The immigration authorities in Japan put a sticker in visitors’ passports when they arrive in the country. Counting the stickers recently, I realized this was my twenty-sixth visit to Tokyo since 2012. Every time I am here, I add to my store of experiences and memories. Tokyo isn’t about “must see” attractions. It’s about the gracious, kind, and welcoming people. It’s about the sheer quirkiness and charm of a society that continues to go its own way and follow its own path. It’s a place that at first seems to be all about conformity but is really quietly subversive and does conformity on its own distinctively Japanese terms.

What did I add to my store of memories this time? A charming basement bar in Daikanyama (Flying Bumblebee), an outstanding teppanyaki meal with friends in Ebisu (Teppan Eden), and buying jazz albums in Tsutaya. Plus a lovely coincidence. The taxi driver who took me to Haneda was the same one I met several years ago. A dapper man in his late seventies (charcoal suit, striped shirt, silk tie, and cool, retro glasses) who only plays Bebop in his cab and who likes to talk (in pretty good English) about Japanese novels. We picked up the conversation where we left off last time. Needless to say, he insisted on putting my luggage in the trunk, and did it with the energy and nimbleness of someone forty years younger.

No city can compete with London for my affections, but Tokyo gets very close.