Alone in a Tokyo hotel
A day in Tokyo for business
I have been in the air from Heathrow to Tokyo for fourteen hours. I am now in a hotel on the 42nd floor in Tokyo. I had a short sleep in this tiny room. I did not sleep enough. Perhaps the jet lag. The service on the British Airways flight was great, but I am tired after a gruelling fourteen-hour flight.
The Ritz Carlton is where the company, the bank I work for, put me up. I must catch another eight-hour flight to Sydney in less than 48 hours. Finally, I will see my kids after nearly two weeks of travel to Dubai, London and Tokyo.
I have been assigned a room on the top floor of the hotel. From the window, I can see a park. I can see a beautifully landscaped garden and a lake. I want to visit the park and absorb the Japanese landscape before I leave.
I have a full-on work day today. I’d better prepare for breakfast soon and get to the office early. I hope I will finish early and get to the park before dawn.
Everything is tiny. The lifts, passageways, beds, and bathrooms. It will take me a while to get used to small spaces. Living in Australia has made me used to big spaces, huge cars, wide car parks, everything big. Everything oversized. I am good with tiny spaces. I am not complaining. I should not be ‘space-hungry’.
I am hungry, hungry for food. I head to the restaurant, 20 floors down. I pick the Japanese breakfast, rice, soup and grilled fish instead of the brown bread, butter and jam I am used to. In Rome, do as the Romans do. But, instead of Japanese green tea on offer, I order milk tea. I have trouble speaking to the waiter, for they know no English and me no Japanese. But, I got to have my tea how I am used to. Otherwise, I’d get a headache and fall apart. I thank the server, ‘Arigato’, and head back to my tiny room.
I pack my work bag, folders, files and my laptop. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the room shakes; the bed, the desk, the bedside table, the lampstand and the carpeted floor. The pen and paper fall onto the floor. I panic. What is going on?
I feel the room and the whole building move, move slowly. This way and that way. Will I see my kids again? That is my first thought. I looked at my Nokia phone. Should I call home in case I go home in a casket? Should I run down the street?
I peep into the bathroom. There too, everything is shaking. I feel the ground move.
Then, I remember what I learned in school about Japan and its frequent earthquakes. I am stressed. I started thinking. DO NOT PANIC! I told myself multiple times.
I begin to calm down. I remember that Japanese skyscrapers have to be able to move. They are built to dance as the ground shifts beneath them. The buildings are engineered to withstand earthquakes. I should be safe.
I cool down.
Two minutes later, everything become normal. The movements stop. The building calms down. A hotel worker knocks on my door and says something in Japanese, which I assume ‘It is OK to move — it is safe’. I can hear the lift door opening and closing again, the chime of it.
I exit the room and walk to my work. Everything seems normal to everyone on the streets. People are on the move as if nothing happened. The Japanese are used to the grill.
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