There are three of them, constructed at different times along different corridors with different numbers of stops along the way. That last bit delivered the rub. We ended up on the line that delivered the quickest transfer, switched lines in Yokohama and got off a stop later to take the brisk walk to the New Otani Inn Yokohama, a proper flash new turnout perched atop a retail complex, with further shopping, sightseeing and entertainment options proliferating around the environs.
It was an impressive locale, and while there was a degree of disappointment when we found that the room wasn't on the seaward side of the structure, that was soon alleviated by discovery the view from the window included the distinctive shape of Mount Fuji.
Not all of the mountain, as it seemed the deities hadn’t been totally mollified. Clouds covered the summit, but they’d relented enough to show us the distinctive and iconic shape. That cloud and the afternoon sun meant the photographic evidence to prove what we’d just seen wasn’t quite forthcoming, but the prospects of a good look at Fuji shaped our plans for the morrow once we’d accomplished the two initial tasks we’d set ourselves.
It was a while before we were due to meet The Translator for dinner, and we killed part of the waiting time in the room before venturing out for a walk around the vicinity. As soon as we were downstairs it started to threaten us with rain, so it was a case of back upstairs to grab the umbrellas before we went too much further.
That, at least, killed off a bit more time before we headed back over to the station for the to-stop journey that landed us on the fringe of Yokohama’s Chinatown.
The text message correspondence had arranged a meeting under the gate nearest the station, but those decorated gateways aren’t exactly scarce in and around a Chinatown. Yokohama’s version is larger than most, and the supply of likely gates is correspondingly confusing. I reckoned we’d reached the right one as soon as we walked outside the station. There was, however, no sign of our friend, and we knew she was already at the rendezvous, so the nearest gate to the station wasn’t actually the nearest gate to the station, if you catch my drift.
It all, as it does so often when you’re making your way out of a station with multiple exits, depends on taking the right exit.
Once we’d made the rendezvous it was a matter of finding somewhere to eat, a process that involved a lengthy wander through labyrinthine streets that seemed to have us going in circles. I may well be wrong in that assertion, but we kept passing familiar-looking signs that were a little more common than you might have thought.