3 September 2011: The singing, ringing bathroom

As it turned out, bedtime wouldn’t last so long. Ah, the jetlag. Always a pleasure. When my bathroom started singing a jolly tune at 7.30 am the next morning, I thought it best to postpone sleep to tomorrow night and just get up.

I finally had time to admire my room. As you come into the room (little flat, really), you get to a little kitchen area (picture 1) with massive storage space. Through the kitchen, you get to the main room, with desk (so. much. storage. space.), fancy desk lamp and Japanese kettle (picture 2). These things are absolutely amazing. Once heated, the keep the water at 98ºC. So whenever you fancy a cup of ocha (green tea), you press a little red button, a red light shows where the water will hit the cup, and, pressing another button, you’ve got a steaming hot cup of tea in about 3.2 seconds. No idea why the English haven’t imported a couple of millions of these yet.

The main room also has a flat screen TV (yes, I hear you, why so stingy and not a 3D TV...) and a double bed (Japanese size, so more of a 1 1/2 bed) (pictures 3 & 4). Off the bedroom is a little wardrobe/dressing table area (more storage...) and a little door leads to a bathroom. Japanese bath tubs are slightly different to European ones. They’re shorter and higher, as you’re meant to sit in them and soak in the hot water, rather than lie, read and pop bubbles with your toes.

All in all a decent sized room. Rooms. Seriously, it’s huge, incredibly generous, and I feel much too undeserving of any of this. I try to do my bit by switching off the light and air-con whenever I can (in fact as you leave the room and take out the key, they all switch off automatically, but I’d like to think that requires some effort on my side) as Japan is currently trying to make a genuine effort to save energy.

At 8am, I went downstairs to have my first Japanese breakfast. I got a tray with hashi (chopsticks) and loaded it with a bowl of rice (of course), miso soup (of course), pickle and a plate with slices of omelette and salad, as well as mocha (green tea made from powder). After a little post-breakfast kip (okay, three hours of unconsciousness) Seb met us in the living room area. We were told about the wonders of Cambridge House: there’s a baiten (little shop) on the ground floor, as well as an onsen (indoor bath house), billiard rooms, three karaoke rooms (I am still desperately hoping I will be spared the embarrassment), an entrance hall that is so thoroughly polished that it looks like a swimming pool, shoe lockers (walk up to the locker in slippers; open the lock; put your slippers inside; walk across the entrance hall in socks; put your street shoes on at the step, making sure not to step onto the lower floor with your socks; look around to see if anyone looks really offended; think twice whether you really want to go out for some toilet paper, or whether you want to give that “bidet” button a go instead).

Later in the afternoon, we are introduced to the Cambridge House staff. We all line up in front of them and each say our name, followed by a bow. None of us really knows how to bow just yet, and, practising in front of the mirror, mine still looks more like my head is bobbing on my shoulders like one of those Dachshund figure you sometimes find at the back of cars. The staff also takes a picture of us in front of a large welcome sign. At least I think that’s what it says.

For lunch, we brave the outside world for the first time. It’s been raining for days, but it’s hot. We reach Hottomotto, a take-away place, and are soaked in drizzly rain. After some ten minutes of pointing at vegetarian-looking dishes, I give up and buy the soup. Back at Cambridge House, I feel very, very pleased with myself, having purchased and devoured my first bit of food.