The little engine that could

Japan has something of a fondness for its rail network. For many, the stations are an essential part of the daily commute with the famous images of the attendant, resplendent in white linen gloves, packing every last soul they can into a carriage. And then a few more just for good measure. And without the trains Tokyo would be either a ghost town or an exercise in gridlock of Biblical proportions. No one comes in, and no one goes out, without the trains.

And as a result, forty-four of the world's fifty busiest stations can be found in Japan with the king of them all, Shinjuku seeing some 3.6 million commuters pass through its entry gates every single day. Allow me to put that in context, if the entire 64 million headcount of the UK were to use Shinjuku Station over any given three week period, that would actually be below regular daily capacity. They'd need to do it in eighteen days flat to provide today's typical experience.

However the opposite is also true. In 2013 on the snowy northern island of Hokkaido, the under-loved station of Kyu-Shirataki was scheduled for closure along with the local line. That was until the parents of Kana Harada appealed to the railway that the train was the only way their daughter could journey to school each day. The train faced the severe weather each day on it's journey and, although Kana was the only regular passenger, they kept the lonely station open for another three years. And when she graduated high school on 25 March 2016, the station closed its platform for the last time. Trains are important in Japan.

Amazon - the world's biggest fresh-air shipment service.

I like Amazon, I really do. When it launched back in the 90's it was an absolute game changer for a foreigner's quality of life in Japan. No longer did I have to take a train halfway across Tokyo to the small section of English language books tucked away on the third floor of the Shinjuku Kinokunia (which were generally significantly overpriced). Now I could browse on-line and search recommendations, order multiple copies and have them all delivered to my door. Even the international delivery costs didn't discourage me, it was still cheaper to buy them from America than in Japan.

And then came CD's that weren't just J-Pop and then English language DVD's followed by almost anything else you desired. Kindle took me full circle back to books and then came Amazon Japan. Now delivery was next day, no waiting for international shipments, and soon that improved to same day. Payment could be made by credit card or direct bank transfer. And then it could be cash-on-delivery or even payment at the local convenience store. Delivery improved again and was not just same day but soon it was same afternoon.

But two issue still stand out for me. Firstly, why does Amazon Japan print the labels using a microscopic font that you need the eyesight of an eagle to read? But that's just me being picky. More importantly, why does Amazon enjoy shipping so much air around the country. Each time I receive an item the box is completely oversized and predominantly empty. That's spare air they're shipping. And although it is generally considered that air is free, it's actually not. A larger box means less boxes on the truck. And that means more trucks. All that free air is costing you carbon dioxide. And I'd really rather not pay for the book I want with an ice cap.

The tiny bars of old Japan - soon to be no more

Shinjuku's Golden Gai, the street of many bars, is famous in Japan. It's in all the travel books and even comes replete with its own wikipedia page and robot cafe (but that is a different story). It's also, despite claims to the contrary, not unique. There is a very well kept secret in Shibuya that will not be with us much longer as it's scheduled for redevelopment very soon. So if you get the chance, take the time and visit Nombei Yokocho and step into a different world.

The area is a block containing forty seven separate tiny bars, each with a handful of seats at street level and a "function room" upstairs (that can accommodate a further three or four people). The main street is no more than a narrow alley-way (Nombei Yokocho roughly translates as "Drunkard's Alley") lined with tiny sliding doors. The area was actually developed post war as a cheap place for people to relax and forget their worries for a while. Now it's one of the few remaining in Japan.

Stepping inside the Mama-san will welcome you in and motion for you to take a seat. Often this means the current occupants will need to shuffle round but are always happy to do so. And suddenly you're back about three hundred years in time. The fire safety people would never allow it today...