Gotta catch em all mantra
TBF the receptionists turn to the Pokémon mission quicker than I can say “Charizard”. Prior to arriving I’ve worked time zones, diaries and perks to try to secure a reservation. It transpires that it’s easier to obtain a ticket to the Oscars than a table eating rice arranged like a Snorlax while rubbing shoulders with Bulbasaur et al. “But can you find me a table at the Pokémon Café?” I blurt, staggering fresh from the red eye and up through the sleek black elevators into an atrium reception where the grey lacquered environs blend seamlessly with the cossetting clouds. There’s in room check in, invisible dry cleaning and the amenities of my wildest dreams. The hotel is situated in Nihonbashi, the Japanese capital’s oldest district, helm of inter-generational artisanry, Edo-inspired architecture and a stone’s throw from the Olympic Village. I had 48 hours in the Tokyo outpost of the Mandarin Oriental hotel to secure a table at the Pokémon Café. “But can you find me a table at the Pokémon Café?” I blurt, staggering fresh from the red eye For me, what left the stand out and most lasting impression was the whole Pokémon experience. Or perhaps it was that egg-shaped bath from which the gaze luxuriates across contemporary cedarwood screens, over the magnanimous king size bed and chaise longue artfully positioned before the dwellings’ panoramic glass fourth wall affording twenty four seven snapshots of one of the world’s most iconic cityscapes. It could have been the semi-private thermal hydrotherapy suite with infinity views across the glittering skyline. It might have been the molecular duck smoke crowns in the 37 th floor Michelin-starred restaurant that disappeared like the ticker tape of bullet trains snaking the maze of Tokyo below.