16 August 2026

Today was notable for one important reason.

Aricato was not invited.

Having faithfully carried us across mountains, valleys, tunnels, bridges, toll gates and family disputes, she was granted a well-earned period of rest in a public garage while we entrusted our lives to Tokyo’s subway system. Armed with discounted 24-hour Tokyo Metro passes and varying levels of confidence, we set out to conquer Japan’s capital.

Before any conquering could be done, however, breakfast had to happen.

The chosen venue was the rather opulent and expensive Tide Tokyo Grill Station. The team had agreed the previous evening to meet at 8:00am in support of an early departure.

Only Hitto Doraiba and myself honoured the agreement. Eventually, Yodogari joined us.

Tehaigari elected to skip breakfast entirely, while Kirokugari was nowhere to be seen and was suspected of still nurturing the emotional injuries sustained during yesterday’s fourteen-hour odyssey to Tokyo.

When she finally emerged, it quickly became apparent that peace negotiations had not progressed overnight.

In fact, conditions worsened. Kirokugari announced that she could not possibly participate in the day’s activities until her wig had been retrieved from inside Aricato.

No wig. No Tokyo. No compromise. The position was firm.

At that stage we had two choices. Retrieve the wig or lose a member of the travelling party. Pragmatism prevailed.

Our first destination was the famous Sensoji Temple, reached via the Asakusa subway line. Emerging from the station, we joined the countless streams of visitors making their way through streets worn smooth by generations of pilgrims, tourists and curious travellers.

The magnificent Kaminarimon Gate, with its giant red lantern suspended dramatically overhead, welcomed us into the temple precinct.

Not long after our arrival, Kirokugari rejoined the team having secured what she proudly announced was an Uber ride costing only AUD $4. We all congratulated her on this extraordinary bargain. Several hours later, after currency conversion and closer inspection, we discovered the journey had in fact cost closer to AUD $40. As investment decisions go, it ranked alongside buying beachfront property immediately before a tsunami.

One of the great delights of the morning was seeing the kimonos purchased in Kyoto finally make their Tokyo debut. If one is going to wear a kimono, Sensoji is surely among the best places in Japan to do so.

The temple grounds were overflowing with people. Tourists crawled through the area like ants around a dropped piece of cake. Around the purification fountain there was scarcely room to stand, let alone participate in the ritual washing process. Humanity completely encircled it.

Stepping slightly away from the crowd, we watched the ladies attempt to dress Yodogari in her kimono. It was entertaining. Instructions were exchanged. Adjustments were made. More adjustments were made. Opinions were offered freely by people with no expertise whatsoever. Eventually everything sat where it was intended to sit and Yodogari looked magnificent.

We climbed the steps, approached the temple’s enormous doors and captured some truly memorable family photographs together.

Leaving Sensoji, we proceeded towards Tokyo Skytree.

Now Tokyo Skytree’s public relations department may prefer another description, but from where I stood it looked remarkably like an Eiffel Tower relative who had spent considerable time at the gym.

Its giant cylindrical core rose into the sky surrounded by steel supports that seemed suspiciously Eiffel-esque.

We admired it. Photographed it. And collectively agreed that looking at it from the ground was considerably cheaper than travelling to the top.

Somewhere around this point, the gods appeared to acknowledge our prayers from Sensoji. Unfortunately, they chose precipitation as the communication method. A light drizzle began.

We took this as a blessing. Then the blessing intensified.

By the time we reached Shibuya, the drizzle had evolved into a determined and impressive downpour. Tokyo’s reputation for serious rainfall was proving well deserved.

The weather complicated our plans considerably, so we sought refuge in Shibuya Sky.

Standing high above the city, we stared through sheets of rain attempting to appreciate one of the world’s greatest urban views.

The weather was uncooperative. Visibility was poor. But every now and then the clouds opened just enough to reveal fragments of Tokyo below.

We spotted the Google offices. A few rooftop helipads. The famous Shibuya Crossing. And countless tiny human beings moving through the city beneath us.

The exhibits inside also caught my attention. Much of the presentation felt like a shrine dedicated to Japan’s space ambitions and its cooperation with the United States on space exploration. The pride was unmistakable. And perhaps deservedly so.

Fortunately, the weather eventually relented. With the rain easing, we finally descended to experience Shibuya Crossing for ourselves.

No matter how many photographs or documentaries one sees beforehand, nothing quite prepares you for the reality.

People. Everywhere. People in front of you. People behind you.

People crossing from every direction. People somehow appearing from dimensions not previously visible.

Trying to take a memorable photograph there is not easy. The technique appears to require waiting patiently at the kerb and then, the instant the signal turns green, sprinting into position before being swallowed by humanity.

No member of our party embraced this strategy more enthusiastically than Hitto Doraiba.The moment the crossing opened, he accelerated.

For a brief moment, we genuinely wondered whether he was attempting to run all the way back to Kyoto.

It was only when he stopped in the middle of the crossing and began striking various poses while pointing heroically into the distance that we understood his intentions.

The photographs, thankfully, were worth it.

As the day progressed, however, another situation was developing.

Kirokugari’s emotional reservoir had clearly reached maximum capacity. One additional drop would have caused an overflow. And eventually, the overflow came.

While discussions were underway regarding dinner plans, Kirokugari convened what can only be described as a special sitting of the Family Court of Tokyo.

The defendants were:

Yodogari.

Kokaishi.

The plaintiff was, of course, Kirokugari.

The charges were serious.

Insensitivity. Failure to appreciate her feelings. Various acts alleged to have made the family holiday considerably less enjoyable for her.

What followed was one of the most impressive legal submissions I have witnessed in recent times.

Kirokugari presented her case with clarity.

She presented evidence. She demonstrated emotion. She accepted responsibility for absolutely nothing. It was magnificent.

Yodogari and I mounted what we believed to be a reasonably competent defence.

Unfortunately, we quickly discovered that the plaintiff had prepared much more thoroughly than the defendants.

The hearing concluded with tears. Emotional outbursts. Apologies. And ultimately a degree of reconciliation.

Perhaps that was the most important event of the day. The downside was that our planned formal dinner became a casualty of the proceedings.

Yet no sooner had the court adjourned than Kirokugari, displaying a remarkable capacity for recovery, requested dinner funds. Tehaigari immediately joined the application.

Money changed hands.

And before anyone could object, the pair disappeared into the Tokyo night for a go-kart adventure through the city, including a high-speed passage through the illuminated Shibuya streets.

The timing of this request, immediately following a court ruling against the defendants, was noted for the record.

Meanwhile, Hitto Doraiba decided to retire to his room and opt out of further adventures.

This left Yodogari and myself to undertake an expedition of our own. Our objective was the legendary lost kingdom of Shiodome.

After navigating what felt like an underground maze built by particularly imaginative engineers, we finally found it. A hidden city beneath the city.

Restaurants.
Shops.
Walkways.
Food outlets.

An underground world thriving beneath Tokyo’s surface. It was here that we discovered Yomenya Goemon, a renowned Japanese pasta restaurant.

Dinner consisted of two excellent bowls of spaghetti.

Simple.
Delicious.
Perfect.

On the journey back to the hotel we encountered yet another reminder of how small our world really is.

We met Felix, accompanied by his wife and daughter, and before long were being connected with a Yoruba acquaintance of his living in Switzerland.Thousands of kilometres from home.

In one of the largest cities on earth.

And somehow the degrees of separation between people remained surprisingly few.

As I reflected on the day, I realised we had covered an enormous amount of ground.

Temples.

Skyscrapers.

Rainstorms.

Subways.

Family court proceedings.

Go-karts.

Underground kingdoms.

And enough walking to satisfy any fitness programme.

Most importantly, however, we did it together.

Yes, there were disagreements.

Yes, there were emotional moments.

And yes, there were occasions when some members of the travelling party seemed determined to test the patience of others.

But that is family.

The photographs we took today will survive long after the details of the arguments have faded.

Years from now, when we look back at these pictures, I suspect we will remember less about who was annoyed with whom and more about the fact that five members of one family stood together at Sensoji, crossed Shibuya together, got soaked by Tokyo rain together, and somehow made another day in Japan work.

And for that, I am grateful.

Yours,

Kokaishi 🚇🗼⛩️❤️