That day.        
Kyoto 4.45 AM alarm. Taxi to bus ordered for 5. 0 AM. All packed ready waiting at residence. 5.00 no Taxi! Taxi rolls into street/lane. Relief, here he (always he taxi drivers in Japan) comes down the lane straight past me in my darkness. Taxi stops. Relief, he has just gone a little past the assigned place. Not quite, An attractive woman gets out. What kind of assignation had they thought I had ordered? She pays the cab and he drives off. She has some English and is concerned about my no cab situation. ‘I will stay with you’ and explains she is drunk and the fumes confirm her self description.
    ‘I will order a taxi for you’. She is a very attractive woman, an assured 
woman.The taxi arrives.’Bus station for Osaka bus to Itami air terminal, please arigato’.
Slipping through the early impersonal darkness like a silent eel in cloudy waters the driver drops me at Bay H2. 
    A sort of bus official woman in a long red puffer jacket divines I am not at the correct bay.
Her arms describe u-turns indicating that I need to be at the correct bay near the vending machine which sells tickets for Osaka. Yep! Itami air terminal (not the more usual Kansai terminal) Osaka has two terminals, and a population the size of Australia) so to the flight  to Haneda Domestic Tokyo. You might think an early 6.10 am buss would have multiple choice of seats. Not so. It was cohckers.  
    The plane was also full as the bus. I was next to a couple with a gorgeous sleepy 5 month child. The flight to Tokyo took about an hour.
     As there was no reliability with the shuttle bus I took a taxi to the hotel looking eastwards  across the Tama River. They will not permit check in before 3.00 PM so; ‘Thinks: If I cannot check in for six hours why not visit one of the only two things I want to see in Tokyo?’

    Since I studied the Catholic Cathedral in the 1960s designed by Kenzo Tange (1913-2005) an international, a genius inspired by Le Corbusier. The building replaced the original bombed structure.
It took 18 months to complete with assistance from the also bombed citizens of Cologne in Germany.
    I had always wanted to experience this place. It is in the mode of the Metabolist Movement, a style of post war reconstruction. It would be a hefty
taxi fare. It was a long way from my hotel and friends suggested that learning to use public transport in Tokyo would be impossible in one day.
 But I thought that this was a once in a lifetime experience; it will be OK.
    Days before I left Sydney my Visa card was hacked. ANZ cancelled the card. When I discussed this with them they said they would post me a new plastic card in 10 to 15 days. They would not hear of my offer to pay express postage of my card. ‘No worries, Sir we can fix you up with a tap Samsung wallet virtual card.’ I had separately set up an Australia Post travel Mastercard with a plastic card. 
I knew there was credit. So I thought I should just get on with it. The chance of a lifetime. We drove for a long time. Finally, there it was. Awe inspiring and monumental in scale.
    Paying the fare. There was no tap facility in the taxi. The Mastercard was declined even though I had used both cards that morning. I think because I had tried a few times to put in my pin. The taxi driver was more than perplexed. I imagine his story to his grandchildren would begin at this point. The taxi man told me somehow that he was in big trouble. I acknowledged and endorsed this. ‘Did I have a friend in Tokyo who might be able to help?’ No. ‘Let’s go to an ATM and take out the money for the fare’. ‘Sure.’ He Googled a local ATM and we drove there. The machine refused the card. He: ‘I will call the police. Wait here do not move!’ The Irish would say the police were like bananas; they came in bunches. So one police car with raised red flashing lights, 2 cops, one on a bike and one from who knows where. English-Japanese a major problem largely managed on GoogleTranslate. 
    They canvassed the same areas and options as the driver’s questions: 'Do you have cash?’ ‘Yes but not enough’ ‘Other cards?’ ‘Tap ?’ ‘No use with this taxi’. ‘Friend in Tokyo?’ ‘Had I tried calling my bank?’ ‘Called Mastercard?’ ‘No my Japanese sim card would not permit international calls.’ Police are not fools and often great, pragmatic problem solvers. ‘Why did you come here to visit this part of Tokyo?’
‘To visit the Cathedral; admired by Japanese people and by the the world.’ Google Translate working overtime. ‘O.K. let’s go back to the Cathedral.’ They seemed to be thinking that such a monument to Christianity might be able to supply emergency help for a needy person to pay a needy driver.    The constabulary procession did a U turn with the help of a cop directing traffic with a glowing red baton. On arrival they searched for an official of the Cathedral. It was now late Saturday and mass being celebrated by what looked like a cardinal, was in full swing. Later the congregation went on a procession to a Marian shrine in the Cathedral grounds. If they were concerned by the alternative heavy police procession they did not show it.
    The coppers cased the joint for someone to engage with. They found a furtive stooped little man with a large bundle of cardboard trying to get into a lift. My sense was that the feds, on the presumption that as Christians were at the cathedral would help. The official they found was one of those diocesan functionaries who uncomfortably listened and the shook his head until it almost shook off his shoulders. The coppers, my assistants, took that as a ‘No!’
More Q&A on Google Translate. ‘Where was I staying?’ Kawasaki King Skyfront REI Hotel.    Brilliant idea! ‘If this taxi man drove you back to your hotel could you get money from the hotel?’ 
I said ‘Yes’ with some relief that the trip was in a taxi not a police car. I presumed I could get money transferred to the driver there. Silly me. I had made some in the moment assumptions; but it seemed a solution for all concerned. 
    The driver thoughtfully asked me if I wanted to go inside the cathedral since I had come here to see the place. I took an almost furtive glance amid signs ‘Please do to enter Cathedral during Mass.’ The entrance was policed by stern female gatekeepers whom I brushed past. I looked at the straggling congregation and what looked like a cardinal celebrating mass in the distance. All I could salvage from the situation of a decades old desire to experience St Mary’s.
I bid good bye to the cops and apologised for their trouble and set off in the taxi to the hotel.
    The long and somewhat tense non-sightseeing trip across Tokyo commenced. The driver parked at the hotel and shadowed me into the reception desk.
‘NO way’ there is no way I could pay the hotel and have them pay the taxi driver. 
Chapter the Second.
    All previous questions are canvassed. It is hard to recall all their hotel questions at this point. They were as courteous as they could manage but firm. Passport OK. Try to phone ANZ and or Mastercard Post Office Travel card. On a personal note I stood at the reception desk for hours. I wondered at my ability to stand there. I was permitted to go to the toilet and to stand without a chair. To describe my emotions as like the Wreck of the Hesperus would be like describing the former voyage as a pleasure cruise. My phone was running out of battery. Shame, horror, impotence, rage!
    A Nepali staff member came up with the idea of replacing my Japanese sim card and replace it with my original Australian sim card. A paper clip was produced; sim card replaced but no success with ANZ. I asked could go back to my Japanese sim card and could they please phone ANZ as recommended by their website. And all that was preventable had ANZ issued me a plastic card.
Crazy responses from the ANZ. ’Department closed for the week end’ etc. Then some official asked me some identifying questions; ones a Mittagong local branch ANZ person said they had never heard of. ‘Colour of first car? Mother’s maiden name? Most recent ANZ deposit amount and date? And more questions. The then  she said ‘You have to answer exactly 100%.  You have failed. We cannot help you’, and hung up.
    At this point it became clear that the police had been summoned by the hotel and taxi driver. They appeared to be superior to the last lot and I noticed the most senior had a bundle of black gloves on his belt. No guns nor batons like the Oz ones. 
    Seeking to sanitise the look around the reception desk, our group was moved to a back table near the Kimono rental desk. There was much more interrogating and note taking. Passport again, address, reason for being here, departure date and time? ‘Tomorrow’ Intending doing a runner?
    The Kimono renting women noticing my distress had delivered some
biscuits and a little, drink.  One of them, who had studied at Macquarie University, came forward and said she had discovered an Australian man who could possibly help. Was he from ANZ or Australia Office Mastercard? Or had another access to my accounts?    
    The man, fine, fit and about forty something thrust hand through the melee and shook my hand. ‘All OK, mate.’ I still shake thinking about that moment. I asked in despair if he was going when I thought he might have been able to help. ‘No mate we are off to dinner. Good luck’.

One of the Japanese Kimono women told me the Australian man has paid the taxi driver. His name? His job? Address? No information. Enormous tearful relief.
    But all was not over. The Nepali hotel official explained to me that my booking for the night was not paid for. Strictly I had no right to stay in the hotel another minute. Though a park bench would have been a refuge at this point. I had made the booking in Australia before I left with the intention of paying as I checked out. But at that point I had no access to credit. My tap Visa from ANZ and my Post Office Mastercard were frozen. Despite a call to Heritage Mastercard who said the funds were freed up; they were not.        
    So the Nepali angel came to me with a magic idea. ‘If I can email your wife in Australia with an invoice for your booking for one night, she could pay on line and you will be paid for tonight. Considering I could not access my funds myself that sounded wonderful.
It was now 10.00 pm from a day which had commenced before 5.00 am.

Chapter the Third.
    One of the women from the Kimono rental service had been watching my plight with the others for a long time and they had already dropped snacks to me. She spoke English and had been born in England. She had been a compassionate translator with the hotel and police.
She said she was concerned that I get something to eat the following day before I got on the plane at 10.00 that night. She noted my credit was frozen. She gave me a bundle of 5000 yen. I refused. She insisted and said she would be offended if I did not accept the money. She said she had a. Job. She insisted I go to the onsen (hot bath) upstairs and try to relax. 

Concluding remarks.
This has been traumatic. I will need therapy. I have been anxious and have not driven a car since. A building I had studied and followed since Kenzo Tange built it in the 1960s, which I have always wanted to experience, had to be abandoned because ANZ could not deliver me my money. Likewise a visit to the Japanese National Museum of Folk Art which I had studied and wanted to see. 
    
        I had always wanted to experience the place. The product of the Metabolist Movement, a style of post war reconstruction. There was a question I did not answer was about the taxi fare. But I thought that this was a once in a lifetime, it will be OK. It was a long way from my hotel and friends suggested that learning to use public transport in Tokyo would be impossible in one day.
And though I had been having troubles with my ‘virtual’ Visa debit Tap card (no actual plastic card only a virtual card and my Australia Post travel Mastercard) 0n  a Samsung Wallet I knew there was credit. So I thought I should just get on with it. Insufficient care? In hindsight 
you bet. In the moment go for it! The chance of a lifetime. We drove for a long time. Finally, there it was. Awe inspiring and monumental in scale.
    Paying the fare. There was no tap facility in thee taxi. The Mastercard was declined even though I had used both cards that morning. The taxi driver was more than perplexed. I imagine his story to his grandchildren began at this point. The taxi man told me somehow that he was in big trouble. I acknowledged and endorsed this. ‘Did I have a friend in Tokyo who might be able to help?’ No. Let’s go to an ATM and take out the money for the fare. Sure. He Googled a local ATM and we drove there. The machine refused the card. He: ‘I will call the police. Wait here do not move!’ A better option than calling a mate with a baseball bat. I realised that as the Irish would the police were like bananas; they come in bunches. So one police car with raised red flashing lights, 2 cops, one on a bike and one from who knows where. English-Japanese a major problem largely managed on GoogleTranslate. 
    They canvassed the sam e questions as the driver’s questions: do you have cash? Other cards? Tap? Friend in Tokyo? Had I tried calling my bank? Called Mastercard? For their much vaunted services. No my Japanese sim card would not permit international calls. Police are not fools and often pragmatic problem solvers. ‘Why did you come here to visit this part of Tokyo?’
‘To visit the Cathedral; admired by Japanese people and the world.’ Google Translate working overtime. ‘O.K. let’s go back to the Cathedral.’ They seemed to be thinking that such a monument to Christianity might be able to supply emergency for a needy person to pay a needy driver. How I would have got back the forty minute drive to my hotel was not considered. 
    The constabulary procession did a turn with the help of a traffic cop with a baton. They searched for an official of the Cathedral. Mind you it was now late Saturday and mass celebrated by what looked like a cardinal, was in full swing. Later the congregation went on a procession to a Marian shrine in the Cathedral grounds. If they were concerned by the heavy police procession they did not show it.
    The coppers cased the joint for someone to engage with. They found a little Manyel kind of man with a large bundle of cardboard trying to get into a lift. My sense was that the feds, on the presumption that as Christians would help the two distraught police accompanied pilgrims. The official was one of those diocesan functionaries who uncomfortably listened and the shook his head until it almost shook off his shoulders. The coppers, my assistants, took that as a ‘No!’
More Q&A on Google Translate. ‘Where was I staying?’ Kawasaki King Skyfront REI Hotel Coordinates N 035° 32.450° 32.450° E 129° 45.188°  

    Brilliant idea! ‘If this man drove you back to your hotel could you get money from the hotel?’ I said ‘Yes’ with some relief that the trip was in a taxi not a police car. I said yes. I presumed I could get money transferred to the driver there. Silly me. I had made some in the moment assumptions; but it seemed a solution for all concerned. 
    The driver thoughtfully asked me if I wanted to go inside since I had come here to see the place. I took an almost furtive glance amid signs ‘Please do to enter Cathedral during Mass.’ The entrance was policed by stern female gatekeepers whom I brushed past. I looked at the straggling congregation and what looked like a cardinal celebrating mass in the distance.
I bid good bye to the cops and apologised for their trouble and set off in the taxi to the hotel.
    The long and somewhat tense non-sightseeing trip across Tokyo commenced. The driver parked at the hotel and shadows me into the reception desk.
‘NO way’ there is no way I could pay the hotel and have them pay the taxi driver. 
Chapter the Second.
    All previous questions are canvassed. It is hard to recall all their hotel questions at this point. They were as courteous as they could manage but firm. Passport OK. Try to phone ANZ and or Mastercard Post Office Travel card. On a personal note I stood at the desk for hours. I wondered at my ability to stand there. I was permitted to go to the toilet and to stand without a chair. To describe my emotions as like the Wreck of the Hesperus would be like describing the former voyage as a pleasure cruise. My phone was running out of battery. 
    A Nepali staff member came up. With the idea of replacing my Japanese sim card and replace it with my original Australian sim card. A paper clip was produced; sim card replaced but no success with ANZ. I asked could go back to my Japanese sim card and could they please phone ZNZ as recommended by their website. Crazy responses to the ANZ questions. ‘Department closed for the week end’ etc. Then some official asked me some identifying questions; ones a local branch ANZ person they had never heard of. ‘Colour of first car? Mother’s maiden name? Most recent ANZ deposit amount and date? And more. The then said ‘You have to answer exactly 100% you have failed. We cannot help you’, and hung up.
    At this point it became clear that the police had been summoned by the hotel and taxi driver. They appeared to be superior to the last lot and I noticed the most senior had a bundle of black gloves on his belt. No guns nor batons like the Oz ones. Seeking to sanitise the look around the reception desk, our group was moved to a back table near the Kimono rental desk. There was much more interrogating and note taking. Passport again, address, reason for being here, departure date and time? ‘Tomorrow’ Doing a runner? 

    

Chapter the third.
    One of the women from the Kimono rental service had been watching my plight with the others for a long time and had already dropped snacks.  She spoke English as she had been born in England some time ago. She and her companion had been compassionate translators. 
She said I had been watching me and said I should go to the onsen (hot bath bath) and relax. She said also that she was concerned that I get something to eat the following day before I got on the plane at 10.00 pm for Sydney. She gave me a bundle of 5000 yen. I refused. She insisted and said  she would be offended if I did not take the money. She said she had a job. I got her email address. I collapsed into the onsen.

 

Concluding notes.
    This has been traumatic. I will need therapy. 
A building I had studies and followed since Kenzo Tange built it in the 60s which I have always wanted to experience had to be abandoned because I could not get my money out of ANZ. 

Chapter the third.
    One of the women from the Kimono rental service had been watching my plight with the others for a long time and had already dropped snacks.  She spoke English as she had been born in England some time ago. She and her companion had been compassionate translators. 
She said I had been watching me and said I should go to the onsen (hot bath bath) and relax. She said also that she was concerned that I get something to eat the following day before I got on the plane at 10.00 pm for Sydney. She gave me a bundle of 5000 yen. I refused. She insisted and said  she would be offended if I did not take the money. She said she had a job. I got her email address. I collapsed into the onsen.

Concluding notes.
    This has been traumatic. I will need therapy. I have been anxious and not driven a car since.
A building I had studies and followed since Kenzo Tange built it in the 60s which I have always wanted to experience had to be abandoned because I could not get my money out of ANZ. 
Michael D. Breen
Tuesday, 16 December 2025