this teeming shopping metropolis and stumble quite accidentally upon a floor with the 54th annual exhibit of Japanese handicrafts. Beautiful colorful kimonos, stunning displays of pottery, intricate baskets, and finely wrought lacquer ware greet us as we move from room to seemingly endless room. We could, as I am sure many locals did, spend the entire rest of the day wandering through the department store-cum-museum, but instead we elect to weather the weather once again.

Stepping outside, the rain has mercifully let up and we beginning walking towards the Ginza District. First we must cross the Nihonbashi. "Japan Bridge" was originally Edobashi in the 1600s, a wooden bridge that was the beginning — or ending, depending upon your direction — of the ancient Tōkaidō road between Edo and Kyoto. From this bridge, once upon a time, travelers heading south could see Mt. Fuji. Renamed and rebuilt with stone in the Meiji period and now more or less covered by an expressway, one could cross the Nihonbashi and be forgiven for not immediately grasping its historical significance.

Ginza, now known the world-over as one of the most upscale of botiqueries and shopping areas, got its start in the early 17th century as the location of the silver mint for the shogunate. Appropriate, as anything you buy on this street will cost you that said mint. We are not here to shop though, but instead to stroll and soak in the experience. We luck out as on Sunday — during the daylight hours — the main Ginza drag has been turned into a pedestrian-only zone. Walking the normally frenetic streets with casually strolling Japanese, umbrellas on shoulders, is a visual and photographic treat.

We eventually end up back at our hotel and after freshening up — and changing our thoroughly sodden shoes for dry ones — we venture back out for dinner and the nighttime version of Ginza. Dinner was superb: sushi, tempura, rice with fish and sake, all in a small, crowded restaurant where we are the only English speakers. Perfect.

After few photos of Ginza at night, the long day finally takes its toll on us: sleep, sleep and the next day...a new adventure.