I spend a lot of time travelling the late night trains. Not because I want to or, indeed, need to, but because I often get confused as to where I am going.
The simplest 20 minute single train ride can turn into a two-hour journey whereby I actually travel out of Tokyo-to and into neighbouring cities.
I honestly don’t understand how something so simple turns into a situation where I am staring at the TV screen on the train hoping it will state in English what the next stop will be and, if it does, hoping I will recognise it.
It’s not all bad though. The stench of the last train has a smell of comfort, of familiarity, about it. It smells like the old Punters Club used to. The stale smell of smoke and beer emanating from the passengers permeates the carriage. We all gaze bleary-eyed into space but never meet the eyes of another lest we make an unfocused contact of sorts.
Eventually, I work it out and I manage to stumble into my single room dwelling, gratefully falling upon my mattress, exhausted. I am slightly concerned about this Saturday night though. I'm meeting Jeffrey for an izakaya crawl in his part of town so God knows where I'll end up.
I'm quite keen to check out Kobe ...