I can tell you that the perfect peach daiquiri exists in Tokyo. It's made by the head barman in a tiny bar in the west of the city, and it is a blissful way to end a long hot Japanese summer day.

I'm not a big drinker - honestly - but this is not about alcohol and pub crawls, this is about art. The art of perfectionism.

It starts at the entrance to the bar - there's always one elegant flower hanging in a delicate bamboo vase to welcome the visitor. As you take your seat you are handed an ice cold wet towel to cleanse your wearied brow.

Gleaming symmetry

But the real show here is the barman. First he selects a glass from the ones lined up in gleaming symmetry along a low shelf behind the bar.

He places it in a spotlight near his cocktail blender. Next comes the peach and - this being Japan - it's perfect, the skin blushing pink, its flesh pure white.

A flurry of perfectly choreographed movements follows, so deft that it is impossible to tell exactly what goes into the cocktail, though of course rum, lime and sugar make an appearance.

A whizz in the blender - then the concoction is poured into the waiting glass - a tiny sprig of mint completes the composition.

This is where the real significance of the spotlight becomes clear, it lights up the perfectly pink liquid so that it glows like the soft afterglow of a sunset. The drinker is invited to admire the drink before it is placed in front of them.

Accomplished amateurs

As perfect as the original

Yes I know there are good barmen in every city in the world, but this barman embodies for me the Japanese quest for perfection.

This is definitely not a country of half-hearted, slipshod botchers, at least not on the individual level - this is rather a country of sublime sushi chefs, fabulous flower arrangers, and accomplished amateurs.

Many of my Japanese friends talk disparagingly about doing things chuta-hanpa, or doing something by halves. They say there is no point in learning to do something unless you do it well.

Perfectionism is the goal

This was amply demonstrated at a party I went to recently. The hosts met in their university art club 30 years ago.

Kaeko is now a professional jeweller but she has won prizes for her ballroom dancing. Hiroo is a television producer but his holiday watercolours would put Prince Charles to shame.

But then came the entertainment - first Miyuki-san performed a Balinese dance. She takes all her holidays on the Indonesian island to study with her teacher.

Then there was the flute duet. Mariko and Shunji practise three times a week in a karaoke box in their lunch hour. Most people use these individual rooms to croon sentimental songs to taped music.

But Shunji and Mariko's tapes are orchestral accompaniments.

Last up was the host Hiroo on sax and his buddy Jun on guitar. They said they never practised but it didn't sound like it.

You may think this was an extraordinary party full of dedicated fans of the arts but not so. My own art class proves the point that perfectionism is a goal in itself for many Japanese.

I study sumi-e, painting with brushes and black ink. My classmates are both Japanese and gaijin (foreigners) but the gaijin are put to shame.

It's because the gaijin associate art with individual expression but the Japanese realise they are there to copy until they can turn out a picture as perfect as the original.

Hobby heaven

Gomi-san, a 65-year old former salary man, told me he had worked all his life so that he could spend his golden years painting - he believes he will only be a reasonable sumi-e artist by the time he dies and he takes classes twice a week.

It's the same determination which drives Japanese students to feats of academic overdrive, and possibly lay at the root of its crazed military expansion before the war. But it also has a much more benign side.

Japan is hobby heaven. Whatever you have an interest in you can find a class in it here and it's never too late to start.

No one laughs at middle-aged ladies who decide to take up ballet for the first time. And those middle-aged ladies won't just dabble - they will become if not expert then dedicated tryers.

Hoping that if they ganbaru (try hard), they will one day perform the perfect pirouette.