First Evening In Tokyo

Underground metro stations can be incredibly lonely, especially in winter. The Narita International Airport Metro station in Tokyo was no different on a late November evening.

It was my first solo international trip and I had to check in to the Yoyogi Olympic Youth Hostel before 8 PM. It was getting dark and I was nervous.

The lady at the JNTO (Japan National Tourist Organization) counter had been extremely helpful. Being the days before Google Maps and Smart Phones, she used a plethora of colourful sketch pens on a Tokyo rail map to highlight the metro lines I must change in order to reach Yoyogi. Nevertheless, I was anxious.

There was an absolute stunner of a modern train parked on one of the tracks. I wasn’t sure whether I should board that or wait for the next one. Turning around to seek help, I noticed a distinguished gentleman, the only other person on the platform. Someone had told me that you must introduce yourself to a Japanese by bowing deeply and passing your visiting card held with both hands with the bow maintained.

I executed the manoeuvre perfectly.

With a broad smile and a deep, guttural, reassuring Japanese drawl (a deep guttural…aaaahhhhhh) he received the card with both hands and returned the bow. He studied the card with deep fascination and checked the pocket for his.

Imagine the trepidation of the man when he realised that he did not have any cards left on himself. Deeply embarrassed and not having anything to offer in return he hurriedly dug into his carry bag. He took out his boarding pass and proceeded to write his name and offered it to me.

Even after so many years, I can recall the pencil-written name – Mr Shin Ichi Kikuchi and his email ID.

He fished a magazine from his bag, a journal containing the proceedings of an academic conference in Shanghai, China. He turned the pages and pointed to an academic paper with his name and organization in the sub-heading.

I realised that I was in eminent company. Mr Kikuchi was a professor at Tokyo University and was returning from Shanghai after presenting his paper.

I showed him my metro ticket and with the aid of gestures enquired whether I should board the waiting train. In halting English he responded – “This train mine….next you”.

I bowed my thanks.

Then Mr Kikuchi said something like – “Wait here…” and disappeared behind some vendor kiosks on the platform. He returned in a few moments clutching something inside his locked palms and bowed to offer the enclosed contents.

My cupped palms, raised in anticipation were bequeathed with a shower of cookies, wrapped in tiny sachets. As I collected the cookies, he smiled. A warm, innocent and welcoming smile for a lonely, nervous, foreign stranger. That was the welcome I needed on a cold winter evening.

I knew everything will be alright.

He boarded the train and before disappearing inside he told me once again – ‘Next…you’.

I’ve had the privilege of visiting many cities hence. But, for Mr Kikuchi and for that handful of cookies, Tokyo will always be top of the list.