Japan Day 27: Travel on Trains

Nagasaki was a long way from the centrifugal force exerted by Tokyo. The style of clothing was not quite as sharp, as super-stylish as Tokyo. Conversations on the train happened and were loud with occasional laughter. The torrents of humanity that poured through Tokyo's massive labyrinthine railway stations were replaced by herds of people who meandered at a lesser pace. The cars drove faster and used their horns more often: the pedestrians were more willing to risk life and limb by stepping onto the pedestrian crossing in the split second after the traffic light turned red and before the walk light turned green. 

The covered malls were slightly less crowded.

A loud, fast talking restauranteer with a huge smile lured us into his establishment with exuberant banter and an occasional word of English. He had a silver tongue, asking my age and then insisting with theatrical disbelief that I must be at least 10 years younger. I'm sure he was lying. "Hot! Hot! Hot!" He yelled as he brought out Roger's meal, before spilling it on the table and causing his young waiter to genuflect in embarrassment as he cleaned it up.

It was yummy, though.

On our last full day in Japan we caught the local train to Sasebo, winding along beside the bay on a bright shiny day. Sunshine glittered on the water while blossoms powder puffed over the green hills. 

Japan flashed past in vignettes: an old man hoeing weeds in his field; cherry blossoms beside traditional Japanese houses; engineers swooning over the robustly earthquake-resistant structures of Shinkansen lines and elevated highways.

We passed the entry bridge to Huis Ten Bosch, offloading a whole heap of European tourists who considered attending a Dutch theme park the best use of their time in Japan.

Sasebo shone brightly in the sunshine. We had lunch and decided to race to Fukuoka: Roger on the shinkansen, me on the Limited Express.

The race result was predetermined:  despite leaving 7 minutes after me he would arrive 7 minutes before me, and he would have the thrills of the Shinkansen while I got the chuggalug speeds of the Limited Express and less tunnels therefore in theory more to see.

We only came to Fukuoka because that was where the ferry left from for Busan, South Korea. Turns out Fukuoka had quite a lot of things to see: a beautiful river, a lovely canal estate, beautiful coastline. It was designated as a special economic zone and was a thriving hub of start-ups, overseas students, and economic activity. I found all this out as we ate our sushi because it was our last night in Japan and we hadn't eaten sushi yet.

Om nom nom.

The foyer of the Garden Palace Hotel was every bit as shiny as I had come to expect from Japanese hotels.

Fukuoka had gorgeous flower beds at every street crossing, although the crossings themselves were sometimes complicated with multiple zebra lines and bollards.

Huge glass buildings dominated public spaces just down the road from the Garden Palace.

I didnt see any of Fukuoka's places to see or do any of Fukuoka's things to do. Full of sushi, I finished off with convenience store ice cream in an attempt to empty my suica card of yen, and went home to bed.