Journey to the Centre of the Buddha

Posted on 30/01/2015 by Luke

It has gotten very cold as of late, but today offers rare blue skies and a warm winter sun. Today might be the last day hot enough to do anything practical before spring, so I decide to make the most of it with a day trip out of Tokyo. My destination is a little over two hours away by train: the city of Kamakura.

Outside Kamakura Station, I am approached by a poorly dressed Japanese man speaking in English with an American accent. He is banging on about Buddhism, or something. When I mention that I have things to do, he looks a little disappointed before wandering off to talk to some new people just off the train.

I wander through the city, its streets lined with souvenir shops, gift shops, and stores selling various mementos. At this point, I realise I haven’t taken a single photograph in Kamakura, so I decide to walk up to the first temple I see.

Shu Genji Temple doesn’t exude much happiness. It was once the residence of Shijo Kingo, a renowned Nichiren Buddhist skilled in medicine. Following Nichiren’s death, Shijo Kingo attended the funeral but ultimately chose to end his own life to demonstrate his unwavering faith in the religion.

A little further from the temple, I spot a strange machine covered in stickers. The ‘Happy Capsule’ machine costs ¥100, and each capsule contains at least three prizes. I try to resist, but as if possessed by some demon from another world, I find that I have already inserted a coin.

My capsule contains a small glass fish statue with fried eggs randomly painted on each side, a colourful ankle bracelet with a small relic in the shape of an ice cream, and a teddy bear with the word ‘Love’ written on it. I also receive a ‘Lucky Sticker,’ which I am free to add to all the other lucky stickers that litter the machine. Noting the sign for ‘No Garbage,’ I take another look at my happy prizes and stand for a moment, enjoying the irony.

Eventually, I arrive at the place I came here to visit, Kotoku-in Temple. It is home to a giant Buddha, the same Buddha featured in Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘The Five Nations.

A tourist-show, a legend told,
A rusting bulk of bronze and gold,
So much, and scarce so much, ye hold,
The meaning of Kamakura?

I pay ¥200 to enter the grounds of the temple and stand for a while in awe. The Great Buddha of Kamakura was housed within a wooden temple three times. It was destroyed by strong winds twice but rebuilt on both occasions. Eventually, in 1498, it was destroyed for a third time by a tsunami and was never rebuilt. The Buddha survived and now sits outside in the cold of winter, patiently waiting for the seasons to change.

As I walk around the statue, I notice two windows located in its back. There is a sign in Japanese emphasising the importance of showing deep respect when walking around inside the Great Buddha. A man sits half asleep at a small booth, and a sign above displays a price of ¥20. For such a low price, I would be a fool not to enter. I squeeze my way into a small hole in Buddha’s side and take the steps up into his massive belly.

Inside the Great Buddha of Kamakura, the acoustics are fantastic. I speak softly to myself and find that my words are thrown around by the bronze interior, echoing off into infinity. However, a bit of graffiti inside slightly spoils the experience — a complete lack of reverence by some.

I exit the Buddha and leave the temple. On the way out, I spot a sign warning about a particular type of bird in the area that likes to steal food from tourists. I start heading back toward the train station, stopping off at a small food shop to enjoy a sweet potato croquette. All the while, I keep my eye out for the hungry birds. Unfortunately, the birds don’t materialise, which is a shame.

I decide to take a different route for variety, and eventually, I spot some steps that sweep up a mountain. Intrigued, I take a little detour to see where they might lead.

I find myself standing in front of Amanawa Shinmei Shrine. The place is deserted, seemingly untouched for years, presenting a stark contrast to the other places I have seen in Kamakura. This shrine, founded in 710 AD, is the oldest Shinto shrine in the city and is dedicated to Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun and the universe.

The view from the shrine is stunning, offering a different perspective of the area. In the distance, I see mountains, old houses, and multiple temples and shrines. From the top of the steps, I can also glimpse the sea. As I am about to leave, I spot a small path carved into the side of the mountain above, and with nobody else around, I decide to investigate.

As I climb, the path is relatively easy to follow, twisting around the mountain and becoming less obvious. I have to brush away cobwebs from my face as I follow the steep approach. With every step, I am careful not to lose my footing as the mud gets wetter and the path becomes steeper. After about five minutes of climbing, the overgrowth becomes too much, and I can’t continue. I stop and take a look around, taking in my surroundings, and realise that this was probably not a good idea.

I struggle to get back down, having to crawl a little to ease my way down from the path that has clearly not been used for years. I use my hands on the rocks as I work my way back to safety. I am slightly disappointed that I couldn’t find where it leads, perhaps to the sun goddess, or maybe just an escape route lost over time. There’s nothing for me to see, though, and eventually, I am back at the shrine, taking the steps back toward the main road.

I wander down deserted side streets that are full of old houses, some with massive gardens, others with disproportionately small ones.

Back at Kamakura Station, I get ready to endure another two hours sitting on trains. Day trips are fun but rather exhausting at the same time. It’s nice to escape, though, and see places that offer a difference. I think about climbing up that mountain path, feeling completely free for a short time—free from anything but my own eagerness to explore, or perhaps to escape altogether. I decide that my next day trip will be to a mountain of sorts, a place unlike those I have been discovering of late. Somewhere new and exciting, where I can rekindle my sense of adventure. A place flowing with natural beauty.

As I arrive back in Tokyo, a chill consumes the air. Above, thick clouds made of snow hover over the skyscrapers, lying in wait—almost ready to unleash their flakes of misery over the city.

The Fat Sumo Halloween Special

Posted on 29/10/2014 by Luke

My day begins with me being completely lost in Shinjuku, searching for an event called ‘Shinjuku Magic of Halloween.’ I was under the impression that the event starts with a massive street parade of people dressed in spooky costumes, but nothing of the sort appears to be happening. I give up searching and head back to the train station.

Outside Shinjuku Station, a television crew and a few people dressed up are standing in front of a big stage. With over two hundred entrances to the station, I have inadvertently stumbled upon the event I was here to see in the first place; and by the looks of it, the show is just about to start. Excellent timing as always. The lights come up, white smoke bellows from machines on either side of the stage, and the band comes out, much to the delight of the ghosts, witches, and Iron Man.

Today, I get the pleasure of seeing Anna Tsuchiya singing live. The former Kamikaze Girls actress-turned-model-turned-singer is simply amazing. I am about six rows from the front of the stage and have a great view. The music is great. The atmosphere is great. The weather is great. Anna sings two songs about Halloween in English before contractually mentioning the video game Psycho Break, the sponsor for the event.

For the third and final song, we get a little bit more from the smoke machines, and Anna sings her third single and first top-ten hit, ‘Rose’.

After singing, she thanks the crowd, and the band leaves the stage. One minute later, the entire crowd has dispersed, and I am the only one standing at the stage. So much for the Halloween parade. I follow the rest of the crowd into the train station and head back to Minowa.

The day is still warm, so I decide on a mid-afternoon bicycle ride. I cycle over the Sumida River in a straight line for ninety minutes, stopping off at the odd shrine or temple along the way. Eventually, I arrive at the Arakawa River and cross over into Edogawa. I haven’t been here before today, and I can’t find anything to do. I cycle around for a while until the sun begins to set.

After watching the sun from the bridge, it starts to cool down, so I race back to Asakusa.

Tonight, I have been invited to a party celebrating the one-year anniversary of a sumo restaurant. I have things to do first, though, so I arrive rather late; everyone is already drunk. Blind drunk. A few of my friends from the boat party are here too, and they are struggling to stand. A never-ending supply of glasses filled with a suspicious green liquid seem to be appearing from nowhere, and the familiar drinking chant of, “Yoi yoi yoisho,” makes its rounds. A sumo wrestler consumes a giant bottle of tequila in one go.

My masseur is here too; he tells me that my shoulders were the hardest he has ever had to massage in his entire career. Or at least I think that’s what he said; his slurs are somewhat difficult to decipher. I join in with the proceedings, enjoying the all-you-can-drink spread put on by the owner. Karaoke ends just as quickly as it starts, and bottles of spirits are passed around. I stay, drinking until I am dizzy, before deciding it is time to go home. As I leave, I am handed a gift bag filled with lovely souvenirs to go with my memories.

“But Sir, it’s Only a Model”

Posted on 30/09/2014 by Luke

Today is the third and final day of a street performing arts festival in Asakusa. Outside, it’s a clear day and a wonderful 28°C. I spend the best part of the morning wandering between the many different stages. I see a magician, a group of jugglers, a yo-yo master, people dressed in Halloween costumes, and a guy who specialises in tricks using crystal balls. Every performer seems to draw a strong but silent crowd.

At lunch, I head back to Koto, to Tokyo Big Sight. Today, the venue hosts The 54th All Japan Model and Hobby Show. Alongside this event, there are many other exhibitions at Tokyo Big Sight, including the Trend Fashion EXPO and a free show about female auto racing drivers. I head to West Hall Two where the entrance fee is ¥1000.

The event today is organised by the Japan Radio-Controlled Model Manufacturers Association and the Japan Plastic Model Manufacturers Association. Inside, there are almost ninety different stalls representing various branches of the hobby and model industry. Upon entering, I’m greeted by a display of scaled-down model warships.

All the major model companies are present. Kyosho proudly claims to produce ‘The Finest Remote Control Models.’ Nippon Remote Control showcases their latest flying helicopters, while Tamiya demonstrates their new remote control car. Besides remote control products, the exhibition features model trains, warships, cars, toys, hobby crafts, painting supplies, and character figures.

A woman in cosplay is signing various publications, while other individuals in cosplay attire are attempting to attract visitors to their stalls; women pose for photographs and entice men to buy tanks. Thousands of items are on display, including models of famous historic sites in Japan. Among them is a to-scale model of Kaminarimon Gate at Senso-ji Temple, priced at ¥38,000. Additionally, various figurines featuring characters from famous Japanese anime make an appearance

As I mentioned, there’s a substantial section dedicated to remote control flying machines. While some machines are more impressive than others, the skill level of the operators varies. I observed a guy attempting to elegantly guide a helicopter through a hoop, but instead, he spectacularly crashed it, causing one of the wings to snap off. This unfortunate incident promptly led to the closure of the exhibition. However, amidst these mishaps, some machines stand out for their superior performance. I watched another person skilfully manoeuvre a large drone vertically, achieving somewhat impressive speeds.

I visit a shooting range where individuals are aiming at targets with fake plastic guns. Several talks are ongoing throughout the venue. A woman delivers a speech on a large stage, captivating the attention of many eager attendees. However, as is customary in Japan, I notice the restriction against taking photographs of people on stages, a common practice here.

Bandai’s presence here is immense. A massive crowd gathers to watch a special viewing of a new episode of Gundam or something similar. They’ve set up a stall showcasing figurines aligned with the upcoming release of their new film, Space Battleship Yamato 2199. Additionally, serving as the representative for Star Wars in Japan, Bandai offers an extensive array of merchandise. A giant screen plays footage from one of the Star Wars movies, drawing people to photograph models of Darth Vader and the Millennium Falcon. It’s a bit overwhelming with the sheer volume of offerings.

I decide to leave and head to the train station, taking the Yurikamome Line to Shinbashi before transferring to the Ginza Line. However, I get distracted and end up missing the Tawaramachi stop. Instead, I disembark one stop later at Asakusa Station, which happens to be the last stop.

I decide to stroll through Senso-ji on my way home while the sun is still shining. Amidst my walk, I come across a shrine I’ve never seen before—Hikan Inari Shrine. It’s notably small but carries a profound symbolism of recovery. What strikes me as unusual, though, is the presence of over three hundred small statues of foxes inside the shrine. I notice an important-looking sign in Japanese and decide to photograph it.

Back at the hostel, I ask my friend Hiro to translate the sign. It reads, ‘Please don’t ring the bell at night, as our neighbours in the area are trying to sleep. Be careful not to wander around too much in the evening because you might be possessed by a fox.’ The concept of being possessed by a fox is quite intriguing. Apparently, there’s a traditional folktale in Japan about a condition called ‘Kitsunetsuki,’ which refers to a form of madness caused by fox possession.

I decide to explore this superstition further. I spend the evening wandering around the temples and shrines of Asakusa, until I turn into a fox.

“What Goes Up Must Come Down.”

Posted on 13/09/2014 by Luke

Today, it’s back to exploring the Toei Oedo Line. I take two trains and eventually arrive at Bunkyo. As soon as I exit the train station, I am overwhelmed. In front of me is the massive Tokyo Dome, the home of the Yomiuri Giants baseball team, but this isn’t why I am here. Outside the stadium, there is the strangest roller coaster I have ever seen, Thunder Dolphin. The seventh tallest continuous circuit roller coaster in the world; it twists and turns between the buildings and through the middle of the first Ferris wheel in the world to have a hollow centre; again, this isn’t why I am here.

Today, I’m in Bunkyo to see a tree.

I follow what looks like a castle wall for about ten minutes before eventually arriving at the entrance to Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens. Special Historic Site and Special Place of Scenic Beauty, the gardens are named after a poem by Chinese poet, Fan Zhongyan; the poem is Yueyang Castle.

Be the first to take the world’s trouble to heart, be the last to enjoy the world’s pleasure.

At the entrance, I pay my ¥300 and make an inquiry about the location of the tree. “That is a different garden,” says the woman as she hands me the ticket I have just paid for. She then takes out a map of Bunkyo and highlights where I am right now, then circles the place where the tree is. Not wanting to upset the apple cart by asking for my money back, I thank her for her help and enter the gardens anyway.

The first thing that strikes me is the magic of Tokyo Dome. The dome is white and provides an impressive backdrop to the many Japanese silver leaf and maple trees. The interesting thing, though, is that the dome refuses to be photographed. As I focus my camera, the roof of the dome just magically disappears as it blends into the white Autumn sky. It’s hard to explain. The roof is made of some magical material that makes it look like a living organism, perhaps a chameleon.

I continue to explore the wrong gardens; the peace and tranquillity are quite welcoming. A huge lake takes up most of the area, and there is a nice walking route around the lake. The only thing that spoils it for me is the restoration project that is currently taking place until next year. The workers here have their work cut out today as it appears that a large part of the lake has crumbled during this week’s flooding. Water is being sucked away by a huge industrial pump.

The thing that makes these gardens worth a visit though, is the scarecrows.

I actually spent time last week trying to find rice fields in Tokyo, just so that I could see what a Japanese scarecrow looks like. Today I am not disappointed. Never mind the crows, these sinister creations scare even me.

I continue to explore the deserted gardens. I must be the only person here; presumably everyone else in Japan is in Ginza queueing up for the new iPhone. I walk all the way around the lake, and toward the exit. I am really looking forward to revisiting all nine of the Metropolitan Cultural Heritage Gardens in Tokyo during different seasons; in a month’s time, I will get to enjoy the dappled shades of autumn leaves.

I leave Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens and walk the thirty minutes to the similarly named Koishikawa Botanical Gardens. I pay the ¥400 entry fee and explore.

These gardens are managed by the University of Tokyo Graduate School of Science and are the birthplace of Japanese botanical research. Dating back to 1684, the garden displays a collection of over four thousand species of plants and a herbarium containing over 1.4 million specimens. With over four thousand species and a map written entirely in Japanese, my search for one specific tree is almost fruitless.

I wander through the lush garden foliage for over an hour; it is the most peaceful place I’ve been to since leaving Kyoto. Eventually, I find Mendel’s Grapevine. Next to the grapevine is the tree, Newton’s apple tree.

The tree rarely grows apples. When it finally does bear fruit, the apples are instantly devoured by the many crows in the park, so many crows; maybe I should have stolen a scarecrow from the other gardens.

Sir Isaac Newton’s apple tree is not the original tree that he floated under before he invented gravity. This tree is just a sapling from the famous tree and was delivered to Japan in 1964. It was almost incinerated on arrival at Haneda International Airport because the leaves were infected, but an agreement was made so that the tree could be replanted in an isolated environment, and now it is here.

Rather ironically, I learned today that the original Newton’s apple tree is in Lincolnshire, England. My birthplace.

After I inspect the tree, it is time to head back to Asakusa. I walk fifteen minutes to Myogadani Station, before taking the Marunouchi Line to Ochanomizu Station. Here I walk ten minutes in the direction of Akihabara. I get a little lost on the way, but eventually see the familiar sign for Big Apple Pachinko and Slot, and finally know where I am. I take the train from Akihabara back to Asakusa.

Back at the hostel, I drink in the bar for a while before meeting up with Malaysia, Germany, Italy, Chicago, and Japan, and the six of us head to Nui until close. After, we head to an all-night karaoke bar with the most confusing pricing structure ever. Everyone has incredibly good music taste, and I enjoy The Smiths until the early hours. There’s music and there’s people, and they’re young and alive.

One thing that strikes me about karaoke in Japan is the videos. They don’t have the license to show the official music videos, so instead, they show random Japanese men sitting on park benches or salarymen rushing around the crowded streets of Tokyo.

We sing and drink gin until daylight.

Some Like It Hot Tea

Posted on 31/08/2014 by Luke

I decide to hire a bicycle. A friend from England, Damien, decides to join me. We grab two ¥300 bicycles for the day and cycle in the direction of Ueno. On the way, we pass a random stage on Kappabashi ‘kitchen’ Street. Men and women dressed in traditional taiko clothing hit massive taiko drums. A security guard stands watch, eyeing me up as I take a photograph.

We cycle around Ueno Station and toward Ueno Park. Today and tomorrow, there is a festival here, the Philippine Festival 2014. The festival is sponsored by the international money transfer company Western Union. The space for the festival hasn’t been very well utilised. There are two rows of small stalls on both sides, and a third row through the middle, which completely obstructs the view of the small stage.

I promised a friend I would bring her a souvenir from the festival. To my dismay, all of the stalls appear to be for financial institutions or property letting companies. There is a stall offering tax refunds, there are stalls for various banks, there are stalls selling insurance. There is not one stand that seems to offer anything remotely souvenir.

We take a seat near an ice cream shop opposite the festival. I rant to Damien about how much the festival has annoyed me; he is in agreement. A woman starts to sing from the stage that you can’t even see. The song from Frozen, ‘Let It Go.’ I almost go on another angry rant but decide to just let it go.

Back on the bikes, we head to Nippori Station, cycling through Textile Town and Fabric Town on the way. We cross the railway tracks and head to a big area of green on my map, thinking it will be some kind of park or temple.

For the second day in a row I find myself standing in a cemetery.

Yanaka Reien is massive. Over 7,000 tombstones are here. The cemetery is so big that it contains a police station and a children’s swing park. The Tokugawa Family Graveyard is here too. The last shogun, Tokugawa Yoshinobu, rests here alongside fourteen other Tokugawa shoguns. There is one area that slightly confuses me; it is marked on the map as ‘The First Three-dimensional Deposit Facility’. We have no idea what this means, a Google search is like spinning our wheels, so we get back on the bicycles and do just that.

We head back toward Ueno Park, stopping off at the Daimyo Clock Museum to kill some time before returning to Asakusa. Outside the Don Quixote store, there is the Rokku Hanamichi Flower Festival taking place. Music is being performed on a small stage, but the flowers are notable by their absence.

Our next stop is over the Sumida River, to a place I visited whilst filming the cycle tour: Mukojima-Hyakkaen Gardens. The entrance fee is still ¥150. Today is Mushi-Kiki-no-Kai, which I am told means, ‘Enjoying the sound of insects.’ The event today describes itself as ‘An exhibition of various kinds of chirping insects, their chirping sounds, and the fantastic garden scenery.’ The insects aren’t quite as attractive as the description of the event, but the sounds they make are.

A Japanese lady in a kimono approaches us as we stare at the crickets. “Where are you from?” … “Ah, England! Do you like tea ceremony?” Both Damien and I are yet to experience a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, so we go along with it and are invited into a tatami mat room, shoes off, kneel down, join the others. The other thirteen people attending are Japanese.

We wait a while before the process begins. When it finally does, we pass around a tray containing sweets filled with a red bean filling. I thank the person to my right for passing me the tray, I bow, I thank Damien to my left for letting me take a sweet before him, I bow, I take a sweet, I eat it. It is all very methodical. Next, it is tea time. Young women in kimonos kneel one at a time in front of people, bow, and place a bowl of green tea in front of them. They move in a clockwise order.

Before drinking, I ask the woman to my right if she would like any more tea, and politely, she refuses. No one ever says, ‘Yes,’ at this stage; it is purely a formality. I lift the bowl of tea, place it on my left hand, turn it clockwise twice, then drink it all in one go. Then when the bowl is collected, I bow once again.

The sweet was delicious, the tea was cold. I always preferred hot tea. The woman that invited us to the ceremony said that they would usually offer hot tea, but because it is a hot day, they decided to serve it cold. After the ceremony, we are allowed to inspect the beautifully crafted bowls and the container that holds the green tea powder.

The tea ceremony, I later find out, should have cost us ¥2000 each, but we were never asked to pay anything.

We head back to Asakusa, return our bicycles, then go our separate ways. I head to Cafe Byron Bay for a green curry and a chat with the locals. I meet a real-life ninja and a fugu chef. Fugu is a delicacy in Japan, but is somewhat poisonous. I make plans to eat the deadly fish and take down the details of the restaurant. Maybe I will be visiting my third cemetery in a week.

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