Japan defies expectations until the end

Seven weeks ago, I set down my expectations as I flew to Japan. Within days, I realised many of them were wrong. Now, after three weeks of intensive tourism and another four spent writing about it, I see that part of the essential essence of Japan seems to be defying expectations. Whenever you think you have something figured out, you stumble on a contradiction that reveals your mistake.

Obviously, a three-week visit isn't enough to truly understand any destination. But I suspect a lifetime's observation would only emphasise the enigmatic variations of the Japanese and their country.

The surprises kept coming right up to our departure. After three weeks of witnessing transport efficiency that put our home infrastructure to shame, we'd come to expect it. We'd also grown comfortable with all announcements on trains being repeated in English.

The exception would seem to be emergency situations, when the driver is explaining something live. Like why you're at a dead stop, in a part of the country hit hard by Typhoon Hagibis, while on the Narita Airport Express ... one of the places you'd most expect English ... watching the minutes until your flight departure tick away. There wasn't a Japanese native in our car, nor anyone who could understand the announcements. Nobody had seen notifications of delays when we boarded. We got moving again,  without too devastating of a delay, without anyone ever knowing what had happened. The relief was temporary, however, as we emerged into a tired terminal with outdated technology. We'd checked in online, but there was no simple bag drop. Everyone had to check in,again, the old-fashioned way, in queues eating up 40 minutes or more. There was none of the showy modern architecture or the technology we'd grown used to in the place we most expected it.

At least, we thought, we'll be able to grab some food on the way to the plane. We'd missed lunch, and my husband's tomato allergy makes airplane food tricky. (Tomato is not a recognised allergen, so you can't special order anything.) We didn't worry, however, as train stations had taught us that the Japanese are masters at delicious packaged food for travellers. Another expectation overturned. It seems that’s only in train stations. In Narita’s international terminal you either sit down, or buy sweets. (To my husband’s relief, our Iberia flight had tomato-free food.)

Looking back at those initial expectations, I got a few things right.

We did feel like Gulliver in Lilliput. While you might see a very tall or an overweight local on occasion, there’s a far greater uniformity in body type than we have at home, with most people staying trim and topping out at perhaps 5’7”. The photo I wish I could have snapped, but couldn’t get to a camera at the time, was looking across a crowded subway car in which we were the only Caucasians, to see my husband’s bald, pale head sticking above the horizon line of sleek black heads of hair at his shoulder.

I was disgusted by the ugly modernity of so many places, most notable in Tokyo. But I at least gained a greater understanding of why: disaster and war has swept away much of the old; the new is earthquake and typhoon proof. And like London, the worst of the post-war modernism is starting to be replaced with more elegant modern architecture.

I was indeed overwhelmed by temples, though I found more differentiation than I expected and have discovered a new love for Asian art. And yes, those toilets are as amazing as all the tourists before me have said. I’m researching options for having one installed at home.

I was only half-way correct on my expected highlights. Our ryokan experience, the Tokyo national museum and Kyoto were as glorious as I thought they would be. Himeji Castle, though impressive from the outside, was underwhelming because of its lack of interiors and paled in comparison to Kyoto’s Nijo Castle. My favourite sight of the whole trip, Ieyasu’s shrine at Nikko, had been an afterthought.

Ultimately, I got more of my expectations wrong than right.

I thought I’d be frustrated by the language barrier. It’s not a problem. English is the national default for anyone who doesn’t speak Japanese. Western characters appear on almost all directional signs and almost every restaurant has an English menu. All cultural sights we visited had English explanations. Sure, I would have liked more depth in places, but I’m guessing my questions would often have been too specific for locals to answer, even if we did speak the same language. (It will have to remain a mystery if there was ever any communication between the craftspeople at Nijo Castle and those at Brighton’s Royal Pavilion.)

As with any country, of course, getting a range of basic phrases down indicated our earnest appreciation of the country, even if we couldn’t communicate well.

I thought I’d be bothered by the seemingly juvenile culture of comic books and cosplay. In reality, it wasn’t nearly as visible as I thought it would be. The weirdness of London’s Hyper Japan show turned out to be a barely-noticeable sub-culture from the perspective of the main tourist routes. Outside of Disney, we really only saw it once. Our hotel, the Tokyo Hilton, hosted an “Alice in Wonderland” tea every afternoon. On Sundays it was thronged with young Japanese in full themed dress, though their Alice has a decidedly steam-punk element. Yes, this seemed weird.

As did girls in their late-20s wandering around an amusement park, arm-in-arm, dressed as their favourite Disney Princess. Upon reflection, however, I found it rather sweet. Girls in the West these days become sexualised so early. Even if they’re innocent waifs they still embrace looks that would have had them dismissed as streetwalkers in the ‘70s. It was rather nice to see young women happily embracing a sweeter, old-fashioned femininity.

I thought I’d marvel at Japanese design, particularly print. This was only true of the old stuff. Modern styles eschew elegant minimalism for the brash. Advertising and print materials throughout the country are eye-wateringly busy, cramming characters, colour, cartoon and photography into visual shouting. White space appears to be the enemy.

With three weeks at our disposal I’d planned this to be a holiday at a different, slower pace than our usual. But I woefully under-estimated the size of attractions ... temples, for example, often aren’t one building but a sprawling complex ... and the effort required to travel between points A and B. Journeys that look quick and direct often are not, exacerbated by the complicated sprawl of many stations. And we didn’t count on the steaming, energy-sapping humidity. I’d planned for laid-back R&R. I got one of the most physically challenging holidays I’ve taken in years.

Finally, as I wrote in my last story, I expected rugby to be incidental to my own experience. It was, instead, integral. The lure of future travel following the team is now strong, thanks to the delightful sense of fellowship that transforms the travel experience.

I’m quite sure about the rugby observation. I could be completely wrong about everything else.

I might have prepared with a year’s worth of reading about Japan, but this was just three weeks in an entirely new place. We can’t claim to have ever strayed off the beaten tourist tracks. That’s hardly the basis for truly understanding a country.

After my first trip to England in 1981, I came away believing everyone was scrupulously polite and well-educated, bonded to the countryside, comfortably affluent, deeply conscious of their own history and most likely to live in charming villages. I saw the tiny sub-culture that my interests and sightseeing choices led me to see.

My experience of Japan may turn out to be just as unrepresentative. One thing's for sure, however: I loved all.