In an Interstellar Burst

Posted on 30/11/2014 by Luke

Toothache has returned. After two full months of remaining silent in the corner of my mouth, the pain floods back like a terrible memory. My previous trauma at the dentist is once again vivid in the forefront of my mind. Luckily for me, I still have some little yellow pills from my last visit to the dentist, and these will do for today to both numb the pain and numb my nerves.

I cycle to Seven Eleven. The moment I park my bicycle, a policeman appears out of nowhere, parking his bicycle next to mine as if intentionally blocking me in. He hops off his bike at practiced speed and starts speaking in a language so fast it might not even be Japanese anymore, pointing at me. Eventually, he asks, “Buy?” Presumably, he wants to know if the bicycle I was riding is stolen or actually my own. I hand him my residence card, and he punches my bicycle registration number into a small digital device. “Okay,” he tells me, handing back my card before riding off just as quickly as he appeared.

I leave the stolen bicycle at Minowa Station and take the Tokyo Metro Hibiya Line. Thirty minutes later, I arrive in Roppongi. My first stop today: a spot of traditional British lunch.

I am yet to see a sign for an ‘English Restaurant’; perhaps such a restaurant doesn’t exist. ‘Malins Fish and Chips’ is the closest thing I will probably find in Japan. My lunch is served to me in a newspaper-covered box: fish, chips, and mushy peas. A home comfort in the shape of a stereotype. The peas taste horrible, but the fish and chips are very good. I also order a fish cake. Sadly, this restaurant gets it completely wrong, and I am presented with something that looks and tastes nothing like the fish cakes I am used to back home.

I wander over to Roppongi Hills, an area rich with overpriced apartments, five-star hotels, and expensive shops selling ‘luxury’ goods—things people don’t really need. There are valuable bowls that are merely display pieces, candles costing over ¥10,000 each, and sofas with price tags equivalent to the average annual salary in Japan. After leaving the shops, I head out into a makeshift courtyard, only to find a giant spider outside.

This bronze statue was made by the French artist Louise Bourgeois and is one of the largest sculptures of a spider in the world. Many people are here taking photographs or posing beneath her egg sac. I snap a quick shot before heading up an escalator that leads into a cinema.

One of the main reasons I came to Roppongi today, other than to eat fish and chips, is to watch the movie ‘Interstellar.’ I pay ¥1800 and head inside to find my seat. The Japanese cinema experience is no different from what I am used to: adverts, terrible trailers for upcoming releases, and cute characters telling everyone here to, ‘Switch off your mobile phone,’ and, ‘Do not talk during the movie.’ About halfway through the movie, my little yellow pill decides to wear off. I am already in pain from having to listen to Matthew McConaughey mumble through his lines. Now I have a second level of pain, further adding to my misery.

After what feels like seven hours, the movie finally ends. I leave the cinema and head over to Tokyo Midtown to see some over-the-top decorations.

After looking at the decorations outside the overpriced stores, I head to a small ice cream shop. The staff here are the happiest people in the world. A sign at the counter declares, ‘We sing for tips.’ I order strawberry cheesecake ice cream in a waffle cone, with a latte for good measure. It is possible to request a favourite song, and the staff will cheerfully sing it as they prepare the delicious homemade ice cream. “Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O,” they sing to the man in the queue before me—an odd choice for a favourite song. I doubt the staff will know any Radiohead, so I don’t trouble them by asking. My ice cream and coffee cost me ¥940, another casualty of an expensive Roppongi.

After dessert, I discover that Tokyo Midtown is having its annual winter illuminations, known as ‘Midtown Christmas.’ Since I’m already here, I decide to check them out.

The illuminations are impressive, far better than those at Tokyo Dome. There are multiple displays, including Christmas trees that line the roads and champagne glass-shaped lighting arrangements. However, the highlight for me is the ‘Starlight Garden’—millions of dancing lights, cool smoke machine effects, and haunting music. It’s very blue. I watch for a while, transfixed by the light show, before pondering that the electricity bill here must be massive. Heading back to the station, I buy a selection of expensive cheeses before taking the train bound for Minowa.

On the train ride home, my mind is consumed by broken time paradoxes, millions of blinking blue lights, and my lingering fear of dentistry.

Dome Alone

Posted on 26/11/2014 by Luke

Over the last few days, the temperature has been getting increasingly colder. Winter is finally upon us. Recently, as I have wandered around in just a short-sleeved shirt, I have started to lose count of the number of times I have been asked, “Aren’t you cold?” The weather today is 18°C, and Tokyo is just a rainstorm away from resembling an English summer. I head out into the freezing cold in search of something to do.

My first stop is an event in Asakusa known as Neko Matsuri, translating to mean ‘Cat Festival.’ Unfortunately, a more accurate translation might be ‘Cat Disappointment.’ The festival consists of two small market stalls selling cat postcards and biscuits with cat faces on them—nothing else, not even a cat mascot to photograph. Disappointed, I leave the festival and start walking in the direction of Ueno Park to see some ninjas.

Today is the Iga-Ueno Ninja Festival. Market stalls here sell overpriced food, and on stage, a band comprises eight young women dancing and looking exhausted. The only ninjas present are those trying to trick small children into winning rubbish prizes at fairground-style attractions. Once again, not a very exciting festival for me; perhaps this one is more of a family event, and coming here alone at thirty years old, I am probably not the target audience. At least I got to see a man dressed as a ninja, though.

I take a short wander in the direction of Akihabara Station. Inside the station, I am surprised to find that just outside the entrance to the Sobu Line is a live music event known as JR Live. With five different lines at Akihabara Station, only the people heading to this platform get to witness the delights of this event. It’s a strange location for a stage, if you ask me.

The band is dressed in festive clothing and is performing a familiar tune, but I can’t quite place it. The poster says that ‘This mini orchestra can be enjoyed by both children and the elderly.’ Once again today, I don’t quite fit into the age demographic, and subsequently, I can’t enjoy the music.

I take a train and arrive at Suidobashi Station. From here, I walk five minutes to Tokyo Dome. Today, and for the next three months, the entirety of Tokyo Dome City is wrapped in light as part of its annual winter illuminations.

It becomes apparent to me that at this time of year, all the interesting festivals seem to have finished, only to be replaced by Christmas illuminations and other festive events. In a country where fewer than 1% of the population are Christian, I find it strange that so many places are littered with Christmas decorations, playing Christmas music, and promoting a holiday that doesn’t quite fit in with traditional Japanese culture.

The theme for this year’s Tokyo Dome illuminations is ‘Light of Promenade,’ and there are lots of lights—2.2 million to be exact. Attractions include the ‘Galaxy Dome,’ the elaborately titled ‘Glorious Chandelier,’ and a ‘Milky Way’ of light featuring a 140-metre-long corridor lit by motion sensors. The corridor of lights changes colour as people walk beneath them. The corridor is directly under the path of a well-lit roller coaster; as the ride roars above, the lights flicker and shake.

Despite the subtle Christmas theme featuring only nine massive Christmas trees, the rest of the illuminations look quite nice. An instrumental version of ‘A Whole New World’ from Disney’s Aladdin plays from every speaker in the vicinity. A giant statue of Ultraman stands guard beside a glass pyramid of multicoloured lights, and people dressed in Santa Claus outfits dash about merrily.

Alone, I walk the full length of the illuminations, passing couple after couple holding hands and smiling. I realise that this is my first time seeing any public displays of affection in Japan. It reminds me of just how lonely it is here—the mix of Christmas displays, pretty lights, and couples in love. I take one last photograph of some ordinary trees before heading back to the train station.

On the train, I see a sign that says, ‘Merry ChristmaSOCKS!,’ and it instantly cheers me up.

Conspirators of Treasure

Posted on 23/11/2014 by Luke

The ¥130 sake cup vending machine near my house doesn’t require age verification. Additionally, there’s a vending machine selling lead pipes at the Asakusa View Hotel and another one offering plastic toy animals on the platform as you disembark from the Sobu Line at Akihabara Station. The latter is quite an unexpected sight, as plastic toy animals are the last thing on my mind when I exit a train. However, this is Japan, the land of the prizing sun, and today’s prize is tucked away inside a different kind of vending machine—the King’s Treasure Box.

A sticker on the front of the machine displays the English text, ‘Let it get.’ Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I insert my ¥1000 note into the treasure box. Above the note slot, there’s an encouraging message, ‘One dream, One note!’ Among the potential prizes are a Nintendo Duel Screen, a PlayStation Vita, and even a product vaguely labelled as ‘Famous car.’

Following the instructions, I press any button, and the machine responds with an exciting clunk. I eagerly reach into the lower chamber to retrieve my prize.

My treasure quietly awaits me on the machine’s inner fake grass—Disco Glasses, proudly labelled ‘Made in China.’ These glasses, devoid of lenses and made from cheap plastic, boast voice-activated flashing red lights. Not exactly what I’d typically consider treasure. With no way of knowing if the machine stocks any ‘good’ prizes, it’s conceivable that it’s 100% Disco Glasses.

Bitter and disappointed, I scrutinise the machine for refund information. Despite my limited Japanese ability, I discern that I can follow the ‘King’s Blog’ for more information. However, details about a refund aren’t quite as forthcoming.

Disheartened by my less-than-thrilling prize, I decide to escape my disappointment by taking trains. I make my way to Aoyama-itchome Station, where my friend Genmei is hosting an art exhibition in the basement of Club Edition. Titled ‘Colourful is Power,’ her display lives up to its name, boasting vibrant hues that captivate the eye.

The venue itself exudes a more bar-like ambiance than a conventional art gallery, contributing to its unique atmosphere. I engage in a brief conversation with Genmei, a talented live painter. Having witnessed some of her live art firsthand, I can confidently say that she is an amazing artist. Her creative endeavours predominantly unfold at trance parties or raves, drawing inspiration from the mood and music of the events.

In a friendly gesture, I offer her my Disco Glasses, but she gracefully declines.

After leaving the gallery/bar, I step outside to find heavy rain pouring down. I navigate the rain-swept streets to reach the station and catch a train to Komagome. Today marks the opening ceremony for an event at Rikugien Gardens—an evening of autumn illuminations. I pay my ¥300 entry fee and enter the darkness.

These three-hundred-year-old landscape gardens have inspired countless poems. It’s been a while since I wrote a haiku, so here goes:

Hollow darkness welcomes me,
To black rain singing,
And decaying leaves screaming.

Stumbling through the woods, I eventually spot maple trees adorned with red and green lights. The path beneath my feet is sodden, my shoes squelching as they tread over the thick, wet mud. Small lanterns mark the way, guiding me through the enchanting scene. I follow the illuminated path, captivated by the beauty around me despite the biting cold. In the distance, ducks play in the lake, trees sway gently in the wind, and steam billows from spotlights, creating a stark contrast to the crisp winter air.

After walking around for about an hour, I realise I am lost in a maze of trees illuminated by scattered lights. At times, I find myself stumbling through the silent darkness. Eventually, I spot a steward; he lacks an umbrella and is soaked to the bone. As I approach, he remains silent, lifting his arm to point toward a small gap between some trees that appears to lead into a void. Quietly following his unspoken guidance, I venture through.

Ten minutes later, I emerge into a scene that resembles a different planet.

Soft blue light gently bathes the fallen autumn leaves, casting a mysterious glow over the tremendous yet somewhat spooky sight. The surroundings are shrouded in mystery and framed by towering trees. A small speaker nearby plays calming music, the falling rain inadvertently adding to the soothing chorus. Mesmerised, I watch the patterns of blue smoke, finally able to enjoy some illuminations.

Having witnessed this captivating spectacle, I embark on a ten-minute journey through quicksand-like mud, eventually finding my way to the exit.

Back in Asakusa, I indulge in drinks until midnight before heading to Tori-no-Ichi part two—the second day of the rooster this month. Once again, the streets are filled with people wielding massive rakes, partaking in the festivities. While the crowd revels in the celebration, I have a singular focus—the street food market.

I opt for Korean-style yakisoba, a generous serving of vegetables and noodles topped with kimchi. Satisfied, I join a relatively short queue for a ¥300 bag of hot baked kasutera. As I relish each bite of my favourite snack, I savour the moment. It’s precisely at this juncture that I discover the batteries in my Disco Glasses have died.

Fuji in the Sky with Diamonds

Posted on 17/11/2014 by Luke

Today marks an event that occurs only twice a year. In just five minutes, the sun will set behind the peak of Japan’s most well-known volcano, Mount Fuji, creating a phenomenon known as ‘Diamond Fuji.’ This rare event happens when the sun aligns perfectly with the summit of Mount Fuji during both sunrise and sunset. I’m not quite sure what to expect, other than the enchanting sight of diamonds.

I eagerly wait amongst the crowds of people gathered at the windows along the full length of the south side of the building. As the sun quietly begins its descent, a collective sense of disappointment fills the air.

Today has been relatively clear in terms of the sky, but the air above Mount Fuji is filled with clouds, making it challenging to discern even the slightest outline of the mountain. No diamonds today, just a rather attractive sunset hanging above the miniature buildings that compose the endless Tokyo skyline. I can’t complain, though; I am witnessing a fantastic sunset. The sky looks amazing as it becomes illuminated by the setting sun.

I wait around for a while amongst other photographers and Japanese people making peace signs for their ‘sunset selfies.’ In one hour, the sky will be dark, so to make the most of my ¥620 ticket, I decide to linger. The observatory provides a fantastic vantage point for observing Tokyo, offering romantic and exotically beautiful views. The building remains open for night viewing, and my plan now is to spend some time at 251 metres, hoping to capture a few shots of Tokyo illuminated at night.

The night sets in, and I snap a few photographs before taking a leisurely stroll around the observatory. A vending machine catches my eye, offering an inexpensive blueberry cheesecake cone that I can’t resist. Nearby, a small cafe named ‘Air Ship’ sells food that, frankly, looks terrible. There’s also a small art gallery, a gift shop, and a place where professional artists draw caricatures—typical money-spinning attractions. Oddly, there are several small heart rate monitoring machines here, each costing ¥100. The idea of coming all this way just to check one’s heart rate seems beyond me.

After my exploration, I head back down the oddly named ‘Shining Elevator.’ As the lift descends at six hundred metres a minute, I can’t help but half-expect Jack Nicholson to burst through the door at any moment. However, the elevator surprises me by transforming into a planetarium, showcasing a light show that could be stars or underwater sparkles. The visuals are accompanied by relaxing space and ocean music.

At the bottom of the lift, a photograph mockingly displays the spectacle we all came here to view. Regrettably, what I witnessed was far from the captivating display promised by the poster – just another sunset.

In the Land of Spuds and Money

Posted on 12/11/2014 by Luke

Today, I overslept, and it’s 4 p.m. by the time I finally crawl out of bed. Having missed most of the day and without a plan, I decide to head to Asakusa to find something to do.

When I arrive in Asakusa, the rhythmic sound of banging drums instantly captures my attention. Following the music, I discover a lively festival underway—the Hirosaki Nebuta Festival. Although traditionally a summer event, the participants have brought their vibrant celebration to the more commercial area of Asakusa to garner attention for their unique tradition. The Nebuta floats, featuring a samurai and a golden dragon, are skilfully dragged on wheels across the lively festival grounds.

Until last year, these floats were carried in the air. Sadly, during an event in Hirosaki last year, a man was crushed to death when one of the floats collapsed. Due to safety reasons, the floats no longer soar in the air.

The parade features participants carrying lanterns, beating drums, and a chorus of flutes providing musical accompaniment. Notably, there are more individuals wielding red traffic-controlling light sticks gathered in one place than I have ever seen before. I continue to follow the procession through Asakusa until it passes Senso-ji. At this point, I decide I have seen enough and opt to head off in search of something to drink.

I head to Cafe Byron Bay for a chat with some locals. There, I meet a man who hasn’t had a day off for over a year, working an average of fourteen hours a day. In an unexpected turn of events, a man celebrating his birthday walks into the cafe dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit – quite an odd sight for the beginning of November. Undeterred by the unusual attire, he orders a bottle of champagne and generously pours everyone a glass.

As conversations flow, a few customers mention an event scheduled for tonight, beginning precisely at midnight. Intrigued, I decide to attend, realising that waking up at 4 p.m. isn’t as much of a waste of a day as I initially thought.

After a while of drinking, I head outside and discover that the department store Rox is putting up their Christmas decorations. However, these aren’t the only decorations outside; the route leading to the shrine for the festival is adorned with loads of little yellow paper lanterns. Intrigued, I follow the yellow-lit road, and it eventually leads me to the entrance of Otori Shrine.

Tonight marks the Tori-no-Ichi event, a unique festival held every November on each day of the rooster. Over thirty Otori Shrines across Japan host this celebration, and today is the first part of the two-part festival; the second instalment will be held twelve days from now. The primary focus of the festival is on rakes, particularly a special one known as a ‘kumade.’ This unique rake is believed to harness the power of a god, bringing with it good financial fortune and prosperity in business.

Here, people are holding last year’s kumade, returning them to replace them with a slightly larger rake. There’s no refund for the rake they bought last year, and I’m not even sure what happens to them; presumably, they are resold in twelve days. These decorated rakes come in various sizes, starting from the smallest versions, which cost around ¥1000 each, to the largest rakes usually reserved for huge companies, costing around ¥800 million.

I find it somewhat ironic that the more you spend on a kumade, the more wealth you are said to acquire. However, I choose to take a small ¥1000 rake and keep my money, thanks. Every time a kumade is sold, a ritual of hand clapping known as ‘tejime’ is performed by the stallholder, and just about everyone else in the vicinity.

After walking through a vast market of shops, all selling the same thing, I no longer feel as though I am inside the grounds of a shrine. It feels like I am lost in a city of market stalls that stretches infinitely and indefinitely.

Pulled along by the wave of shuffling crowds, my route is decided for me, and somehow, I end up at the front of the main shrine. I decide to participate, throwing in a ¥100 coin (adding to the expense), ringing one of the huge bells. The ritual continues as I bow twice, clap twice, bow again, before praying, for nothing at all. After the brief ritual, I find myself pushed out of the shrine toward one of the side exits.

People leave the shrine happy, now in possession of their blessed kumade. The only thing left for them is to carry their massive rakes home. The shrine exits into yet another market.

The market smells incredible, with stalls mostly offering a variety of foods and beverages. For the third time today, I am reminded of Christmas. Intrigued, I approach a stall selling decorated bananas. Once again, etiquette dictates that I have to buy a souvenir, and I can’t think of a better gift than a chocolate-coated banana. After handing over ¥300 to the stallholder, he makes a fist with his hand. ‘One, two, three, rock,’ he says. I hold out my hand flat. ‘Ah, paper, you win!’ Brilliantly, for the second time this week, I win a banana.

Next, I come across a stall emitting the most enticing aroma I have ever experienced. Eager to try, I join a queue that takes about fifteen minutes. During the wait, I can’t help but salivate as I watch more and more of the delicious-looking hotcakes being baked before my eyes.

Eventually, I reach the front of the queue. Excitedly, I hand over ¥300 and purchase a bag of twelve delicious hot kasutera. This sponge cake, made from milk, honey, eggs, sugar, and flour, has quickly become my favourite snack. I’m already considering returning for Tori-no-Ichi part two, if only to indulge in more of this delightful treat.

I head to a shop selling yakisoba, a type of Japanese fried noodle served with vegetables. The stallholder notices my exceptionally blue eyes and offers me a special, larger serving. I find a bench, sit down, and proceed to devour my yakisoba, surrounded by the sights and smells of this bustling market.

On my way home, I continue my walk through the stalls and come across a shop selling ¥400 baked potatoes. Still slightly hungry, I decide to make one final stop. Surprisingly, the stallholder here doesn’t know how to haggle. I ask for one potato, but he insists that I can have four for ¥300 instead—a discount of 25% for four times the potato I initially requested. I can’t argue with his wild logic.

With my free banana, discounted potatoes, and an empty bag of kasutera, I realise that for me, the prosperity promised by this festival has instantly started to pay off.

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Monthly Archives: November 2014