We eventually landed in a place where the food was good, and demolished a plate of stir fried greens, another of beef done the same way, won ton soup in between them and fried rice to finish, washed down by draught beer. All in all, the substantial meal was nothing out of the ordinary but was quite satisfactory and reasonably priced.
It would have taken a lengthy cross country forced march to work off what we’d just consumed, and cross country was out of the question, but a further wander covered a fair slice of Chinatown and a wrong turn delivered us back to the station between the one beside the hotel and the one where we’d disembarked on the way to dinner.
That meant, with everyone heading in the same direction and a train waiting and ready to go, that farewells this time around were a fair bit more abrupt than they would otherwise have been, and within a couple of minutes of boarding the train we were back on the doorstep of the New Otani.
A glance around the neighbourhood had Madam keen on a photographic excursion to look at the shopping centre’s Christmas lights. I’d had enough for the day, declining a nightcap and settling down for a brief read of the Leonard Cohen biography before it was time for lights out, with the prospect of a decent view of Fuji in the morning.