Paint and Gunpowder

Posted on 29/12/2014 by Luke

The four of us from last night absorb a new person into our group, a guy called Josh. We head out on foot toward Ueno Park. Today, the National Museum of Western Art is having a free admission day, and despite being in Japan, we consider it worth a look. We stroll inside and are asked to show our tickets. “Free admission day,” I tell the lady.
“You still need to get a ticket,” she informs me. We head out of the museum and to the ticket office. We ask for five tickets, and hand over no money before heading back inside and handing over the tickets to the lady. A rather trivial exercise.

The Museum of Western Art is the primary institution of its kind in Japan, emphasising paintings with a few sculptures thrown in for good measure. The museum is adorned with an abundance of macabre Baroque works, where death and torture seem to be popular themes. Amidst the horror, notable pieces include ‘The Last Supper’ painted by Marten de Vos, Vincent van Gogh’s ‘Roses’, and a rather disappointing collection of Claude Monet paintings. Not one to truly appreciate art, I find that Monet’s work looks terrible up close, especially ‘Water Lilies’, which, in my opinion, looks plain awful.

My favourite piece on display is Pablo Picasso’s ‘Couple’. Abstract expressionism has always been a preference of mine; I’ll take this over a bowl of fruit or a basket of flowers any day. Picasso painted this incredible piece at eighty-eight years old.

We leave the museum and take a Yamanote Line train from Ueno to Ikebukuro. Outside the station, we need to head east. Josh turns out to be well-prepared, pulling out an actual compass and casually guiding us in the direction of east. This earns him the nickname ‘Compass Josh’ for the rest of the day, and he seems to take to the idea quite fondly.

The reason we are here is to visit a shop run by a company that has faced criticism for its practices, including accusations of contributing to infant mortality in underdeveloped countries due to its reluctance to spend extra profit on proper labelling for its baby milk formula. The shop sells a specific type of confectionery that is hugely popular in Japan. This two-fingered chocolate-covered wafer bar confection is available in many remarkable flavours, such as wasabi, strawberry cheesecake, and sakura.

While the others queue for their chocolate, I wander around outside and admire the street art.

We head to a small coffee shop before making our way back to the train station. On the platform, two men are fighting. One guy stands up and walks away, his face dripping with blood, his eyes bruised. This is the first time I witness violence like this in Japan, and it comes as a bit of a shock.

I head home for a while to prepare for a performance this evening before meeting the others in Odaiba. Compass Josh’s partner, Jessica, has joined us, expanding our group to six. We explore the giant statue of Gundam before settling in the food court of Diver City, enjoying overpriced wine in undersized glasses. Outside Diver City, an extraordinary bus stop catches my eye, begging to be photographed.

Tonight in Odaiba, a special fireworks display is scheduled for 7 p.m. We wander around the area, with the evening darkness stolen by extravagant illuminations. There’s a feeling of forgotten Christmas lights here, and decorations that will likely remain year-round. Trees glisten, Tokyo Tower in the distance shines orange, and the Rainbow Bridge is bathed in a spectrum of light from red to violet.

We position ourselves on the balcony of the Decks building, a vast shopping mall offering a spectacular view of Tokyo Bay. At exactly seven o’clock, fireworks shoot into the sky, creating a dazzling display that lasts for ten minutes. Below us, boats are illuminated in various colours, their reflections shimmering on the water alongside the radiant Rainbow Bridge. Tokyo Tower continues to shine in the distance. The backdrop consists of a sea of lights from office buildings, adding to the immersive experience. In the foreground, the glow from the massive firework display warms the air, completing the enchanting scene.

After the fireworks, we take the train back to Asakusa, passing by the Fuji TV building as it displays bright flashing text: ‘What a cool we are!’

Back in Asakusa, we part ways. I head to Cafe Byron Bay for a bonenkai, a ‘forget the year’ party widely celebrated here. The tap-dancing balloon artist, whom I first saw performing on the streets of Asakusa during my first week in Japan, is here to entertain. A belly dancer is also putting on a show. I perform with trumpet and guitar. Food is free and all-you-can-eat. Everyone gets very drunk. After the entertainment, we each give a speech about the year we’ve had and what we hope to achieve in 2015. My resolution and absolute aim are to publish a science-fiction novel.

After the end-of-year party, I head out with seven Japanese friends for a second night in a row of karaoke.

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 that 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 handshaking. 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 decide it’s 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.

The Tooth Without Enamel

Posted on 03/12/2014 by Luke

Today marks the final day in Japan to admire the autumn leaves. Abscission has commenced, and the leaves are poised to fall. It’s as if some secret internal clock, powered by nature, instructs the trees that today is the day to part ways with their foliage. Cascading like clockwork, fading like time. Today, the leaves will begin their descent, and there is no changing that fact. The Japanese people inform me that it starts today. The trees, too, are aware that it starts today. The ground outside is a wash of greens, yellows, and reds. A reflecting traffic light on a rain-swept road would complement the scene perfectly. Today is clear with sunshine, dry but with a light breeze. No rain, no reflections. I step outside for one last time to relish in the autumn colours. Tomorrow, there will be nothing left.

Despite my obvious fascination with the tranquil joy of autumn colours, I am distracted—still suffering silently from a toothache. The dentist doesn’t open until half-past two, and with an afternoon lunch planned, I decide on a 4 p.m. appointment. I take the train to Harajuku. Today, two very different festivals are taking place in the space outside Yoyogi Park. The first is a vegan food festival, and the second is a Spanish food festival.

I exit the train at Harajuku Station. On the other side of the ticket barrier, a young Japanese man with a microphone awaits. Like an animal waiting to catch its prey, he stands silently until I draw near. Suddenly, he rushes into my path, stopping me in my tracks and interrupting my thoughts of dental disquiet. “Excuse me, can you speak English?” he asks, holding the microphone rather intrusively beneath my chin before pushing it toward my mouth, seeking a reply. I hesitate for a moment, unprepared for his question.
“No, sorry,” I tell him.
“Oh,” he says, looking at me with a mix of confusion and wry disappointment. “Okay, sorry then.” With that, he scans his Suica card on the ticket machine and heads through the barrier in the direction of the platform; his outline lost in seconds as he is swallowed up by the reckless crowds.

I arrive at Yoyogi Park to find the Spanish festival in full swing: various food stalls, eleven of which are selling paella, traditional Spanish clothing, and flamenco dancers performing on the large stage. The dancers appear to be genuinely enjoying themselves, their souls lost to the rhythm of the music.

I didn’t come all this way to be harassed by men with microphones or to listen to Spanish music, though. Today, my purpose is the vegan festival. As I wander from Spain, I inadvertently end up in Germany. Somewhere between the two food markets, car manufacturer BMW has a stage showcasing their newest electric car, the BMW i8. I can’t quite see what this has to do with the Spanish festival or a diet free from animal products. The BMW stage looks incredibly out of place; it is mostly ignored by the many people clearly here to eat food.

At the vegan food festival, there is a lot less hot food than I expected. Most of the stalls are selling organic and Fair Trade products—coffees, chocolates, teas, sugars, and various types of bread. There are only about ten hot food stalls, but almost all of the food has already sold out. I am spoiled for choice between a shop selling Indian curry and another selling vegan burgers.

¥500 later, and I’m sitting on a park bench, eating a burger, surrounded by fallen leaves that probably taste better than my food. If not for the sauce that adds at least a hint of flavour, I would likely discard the burger and rush back to Spain for some lukewarm paella instead. As I leave the festival, I notice that the people browsing the vegan stalls seem less happy than those over at the Spanish festival.

Literally full of beans, I head back to Asakusa and to the dentist. I’ve chosen to visit a much smaller surgery than the one I had been to previously—an English-speaking dentist I met in a bar, and I’ve kept her business card for a day like today. At the dentist, I endure four separate x-rays before a quick fix is done on my tooth. I make an appointment to return in two weeks’ time. It looks like my tooth will face the same fate as the autumn leaves—an abscission of sorts. After an hour at the dentist, I pay ¥9720 and receive another packet of little yellow pills. I am told that if I apply for a Japanese insurance card, I can reclaim two-thirds of the cost of this treatment and all subsequent treatments—a welcome bonus and information they didn’t really have to disclose.

Tooth sorted, I head over to Cafe Byron Bay to play at an open mic night—my second time today before a microphone. At some point during the evening, I receive a phone call from my dentist. She is calling to check how my tooth is doing. I am surprised she made the effort to see how I am—an excellent example of customer service in Japan. Despite knowing that in two weeks, I’ll have my tooth severed without anæsthesia, her compassion somehow relaxes me. I forget about my fate and enjoy the rest of the evening, virtually pain-free.

Dome Alone

Posted on 26/11/2014 by Luke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the Land of Spuds and Money

Posted on 12/11/2014 by Luke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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