Disembarkation day turned out to be our smoothest yet, although neither of us started the morning particularly well rested. We had both slept poorly, and Cos managed less than four hours of sleep. While most passengers were probably dreaming about their next destination, Cos was busy imagining every possible way to miss a train connection.
Before leaving, we treated ourselves to both our first and last breakfast in the ship's dining room. Throughout the cruise we had usually enjoyed breakfast in our cabin, so it seemed fitting to finally experience the dining room on our last morning. The meal was relaxed, even if one member of the party was mentally rehearsing taxi rides, ticket gates, train platforms and worst-case scenarios.
We disembarked exactly on schedule and once again passed through Japanese customs and immigration. The process was efficient, quick and entirely failed to provide the drama that Cos had anticipated.
Joining the taxi queue, we were pleasantly surprised to be on our way within 15 minutes. By 9:38 am we were heading to Shin-Yokohama Station, arriving at 10:07 am. The next hurdle was getting our train tickets. The queue at the ticket office was impressive, but after waiting for a while, staff informed us that our QR codes were all we needed. This was welcome news, although it did raise the question of why we had been standing in the queue in the first place.
The adventure was only beginning.
At the station gates, Cos's photographed ticket was rejected by the scanner with all the warmth and compassion of a nightclub bouncer. Thankfully, a helpful staff member quickly came to the rescue. By now Cos was becoming increasingly convinced that disaster was moments away, while Melissa remained perfectly calm, as though she had seen this movie before and already knew the ending.
Thanks largely to Melissa's steady guidance, we found the correct platform just as the train arrived.
With barely a moment to spare, we jumped aboard and headed for our Green Car seats, only to discover that other people were sitting in them. This usually indicates one of two possibilities: either somebody is in your seat, or you're on the wrong train.
It was the second one.
After speaking with a member of staff, we discovered that in his nervous haste, Cos had boarded the 10:43 am train instead of the 10:48 am train for which we actually had reservations. In all the planning scenarios he had imagined, boarding the wrong bullet train was somehow not on the list.
Thankfully, Japanese railway staff once again proved themselves to be wonderful. They found seats for us in Car 8. They were not our reserved Green Car seats. They were not on the Mount Fuji side of the train. They were not the seats we paid for.
They were, however, on a train heading to Kyoto.
At that point, that felt like a tremendous victory.
Melissa still managed to capture a photograph of Mount Fuji from a window in the connecting section between carriages. While Cos was busy conducting an award-winning performance of Man Having Mild Panic on Public Transport, Melissa was quietly collecting memories.
Looking back, Cos felt rather silly for letting his nerves get the better of him. ( For most of his life he had been the calm one in a crisis. However, the lingering effects of a particularly long and stressful period of workplace stress half decade ago or so occasionally surfaces at unexpected moments.)
Fortunately, Melissa has become highly skilled at navigating both Japan and her travelling companion. One requires maps, train schedules and local knowledge. The other requires reassurance, patience and the occasional reminder to board the correct train.
In the end, we arrived safely in Kyoto, saw Mount Fuji, and gained another travel story that was much funnier a few hours later than it felt at the time. After all, no great adventure is complete without at least one moment where you wonder whether you've just completely stuffed everything up.
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