Tokyo

 

A couple of weeks ago I was down in Tokyo for a conference. One of the things that immediately struck me about the city (besides how warm it is), is the relative affluence of the place. Though that impression was undeniably influenced by the location of my hotel. It was in Akasaka, close to the Diet (Japan's weight conscious parliament), various ministries and government agencies, and the Emperor's Palace (and no, I didn't meet him. He was allegedly 'out' when I called). 
Yet, even further afield in the more nondescript parts of town where the conference was held, there is a distinct difference in the degree of urbanity between here, in Muroran, and there.
"Well, duh", I hear you say, but to the casual visitor to Japan, who inevitably passes through the capital at some stage of their journey, the impression would be of a quite, orderly city with a subtle air of reserved affluence. Clean streets, orderly citizens, dull, functional but undeniably modern buildings, excellent public transport, an amazing variety of restaurants, and a beguiling variety of shops, large and small, enticing you to part with your yen.
No rusting, shuttered shops, faded discount stores or cavernous empty buildings in imminent danger of collapse. 
And on the trains and buses, as many if not more young people than old. Riding the subway back to my hotel I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a tunnel-darkened window. In comparison to the besuited young man beside me watching TV on his mobile phone, and the young mother scolding her daughter on the other side of me, I looked distinctly middle-aged.
In Muroran, on the exceedingly rare time I ever take the bus, I feel positively spring-chicken like; life - vigorous, active, walking cane-free life still stretches before me. Down in Tokyo though, I'm already an oji-san, an auld fella.