Another day of getting up at some ungodly early hour. Totally without reason, as it turns out, because the door to the money machine down at Ueno Station (only possibility on this national holiday) opens an hour after I stand in front of it. Finally I get the dough, take one of the privatized metro lines out to the shipping agent, and pay him his 110,000 yen. Why both he and his colleague back in Denmark only accept cash, I never will know. Perhaps I’ll get 20,000 yen back if customs here are not being difficult.
Then I criss-cross my way up, to have lunch with Osca, the Mini-Monkeybike man, using different train lines, all with separate ticket systems. Osca has invited several of the guys I meet back then, and by coincidence also the Kawasaki W650 rider, who lead me over the dark mountain pass a week ago. Yet another very authentic lunch in a small cold restaurant – winter is really approaching - then off to a blissfully warm café at an airport nearby. We have a long talk about W650’s, about Osca’s future motorcycle plans, I give them my invitations to come stay at my place when they want to see Denmark, etc.
The W650 man is not on two wheels today, but in his little Suzuki Cappuchino sports car. He offers me a test ride, but I’m too tired after four hours of sleep, and not 100% sure how I’d get out of the small car, if I ever managed to shoehorn myself down into the driver’s seat.
The final handshakes and exchanges of business cards, and I’m off by train to Tokyo Central. I’m too worn down to search for the custom scooter shop the Tourist Information girls found for me, and in any case it seems like my legs are ten centimetres shorter after all this walking about. Perhaps I’ll go there tomorrow. Still the hotel crowd drags me along to Tepui, when they kick us out of the hotel lobby at 10.30.
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