Japan on a folding bike. It seemed logical for the country that gave us Walkmans, capsule hotels, folding beds and origami.
Indeed, their word for 'folding bike' uses the same 'ori'. It's 'oritatamijitensha', which means rather prosaically 'folding bike'. But then the Japanese language (spoken, easy; written, impossible) is rarely abstract. It's largely concrete. Like the country.
Which was why I went to Shikoku. I'd been in Tokyo for two weeks and needed to breathe in.
My Brompton had proved ideal for getting round the capital, saturated as it is with train lines. I could clatter along pavements, accompanied by herds of schoolgirl cyclists in sailor suits, weaving among suited salarymen. Then, at the impeccably clean station ticket hall, my collapsible-horse magic. So you can fold a piece of paper into a crane? That's nothing! Watch as my bicycle turns into a satchel-sized modern sculpture! See the wheels nestle together like the eyes on a Picasso!
Indeed, their word for 'folding bike' uses the same 'ori'. It's 'oritatamijitensha', which means rather prosaically 'folding bike'. But then the Japanese language (spoken, easy; written, impossible) is rarely abstract. It's largely concrete. Like the country.
Which was why I went to Shikoku. I'd been in Tokyo for two weeks and needed to breathe in.
My Brompton had proved ideal for getting round the capital, saturated as it is with train lines. I could clatter along pavements, accompanied by herds of schoolgirl cyclists in sailor suits, weaving among suited salarymen. Then, at the impeccably clean station ticket hall, my collapsible-horse magic. So you can fold a piece of paper into a crane? That's nothing! Watch as my bicycle turns into a satchel-sized modern sculpture! See the wheels nestle together like the eyes on a Picasso!
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