Mini Adventures in Tokyo

It was a cycling centred weekend. Well why wouldn’t it be: the sun was shining and the air was warm. But most importantly my daughter had finally got her hands on the bike she’d been eying up for almost a year. The bike in question is bright green, has large wheels, and proper brakes on the handlebars. It is a big kid’s bike. It has been sitting in the basement for the last year, waiting for her. It used to belong to my son, but ever since he grew too big for it it’s had nothing to do but wait. And now, to my daughter’s great delight, she is big enough to inherit it. Yeah!

So this was a weekend centred around cycling. Cycling, and crossing off some of my Tokyo wish list items too. Kind of like a “Tokyo Bucket List”.

I have always been fascinated by water. Ever since I can remember I’ve wanted to live in cities that have big rivers running through them. And as we all know, the bigger the river, the bigger the bridge. In Tokyo there is a suspension bridge wonderfully named “Rainbow Bridge”. I’ve no idea where it got its name from but I’ve never been bothered enough to look it up. It looks nothing like a rainbow, and even though the Japanese are famous for their lighting displays, it does not light up with rainbow colours at night (sadly).

Rainbow Bridge crosses the harbour in Tokyo, going from the mainland to Odaiba – the manmade island out in the bay. I’ve crossed it many times, mostly by monorail, and I’ve wanted to cycle across it ever since I found out you could. The green bike has made this possible. With its larger wheels it is faster and more effortless to cycle than the old bike. This means she can cycle further and faster. Suddenly, more destinations are within reach.

So on Saturday afternoon off set the intrepid explorers. We had one mission in mind: “cross the rainbow bridge”. I said *we*, but I really mean “I”. I’m sure my children were thinking about the ice cream and beach that lay at the of the rainbow. Maybe that’s where the name comes from?

The green bike made short work of the journey to the bridge. Standing underneath it gives an indication of its sheer size – it’s massive.

Copy write David Veitch

It is at this point that our trip really does become an adventure. For safety reasons, I can only assume, you are not actually allowed to cycle over the bridge. But you are allowed to push your bike over it. So before we could step foot onto the bridge we had to run our bikes into some sort of animal trap that attached to the back wheel. These animal traps are little trolleys, with tiny wheels, and Velcro straps.

I have absolutely no idea why we had to use these animal traps trolleys (I should use the proper name), because they took all of the joy out of pushing our bikes. Suddenly our bikes became heavy and unwieldy. The animal trap trolley (I keep forgetting) could not hold the bike upright – so stopping for pictures meant finding somewhere to rest the bike. The wheels on the animal trap trolley (who am I kidding) were small enough that they got caught in ruts while pushing the bike. This either resulted in the animal trap falling off, or rotating up the wheel and catching on the bike frame. Anyway, long story short: I was not a fan (had you guessed?).

The only purpose that I could see was that it absolutely prevents you from riding your bike

Anyway, having taken the fun out of pushing our bikes we set off across the bridge, stopping to take pictures along the way. If you are thinking about doing this yourself, then I must warn you about the noise. You walk right beside the road, and as there is a roof above you there is nowhere for the sound to dissipate. It does get noisy up there. Windy too. We were in shorts and t-shirts so it felt a little on the cool side for us. Luckily my family is part Viking so they didn’t really feel anything – but you might. Finally, if you take your bike with you make sure that you cross on the correct side of the bridge – the routes are meant to be one way for cyclists.

I got some great pictures during my return trip across the bridge. If you’ve already got pictures of the Odaiba and Tokyo skyline then you won’t get anything new here. I’d advise you to go at night if you can – that’s what I’ll do next time without the children. I’ll also cycle there, but walk over the bridge alone…

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On Sunday my daughter had a birthday party to get to. We got there by bike – well what other way is there to travel?  After dropping her off, my son and I continued on to Yoyogi Park. We were heading there to support the Pride march that was underway – and luckily we got there just in time. The march itself was much smaller than I had expected, but in true Japanese style it had its own life size furry mascot.

We dumped our bikes and wondered through the park, observing people spending their Sunday afternoon. There were drummers, families, and amateur performers. One pair in particular grabbed our attention so we stopped to watch for a few minutes.

Suddenly, there they were – right in front of us. The Elvis impersonators. Everybody must have heard of the Elvis impersonators of Tokyo, haven’t they? They seem to be famous all over the world. Men who, on a Sunday, will dress up like Elvis Presley and spend the afternoon acting like The King in Yoyogi Park. I’d first heard of these guys when I was a teenager.

I must admit that I am finding it hard to put into words the feelings I experienced while watching these guys. One of them was an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Whether I had built it up in my imagination, or whether it was once a bigger event I do not know. But here were 6 or 7 men, dancing in a circle to music playing from a stereo system. One would take a comb, redo his hair, and then put it back it in his pocket. A few seconds later another would repeat the spectacle. Considering how well the Japanese usually “do” street performing I was hugely disappointed.

I can understand a feeling of disappointment, but why the sadness? I realise that it wasn’t sadness for me, but for them. They appeared to be the all that was left of a once great institution. It was like their time was up but they had refused to heed the signs.

Or maybe I just caught them on a bad day?

The time had come to rescue the party boy’s parents from the party so off we cycled back to pick up my daughter. She had had a wonderful time.

I wonder where our bikes will take us next adventure?