Tokyo and the Emperor of the Night

Posted on 28/12/2014 by Luke

Christine and I meet up at 10 a.m., catching the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to Shibuya. Today is once again warm, and all traces of Christmas Day are gone. There are no longer decorations outside shops, and the music of the festive season has been replaced by Taylor Swift, Oasis, and, of course, AKB48. Inside Shibuya Station, we spot another random horse.

We head outside and into the scramble of people as we cross Shibuya Crossing. My opinion of the crossing remains unchanged; it’s just a road. Many tourists are gathered here, taking photographs of people walking along the intersection. This once again demonstrates the power of the guidebook — a simple mention of any place, and tourists flock there.

We wander through the chaos of Shibuya, passing bright lights and television screens practically shouting at us to buy things. However, there isn’t the usual post-Christmas shopping frenzy going on here; this is just a normal day in Shibuya. We decide to explore a building shaped like a castle, which turns out to be the Disney Store. The place is filled with stuffed toys and Italian puppets.

With nothing worth buying and a planned trip to Tokyo Disneyland later this week, we leave the Disney Store empty-handed. Next, we walk to Harajuku Station and take a stroll down the trendy Takeshita Street, full of teen fashion and crêperies, before heading over to Meiji Shrine. While waiting to cross the road, I notice the monk who tried to scam me almost six months ago is still here, attempting to lure in tourists. I simply laugh at him and shake my head as he tries to hand me his gold Siddhārtha Gautama card

We wander into Meiji Shrine, a serene Shinto shrine dedicated to the spirit of Emperor Meiji. As we stroll along the path, absorbing the tranquil atmosphere, a friendly Japanese person notices us and begins to wave, their warm greeting adding a touch of local hospitality to our visit.
“Hello, welcome to Japan,” he says enthusiastically. “Are you American?”
“No, from England.”
“Ah, England! Where in England?”
“Close to Manchester,” I tell him, avoiding the need to explain the location of my unknown town.
“Ah, Manchester United,” he says, “Soccer.” He makes a kicking gesture, emphasising that soccer means football. The man modestly plays down my remarks about his English ability before going on his merry way.

We pass through wooden torii gates and by massive barrels of donated sake before heading to the main shrine.

The cleansing ritual has become second nature to me now, and Christine manages it perfectly, despite having only done it once before. We wander around looking for a place to get our fortunes, hoping to rectify the ‘Bad Fortune’ from yesterday, but it doesn’t appear that this service is offered here.

We wander the length of the shrine and exit on the other side, finding ourselves amidst the vibrant carnival that is Shinjuku. We stroll through Shinjuku Park Tower, the building that houses the Park Hyatt Hotel, famous not only in its own right but also well-known for its feature in the movie Lost in Translation.

We head to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, only to be unexpectedly attacked by a masked assailant inside.

The oni, a demon in Japanese folklore known as a ‘Blue Devil,’ surprisingly works for the Japanese Government. Guiding us, he directs to the lift, and we swiftly ascend to the 45th floor of the building.

From the panoramic observation deck, I can see Mount Fuji in the distance. Its snowy white peak blends seamlessly into the clouds, and if you didn’t know where the mountain sits on the horizon, you would never know it was there. Huge office buildings sprawl in every direction, making Tokyo look endless from this height.

I check out the tacky souvenirs and discover that my name in Japanese kanji can mean ‘Lapis Wings Eternal.’ However, given the multiple meanings kanji can have, I opt for a more impactful name. From the available possibilities, I decide that my name actually means ‘Nine Immortal Dragons.’

We leave the government building and make our way to Shinjuku Station. After queueing at the ticket office for about ten minutes, we hand over the tickets from our Narita Express debacle yesterday. We successfully manage to get ¥3800 of our ¥6780 refunded, a welcome bonus. With a sense of triumph, we decide that the Japan Railway Company will be covering the cost of our tempura lunch.

We wander through Shinjuku for a while before deciding to head back to Asakusa. I consider buying a coffee but can’t decide whether I want black coffee, black coffee, or black coffee.

Back in Asakusa, we meet up with some of the other people staying in the hostel, Jeff and Ajitan. The four of us head out for a quick drink at Nui before taking a taxi over to Ryogoku. We find ourselves at a bar called ‘Popeye,’ a delightful place boasting seventy-four different craft beers on tap. Following the bar, we return to Asakusa for some affordable Chinese food before ending the night with karaoke and all-around merriment.

Schindler’s Lift

Posted on 17/12/2014 by Luke

Recently I have been a little caught up with having a cold, taking numerous visits to the dentist, and a sudden urge to spend the remainder of my free time filling out multiple sheets of paperwork pertaining to banking and insurance. This morning, I head outside to discover that everything has fallen down. I lift my bicycle up from the floor, pulling it apart from the scattered mess of other fallen bikes. The temperature in Japan is freezing cold now. Two days ago, there was snow in central Tokyo. Today, a strong wind blows through the air. I take my bicycle, armed with winter clothes, and cycle to Asakusa.

I head over to Senso-ji, passing hordes of skeletal trees. For the next three days, a festival takes place. Something to do with badminton rackets, or so it seems.

Today is Hagoita-ichi, a festival of decorated battledores—old-style badminton rackets depicting characters from kabuki shows. There are about twelve different stores here, each selling these rackets at a high price. These decorated wooden boards are supposed to deflect evil; perhaps this is where the ‘bad’ comes from in badminton. The sport that these rackets are used for is something of a Japanese childhood game called ‘hanetsuki,’ very similar to badminton but played without a net. I suppose the evil is the shuttlecock, and hitting it toward your opponent is a way to deflect that evil upon others.

The traditional way that hanetsuki is played involves the use of face paint. If you lose a point, your opponent gets to rub paint on your face. If you were terrible at the game, I suppose after a while, your colourful face might begin to resemble one of the characters portrayed on the hagoita. These days, these rackets are mainly used for decoration purposes. Sandwiched between the stores selling badminton rackets are food shops, and one specific store caught my eye because it looked so out of place.

Daruma dolls are traditional Buddhist dolls depicting the image of Dharma, and they are considered a symbol of good luck. With white eyes that stare into nothingness, it is said that if you colour in one eye, you can make a wish. Once the wish comes true, colour in the second eye, and your Daruma is almost complete. The only thing left for the doll is to be returned to the temple it was bought from and burned. It feels slightly unfair to burn an object that has done its best to grant you a wish, but sadly, that’s just how these things go. As I am taking a photograph of the dolls, a man next to me is doing the same. His hat flies off his head in a gust of wind. Somehow, I manage to reach my hand up and catch his hat in mid-air, like a pro.

After the festival, I go to Akihabara for some Christmas shopping. In Japan, where Alcatraz-themed restaurants and robot cabaret shows are common, it’s no longer strange to find a cafe themed around a popular girl idol band. Akihabara is bustling with comic book stores, video game shops, and large electronic department stores. However, that’s not my reason for being here. Almost instinctively, I leave the station and head directly to the AKB48 Cafe and Shop.

The last twenty-three single releases by AKB48 have consistently claimed the top spot on the charts, indicating their immense popularity among Japanese people. One clever marketing strategy involves including a ticket for a handshake with a band member with every CD purchase. Observing the guy in front of me in the queue buying over one hundred copies of the same CD, it’s clear that he’s a fan of the handshake perk. I exit the store with ten copies of ‘Kiboteki Refrain’, and I can’t help but feel like a weirdo. Nevertheless, I’ve managed to wrap up Christmas shopping for ten people in less than ten minutes.

Before returning to Asakusa, I make a detour to Yodobashi Camera to play some piano. However, after thirty minutes, I decide to leave because one of the staff members is giving me an ‘are you going to buy anything?’ sort of look. Outside Akihabara Station, somebody seems to have mixed their Christmas up with Easter.

For some unknown reason, it is not possible to open a bank account in Japan unless you have lived here for a minimum of six months. Since my time in the country has exceeded that quota by almost three weeks, I decided it was about time to get my documents in order and take the plunge toward integration. But, I can’t just wander into a bank saying, “I have been here six months, give me a bank account!” First, I need to get myself a personal seal. Not the aquatic mammal I had been hoping for; this seal is more like a stamp and is known as an ‘inkan’.

I head over to a small inkan shop opposite Tawaramachi Station and take the escalator up to the second floor. The escalator provides me with amusement, and the title of this overdue blog post practically writes itself.

Inside the shop, there are wonderfully expensive stamps on display in high-priced cases. Since I am only getting this product for one reason – a bank account – I opt for the second cheapest option available. The woman draws a circle that takes up a whole page of A4 paper and asks me to write my name in the way I would like it to be engraved in the stamp. Horizontally or vertically? Kanji or katakana? I don’t really care, so I just scribble my name across the paper as quickly as possible, and with very little thought.

Next, I select a case, once again opting for one of the cheapest available, but still seemingly of high quality. Perhaps there is no such thing as bad quality inkan. I hand over ¥2950, the cost of both the inkan and the case. The woman informs me that it will be ready in thirty minutes, hands me a slip of paper, and asks me to bring it back with me when ‘my time is up’.

Half an hour later, I am the proud owner of my very own inkan. Naturally, I head home immediately and start stamping my name on everything I own.

Pot, Kettle, Snack

Posted on 27/08/2014 by Luke

Today, I take the Toei Asakusa Line for the first time in my life. Each time the train starts, it sounds as if there is music coming from beneath the carriages. It turns out that the music is the scraping of the train on the tracks; it does sound rather tuneful, though, perhaps this is the intention. It reminds me of an experience I often have on the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line; between Aoyama-itchome and Gaienmae, the train intermittently makes the sound of a dog being strangled.

I change trains at Shinbashi Station and depart in the direction of Yokohama. The journey time is an hour in total, and I arrive in Yokohama at 10 o’clock sharp. Outside the station, it is 21°C, cold in comparison to what I am used to. I search desperately for a Seven Eleven so I can update my maps using the free wireless Internet, but it seems Family Mart has the monopoly here. I eventually find a sketchy map and head toward Yokohama Bay.

There is a theme park here, Cosmo World. I contemplate riding the giant Ferris wheel (not pictured) to get a decent view of the area, but I remember that I am alone, so decide to give the solitary capsule ride a miss. I head to Yokohama F.Marinos MM21 Training Centre, the stadium for the football team ‘Yokohama F.Marinos’. Outside the stadium, two of the star players sign autographs for a small queue of fans.

The reason I came to Yokohama today is to visit the Cup Noodles Museum. For no reason that will ever become clear to anyone, a dinosaur stands guard at the entrance to the museum, a Deinonychus. This is the type of dinosaur that the raptors were based on in the movie Jurassic Park. I sneak past the Deinonychus and head to the ticket office. “How many people?” a young woman asks me. It is painstakingly obvious that it is just me.
“One person,” I say, looking around me for answers, “I think,” I add, deadpan. I pay the ¥500, and I am given a rather glossy museum guidebook.

Inside the museum, I am given a cardboard hat featuring a cartooned yellow bird, presumably a mascot of sorts. There is every packet of instant ramen and every type of Cup Noodle that has ever been created, arranged in a huge timeline. Just to clarify, this museum is for the brand of cup noodle called ‘Cup Noodle,’ made by Nissin; it is not a museum of cup noodles.

Momofuku Ando invented chicken instant ramen in his shed in 1958. With the overwhelming success of his chicken noodles, he went on to invent the cup noodle in September 1971. Not satisfied with his achievements, at the age of 96, he invented the first ramen that can be consumed in space. There is a wonderful exhibition of his life, a model replica of his famous shed, and loads of crazy noodle-based artwork here too.

There are noodle workshops where I can make ramen noodles from scratch or create my very own products. I pay an additional ¥300 and join the queue. I wait forty minutes, and eventually, I am given the opportunity to design my very own brand of Cup Noodle. First, I am given a blank Cup Noodle cup and am free to write or draw whatever I want. I graffiti the front of my cup, so where it once said, ‘Cup Noodle Museum,’ it now says, ‘Cook Pass Babtridge.’ I find the available pens to be of slightly poor quality, which spoils the whole experience for me.

Next, I get to choose the broth and toppings. A sign boasts that there are a total of 5,460 flavour combinations. “Gotta mismatch ’em all!” After toppings are added to the noodles, the lid is sealed in place, and the cup is vacuum-packed. After I finish making my lunch, I go to the top floor of the museum and check out the restaurants. No prizes for guessing what is on the menu.

After the museum, I stumble across a rather odd-looking building down some rather old-looking stone steps. It looks like a set from a science fiction movie; perhaps it once was.

I head into a Yodobashi Camera store. The place is silent; no crowds, no people shouting at me to buy their stuff. It is the complete opposite of the store in Akihabara. On the sixth floor, middle-aged men are queueing to buy AKB48’s 37th Single, ‘Senbatsu Sousenkyo,’ which was released today and will most likely be number one in the Billboard Japan Hot 100 chart by the weekend.

Outside, I grab a can of Suntory Black Boss coffee from a vending machine and make my way back toward the station. On the way, I pass a huge ship that looks amazing. It is actually part of the Yokohama Port Museum, sadly not a museum of fortified wine. The ship was built in 1930 and is used for training exercises. Even though there is a massive ship here, it doesn’t look out of place.

At the station, I take three different trains, and an hour later, I arrive back in Asakusa. I am actually completely exhausted but can’t sleep. I play video games for a while, then head out at six for a Dal Vindaloo at my favourite Indian restaurant. As I eat, I remind myself that I am in Japan and should maybe try Japanese food once in a while.

After food, I head to the hostel bar to conclude the day. A young Australian woman tells me that I sound like Russell Brand. I strongly disagree.

Last Stop: This Town

Posted on 16/08/2014 by Luke

Wednesday

Never have I been so happy to hear the monotonous drone from the speakers at Tawaramachi Station. Today I am back in Tokyo, back in Asakusa; my days of exploring are over for now. I have three nights in a hotel, before another long stay at the very first hostel I started at; the best hostel in the world. I don’t begin my stay there until Saturday, but I am eager to get back there as soon as possible.

My hotel is in a previously undiscovered part of Asakusa, away from the temple and tourists. Next door is an Indian restaurant. After checking into my hotel I decide Indian food would be a good choice. My hotel, unlike in Hamamatsu, has wireless Internet. I can access the Internet from the Indian restaurant, which is a nice bonus. The food is actually very good. Like Pacman eating those little dots, I devour every little grain of rice.

pacman

After dinner I head out to the hostel. Today is Wednesday, the bar is open for guests, and I have nowhere else to go. My friend Hiro is the barman tonight, jazz musician and comedian. I say hello to people I know, and meet a few new people too. It would be fair to say that since leaving Kyoto I haven’t really seen many people, or had many conversations in English. Having a chance to speak to people tonight is just great.

I get a little drunk, and leave at midnight.

Thursday

Today I have made plans to meet Paul, a Scotsman I met in Fukuoka. I go for breakfast at my favourite cafe, Byron Bay. Still number one in Taito on TripAdvisor. I drink one of the ‘as seen on TV’ green tea lattes, and eat happy eggs on local bread. The owner tells me that since being featured on Moshimo Tours, she has been really busy every night. After breakfast and a nice catch up, I meet with Paul and we grab a train to Akihabara.

Paul and I head to a department store called Yodobashi Camera, an electronics chain store. This place is huge, has nine floors, and sells just about everything. Paul is shopping for headphones and this shop has thousands to choose from; the headphone display is set up in a way that you can plug them into your device and try them out. While Paul does this, I sit and play an electric piano. A homeless man sits down at the piano next to me and bursts into an amazing classical piece. He plays well, really well. It is a shame to see someone with so much talent going to waste. A real shame.

After our headphone expedition, we take a quick trip on the Yamanote Line to Yurakucho Station. Outside the station, we venture into another massive electronics chain store, Bic Camera. Our quest here is for the fabled Casio CA53W-1, the classic Casio watch with a built-in calculator. At midnight on December 31st, 1999, this Casio calculator watch was the only electronic device in the world challenged by the famous Millennium Bug. Widespread panic ensued when everyone with this watch seemingly travelled back in time to the year one-thousand. Unfortunately, our search for the watch ends in failure. Disheartened, we give up and head back to Akihabara by train.

There was me, that is Luke, and my droog, that is Paul, and we sat in the Akihabara Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.

milk bar

We decide to visit a video game arcade. Paul manages to win a t-shirt on a crane claw machine and kindly gives it to me as a present. After spending a few thousand Yen, we head over to play some of the ‘classic’ shooting games. The game we choose is a hybrid, blending the traditional shooting-monsters-with-a-gun style with a dance game where you hit buttons according to the rhythm. Surprisingly, this game also boasts a very in-depth storyline.

The game is of course the amazing, ‘Sailor Zombie: AKB48’.

The members of the girl idol band AKB48 have been turned into zombies, and our task is to defeat them. The most amusing part is when the zombies abruptly halt their attacks and break into song and dance, triggering the rhythm game. We play through our 15 continues, maybe an hour passes, before we finally give up.

AKBzombie

After the arcade, we opt for some Japanese Italian food at a Saizeriya restaurant. Then, around half past six, it’s back to Byron Bay for a quick Laphroaig before we head to the jazz night at the hostel. There, to my surprise, I bump into Yojiro, my friend and table tennis rival from Beppu.

After the jazz session, I share a few more drinks with Paul. Soon, our group expands with the arrival of an Australian named Sam, a Japanese gentleman, an Argentine girl, and Dagmar, a German girl I met just last night. Dagmar and I engage in a delightful hour-long conversation about The Curse of Monkey Island—I boast about having the courage and skill of a master swordsman! We spend a considerable amount of time amusing ourselves with pirate insults and banter, while everyone else around us remains clueless about the ‘code’ we’re speaking.

At midnight the six of us head out to A.S.A.B. and drink there until five in the morning.

Friday

My morning kicks off as usual, starting with a strong cup of coffee at Cafe Byron Bay, followed by not much else. The entire day unfolds without any noteworthy events. I meander through the streets of Asakusa, as if searching for something inexplicable. Eventually, I station myself outside Seven Eleven to tap into their wireless Internet. Unexpectedly, one of the comedians from the Moshimo Tours television show, Udo Suzuki, strolls by with a film crew in tow. Quick to grab my camera, I encounter the familiar scenario: a man materialises seemingly out of nowhere. “No photographs!” he insists, arms forming a cross to obstruct my lens.

After a day spent doing absolutely nothing, I return to Cafe Byron Bay for the fourth time in two days to meet Klaus, my German friend from Fukuoka, along with his girlfriend, Desi. We enjoy a few drinks there before deciding to venture across town to Nui, known as the finest bar in Asakusa. Nui truly lives up to its reputation. While I’ve been here several times before, I find myself repeatedly drawn back by its impressive interior design and reasonable menu. A Suntory whisky highball costs ¥500, and any cocktail is also ¥500—a great deal.

The three of us sit and talk until half past eleven before parting ways. A certain sadness sweeps over me as I bid farewell to Klaus and Desi—a feeling of melancholy I haven’t experienced in quite some time.

On the walk back to my hotel, I pass the illuminated Tokyo Skytree, “May the light connect the past and future, and reach the hearts of people.”

Nothing Happens Until Something Moves

Posted on 11/08/2014 by Luke

I have to walk ten minutes from my hotel to a different hotel with my laundry. The rain is heavy; a super typhoon has hit, making the rain and wind stronger than any I’ve ever experienced. However, I need to do my laundry. The sky outside is the darkest grey. Eventually, I find the other hotel. Fortunately, the coin laundry is accessible directly from the street, saving me the awkwardness of entering a hotel where I’m not staying just to use their facilities.

The laundry room is accessed through a shutter door currently pried open by what looks like a rotten plank of wood, which is a little worrying. Outside, noisy construction work is taking place despite the weather. The noise makes it rather difficult to concentrate on my book. I plan to spend as little time as possible outside today, so there is no point traipsing back through the storm just yet.

Inside the coin laundry, the room is dirty. The old vending machines no longer dispense detergent; luckily for me, I bought a ¥28 single-wash-sized pouch on the way here. I sit reading, waiting for my clothes, occasionally glancing up at the dirty walls.

With the laundry done, I head back to the hotel as fast as I can. On the way, I notice abandoned inside-out umbrellas dumped on the street. I observe people ducking and diving into shelter, and I see areas of the pavement completely flooded. Meanwhile, the sound of sirens fills the air.

Back at the hotel, I sit by the balcony on the second floor of the lobby, quietly reading my book. I don’t mind rainy days, actually; I quite like the peace of sitting in silence and reading. It appears that a lot of people are holed up in the hotel today. Every now and then, someone walks to the window, sees that it is still raining, and then goes back to sit down. We are all waiting for the typhoon to pass.

At 3 p.m., I am allowed back into my room. As I use the hairdryer on my shoes, I keep an eye on the news. After a short while, I hear the words, ‘Nagoya Station.’

There on the news is the train station, with taxis parked outside and rain falling. The typhoon has moved north, but the backlash of rain still falls. The bullet trains have all been cancelled.

Japan’s biggest broadcaster NHK seems to love this sort of stuff; for the next two hours, all they talk about is the typhoon. Cut to: Windscreen wipers frantically moving back and forth. Cut to: Drains overflowing. Cut to: Businessmen trying to juggle briefcases and carry an umbrella, only for it to whoosh inside-out. Cut to: All the bicycles blown over by the wind. Cut to: Rivers overflowing. Cut to: Trees shaking in the wind. This is about all I see for twenty minutes, then the footage repeats, and then repeats.

Outside, the rain looks like a white sheet being hung over the skyline. The wind is stronger now, blowing the rain sideways, making it very difficult to see the buildings in the distance. The last super typhoon I experienced passed miserably through the night; I never really got to see the chaos that it caused. Sitting here, I realise just how gloomy and grey today has been.

Eventually, the rain stops, and the wind dies down. At 7 p.m., I head out to the twenty-four-hour supermarket. On the way, I pass a sign about littering: a ten million yen fine and five years’ imprisonment. Inside the supermarket, a digitally transposed version of ‘Dreams’ by the Cranberries is playing. I buy some cheese and a small bottle of wine. At the self-service checkout, I scan the wine; a message pops up, ‘Are you over twenty? Yes/No.’ I press ‘yes’ and then finish and pay. There’s no one around to check, just press ‘yes.’ Honesty is the best policy.

On the way back I pass a restaurant with a full set of Christmas lights. The full works.

Back at the hotel, I Skype with a friend from England. After that, I get deep into my reading until I finish my book. At 10 p.m., I head out to my nearest Family Mart to pick up some food. Inside Family Mart, that same Japanese song with the nice melody is playing. I can just make out a few words; hopefully, it will be enough to find out what it is.

When I return, I turn my attention to Japanese pop music. I listen to the top 30 songs in this week’s Billboard Japan Hot 100 chart. Oddly, Pharrell Williams with ‘Happy’ is at 29th. At 9th and 10th positions are two different songs from the same artist. A song from the anime Sailor Moon is in the top ten. AKB48 sister-band, SKE48, is number one. The song I am trying to find is nowhere to be heard.

Instead, I find myself staring at this sign in my hotel room:

I do eventually find out the name of the song I keep hearing. It turns out to be a cover version of the other song I’ve been hearing, the one from Disney’s Frozen: ‘Let it Go’. It’s a Japanese version played on the piano, sounding very different from the English version—and a lot better, too. I spend the rest of my evening listening to various Japanese versions of ‘Let it Go’ on YouTube but can’t find the particular version I like. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that, though. I cannot bear the responsibility.

Height of the Lifting Tread

Posted on 06/08/2014 by Luke

Today, I woke up at 4 a.m. My sleep pattern is completely messed up from spending a week in a fourteen-bedroom dormitory room, constantly being disrupted by shuffling, case repacking, and inconsiderate chicken eaters. Anyway, for the next seven nights, I’ll be enjoying the luxury of a lonely hotel.

With little else to do, I decide to take a look at Japanese television for the first time in months. Honda is launching an aeroplane, the HondaJet, which might as well be a spaceship considering its appearance. Cristiano Ronaldo is advertising some weird gadget that you roll on your body, perhaps to release muscle tension, but its exact purpose remains unclear. A baseball match is rained off. There’s a game show where a member of the girl idol band AKB48 is being chased down a street by one hundred convicts who escaped from prison vans. Hilarious. I switch the TV off.

At 7 a.m. sharp, I head down for my ‘free’ breakfast. I am greeted by warm smiles, fastidious service, and first-class hospitality. My breakfast comprises a Japanese-style omelette, grilled fish of the day (salmon), salad with homemade dressing, cooked seasonal vegetables, homemade tofu, white rice, homemade pickles, and a pot of miso soup. Additionally, I help myself to drinks; opting for orange juice over coffee.

The breakfast is a success, fitting my pescatarian diet as well. I enjoy everything except half of the tofu; it’s never been my preference. Although the rice and miso soup are self-service, allowing me to have more, I opt not to be greedy. Feeling satiated, I return to my room to read, but I find myself dozing off.

I wake up again just after 11 a.m.; I must have been really tired. I dry my shoes with a hairdryer, and ten minutes later, I’m out the hotel door, umbrella in hand. It’s the kind of hotel where you have to hand in your key at reception every time you leave. Works well for me—I hate carrying bulky hotel keys around anyway.

Outside, I take a train to Osaka Station for ¥160. Unfortunately, my Suica card randomly stops working, so I’m forced to buy an Icoca Card, the Osaka equivalent. The Icoca card is light blue and features Ico the Platypus. These cards often contain hidden puns. The ‘Super Urban Intelligent CArd’ is a play on the word ‘suika,’ meaning watermelon. ‘Sui sui’ is an ideophone signifying smooth movement. Much like a penguin swimming effortlessly in water, my card usually allows me to glide smoothly through the ticket gates—except when it randomly stops working at the gates.

At Osaka Station, the Muzak drives me crazy. I keep hearing the same songs over and over. There’s this one Japanese song with a female vocalist and an incredibly catchy melody. I might even say I like it and want to find out its title. However, my issue is that every time it plays, it’s too quiet for me to catch any of the words. As usual, the tune will be stuck in my head for the next few hours, the jaunty music swirling around my head like a relentless earworm.

I escape the torture of the train station Muzak and head straight for the Umeda Sky Building. As I arrive, the rain stops. Just great — now I have to carry around a useless umbrella all day while humming the melody of that song. Spotting a sign for ‘Fun Fun Plaza’ cheers me right up.

At the base of the Umeda Sky Building, there are numerous beautiful, well-cared-for gardens, and fountains. The building comprises two 40-storey skyscrapers connected near the top by two escalators that appear to float in mid-air. The rooftop terrace forms a floating sky garden.

To reach it, I have to take a glass elevator to the 39th floor. Interestingly, the building was designed by Hiroshi Hara, the same architect behind that lovely roof in Kyoto Station. Once I reach the 39th floor, I’m left with no option but to step onto the escalator. As my foot touches the moving walkway, I freeze. I could walk along the escalator and end this ordeal sooner, but I’m unable to move. The very top of the escalator stands at 173 metres above ground.

On the other side of the escalator, a woman greets me at reception, and I’m required to pay ¥700 to access the sky garden. There are various informative signs around. Interestingly, in 2008, Dorling Kindersley of ‘The Times’ newspaper mentioned that the Umeda Sky Building was among the top 20 buildings in the world, ranking it alongside the Parthenon and the Taj Mahal.

The route up to the sky garden showcases the history of tall buildings from the past, present, and, rather confusingly, the future. There’s information about a sky city in space, accompanied by to-scale models and concept artwork. The sky garden itself provides a complete 360-degree panoramic view of Osaka. Unlike other tall buildings or towers, the sky garden is outdoors, offering unobstructed views without reflective glass to spoil the magnificent scenery.

The strong winds up here feel incredibly refreshing. I snap a few photographs and leisurely stroll around, prolonging the inevitable return via the escalator. Eventually, it’s time to leave. As I traverse the slow-moving escalator steps again, surprisingly, it feels less challenging. I attempt to admire the view through the glass panels but struggle to focus. Descending in the see-through elevator, I decide that I’ve had enough of heights for the day.

My next stop is Osaka Castle. I return to Osaka Station, take the loop line, and reach my destination, another ¥160 fare. Perched on stone and surrounded by moats, Osaka Castle sits at a considerable elevation. As usual, I climb numerous stone steps and finally reach the castle’s exterior. Unfortunately, someone has installed a small elevator and escalators that slightly obstruct the view from one side. Fortunately, I approached from the opposite direction and captured an unspoiled photograph. The castle is like a ‘TARDIS,’ appearing to have five stories on the outside but revealing eight stories inside. Very odd.

After visiting the castle, I take the trains back to Shin-Osaka. Upon reaching the hotel, I collect my key and am pleasantly surprised to receive a breakfast token for the next day—amazing, another free breakfast. Passing some time, I decide to take a short nap. At 6 p.m., I head out for dinner. Earlier, I had researched a nearby place that offers vegan food within walking distance. With my bearings in place, I cross the tracks and turn left at the graffiti

I find the restaurant with ease; it’s right next to Nishinakajimaminamigata Station. I take a seat inside, the only customer. The male owner is very welcoming but doesn’t speak English. A woman with a dog walks in, the owner’s wife. I already knew the restaurant was owned by a middle-aged couple. Independently run, organic, and vegan-friendly—although I’m not a vegan. I point vaguely at the menu, “Yasai,” I say, not quite sure what to expect.

The food looks amazing. As I take out my camera, the man who served me, also the chef, laughs and says, “Douzo,” indicating that I’m welcome to take a photograph. This is the first time I’ve been served brown rice, and its taste oddly reminds me of porridge, much better than the ‘dead’ white rice I’m used to. The main part of my dish puzzles me; it has a texture similar to quiche but without the pastry. It could be tofu, but I’d be very surprised; tofu could never taste this good. I pay just ¥880 for what turned out to be a really nice meal.

After eating, I head back to the hotel for another considerably early night.

Rice and Shime

Posted on 18/07/2014 by Luke

I wake up at 11 am. Today, I’m heading to a place called Dazaifu, roughly fifteen kilometres away. Cycling on my one-speed bike in a straight line towards it, it should take me about an hour. Last night, the girl I met suggested I visit there—a kind suggestion.

As I set out, I discover a Domino’s Pizza just five minutes away from the hostel on the same road. I haven’t had one since arriving here—fifty days in Japan, only four pizzas so far. Tomorrow, it’ll probably become five.

A bit further along the road, near the Mikasagawa River, the skyscrapers start to disappear, and the sight of rice growing underwater becomes commonplace. Paddy fields full of semi-aquatic rice—it’s a picturesque sight, deserving a photograph.

Amidst the distraction of the rice fields, I suddenly realise that I am completely lost. In typical Fukuoka fashion, I see no maps, and signs pointing to Dazaifu have ceased to appear. Eventually, after cycling for about an hour, I find myself somehow at the base of a mountain.

For about ten minutes, I cycle without seeing another pedestrian. Eventually, a sign for a place called Shime catches my eye. My brain pauses for a second before a pun crashes into my consciousness. I decide to head there if only to make use of the pun: Rice and Shime.

It turns out Shime is up a hill—likely the same mountain I spotted earlier. I haven’t done much uphill cycling since Beppu, so my knees aren’t quite prepared for it. The footpath leading into Shime is in a state of disarray. Eventually, the incline transforms into a decline, and I find myself in a free fall into Shime. The wind is refreshingly cool on what is otherwise an alarmingly hot day.

If you thought my post about Nishioita Station was exciting, wait until you hear about what Shime has to offer. Low-flying planes drift over and hang gracefully in the sky. At least I can follow the planes and track back to Fukuoka Airport; I know this isn’t far from Hakata, where I am staying.

I cycle around Shime, searching for anything of interest, but find nothing. Wikipedia confirmed it: ‘Although the town still has a railway station, the line is no longer used.’ Seems there’s no escaping Shime. Just as I decide to leave, I finally spot something noteworthy: a chicken wandering around in some mud.

“Koke-kokko,” says the chicken in Japanese.
“Cluck-cluck,” I correct in English.

As I leave Shime, I find myself on the urban expressway, where all of the signs point to unfamiliar place names. I give in and revert to my plan of following the planes, soon arriving at the not very well-signed Fukuoka Airport.

I see the same Chinook I saw yesterday, just landed. How very odd—I haven’t seen a Chinook in over fifteen years, and yet this week, I’ve seen the same one twice.

After cycling for a total of three hours, I arrive back at the hostel and indulge in a Seven Eleven lunch: a bottle of Pocari Sweat, a fruit salad, and, as usual, egg sandwiches.

After lunch, I do my laundry. In the Coin Laundry waiting area, there’s a rather odd set of photographs. I have no idea what they are showing. Alongside the images are some Japanese notices.

I translate the notices back at the hostel. They read, ‘To prevent theft: if you notice any suspicious individuals, please contact the barnyard alternating Hakata police station if it was a robbery.’ There are also references to a theft in February, and still images captured by the 24-hour CCTV camera showing the criminal’s face. Named and shamed in a Coin Laundry.

After doing laundry and spending some time on Skype, I head to Hakata Station. Instead of taking the lift, I monotonously explore each of the ten floors. Hakata Station is a massive shopping centre with all sorts of shops, including the biggest bookstore I have ever seen.

There’s a record shop selling rare Japanese versions of classic albums. Perhaps there’s a profit to be made in reselling, but I don’t have the patience for that. I check for ‘Com Lag,’ but it’s the only Radiohead album they don’t have. The record shop also dedicates three entire aisles to the music of everyone’s favourite J-pop idols, AKB48. Crazy.

On the roof of the train station, I sit for a few hours, finishing off 159 pages of a Murakami novel. Night quietly sweeps in. The view at night is okay, but devoid of any stars. I ponder for a moment, questioning reality.

The Murakami book somewhat inspires me to make some changes in my life, specifically to start running more often.

On the tenth floor of Hakata Station, a Spanish restaurant.

Paella and Rioja happen.

I jog back to the hostel, finding the late hours have already wrapped the city in silence, a stark contrast to the bustling streets earlier. Passing by the second Christmas tree I’ve seen since arriving in Japan, I can’t help but wonder why it’s there; it does seem a little early for such decorations.

The reflection of Lawson blue bounces off the glass beyond.

Florets Get Ready to Grumble

Posted on 14/07/2014 by Luke

As my bus crawls into Fukuoka, I wonder what is going on. Traffic is at a stand still everywhere. Traffic lights linger on red a lot longer than usual. We pull into my penultimate stop. It is here that the bus driver explains to me in Japanese that it would take too long to drive to Hakata Station (the station I have paid for, albeit at a very reasonable discount). He suggest that I get off here and walk. Effectively, he is kicking me off the bus.

For some reason, the exit to the bus station takes me into the seventh floor of a department store. The sound here is deafening. Everywhere there are young women holding signs and screaming about whatever products they are tying to sell. I eventually find the lift, and get the hell out of here. I can’t quite work out how I went into the seventh floor from what I thought at the time was ground level. Very confusing. I see a sign telling me not to blow up trees. Very confusing.

As I walk out of a Tenjin Station, I have no idea which direction to go. I would normally look at a map but I can’t find one anywhere. Instead, I see the biggest crowd of people I have ever seen on the streets. This might explain the traffic problems. It turns out I’m at a practice run for Tuesday’s Hakata Gion Yamasaka Festival, a seven-hundred-and-fifty-year-old tradition in Fukuoka. Surprisingly, it draws up to a million spectators every year. Lucky me.

There are people here throwing buckets of water over the performers. It is a hot day, so I can understand why. I do, however, begin to get annoyed. I am trying to get to Hakata Station, and I have a very heavy bag on my shoulders. It is frustrating because there are no maps anywhere here. In the end I have to disturb a policeman. “This way, this way,” the policeman says, not pointing in any direction at all.

I have an empty bottle of water but I haven’t seen a single vending machine since getting off at Tenjin. No vending machines means no bins. So I have a heavy bag and a useless empty bottle; and I still can’t see Hakata Station. This is one of the few times in Japan that I am getting really irritated. To make matters worse, every place I go, the road is blocked by hordes of Yamakasa performers.

After forty-four minutes, I finally make it to Hakata Station. I wait what feels like three hours for the traffic lights to change to a pedestrian green, and take a walk through the station. There is a construction site next door that has been heavily decorated with baskets of flowers. A nice idea. After spending two weeks in quaint Beppu, I am now suffering from city shock. In Beppu I longed for crowds and nightlife. In Fukuoka, I want everyone to stop coughing, talking, getting in my way, and let me enjoy some peace and quiet. Please.

From Hakata Station the directions provided by my hostel are perfect. I pay the ¥28,000 for two weeks in a four bed dormitory; not bad. After sorting out hostel stuff, I remember that I haven’t had any food today. I walk back toward Hakata Station, and enter a building full of restaurants. There are more restaurants in this building than the whole of Beppu. I see a sign for a restaurant selling horse meat, which is unfortunate for the horses.

I see people queueing for restaurants. The first time I have seen this in years. I eventually settle on a vegetarian restaurant. Vege Style Dining. It turns out this is a pasta and pizza restaurant offering a mix of meat dishes and vegetarian style food. The menu, sadly, is in Japanese. I order a Suntory whisky highball and wait for a waiter. The waiter comes over and asks me in fluent English if I can read Japanese. I tell him I can. I lie. Subsequently, I order a salmon and broccoli pizza.

The highball comes out, and is very strong. I drink it in one go and order a second. My not very vegetarian salmon pizza arrives with the second highball, perfect timing. I didn’t expect so much broccoli, eight huge florets, one on each of the eight slices of pizza. I pay ¥1879 in total. Good value considering two drinks and a huge pile of broccoli.

I see a sign saying Namco. I take the lift (elevator) to the seventh floor of the train station and find an arcade the size of a train station. Here I pay ¥100 for one hundred pachinko balls, I lose. I am surprised to see AKB48 machines. They are next to the smoking area. Getting children addicted to pachinko makes me a little annoyed.

There is a section of the arcade with fourteen Tekken machines. As I take photographs, a staff member tells me I am not allowed to photograph in here. I play another round of ¥1 a ball pachinko, before leaving with my losses.

Heading back to the hostel, I count seven convenience stores. One Seven Eleven, three Lawson Stores, two Family Mart, and one Daily Yamazaki. All on the same road. Where I am standing right now, I can see three Lawson Stores. A panoramic view of signs bright blue. So many convenience stores. If you played the Konbini Hop drinking game here, you would be dead in an a hour. I see a confectionery shop that simply makes me smile:

Back at the hostel it is 8 p.m. It really is nice here, the atmosphere superb. Everyone greets you with a ‘Hello’ when you enter a room, as it should be. I assist a Korean man who has a job interview tomorrow with his English; his pronunciation is good but slightly off. I spend six hours in the common area, engaging in conversations with other guests, the hostel boss, and the numerous cleaning staff who work here for three hours a day in exchange for accommodation—a pretty good deal.

Tomorrow I make plans to meet a friend I know from England, I am quite looking forward to seeing her. She has been in Fukuoka for a few weeks now. The plan is to do karaoke until the early morning, then head to Hakata Gion Yamasaka Festival for exactly one minute to five, the start time for the main event. A very odd time to start a festival.

Cat Cafe, Cats and Dogs, Square Enix

Posted on 07/06/2014 by Luke

I wake up at 9 a.m. to the sound of rain. It is very loud. I head downstairs, I drink two cans of Boss Coffee Sweetened Rainbow Blend and write for a few hours, until I am finally ready to venture out into the monsoon that is the streets of Japan. I buy an umbrella, pleasantly, before taking the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to Shibuya.

In Shibuya, vans drive around all day advertising new albums from random Japanese artists. There are three AKB48 vans that circle around, blazing out pop classic, Labrador Retriever. I wander the Dogenzaka district in the pouring rain until at last I find the sign I am looking for; it reads Neko, the Japanese word for cat.

Hapineko is a cat cafe. For ¥1180, I order peppermint tea with sweets and spend 30 minutes with the cats. Inside, there are literally tens of cats. Most of them are hiding or sleeping. I spend some time taking photographs until eventually I find a cat that sits with me and allows me to stroke her. It’s an odd concept, really, and how it came about, I really don’t know. As I leave, I playfully change the Japanese word for ‘thank you’ by one letter, “Aricatou gozaimasu!” The staff member gives me a puzzled look.

I hop on the Yamanote Line and 4 minutes later I hop off in Shinjuku. If Tokyo is the capital of Japan, I would say Shinjuku is the capital of Tokyo. It is massive and boasts the worlds largest train station. An average of 3.64 million passengers per day pass through the station, which has over 200 different exits. After an hour of searching, and a trip to a Metro Station to ‘borrow’ some free Internet, I manage to get directions and find that I am only eleven minutes away from where I need to be.

Eleven minutes later I arrive at Artnia, the official restaurant of Square Enix. I order two desserts from a Final Fantasy themed menu; the first I order is the Strawberry Pancakes, served with ice cream, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and a Cactuar. After finishing my huge portion of pancakes, I instantly regret ordering two desserts.

The second dessert is a parfait. It is in the shape of Cloud Strife from Final Fantasy VII and contains an edible chocolate Buster Sword. It also features chocolate panna cotta, with coffee jelly and vanilla ice cream, all topped with a layer of whipped cream, bananas, and chocolate sauce. The total cost for both is a pricey ¥1910.

The restaurant also sells a selection of Square Enix official goods. They include games, stuffed toys, trading cards, necklaces, perfumes, and models of popular characters. Here are Tidus and Yuna from Final Fantasy X:

After the restaurant I head back to the hostel where I meet up with Andy, an Australian I had first met at the karaoke night, and Matt, the guy I went to the izakaya with a few nights ago. We decide to go to the English speaking bar across the road. Because of the rain, the bar is quiet and there are only two other customers. A Japanese man here says I look like a famous person, and after five minutes of searching on his phone he reveals that I look like a young Barry Manilow, I strongly disagree.

After last orders are called, Andy, Matt and I head to another bar with the owner of the English bar and the Japanese man. Here we drink more and more beer and snack on Japanese omelette and smoked salmon served with Daikon. The Japanese man eventually leaves, but not before paying the whole bill. It turns out the three of us haven’t paid for a thing all evening. Thank you very much, Saito-san.

In a City of the Future it is Difficult to Concentrate

Posted on 05/06/2014 by Luke

Breakfast from a Seven Eleven. The quality and selection of food in Japanese convenience stores is amazing. The Cheese Mushi Cake was actually quite pleasant; soft with a very light texture, softer than a sponge cake with a subtle hint of cheese. I wash it down with a blueberry yogurt drink. It is a wonderful time.

Today is laundry day; I grab some of the ‘free’ detergent from the reception and head up to the 4th floor of the hostel. The laundry room here is amazing. It costs me ¥200 to wash my clothes. Also in the laundry room random plugs litter the floor, there is a stone water fountain, and a bathtub full of colourful plastic balls.

I see Daisuke here, he is on his break and just chilling out in the laundry area. I ask him to take my photograph. Afterwards, he starts to pick up some of the balls and begins to throw them at me. We have a ‘fight’ for a short while before tidying up our multicoloured mess.

After laundry, I take a six minute train ride to Akihabara Electric Town. I go into a few of the shops looking specifically for models of Final Fantasy characters for a friend back home. In one shop I see Magic the Gathering cards next to the pornography. In another shop the lift is playing House of Cards by Radiohead. Elsewhere in Akihabara the girl idol band AKB48 are doing a meet and greet, the queue of adult males is insane.

Inside the Club Sega arcade, elderly individuals sit alone whilst playing computer games, while men in suits attempt to win stuffed Pikachus from crane claw machines. Elsewhere, a woman dressed in a maid costume hands out flyers for a maid cafe.

Akihabara is a little too much and the humidity is high today. I begin to feel a little dizzy so I head back to Asakusa. On my way back I see a sign saying, ‘In the stations, please refrain from putting a thing on the floor.’ At the hostel it’s 5 p.m. and Daisuke has just finished his shift. I join him in the lounge for a beer and he once again emphasises that I should go to the Robot Restaurant. Soon, I tell him.

I am invited out for a trip to Shibuya for some sightseeing and food. A group of six of us is randomly formed, including Conor, Grant, and Edwina from previous evenings; and we head out to Shibuya. This time I get the chance to see if people crossing the road looks any better during a busy evening surrounded in neon lights. I admit, it is a little better than the day time, but it is still just people crossing a road.

There are some quality English signs here in Shibuya. The highlights for me are a restaurant called the Raj Mahal, a dress shop called 1000% Wedding, and a drinking establishment called Gaspanic.

We search a while in Shibuya until we find a restaurant that we all agree on. We buy our meal tickets from the vending machine outside; I order the ‘no pork’ vegetarian ramen and a beer for ¥1380. After ordering we go inside, sit down and hand over our ticket. Eventually our food comes out. It looks pretty good and tastes pretty good. My ramen contains cabbage, spring onions, beansprouts, and noodles in an unidentifiable broth.

After lunch, the group splits. Conor and the others head off to check out a love hotel. Edwina, Grant and I head back to the hostel. On the train there is a sign advertising Suntory Strong Zero. The sign, for no apparent reason says, ‘Suntory Strong Zero 9% Wash You!’ On the way back to the hostel we stop off at the five-storey convenience store. At the store I buy a 135ml can of Asahi for ¥95. It is the smallest can of beer I have ever seen. I also buy a bottle of my favourite Japanese whisky.

At the hostel we do some drinking. Eventually the others return and we regroup for a few games of cards and some bad magic tricks. The night ends at around 2 a.m. We make plans for the following morning then go our separate ways to sleep.

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