Day 28 – Tokyo to London

I refrained my usual last-day tradition of giving away all my old clothes to the poor street kids, as there are no poor street kids and the idea of any kid wanting to accept a five-year-old Sisters Of Mercy t-shirt is just absurd.

So that's it for another trip, Japan is fantastic, I would urge you to go or at the very least write to your local member of parliament and ask him why everything is so shit where you live. If you do go, make sure you fill your suitcase with melons which at over £100 a go will certainly have you staying in the more luxurious hotels.

My final train ride to the airport was eventful to say the least. Just after leaving central station an 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit Tokyo. Amidst the chaos and confusion, the train track buckled throwing our carriage off the raised lines, through the air, and into the side of a building that was engulfed in flames. As I struggled to free myself and Ciara from the wreckage the flames and smoke began to overwhelmed me, in the next instant a thirty-metre tsunami hit the city and swept our battered carriage into Tokyo harbour and into the grip of a whirlpool. As I slowly sank into the abyss an enormous explosion of water heralded the arrival of Godzilla who snatched me from my seat and swallowed me and my laptop, hence the delay in this last post.

Did it?

No. It was pleasant, left on time and I had a nice cup of tea.

Sayonara.

Day 27 – Tokyo

I start the day with a trip to Akihabara, which is the place to be in Tokyo if you are after computers, games-consoles, phones or any other small electrical device, such as a detonator, however, I am not suggesting for one moment that the three shady-looking muslims blokes in the shop at the same time as me were after anything other than a soda-stream.

Akihabara is also home to Japanese pop phenomenon, girl-band AKB48. Forget the vomit-inducing clones that X-Factor force feed a catatonic audience every week, the Japanese (as usual) have taken it to whole new level, in the form of AKB48 who, at the last count, had 56 girls in the band – just imagine the bill for toilet roll on that tour! 

The manager – who may or may not be called Fagin – has the band (only around 12 of them at any one time) performing several times a day in their very own sweatshop – sorry theatre, to the obvious delight of the huge crowds that are always queueing outside the auditorium. 

The scary thing is that there is already a rival band (of 60-odd girls) ready to be unleashed.

The really frightening thing is that their is also a boy band on the way.

And the truly terrifying thing is that one day it will happen in London.

In the evening I inadvertently find myself in Tokyo's red-light district – I only had to take two trains, a bus and several wrong turns to inadvertently get there. Whilst admiring the faux-Englsih names of the various ladies of the night (Rabbit Bar, Bar Honey being amongst the more obvious), my attention was drawn to a sign featuring the obligatory scantily-clad Asian girl lounging over the lettering of the quite superbly named Bar Keith. Perhaps Keith was from Thailand.

Day 26 – Kyoto to Tokyo

My hotel in Kyoto seems to have been invaded by middle-aged English Daily Mail readers, consequently all talk over breakfast is of the sushi muck on offer and the lack of toast.

My Japan Rail Pass expires today so it's a train ride back to Toyko to start the day. After checking into my hotel I visit the Ghibli Animation Museum which sounds a lot easier than it actually was. Tickets are not available where you would expect, i.e. at the museum door, but have to be purchased in advance from a machine, which can be found in specific shops, the machine only displays Japanese characters so just getting them is a mission that John Rambo would be loathe to take on. Having found the shop, the machine, navigated a dozen Japanese screens you are then given an option of only four time slots a day to visit – miss your time slot and you are not allowed in. To get to the Museum from central Tokyo requires two trains and a bus journey.

The museum itself is great, provided you have any interest in Japanese animation, if not I would avoid the two hours you'll spend in the place and the six hours it takes to get the tickets and find it.

Day 25 – Kyoto

Ciara causes widespread panic at breakfast when she mishears 'Lunchtime in Japan' for 'Landslide in Japan' which she repeats loudly several times. I put our Chinese dining companion at ease but not before several surrounding holidaymakers have jumped out of the window unable to face the prospect of another natural disaster. On the plus side, I got to finish their toast.

Not content with the Silver Pavilion yesterday, today I step up a notch and visit the Golden Pavilion which...

…OK enough religion!  After 24 days (and yesterday in particular) if I see another temple, shrine, pavilion, scripture, sculpture, painting, talisman, gate, garden or get even the faintest whiff of incense, I am liable to do a Kendo Nagasaki (1980s Japanese wrestling legend, for those of you who didn't watch World of Sport) go ballistic, and put an innocent passer-by into a half-nelson.

The Manga Museum on the other hand was a great distraction, a must for anyone who believes that a man can fly or anyone who just likes looking at weird Japanese illustrations of girls being attacked by giant octopuses. The museum contained enough exhibits that I happily stayed for over four hours engrossed in the original artworks, storyboards and stories of the drunken antics of the authors. If I could have read any of the comics I may still be there now.

In the evening I was in a noodle restaurant which showed me the future, no it wasn't caused by a bowl of hallucinogenic mushroom soup, but an automatic waiter. The concept is so simple that even a cow could use one – provided it could avoid the chef's cleaver for long enough. A machine stands just inside the door of the restaurant, it features pictures of all the dishes and drinks on the menu with buttons below each, simply make your choice, insert the cash, then take your ticket to the chef who whips it up and brings it to your table. 

No more trying to get a disinterested berk's attention, no waiting for the bill, or the change. Waiters and waitresses everywhere you have been warned your days are numbered and I will remind you of this the next time I get a 'I'm so busy, you'll have to wait' look. 

Day 24 – Kyoto

With over 1600 Buddhist temples in Kyoto, today was always going to be a long one. The Eastern area of Kyoto – Higashiyama – contains enough means of salvation that even a Premier League footballer could find it – if not spell it. Highlights of my day included; 

Nanzen-ji – a Zen Buddhist temple. It's the headquarters of the Nanzen-ji branch of Rinzai Zen.

While,

Chion-in – the headquarters of the Jōdo-shū sect founded by Hōnen, who proclaimed that sentient beings are reborn in Amida Buddha's Western Paradise.

Not forgetting,

Kiyomizu-dera – which was originally affiliated with the influential Hossō sect. However, in 1965 it severed that affiliation, and its present custodians call themselves members of the Kitahossō sect.

Got that? Thanks Wikipedia. Let's not bother with the other one-thousand, five-hundred and ninety-six shall we, I don't think the spell-check could handle it.

Day 23 – Kyoto

Is Japan expensive? 

The simple answer is yes, especially if you are travelling on the Somalian Shilling, the Peruvian Sol or the New Zealand Dollar. In general, prices are pretty much comparable to London. 

The most expensive beer I have seen was in an Irish Bar which wanted £9 for a pint of Guinness – which I have to admit is about as authentically Dublin as it gets. As for food, I have kept coming across what is known as 'Gift Fruit' which, as the name suggests, is a fruit given as a gift, but this is not your token bag of grapes for a twisted ankle variety present. I am to talking about a watermelon – a normal-looking everyday watermelon – that retails for...

...those of you with a weak heart or figure-hugging pocket may want to sit down…

...that retails for... £120! 

Yes you read that correctly, I did not miss a decimal point. How about a single strawberry for £8?

Apparently each piece of fruit is grown on its own vine, with the temperature, sunlight and moisture intake strictly controlled by the farmer (he'll be the one towing the horse box with a Ferrari). Another strange one was the tin of Spam I came across for £7. The message is clear: avoid melon and spam fritters at all costs.

Having eaten nine fruit salads at the breakfast buffet – some hope, it was sushi and seaweed for the 23rd day – I took the train to Nara to visit one of Japan's most impressive World Heritage Sites – Tōdai-ji, or to use the more common English translation; that big bloody Budda thing. 

Enormous he is (one of the world's largest), sitting comfortably inside the largest wooden building in the world (settle down, I know that is exciting), the entire temple area is surrounded by hundreds of deer who are regarded as messengers of the gods, and it appears that the message is 'Hey tourist, have you got any biscuits or crisps I can eat, or will I just follow you around and sniff you constantly?'

I'll be honest, I expected more from the gods.

Day 22 – Osaka to Kyoto

Having caught an early train to Kyoto I dump my bags at the hotel and visit the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest. This took longer than expected as Ciara was in charge of map reading, the first train took us an incredible distance in the wrong direction, the second train (to get back to where we started) only a short distance in the wrong direction.

Relinquishing Ciara of duties we arrived at the forest where closely knit bamboo trees tower into the air, knocking against each other, causing mysterious eerie echoes throughout the area – if it hadn't been for the swarms of dumpling sellers and tourists it would have been very, very spooky indeed. There were no crouching tigers or hidden dragons – although admittedly they could have been very well hidden

In the evening I discovered the finest  Chu-Hi (flavoured alcohol) drink I have tasted since arriving. I am not exactly sure what it was, but it was close enough to whisky that a Scotsman would buy one (well, steal one) with just enough of a kick of ginger to make the whisky drinkable.

I have no idea what is was called either as the writing on the can was entirely in Japanese, however, I was impressed enough by the amusing cartoon character that featured on the can to splash out the required £1.20. 

Japanese designers seem to love a cartoon character, a huge amount of advertising and packaging feature them. I particularly like the illustrations used on alcohol packaging as it is stupidly banned in England (as it's seen to be promoting drinking to children) a policy which has proved such a fantastic deterrent to underage drinking. 

What, Eh? Oh.

Day 21 – Osaka

Due to the Osaka hotel room shortage I am forced to move to another hotel a couple of streets away, annoyingly I cannot check in until 4pm. The silver lining is that as I have stayed at the Toyoko Inn chain for ten nights they are giving me tonight for free – I almost regret taking all those complimentary sachets of green tea now. Almost.

I spend the day visiting Osaka City Museum followed by Osaka Castle – which looks splendid surrounded by the changing colours of the Autumnal red, green and yellow trees.

In the evening I visit the main shopping area and see why Osaka was bombed so extensively during the World War II as the amount of light bulbs on display must have been visible from Washington. We have another Okonomiyaki which is quickly becoming the only food we eat in Japan.

Day 20 – Hiroshima to Osaka

For some reason accommodation in Osaka is harder to find than a donut in Kirstie Alley's dressing room. I spent over two hours on the internet being thwarted by a variety of  'no availability' messages and Japanese websites.

The hotel manager where I am currently staying then spent over an hour attempting in vain to locate me a room before, with a rather grim face telling me, she had found 'something, but not of a high standard'. With bowed head and quivering lower lip she a admitted that the room had 'A lamp that did not work'. Gravely insulted, I immediately called for the name of her superior, her first born child and front row seats at her impending hair-kiri.

My worst hotel rooms:

1. Osaka, Japan – A lamp that didn't work, upon arrival it had been fixed.

2. San Salvador, El Salvador – This particular hotel had a 10pm curfew as a courtesy to it's guests whose safety on the surrounding streets was dubious at best. The walls separating the rooms were pieces of plywood, that only rose to just above head height – the remainder was chicken wire. None of the rooms had locks so rather than be murdered in my sleep, I spent the night drinking vodka with a heavily home-tattooed Mexican who had recently been released from a Texas jail for drug running.

3. Oaxaca, Mexico – Having spent a night on the Tequila I was in need of a good nights sleep. Around three in the morning having been constantly woken by strange gushing sounds, I lifted the wooden planks under my mattress to find it had been built over a sewer – a unique feature you won't find on Grand Designs.

4. Kuching, Borneo – The smashed window was unsatisfactory, but it was hot so It gave a nice breeze and a decent view. The bed frame that looked like a medieval torture instrument was just about bearable, however, the flimsy sponge mattress stained with enough substances (blood being the principal one) to keep the CSI Borneo boys busy for a number of days was just to much. The floor turned out to be even dirtier.

Day 19 – Naoshima to Hiroshima

We decided that one day in Hiroshima was not enough, and with Japanese trains being as good as they are, a backtrack of 170kms is an easy enough journey to make. Without this backtrack I would not of had the pleasure of seeing a station cleaner pushing around a rubbish cart that, whenever the wheels were in motion, played 'The Camptown Ladies' – that fella must go home the happiest man in the world, either that or one day he will snap and kill 80 commuters with an automatic weapon.

Having returned to Hiroshima the only thing left to do was decide what to do with the day, ancient castles? sacred temples? or, how about a 7km long production line in the Mazda Factory? Yes my inner Clarkson was released as I watched in amazement as workers and robots armed with all manner of power tools swarmed like Doozers (for those of you who remember Fraggle Rock) over slow moving cars.

For dinner in the evening we have another Okonomiyaki, which I suspect is the real reason Ciara wanted to return.

Day 18 – Naoshima

Naoshima Island has been given over to art, indoor and outdoor installations dot the island including; enormous fibre-glass pumpkins on the beach, inexplicable glass and mirror cubicles, art galleries and entire houses that have been turned into art projects. 

Many are very good – I particularly liked the almost pitch black house that had transformed the living room into a neon-light filled pond, and one installation by James Turrell in Chichu Art Museum that was nothing short of sensational – pop out and have a look at it yourself.

Inevitably a couple suffered from the curse of modern-art blather 'The twigs on the floor are symbolic of my struggle', Really? Or are they just something that was picked up in the park on a Friday afternoon having been laying into the sake.

The nights in Naoshima are slow, boasting only a handful of restaurants and bars that are dotted inconvieniently around the island, I find myself with less things to do than Amy Winehouse's cleaning lady. Having bought a can of beer from the Seven-Eleven store, I walk around the ferry station and go to the Seven-Eleven store again. Fearing the lady behind the counter may think I am casing the joint if I visit for a third time I go back to the tent.

Early night it is then.