Tsukiji is not just the biggest fish market in Japan, it’s also the largest in the world. Every single day (bar Sundays) two thousand tons of seafood tumbles in through its gates before getting briskly carved up and auctioned out. There really is no other place on earth quite like it. Nor is any visit to Tokyo complete without delving inside its often frenzied, always smelly perimeters.
Kamakura is an alluring little seaside town just an hour away from Tokyo. Adorned with a copious array of old shrines and temples, it remains a perennial favourite for day-tripping Japanese and foreigners alike. When you consider also it’s hearty small town semblance and pleasant coastal scenery, there really are few nicer escapes from the big city.
As Nikko retired behind trees and the early evening glare, Tokyo was waiting to eat us up. Suburbs grew subtly but steadily, like a monster feasting on the landscape. Before long, the train had emptied and gleam of Asakusa station was upon us. Night had come suddenly and the city was ablaze. Ueno would be our terminus, but it would also serve as inspiration for the following day.
Once again the streets of Shinagawa were aglow with the verdant sparkle of spring. Radiance had spread like the daybreak cascade of suits and school children starting their routine commute. We, meanwhile, were plundering the residential ward of Sengakuji, trying to locate a subway station that would eventually land us 80 miles north in the mountain town of Nikko.
Whether it’s on maps or in every day conversation, Yokohama endures as a distinct albeit extremely cosy neighbour of Tokyo. In reality, the two are so dangerously proximate that merging to create one giant megacity isn’t really that distant a notion. Judging by the urban sprawl on the one hour train journey between the two – it’s already kind of happened.
