Hopping in a cab, widely available though they are, can quickly make a major dent in the most generous budget. For business meetings, arriving by taxi is essential, but for personal trips around the city, it makes sense to decipher the subway system. It does look formidable; the map shows a wild jumble of intersecting squiggles. One station alone, Shinjuku, hosts millions of people daily, suburban commuters who make the journey in by train, often traveling three hours one way, then disperse by subway to their offices. Individual companies operate the individual lines—one reason for the complex map—but the payment system is unified.

Like everything else in Tokyo, the subway works with clockwork precision. The manners of the passengers are impeccable: pushing, shoving, shouting, swearing and barrier jumping are unheard of.

Subway maps and posters usually feature an English translation; rail staff, while hesitant with the language, are invariably eager to try to help baffled foreign riders. Likewise with passersby: it is not at all unusual for a Tokyoite, when asked directions, to personally escort a lost traveler to their desired platform or exit.

Head down into the subway knowing that there is no chance of being mugged and, should you alight at the wrong neighborhood, zero likelihood of it being a dodgy, no-go zone. And train delays and cancellations are rare. Try to avoid rush hour: gloved pushers-on ensure that every carriage is full to bursting point.