Sapporo Arrival

We arrived in Sapporo today, a boisterous dozen. I was thrilled at the airport toilet, the most complicated I'd ever seen: hygiene wipes, seat warmer, spray function. I knew it would be so, but still I wanted to see it with my own eyes. Later we were picked up by a large tour bus with its own row of chandeliers. It seemed excessive. Even if we sat one person to every pair of seats, we still wouldn't even fill half the bus. As it was, we stood, leaned over setbacks, shouted at each other. Chris ate a whole bag of cheese and then felt sick. Then, after gazing in awe at the portentous summer thunderheads, we caved to Craig's pressure and played Triple Town all the way to the hotel.

In the daytime Sapporo seemed large, clean, quiet. A strange introduction, maybe, to Japan. Of course by night it became more raucous. We didn't feel as much the bumbling tourists when we were surrounded by drunk locals, bumbling along with us.

As expected: walls of lights; clean, attractive shops open late; food everywhere; no homeless people. Unexpected: so many bicycles; talking buildings; the lack of air-conditioning. No one squawked at us; no one said anything to us. We melted into the crowd, formed again to point and murmur, then lost and found each other once more.