Sunday, 15 December 2013
It's always good to sleep in, and as previously noted, Japanese hotels tend to have quite effective blackout curtains.
We’d had a late night, so there was a late rise. We set out for a light breakfast at a nearby patisserie though we could have done reasonably well at the hotel coffee shop.
Gokan patisserie was just around the corner and down the road in a former business house in the merchant district.
I’ve been in similar buildings elsewhere, with a large central space and an assortment of what were probably offices around the central area on two levels.
The central space housed the retail bakery operation. People after nibbles and coffee are ushered upstairs into one or other of the former office spaces.
The service is predictably attentive and the nibbles excellent.
The coffee wasn’t bad, either.
So that was breakfast done. Once we’d reclaimed the baggage, we had three items on the agenda for the rest of the day.
The first was the inevitable relocation to the next hotel, which was just around the corner (okay, two) from Zepp Namba, the venue for item #3 on the list, the fourth Costello concert.
In between, we had to meet up with The Sister and The Rowdy Niece for lunch. That didn’t seem like a source of difficulty. However, we got ourselves into one of those situations where you don’t get the intersection of physical geography and underground infrastructure right.
We made our way to the right underground station in what should have been plenty of time to find the hotel, check-in and meet up with our visitors from July/August. They’d done more than their fair share of making sure this little odyssey had
- happened and
- turned out well on the concert front.
Tickets for four concerts came via The Sister.
I wanted to reassure her that the local convenience store lottery had delivered good seats. You’ll find a Family Mart on every second street corner, or at least that was the way it seemed. You mightn't think of them as a source for concert tickets for a limited run in relatively small venues.
From the station, your next task is to select the correct exit and have a fair idea where you’re going.
We weren’t too strong on the second and totally messed up the first. It underlined the need to find the correct exit and have a sense of where you're going from there.
Since we didn't have it quite nailed, we were late for lunch.
I’ve never been quite sure how late you need to be to qualify as fashionably late. We were late to the point where it morphs into surely they ought to be here by now?
That had The Sister out on the footpath scanning the horizon.
Meanwhile, The Rowdy Niece did her usual non-disruptive thing upstairs in an excellent restaurant, turning out excellent food in the French-Italian mode. The portions, however, were as limited in size as you tend to find when you head over towards fine dining.
The food went well with a Gamay Pinot Noir blend, and the combination fuelled lengthy conversation.
After lunch was out of the way, we wandered off into the streets around Dotonburi, which provided an opportunity for a little subtle ribbing of The Rowdy Niece. She was obviously itching (not) to head off and let out her inner bullhorn wielder as a demonstration about something to do with Korea made its way along a busy street a couple of hundred metres ahead of us.
You might attribute the fact that we found ourselves in interesting side streets rather than on major thoroughfares to the need to keep Rowdy from expressing revolutionary tendencies.
But it a desire to browse in a stimulating shopping environment would be closer to the mark.
I happened to chance on a music shop along the way, the sort of place where I could easily indulge in an extended browse and probably part with a substantial sum of money.
When you’ve got people waiting outside on the footpath, and you’re not familiar with the local geography that’s not an option.
Not long after that when we bade goodbye to our hosts on another footpath, outside the store where we were looking to buy pens to interact with our respective iPads.
Once we’d accomplished that task, we made our way back to the hotel, landing there as much by good luck as good management.
If we hadn’t spotted a familiar-looking hotel on the other side of the road to indicate that we were headed in the right direction, finding the place could well have been tricky.
We knew we were headed in the right direction but weren’t sure whether this was the right road.
But spot a familiar landmark, or, in this case, a name lodged in the memory bank, and everything’s relatively cool.
We booked in, settled into the room, and Madam’s What time does the concert start? produced a check of tickets and a much earlier departure than I’d anticipated.
If the question hadn’t been asked, we might have rocked up at least half an hour after the show started.
A lunchtime question about starting time had been answered with a seven-thirty, omitting an I think. I failed to note the expression of surprise from someone who's more au fait with the way things run here than her sister, who has spent the last twenty-odd years in Australia.
The conversation was, predictably, in Japanese, so I didn't pick up that's late for a Sunday (or words to that effect).
We’d also learned that the ¥500 drink charge is, in effect, standard operating practice in these parts.
In any case, Madam checked at around four-thirty, we were out the door shortly after that. Around an hour later, we were seated in row G, enjoying the different ambience at a different venue.
Once we were inside, it was apparent that Zepp Namba is a far more relaxed environment than the Ex in Roppongi.
The entrance was entirely devoid of people yelling instructions through bullhorns. No PA announcements were reminding us that photographs were forbidden.
I joined a stream of punters getting photos taken in front of the iconic Spinning Songbook. On my way back to the seats, a familiar-looking bearded gentleman was thanking someone who'd taken a happy snap.
Strange, I thought. Looks like Steve Nieve. Must be his brother.
As the figure who bore a remarkable resemblance to Costello’s longtime keyboard playing associate headed off, I remarked on the similarity. Madam pointed out that he'd been stopped by a couple of Japanese girls and was in the process of signing autographs.
Obviously, Steve…
And, a couple of hours, after yet another highly enjoyable concert we headed not quite straight back to the hotel.
Other matters needed attention, namely a search for beer, public phones and gyoza.
And so, eventually, with the setlist typed and the concert review commenced, to bed.