Banks and Bullets

Dear Readers

Good evening/morning dearest readers, i have so far been disapointed by the lack of comment and email from you people back home. This saddens me! But oh well, your faithfull japanese correspondant will continue to keep you all updated with the latest goings on from the crazy Land of the Rising Sun.

First thing this morning i needed to change some money. Regular visitors to this travel blog will know that i spent the whole of yesterday with no money, entirely not my fault, i had been assured that this would not be a problem on a sunday. Little did i know that know one wants to change Yen Travelers Cheques only the almighty Dollar, and the equaly Great British Pound. Anyway, i headed to the bank for opening time, and was greeted by chaos!! The i realised that most of the people were just queing for the ATM machines. I stood around looking lost for a while until a very nice japanese bank worker approached me and asked me what i was in for. Using my now patented kowtowing while humbly explaining my ignorance away because i am just a westener, she took pity and showed me to the Forign Exchange Desk. About 5 minutes into the transaction, i was asked for my current address in Japan. Panic flushed over me, what was i to do, Pete had buggered off to take some more pictures, and i was stuck. Try explaining in english to a non fluent Japanese man the fact that you were to stupid and forign to know where you stayed and you had to get your snap happy friend to tell you. So i darted out, bowing to the back door, almost knocking over a 4' 7" Japanese lady in my hurry and embarresment, i darted across the street and into the maze of shopping alleys between out hostel and the bank. Finding Pete taking a picture of a shop selling, of all things, Coffee and Curry, i hastely grabbed the details of our booking and ran back to the bank, sweat pouring down my face. Why i was rushing was a complete mystery to me, as i had not been keeping anybody waiting. Back to the bank, and i did not know what to do, all the rushing i had just done contrasted starkly with the now slightly impaciant waiting i was now doing. I did not know what to do, the sympathetic bank worker was no where to be seen, and i could not just go back to the forign exchange desk, as it was now sans teller. So i waited

and waited...

and waited...

before i spotted my friend the bank employee, catching her eye, by means of staring at her until she looked at me, she approched and i explained, badly, that i was back. She just strode over to the desk, dinged the bell and walked away. She belted the bell and scarpered, i was terrified everyone that was now staring would think that i had just hammered the bell through the desk, but i was interupted from that particular fear by the reapearence of the teller. So started the long process of currency exchange.
Banking in Japan, it seems to me, is still taking seriously, they still appear to take care of your money and want to be completely sure they are doing the right thing, and not giving you anything less that what you wanted. So after the forms in triplicate, i was given a card with a number on it, and pointed, i though, to the normal desks. I wondered over and stood about thickly, looking at this card. Another long period of wait, and i worked up the courage to ask another bank worker what the hell i was doing in this country! He ran over to the desk i was just at, and in that moment i realised it was a waiting card, my number would be called in a minute. Too late to stop him, he rang the bell and my teller appeared all ready to get a complete bollocking form what i managed to gather was the manager of the bank. I was black affronted, and i stood behind the manager looking particularly appologetic for that time in the morning. The teller ran away and got my money and showed me into a side room, hesitatent to go into a small room with a fairly large man who i just got shouted at, i entered sat down and with all the beauty and dignity of a tea ceramony was handed my passport, and money on what appeared to be, no joke, a silver platter. Thanking him far more than any man should thank another for doing their job, i left.

Lessons to be learned: erm.. dont go to that bank again!

So we headed back to the hostel to pick up our bags, and proceeded to the central Tokyo train station, stopping briefly to pick up our Japanese Rail Passes, tickets that allow us unlimited acces to the countries JR rail network for 14 days. Booking our tickets out of Tokyo, we hopped on a sleek white... bullet, the only word to describe it, into a cool simple but comfortable train. At the train station we picked up Bento Boxes, basically lunch packed into little compartments, and as soon as i sat down, whipped mine out of the bag and dug in. Not having eaten for atleast 2 hours i was ravenous. My chopstick skill was actually complimented by Yura, Petes pen pall on the first night in Tokyo, which was suprising, as in GB i had always op-ted for the fork at a chinese, But with the skill of a native i shoveled it down my throat, Rice, backon and sausage, meatballs, and noodles. Delicious, and with that the train pulled out of the station and we began the next stage of out Japanese adventure.... Kyoto!

More tommorrow on our going on in, this once capital, city of Kyoto