The country is another past...

I went on a Tokyo tour today.  I wanted to not have wasted my time here, to have seen some of the sights and so-ons of the city, to have picked up a flavour of the place, an alien bustling buzzing place where I did not naturally belong.  However, Typhoon Chaba was paying a visit, although it was not really noticeable from my hotel room - I saw that people were scurrying about with umbrellas down below, but I had no idea of the size, the impact of the rain from watching up here.  The brake lights and indicators of the cars in traffic glow, not too brightly in deference to the presumed daylight, although if you tilt your head back, the sky doesn't look all that dark.
But after several stops, trudging through shrines and gardens on wet sliding gravel, my feet are too cold for me to ignore.  I could have spent the day idling, doing less, doing nothing which is what any sane person would do after taking a look out of the window.

I guess I am still battling my inner mouse, much as I would wish to be indomitable and independent.