Wheel of Misfortune

Today is the day that I finish my pilgrimage. One temple, one shrine, and the final two gods. I start off in the direction of Uguisudani. My previous attempt to find Motomishima Shrine here was marred by the fact that this area is a massive red-light district and couldn’t possibly be the location of a sacred shrine. Once again, as I stumble through alleyways of neon, I see no signs of a god; just prostitutes leaving hotels with presumably married Japanese men.

Eventually, I leave the area to find wireless Internet, stolen as always from a nearby Seven Eleven. I punch the name of the shrine into my GPS and am redirected to the same area I had previously wandered. It is an unusual location for a shrine, an area littered with over seventy love hotels, but somehow I find it sandwiched between Hotel Exe and Hotel Foxy.

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Motomishima Shrine is home to Jurojin, the god of longevity. This deity is always accompanied by a wild deer, believed to symbolise long life. It is said that Jurojin shares the same body as another of the Seven Gods of Fortune, Fukurokuju, which, if you ask me, is a rather unfortunate fate.

It is fair to say that to reach this shrine, I had to jump through hoops. Inside, I walk through a hoop to reach the stone steps that lead to the god. Here, I pay my respects with a deep bow before taking my fortune for the last time this month, at a cost of ¥200. With all these fortune readings, it’s a surprise that I have any money left. Not to worry, though—I have a frog in my wallet, so all is well.

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“Whoever caught this fortune, please read. Further increases the happiness if familiar, money will come to the body when you strive daily and today. We are been obtained by loss. Performing without effort for others is within the range of possibility, always! Rather than hit the thing with the one person that you are waiting for, poor is a small problem, this time. You do not have to worry only for those who carried out jointly because the immediate profit will go up with your results. If you move a large bowl, results should come out.

“Whatever you do for other people, always take action for things in the future. Make yourself aware. Concentrate at the entrance; are you aware of the limits of their fitness? Also, the energy from long illness in the future will see recovery gradually. Concentration will add enhancement, especially to enhance the energy. No effort should not be in vain. Come back to be sure of the joy of tomorrow.”

Confused as to what all this means, I leave the red-light district and head over to Hoshoji Temple.

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Bishamonten stands guard here, carrying a scroll. Traditionally, he is the god of warriors and war, depicted with a spear and dressed in armour. However, the statue here deviates from the expected representation. Unfortunately, it is the only photograph I have of this temple, and I am certain I am in the right place. There are no signs of other statues of gods here, leaving me with no idea about the identity of this scroll-wielding warrior—most likely Shonin or someone else. No English signs, nothing else to guide me.

With all this good fortune flowing through my veins and having completed the pilgrimage of the Seven Gods of Fortune, one would expect that I’d actually receive some fortune. In reality, the opposite has occurred. Over the last few days, I have felt like a ghost, floating through life, completely devoid of any sense of belonging. Perhaps this is just a phase. A changing of the tides could erase all that I feel at this moment, and hopefully, that will happen. Maybe I should just move a large bowl. Right now, though, I am tired of walking around temples and shrines; it fills me with this strange empty feeling that is difficult to explain.

I wander back to Asakusa and am instantly drawn in by the flashing lights of a strange vending machine.

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The machine costs just ¥100 and offers a chance to win excellent prizes. It’s called ‘Pocket Lifter,’ and presumably, it lifts money from my pocket by tricking me into thinking I can win one of the luxury prizes. Hidden behind its polished glass front are some trading cards, two Louis Vuitton purses, and tickets to Hanayashiki Amusement Park—the oldest amusement park in Japan. Despite seeing this park every day in Asakusa, I have yet to make the visit. However, Hanayashiki might have to wait a little while longer, as I am still somewhat traumatised by my recent visit to Tokyo Disneyland.

The machine says, ‘One-two-three-four-GET!’ Winning is as easy as counting. One of the Louis Vuitton purses can be won and sold for ¥8000 at a nearby shop, conveniently listed next to the prize—a gambling loophole once again exposed. Above the prizes, a wheel with bright flashing lights beckons, ‘Let’s Challenge!!’ How could I possibly resist? Keenly, I insert a ¥100 coin. ‘Thank you,’ the machine says as it swallows my money. The wheel spins and lands on the number one. The prize shelf moves up a fraction of an inch, then nothing happens. For a limited time only, I can get three tries for my money. I repeat the button-pressing process twice, and disappointment reoccurs twice more. No prizes, no amusement, no amusement park—just more bad fortune. Thanks, pilgrimage.

Japanese New Year’s Eve

New Year’s Eve in Japan differs significantly from the celebrations and lively scenes I’m accustomed to in England. We kick off the evening at our favourite izakaya, where the owner, in his broken English, warmly greets us with, “Good morning this evening.” The atmosphere is festive, with people enjoying drinks and exchanging smiles all around. Among the options on the extensive Japanese menu is ‘Smile, ¥10, limited to ten per day.’ Fortunately, the stocks are plentiful, so I toss the owner a ten-yen coin in exchange for his wonderfully elaborate smile.

The television set above the bar is broadcasting the 65th annual Kohaku Uta Gassen.

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Kohaku is a live talent battle between two teams of musical acts that have had a successful year in Japan. The white team consists of all male artists, while the red team is composed of all female artists. This exclusive, invitation-only event happens to be the most-watched show on NHK every year. Audience members cast their votes, and the only prize is pride for the winning team.

I was thoroughly enjoying a band of male vocalists singing, “La lalalala lalalala,” when out of nowhere, the owner of the izakaya switches channels to watch the latest episode of the popular pirate anime, One Piece. Food is then served to each of us in tiny bowls—traditional Japanese soba noodles, known as toshikoshi soba.

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Soba noodles are notably thin and long, with the belief that their length symbolises a long life. It is also said that consuming these noodles helps ward off any lingering ghosts as the New Year arrives. The seasoning for the meal is served from a salt shaker crafted from a light bulb. While I’m unsure if this is part of the traditional way to eat Japanese soba, I find it quite appealing.

One Piece comes to an end, and the owner channel-hops, briefly settling on boxing before switching back to Kohaku. On the television, Idina Menzel graces the stage, singing ‘Let It Go.’ It’s quite rare for a non-native Japanese artist to be invited to perform at the event, but given the immense success of the movie Frozen in Japan, her appearance comes as no surprise. It’s at this moment that I’m hit with my first Tokyo Disneyland flashback.

We continue to enjoy our drinks, with people singing along to ‘Let It Go.’ Suddenly, the owner begins handing out gifts in small white envelopes.

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Next year marks the Chinese zodiac year of the Ram, or ‘sheep’ as my Japanese friend corrects me. I suppose interpretations vary across countries. The pendant I receive, if I’m completely honest, looks more like a goat. Regardless, I appreciate the gesture and the unexpected gift.

As midnight rapidly approaches, we finish our drinks and take a wander over to Senso-ji for Joyanokane. At the stroke of midnight, a priest will ring the bell 108 times, symbolising the 108 sins of Buddhism. Unfortunately for me, sarcasm is one of those sins. By merely staying and listening to the tolls of the bell, your body and mind are believed to be cleansed—an excellent way to start the year, if only we could get close enough to hear them.

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It’s incredibly crowded here. People are queueing up to make their first prayer of the New Year. Others are here to shop at the many little food stores lining the route to the temple, while some are here to count down to the New Year. Our purpose is simpler—we are here to listen to the bells. Eventually, as the clock approaches midnight, we manage to get close enough to the temple, arriving at about two minutes to midnight.

The first bell chimes, and we cheer. Suddenly, as if a switch has been flicked, the plastic sheeting over the market stalls starts to shake. A ferocious wind appears out of nowhere, and the temperature drops to the lowest it has been since I arrived in Japan. It’s as if the gods are angry or trying to sleep, with the millions of people here disturbing their slumber.

It will probably take over two hours to queue and make our first prayer of the year, and the cold is too much to bear. We decide to postpone this ritual until tomorrow. Instead, we opt to get our fortunes for ¥100 each. Surprisingly, none of our group receives a bad fortune. I, personally, receive a ‘Good Fortune’ that says, ‘The linen robe turns into a green one.’ I’m not entirely sure what this means, but I presume it implies that I will turn into a kappa.

After receiving our fortunes, we go our separate ways. As I cycle home, the wind almost blows me off my bike.

Abandoned by Disney

The sun shines brightly as Christine and I make our way to Tokyo Disneyland, a 115-acre theme park located in Urayasu, Chiba Prefecture. It’s said to be a place where dreams come true, according to a somewhat poorly written but curiously popular guidebook. This guidebook suggests that the optimal time to visit Tokyo Disneyland is during the winter months, particularly toward the end of December. Today happens to fall within that timeframe, so off we go.

We change trains from the Yamanote Line at Tokyo Station to the hugely unpopular JR Keiyo Line. The Keiyo Line requires us to walk for twenty minutes through a busy train station and is highly inconvenient. Finally, after almost an hour on three trains, we arrive at the conveniently named Tokyo Disneyland Station. On the train, the windows and handles are shaped like Mickey Mouse.

Outside Tokyo Disneyland, what would usually cost ¥100 now costs over twice that. An early sign of the commercialism to come.

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Full of overpriced green tea and a pocket full of change, we queue to enter the park at around 9 a.m. Eventually, after twenty minutes in the queue, we pay ¥6400 each and enter.

We head for Critter Country to use our Fast Track ticket for Splash Mountain. Despite being here so early in the morning, our Fast Track ticket won’t allow us to ride this ‘Hair-raising flume adventure’ until quarter to six. A mere nine-hour wait. We can’t use another Fast Track ticket for two hours, so we decide to grab some breakfast.

It turns out that the only food on offer at Tokyo Disneyland is junk food and sugar. I buy a ¥310 strawberry sundae – the smallest ice cream in the world. In the bottom of the cup are Corn Flakes; something I’ve never associated with ice cream before, and something that I will never eat with ice cream again.

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After breakfast, we decide to go on a ride. We head over to Fantasyland to queue for “It’s a Small World Presented by Nippon Express Co., Ltd.” I write the name of the ride with capitalisation, but in the park, they don’t bother; and this annoys me. We queue for forty minutes, and with me not knowing Disney too well, I have no idea what to expect.

In the queue, I try to discuss the Pinocchio paradox, but Christine, who had previously worked in Disneyland Florida, tells me to, “Stop talking! Stop ruining Disney.”

Finally, we enter the ride and sit in a boat. Instructions in the boat say, “The boat may stop suddenly, so please sit well back.” I don’t really have a choice thanks to the length of my legs. The ride describes itself as the “Happiest cruise that ever sailed,” so presumably, it is well good.

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The overall experience is terrible; a riverboat cruise of rooms depicting dancing characters from various countries. In each room, the characters are singing the same song, Jingle Bells. At the end of the ride, we have to join a queue of boats to leave. If I am completely honest, after being on my feet for most of the morning, it is just nice to have a sit down.

Leaving the ride, a politically correct ‘happy holidays’ sign is also written in lower case, just to further add to my disappointment. Christine seems happy though; she was singing along during the ride. Afterwards, she waves at the other people queueing, and they wave back.

We accidentally stroll into a gift shop and find a crystal castle that costs an arbitrary ¥5,142,860.

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After “It’s a Small World,” we discover that it’s a small park. It actually takes us just ten minutes to walk the entire length of Tokyo Disneyland, despite having to push through the ever-increasing crowds of people.

We check out Thunder Mountain, but it seems there is a 300-minute queue for the ride. We wander around at a loss as more people appear from nowhere, the park now becoming extremely busy. Our second ‘attraction’ comes almost three hours since we arrived and is quite possibly the least popular attraction in Tokyo Disneyland, and perhaps the world.

We wander into a tipi with almost impeccable timing and take a seat on some padded benches around a stage.

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The ‘ride’ is the oddly named “The Enchanted Tiki Room: Stitch Presents, Aloha E Komo Mai!” Presented by Mizuho Securities Co., Ltd. The attraction describes itself as a fun-filled tropical music show.

Just like the photograph I took of the show before being told off for taking photographs, the whole thing was a disappointment. A few birds talking and singing in Japanese, a few flowers singing too. Just nothing that even offered the least bit of entertainment or anything that could be described as fun-filled or remotely tropical.

Outside, the queues have grown astronomically.

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With two hours now elapsed since we first used our Fast Track tickets, we head to some of the other participating rides. We discover that all of the Fast Track tickets have now been issued, so only one Fast Track ride for us today. We spend some time queueing for toilets, queueing for vending machines, queueing for queues.

One thing we find scattered around the park are popcorn stands; eleven in total. They sell flavors such as caramel, soy sauce and butter, honey, and curry. Each stand appears to have an hour-long queue. Lucky for me, my friend is also from England, so we do what English people do best and moan about everything, together.

We head back to Adventureland to queue for the Western River Railroad Presented by TOMY Company, Ltd. “Three hours,” the woman tells us, remarking on the queue times. We brave it anyway. I came all this way, and certainly don’t wish to pass up on an opportunity to climb aboard a real steam train for a trip around the wilderness.

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Once forever passes and time no longer exists, we eventually get on the ride. It is one of those annoying rides that hates tall people. The train passes through caverns and low-hanging beams of wood. Despite being in the safe, happy environment of Tokyo Disneyland, I can’t help but get the feeling I will hit my head. I end up ducking under every tunnel and beam.

After one minute of satisfaction and three hours in a queue, we leave the ride, bumping into Donald Duck. Close to one hundred people are waiting to take their photograph with what is basically a man in a duck costume. Ridiculous.

One of my biggest gripes with Tokyo Disneyland is the lack of shops selling vegetarian food, healthy options, and alcohol. Despite wandering to almost every restaurant, it is practically all junk. Eventually, we settle for food at Tomorrowland Terrace Presented by Coca-Cola (Japan) Company, Ltd.

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I order French fries, corn soup, and a salad, an overpriced ¥730. The salad has little jellied carrots in the shape of Mickey Mouse. I squeeze the packet of soy dressing, aiming for my salad, but the packet bursts and squirts my coat with sauce. Embarrassed and soaked, I go and wipe away my tears, and the dressing, before returning to my salad. Hidden beneath the Mickey Mouse carrots is bacon.

I can’t eat the salad due to dietary I hate Disney. Instead, I eat my lukewarm French fries with ketchup, dropping one on my leg to further add to my misery. The cup of French fries mocks me with the catchphrase, “Where dreams come true.” At least they remembered to capitalise; but at this moment, it does very little to appease my trauma. Meanwhile, Christine dines on her ¥1010 burger, fries, and a drink; she eats it smugly and without dropping a single crumb. I finish my soup and want to scream.

We head back outside for the Happiness Is Here Parade Presented by NTT DOCOMO, Inc.

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“This is the happiest parade ever! Enjoy the fun and excitement of this parade with all of your favourite Disney characters!” Right now, I am unhappy. I am not enjoying myself, but I try to remain optimistic. We try to get a decent viewing spot on the parade route, but keep getting told off by the unfriendly staff for sitting on benches or loitering. Eventually, we find a place to watch our favourite characters as they dance along the route, riding a series of increasingly elaborate floats.

All of the usual suspects are here. Snow White, Lilo and Stitch, Toy Story, a massive elephant, two giant six-armed caterpillars, Alice, a bright orange Tigger, Mickey Mouse with his stupid face that I want to punch, and my favourite float, Disney’s NTT DOCOMO, Inc. Presumably from the new Disney movie about mobile communication services.

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After the parade, nothing can get any more horrible. Perhaps this is the turning point of the day. We still have a few hours before we can queue jump Splash Mountain, so we contemplate killing ourselves, but instead, we decide to go on a ride to kill time.

We head back to Adventureland for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride Presented by Kirin Brewery. The jolly band of marauding Caribbean buccaneers is joined by Captain Jack Sparrow, or so I am told. We queue for ninety minutes before, for a second time today, sit on a riverboat ride. Pirates of the Caribbean describes itself as, “A thrilling adventure cruise through dark mysterious caverns where dead men tell no tales.”

Our boat is called Patience, which I like. Irony being the least American thing we’ve found today. The ride passes by a restaurant, and Christine and I miss the first section of the cruise, as we are too busy peering in to see if anyone in the restaurant is drinking alcohol. Just soft drinks with straws.

When we started queueing for the ride, it was daylight. As we exit, night has fallen, and the castle in the middle of the park is illuminated.

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We pass people asleep on benches, including a guy sleeping with his whole face covered by a three-eyed Alien mask from Toy Story. In the toilets, two unhappy ‘cast members’ are directing people to cubicles and urinals. It is almost quarter to six, and it is nearly time to finally use our Fast Track tickets.

As we walk toward Critter Country, four fireworks are let off above the castle. Perhaps the worst firework display I have ever seen. A projection mapping show is taking place, so presumably, the budget has been spent on that instead.

We arrive at Splash Mountain (not sponsored). As we flash our Fast Track tickets, we get to walk along, passing people who are enduring the three-hour queue; the most satisfying feeling of the whole day. The ride claims to have, “The wettest drop ever!” It doesn’t. “No splash, Captain.” This is the third ride on a boat today and is the best one I’ve experienced.

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The excitement on my face sums up the day nicely.

In just under two hours time, the final parade of the day is taking place. With two-hour queues for every ride, we risk it and head to Fantasyland for the Haunted Mansion (not sponsored). “Ride through an eerie Gothic mansion with 999 ghostly inhabitants.” While we wait for 110 minutes to ride the Haunted House, I teach Christine some basic Japanese, until she feels the need to repeat the same one phrase over and over. Not irritating in the slightest.

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The Haunted Mansion turns out to be a Nightmare Before Christmas ride. It starts with two rooms where our group has to stand around. We listen to speeches from Jack Skellington. It turns out Jack Skellington is fluent in Japanese. Next, we take a seat in a chair shaped like a chocolate egg. This isn’t a roller coaster though, more of a tour through the animatronic world of the Nightmare Before Christmas.

After the ride, we head out into the crowded carnival that is the Tokyo Disneyland Electrical Parade, Dreamlights Presented by Nihon Unisys, Ltd. “Don’t miss this spectacular night-time parade when the Park comes alive with millions of dazzling lights to the magical tunes of Disney music.”

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Sadly, we only catch the last three floats of the parade, including the one for Nihon Unisys, Ltd.

After the parade, the park begins to empty out. We decide to sit down for a time and dine on more sugar in the form of a strawberry-filled Mickey Mouse-shaped cake, which tastes frankly weird. As we head toward the exit, we find that the queues for the popcorn stands have completely vanished. I order a box of regular-sized ¥360 Orange Marmalade popcorn. The serving size is actually quite generous for something that costs about ¥10 to make.

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We explore one of the many gift shops, stocked with needless rubbish for a high price. Despite being almost closing time, the gift shops are packed full of people, and Frozen merchandise has almost sold out. Not that I care. We eventually leave empty-handed. The noise of fourteen hours in Tokyo Disneyland, the constant flashing of lights, cartoon characters, and the overall brightness leaves me with only a headache.

As we endure the one-hour train ride back to Asakusa, I drift into dark Disney nightmares. If all of this was a bad dream, this day, and I woke up again this morning having never been to Tokyo Disneyland, I would certainly keep it that way.

At home, I feel tired and disjointed. I am angry and disappointed. I am certainly disgusted. Disney is a commercial success that exploits children and adults alike. Heavy sponsorship, overpriced snacks, no consideration for the queueing that people have to endure, a lack of drink vendors, no quality food, and a complete lack of alcohol. These things all add to the horror that is a trip to Tokyo Disneyland.

Tokyo and the Emperor of the Night

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Dome Alone

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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