Lost and
found
I had my
new credit card. It had arrived the morning of my departure. The Chronopost
service claims to deliver the good international within two days, but it
actually was a week.
Everything
was fine, I was ready for Tokyo .
I was to
arrive at 1 a.m. in Haneda. Bong said he would wait for me at
his office, as he usually works late. “I live in Shinjuku” he wrote. He didn’t
elaborate. Was he still living in his flat in Nerima? The Shinjuku district is
large.
It started
when I arrived at the airport and wanted to retrieve some cash at the atm
machine. The card was rejected. I didn’t understand. In order to activate a new
card, using it at an atm machine was enough. On the second try, the card wasn’t
even recognised. I attempted another time when I bought the bus ticket. The
lady looked embarrassed as she told me the card was rejected. “Do you have
another credit card?”. The question was synonymous of nightmare.
Luckily, I still had a bit of Taiwanese money that I changed and so could get
my ticket for the bus. But I felt ashamed, angry and exasperated. I suspected
that my bank may have sent me the wrong card. I would find out the next day.
My arrival
I Shinjuku made me forget my worries temporarily. The streets were nearly
deserted. In Tokyo , they are never totally deserted. You can always feel the human
vibration in some hidden bars or restaurants, or you see lone drunk workers
leaning against a wall, or stagger their way home after a long evening with
colleagues.
I was
elated to be back. At last. To be in Tokyo , a city I adore. Nothing could
really go wrong. I didn’t quite remember where Bong’s office was. Finding one’s
way in Tokyo is a challenge. Getting lost as I am trying to locate a particular (CD)
shop is one of my favourite past time. I vaguely remembered that his office was
near an old bookstore, was close to a Tully’s coffee, that the street was just
the next one after the Gyoen Shinjuku Park, that the gay district was on the
other side of the street. But the bookstore apparently no longer was – it had
closed, Bong told me later. I recognised the building opposite his office, but
couldn’t find the door.
After one
hour wandering the streets, I gave up and decided to spend the night at a
mangakissa, as I had done the previous year. I was deep in my thought,
sleepily making my way back to Shinjuku station when a guy on a bicycle passed
me and startled me. It was Bong!
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