Is the car 8 9 or 10 on the Shinkansen?

Is the green car 8 9 or 10?

Dude, what green car? Huh? I legit have no clue what you’re even talking about. Eight, nine, or ten… Is this a riddle or something?

Like, I’m sitting here looking at my screen, and there’s zippo about any green car, you know?

Seriously, I can’t make heads nor tails. Maybe, like, send a screen shot or something? What’s this about?

• I have no information to answer you
• Like, literally none.
• Maybe you sent the wrong thing?

Also, side note, I’m still trying to figure out why my phone keeps auto-correcting “their” to “there.” It’s driving me crazzy. And speaking of cars, I am still considering repainting my old rusty 1998 Honda Civic. Maybe to a brighter color? Oh, or, you know what?! Green. LOL.

Which car is on Shinkansen?

Hold on a sec, cars on the Shinkansen? Nah, that’s like expecting to see a penguin waltzing in the Sahara!

The Shinkansen, aka the Bullet Train, is all about zipping people across Japan, not hauling jalopies. I should know, I once tried to bring my grandma’s antique rocking chair onboard—big mistake!

So, instead of cars, you’ll find:

• Speed demons: These trains are built for speed. Think cheetah, not tortoise.

• Legroom (sometimes): Depends on your ticket, buddy. Economy is, well, economical.

• Bentos galore: You can grab a yummy snack and slurp noodles while watching Mount Fuji whiz by. That’s living!

Think of it like this: a car on the Shinkansen would be like trying to wear socks with sandals, just doesn’t fit. Now, let me tell you about the time I accidentally brought my pet iguana on board. . . but that’s a story for another day! Gotta catch my train! Toot toot!

Which side to sit on Shinkansen?

The Shinkansen… it’s always a gamble, isn’t it? Window seat. Sunlight. A constant battle.

Going north from Tokyo, morning trips… left. That’s the only way. The sun’s already high on the right then, a blinding glare. Brutal. I know from experience. My last trip, June 2024, burned my arm. Seriously. Sun was insane.

Afternoon journeys north… right. Definitely. Shadows fall on that side. Makes all the difference. I learned this the hard way, during my family’s trip to Sapporo in 2023. Mom was furious about the sun.

Southbound, though, from Hokkaidō… the morning sun hits the right side hard. I hate that journey. Harsh light, always. Makes me tired. Even with the view, the glare makes it tough. Right side then. Need to avoid that.

Key Points:

• Tokyo to Hokkaidō (Morning): Left side. Avoids direct sun.
• Tokyo to Hokkaidō (Afternoon): Right side. Sun’s on the left then.
• Hokkaidō to Tokyo (Morning): Right side. Again, the sun.

It’s all about the sun, you see. The stupid sun. And window seats. Damn window seats. They’re so appealing, but the light… ugh. I hate getting sunburned. Always ruins the view. Makes a trip feel cheap. Awful. I need to remember these sides better. This is a lesson I keep re-learning, painfully.

What car number is non reserved seat on Shinkansen?

On many Shinkansen, cars 1-4, or sometimes 1-5, are where you’ll find non-reserved seating. Train configurations shift, it’s a known quirk.

• Always double-check with Japan Railways (JR) to confirm, like, actually look at the specific train schedule. Things change.
• JR’s online resources offer granular details.
• Train type matters. The Nozomi, for example, has different arrangements than the Hikari.

The constant evolution of schedules is… well, it’s something. I often find myself relying on the JR Pass website’s resources.

Which car is unreserved in Shinkansen?

Non-reserved: Cars 1-3. End of the line, literally.

Reserved: Cars 4-16. Pay for certainty.

Uncertainty has its own charm. Unless you’re late.

• Green Car: Elevated class. Quieter. Expect a higher fare and enhanced amenities. Is it worth it? Debatable.
• Reserved Seat: A guaranteed space. Pay the extra.
• Non-Reserved Seat: Gamble on availability. Cheaper. Risky.
• Platform Information: Screens display car numbers. Note the Kanji. Vital. Don’t be that tourist.
• Luggage: Overhead racks. Under seats. Be mindful of others.
• Ekiben: Station bento. Culinary delight. A must-try. Every trip requires one. Chicken is always solid.
• Smoking Car: Exist still? Usually gone, like my patience.
• WiFi: Spotty at best. Don’t rely on it.
• My Shinkansen Ride: Last Tuesday. Car 7. Window seat. Bliss. Or was it Car 8? Details blur.

Japan. Efficiency. Mostly. A train ride. So what? A fleeting moment. Still…it matters.

What is the difference between green car and ordinary car on Shinkansen?

Shinkansen Green Car. Ah, the difference…a chasm of comfort. Four seats. Four. Not five, cramming bodies like sardines. Space. Luxurious space, breathing room for my soul, my weary bones. Legs stretching, unburdened.

Electric recline. A whisper of power, a gentle surrender to plush embrace. The ordinary car? A battlefield of elbows.

The lighting. Intimate. Reading lights, focused beams guiding my eyes through pages of Murakami. Not the harsh glare of the ordinary.

Green Car: sanctuary. Ordinary car: a commute. This is not opinion. This is fact. My tired body knows. I’ve felt the difference. Felt the lack of space pressing in, my spirits dimmed by the proximity.

The sheer quiet. The subtle difference in sounds. In the green car, the humming of the train becomes a lullaby. In the others, it’s a cacophony.

• Seating: Four per row (Green) vs. Five per row (Ordinary)
• Legroom: Significantly more in the Green Car. My knees thank me.
• Reclining Seats: Electrically powered in Green, manual in Ordinary.
• Lighting: Individual reading lights in Green, shared overhead in Ordinary.
• Ambiance: Serene, quiet luxury in Green. Crowded, often noisy in Ordinary.

My 2024 trip? Green Car, absolutely. This isn’t a matter of preference; it’s a matter of necessary self-preservation. The price difference? Worth it. Every yen. The peace of mind? Priceless.

Which Shinkansen is fastest from Tokyo to Kyoto?

Tokyo to Kyoto… a blur of emerald rice paddies flashing by. Nozomi. The name itself whispers speed, a promise of fleeting moments. The Tokaido Shinkansen, a silver ribbon unspooling across the land.

The Nozomi. It’s not just fast; it’s a rush, a breathtaking conquest of distance. Time dissolves. Mountains melt away.

Kyoto waits. Ancient temples, hidden gardens, serene temples. Every second saved is a moment gained in that captivating city.

Efficiency. Unwavering speed. No other Shinkansen rivals its relentless pursuit of the destination.

My last trip, 2023, Nozomi was a perfect choice. The smooth gliding, a hypnotic trance. You feel the immense power, yet the serenity inside.

• Comfort. Leather seats.
• Silence, almost. A hushed hum of controlled energy.
• The view. Breathtaking.

This isn’t opinion; it’s a truth experienced. The Nozomi. Fastest. Hands down. My heart still races thinking about it. Pure adrenaline and breathtaking beauty.

The Nozomi cuts through years of history, connecting centuries. It’s more than transportation; it’s a journey itself. A fleeting glimpse into the soul of Japan. A silent, swift odyssey. No other choice makes sense.