As I step out of the Narita Express into Terminal 2 I feel an all too familiar sense of apprehension. The journey northwards had begun with confidence, but was betrayed by the skies. Now, less than fours days later, I would be plying the same path. Can the conditions change so much in such a short time? I would soon find out. Narita Express at Terminal 2. And so I retraced my steps. Somewhat painfully, as I am rather chafed. Washing clothes in a hotel sink doesn't leave them soft. Through the humid air I dodge other passengers as I stride along the sprinting path from Terminal 2 to Terminal 3. With three hours before scheduled departure I have no need to hurry, but I do anyway. The start of the path from Terminal 2 to 3. Only 490 metres to go! Not so nice on a cold day, I bet! There is already a queue at the Jetstar desks. As I wait I hear an American, a young lady in her early twenties, thanking a Japanese Jetstar agent on the opposite side and asking her how
The journal of a travel addict.