At large with a Princess in Tokyo



It was raining the night I left Disney for the bright neon of Ginza. A stuffed backpack on my back, a bulging Monsters Inc. briefcase in one hand and a Disney plastic lunchbox swinging crazily by its neon-green strap where I had haphazardly tied it to my pack, I must have looked quite a sight.

The Princess I was travelling with, on the other hand, looked spiffy in her colour-coordinated pink ruffled dress and coat and boots, pulling along not one, but TWO suitcases. We may be friends but we’re as different as chalk and cheese. We were teased earlier about how different we both were in spite of our friendship. She is the posh publisher who wears only colour-coordinated dresses and accessories, travelling with suitcases packed with glam stuff and accessories including curlers! I was the diametrically opposite independent traveler who is happy to live in scruffy jeans and tees out of a backpack.

That said backpack was now a deadweight thanks to the mad spree I went on in Disney.

Why oh why did I succumb to temptation and buy so many Disney souvenirs? With no KH there to stop me, I went on a Disney binge in the resort’s shops – buying boxes of Mickey crackers, Tinkerbell souvenir plates (porcelain for heaven’s sake!), lunch boxes, bags, key chains and all nature of paraphernalia. Thank God I stopped short of buying the blue Monsters Inc. helmet – though I was sorely tempted – because now, lugging all this behind me in a rainy net to make two train changes and one long commute to Shiodome was just not fun anymore. After struggling less than 200m into Ikspiari, the mall leading to the JR Maihama station, I sat for a rest.

The Princess surveyed me with amusement. This is why, she said loftily, I would never travel with a backpack. You have too much stuff. Go into the Disney store and buy a spare bag, she advised. The large one with Mickey and Minnie on it, she directed. It was canvas and looked like the tacky large ones that hold all manner of sundry, usually seen on rural trains in China. But apparently the Princess was not above one of these. It was on sale anyway, so buy it I did. But to my immediate dismay the bag was so large and unwieldy that it was practically dragging on the floor! Glumly I folded it back and added it to my already groaning bags. One more for the road.

We plodded through the rest of Iskpiari and I resolutely walked past the cute bakery that tempted me earlier, with the milk roll and oh-so-kawaii cow-print bag it came with. I ignored the colourful scarves on a cart nearby. I could NOT add to my already stuffed bags anymore. Wisely the Princess also decided not to stop and shop.

We made it to JR Maihaima. And here’s where I slipped into familiarity and navigated the ticket machine like a native. The Princess, being a Princess, left the ticket-buying to me. Once in, I had to scout around for a lift to take the Princess and her bags to the platform level. My turn to feel loftily smug. This, I told her, is why I would never travel with suitcases! It would not be the last time I would rub it in as our slow journey through the train stations to our hotel would be punctuated with attempts to look for lifts.

Once in the train to Tokyo, we chatted – about life, loves, present and past, children, travel, just catching up on the 20-odd years that had elapsed since we last met. Back then she was a sales executive and I was a fresh reporter working for the same magazine. Today she is a publisher of well-known travel magazines and I am a mother of five. She asked, not cruelly, “What happened to you? I always thought you were ambitious.”

What can I say? Life happens in ways you never expect.

It's not as if there were no doors open. But like the game shows, you walk through the door of your choice. Had I walked through those, my five children would not have happened and my life would have been very different. I chose a different door. Still, one man's booby prize is another man's lottery win. I think it’s where you are in the present that counts and right now, my life is in a pretty good place. I have no money, no status, no designer togs and my resume now reads as simply ‘mother of five’. But being where I was that night – sitting in a train on a rainy night in Japan, my kids waiting back home, I felt so thankful already, like life had already taken me further than I had ever expected. It was not grand, but it was fine.

In Tokyo station, after navigating streams of black-suited penguins again on the long walk from the Keiyo line and always pointing the Princess to the lifts, we found ourselves in front of glass-fronted station cafes, suddenly starving. She plumped for kare raisu (curry rice) and I opted for that tempting bowl of rice with a dollop of mentaiko next door.

It was not until I sat at the counter, salarymen tucking into steaming bowls of udon on either side that it hit me – I was really and truly in Tokyo. Back in Japan! It was hard to hold back the squeal of excitement so I just ended up choking a bit on the mentaiko.

The Princess later told me that was the best kare raisu she’d had. And this was just a mere faceless hole-in the-wall shop in the bowels of Tokyo station!

At Shinbashi station, the Princess met her waterloo – no lifts! She motioned me to go ahead on the escalators. I said drily that I would feel safer being BEHIND her! Nonetheless I went ahead and waited at ground level to see what she would do.

And of all things? The old damsel in distress trick. She batted her eyelashes and smiled winningly at a passing salary man who happened to speak a bit of English and he helped navigate her bags down the escalator, whereupon she thanked him sweetly.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle but the Princess had had enough. We’ll take a cab, she decided briskly. And so in less than 3 minutes, we had arrived at the Villa Fontaine Shiodome. The ride had cost us 710yen. Sometimes, there are perks travelling with a princess.

Minutes later, we had checked in easily. The Princess was miffed to be given a room on the second floor and tried to no avail to get her room changed. I, on the other hand, was given what I think is the best room – on the highest floor, in a corner where the view peeked directly out onto Hama Rikyu garden and Tokyo Bay! No way was I going to swop rooms with the Princess! It didn’t matter even when my room reeked of stale smoke because – check out the view! And never mind that the view was one of raindrops silhouetted against a black night, I was here in Tokyo and all on my own.

Now that was what mattered!

Solo travel

I've been wanting to blog about this for the longest time but life was going on around me too much for me to sit down and reflect and write.

I want to write about my trip to Japan a month ago - feels like a lifetime ago already. But I've still got some commercial stuff to sort out so specific trip reports will take a bit longer to post.

For now though, I'd just like to put some thoughts down on my solo travel adventure.

The very first trip I took on my own was when I was 21, on a flight to Melbourne. I stayed there for a month with my aunt who became like a second mother to me. So does that count as solo travel? Not quite right?

Since then, every trip I've taken has been with my KH - best pal and other half - who has taken very good care of me on all our trips. When I consider that he's the guy who writes up the packing list, packs our backpacks and does our laundry, I wonder if I should just pack him in my luggage with me. But then again, he's also the same guy with whom I've had some memorable rip-roaring fights on those trips too. Never a dull moment!

But now, it looked like I would be on my own in Japan. For two days after the Disney junket, I would be alone. It was only two days. Big deal right? But to me, it was a big scary deal. I had not done this alone before. I had not gone on a business trip, let alone a solo trip. No one to talk to, no one to remind me of the essentials (like my meds, as KH always faithfully does) and no one to share my mistakes and wrong turns.

You'll be okay, KH reassured me. You know Japan. You know your way around.

He kept telling me that until 5am that rainy morning when I left the house for the airport. I left with a big stone in my chest - one loaded half with fear and half with exhilaration.

Luckily, I travelled with a nice bunch of reporters and I had a long-lost friend to catch up with. Helped me feel more grounded and a lot safer. The Disney portion helped ease me into solo travel.

For once, I had a whole room to myself. I could soak in the tub for as long as I liked after a day of walking in the parks and I did not have to contend with kids chasing me out for their own soaking! I could surf the internet past midnight and not have KH nag. I could have a decent complete meal with adult conversation without having to cut up meat for a little one or referee a fight.

Did I miss the children? Yes, in that I wished I could share my experience, let them see what I am seeing as well. Hence my videos at Tsukiji and Honke Bankyu. (To add, when Gillian saw the videos, she said my narration made it seem as if I was narrating to them there and then - as indeed was the case. I wanted to show them exactly what I was seeing) But at the same time, I relished my freedom from the mummy role. Does that make me a bad mummy? Or am I sending myself on another self-imposed guilt trip? Maybe there is a time and space for life to happen and maybe now at this point in my life, this is where I would like to be. Could there be room for all my roles? I would like to think so.

When I left Disney to venture into Tokyo and further, all I felt was a sense of confidence and familiarity - I knew how to navigate the train ticket machines with ease, I could find my way to the hotel and check in with no problems. The fear, the trepidation, apprehension - all vanished. Even a drunk lurching towards me at the hotel reception did not faze me - the savvy staff of the Villa Fontaine caught him a quick second before he could sway onto me.

Yes, I wished I had someone to talk to at times, or marvel at the scenery together, or soak in the ambience at the Honke Bankyu, a setting so ripe for romance. And certainly, when my shoulders ached and the backpack felt too heavy, how I wished KH was there.

And of course, there was the dilemma of photo-taking. No one to take photos of me. Or I of them. In Disney, with a princess for company, I took many pictures. Of her. But on my own, there was nobody. I resorted to putting on a smile, sign language and asking strangers to take my picture - with the train, next to a town mascot, in a bus. They always did. Bemused that I was travelling alone but gamely obliging. I always returned the favor though and volunteered to take pictures for them. And when there was no one around, I did the loony thing and took my own self-portraits.

All that aside, I don't think I was ever homesick or oppressively lonely and longing for company. How could I, when there were the long train rides where I wrote in my journal, listened to music, ate onigiri, drank Coke and looked out the window and just day-dreamed?

Perhaps being alone, after being surrounded by noise and movement and activity in my large family day after day, was like manna to one who had not known she was hungry? I said before that I think Japan is a place well-suited for solitude, as if there was a sense of deep loneliness that I found familiar, that appealed to me. And so it was. Being alone did not feel alien or frightening. Instead, I enjoyed it greatly, navigating my way around and making my own decisions. At times I felt so free as if I could just soar, and perhaps, never come back.

I feel like I came into my own skin back in Japan. Its another part of me I never thought I'd be brave enough to find. Included now, with my other identities as mother and wife and worker drone, is now a sense of newfound independence as a traveler. And rather like an addict, trapped in the rush of sensations of a trip, so have I too been caught up in the seductiveness of solo travel. Like a really bad itch, I long to do this again. And now, back in the humdrum of everyday life, I miss it greatly.

Hanami and the beach

Last night, minutes before 4300 Krisflyer points were about to expire forever, KH and I booked our business class tickets to Osaka for April 2011. In celebration of our 20th wedding anniversary together, I think the theme for Japan in 2011 will be flowers and romance. Nice? I shall have to plan an itinerary centred around that. And for once, for me at least, we will travel in style - frog in a well that I am, I have never sat in Business class so I am excited about that.

We booked only the first leg of the journey leaving our options for the return trip wide open for now. We could go deeper into central Honshu to explore Kamikochi, Takayama, the Japanese alps and the Kiso Valley. Or explore the backroads of Shikoku and the islands of the Seto-Naikai National Park by car. Or wend our way up the northern coast towards Niigata, and the Tohoku region, ending in a loop back at Tokyo. We are also toying with the possibility of flying from Japan to Beijing and then returning from there.

So that will be something to look forward to. I am already gleefully anticipating the planning!

But for now, in the immediate future, there will be good old Malaysia for us in a couple of weeks from now. This time we are headed for Tioman where we will join Rita and her brood at the Paya Beach Resort. The kids are very excited to vaca with the Tans again after having a blast in Tokyo Disney with them a couple of years ago. We will be driving the usual Malacca-KL-Kuantan route, looping down to Tioman and then home.

Can't wait.