Dance, Dance, Ambulance

Posted on 24/08/2014 by Luke

It is humid today, a cool 31°C with patches of rain, the perfect weather for dancing in the street. I head over to Tawaramachi Station for a train to Shibuya. From Shibuya Station, I head to Yoyogi Park, stopping off at the Tobacco and Salt Museum. The sign in the window reassures me that the museum will relocate to Sumida in spring 2015. It closed almost a year ago. I begin to wonder why it takes almost a full two years to move the contents of a museum.

I continue my walk, taking a detour through a ‘Shopping road that is nice to people’ before eventually arriving at Yoyogi Park. This weekend, there is a festival held at the Yoyogi Park event open space, the ‘Battle of the Udon.’

There are nine different television stations here. There are nineteen different udon stands, each selling their own local variety of udon noodles. Stalls also sell various non-noodle-based drinks and snacks. The best noodles from all over Japan have come here to compete in the nation’s biggest food competition. Every bowl of noodles is charged at a flat rate of ¥500. When you order food at the Battle of the Udon, you are given a vote card with the name of the stall. On the final day of the event, the votes are tallied up, and the best udon in Tokyo is crowned.

The noise here is deafening; every store has a banner, mascot, and a guy with a megaphone shouting at me to visit their store. Some of the mascots are better than others. I really like stall number 18’s mascot from Nagoya; they are promoting their Kishimen-style udon noodles.

I go to stall number 19 from Saitama Prefecture, offering Shoji-style udon noodles. As I approach the store, the guy at the counter shouts, “Welcome!” in English and literally welcomes me with open arms. When I arrive, he reaches out his hand to shake mine. He looks genuinely pleased that I chose his store; most likely, he is proud of the food he makes. “Udon!” I exclaim, my smile matched by his.

After food, I head back to Asakusa. I exit Tawaramachi Station to the sound of tourism and the sight of umbrellas. The rain has started now, but the show will go on. Today is the 33rd Asakusa Samba Carnival, and half a million people are expected to attend. The streets are packed on every side, and the roads are closed to vehicles. The carnival is just about to start.

This festival first began in 1981 when the mayor of Taito Ward invited the winning team of the Brazilian Rio Carnival to perform on the streets of Asakusa. Each of the teams has its own theme, but in effect, they compete to be crowned the winner of a dancing contest. The parade starts behind Senso-ji temple, where a display of the floats is free to inspect, and conveniently finishes close to Tawaramachi Station.

The teams vary in style. There is a ‘Puzzles & Dragons’ float, loads of marching bands, women dancing Samba dressed in traditional Brazilian garb. Some teams even have a comedy aspect, like women with fish on their heads or dancing clowns. For the rest of the afternoon, every inch of Asakusa is alive with the sound of drums and loud music.

At 5 p.m., I decide to eat some food from Seven Eleven before heading to Cafe Byron Bay to drink. Instead, the night takes a somewhat unexpected turn, and one of my friends from the cafe is in need of medical treatment. An ambulance is called, and we wait an age.

The owner of the cafe, our friend, and I sit in a parked ambulance for ten minutes. Here, her symptoms are explained, and the usual questions are answered. I think that this procedure could have been done during the journey to the hospital, but then again, I don’t have any medical training, so what do I know? Eventually, we are on the move. Something I have observed in the past is that ambulances in Japan move seemingly without any haste or purpose. They wait at traffic lights with sirens blazing. They move with absolutely no urgency.

We arrive at a small hospital in Ueno. Our friend is placed into the Emergency Room, and we wait outside. Sitting in the hospital, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washes over me. The humming clock reads 20:20, but it’s boring, like the walls; once white, now stained yellow. We ask if there is any news on our friend, but we are politely told that they don’t know anything. Hospitals have a way of draining energy from people; sitting here any longer might just kill me. We decide to go for a walk.

We head to an Indian restaurant and eat some excellent food. I suggest to the cafe owner that she should serve similar food and rename her shop to Cafe Byron Bombay. Despite worrying about our friend in the hospital, we make the most of the situation and try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can. In the end, I don’t have such a terrible time.

After four hours, our friend is allowed to leave and is going to be alright; good news. We hop on the train at the nearby Ueno Station and head back to Tawaramachi Station before going our separate ways.

Dog Day, Afternoon

Posted on 18/08/2014 by Luke

Saturday

For the past three days, the Obon festival has been taking place in Japan. This 500-year-old Buddhist festival emphasises honouring the deceased. Today marks the final day of Obon, coinciding with the Asakusa Summer Night Festival. The event originated in 1946, shortly after the end of World War II, serving as a way for people to bid farewell to those who perished. As I arrive before the opening ceremony, the bridge is already overflowing with tourists.

The Japanese name for this event is Toro Nagashi, which translates literally to ‘flow of lanterns’. Here, you can purchase a small paper lantern for ¥1500. Each lantern symbolises the soul of a deceased relative. Visitors have the opportunity to write a message on the lantern, queue up, and then release it into the water. I find the entire process quite abstruse.

As the lanterns float down the Sumida River, carrying the souls of the departed to the other world, a certain solemnity lingers in the air.

After the festival, the atmosphere becomes somewhat lighter. I meet up with Robin, a German I befriended in Kyoto, who happens to be staying in Asakusa. We decide to unwind over drinks and perhaps get a bit less sober. We head to Nui and indulge until just after ten, then make our way to a Family Mart to play a few rounds of the Konbini Hop drinking game.

Outside our third convenience store, we come across a poster featuring numerous Japanese individuals with sunflowers encircling their heads. Despite our attempts to decipher its meaning, we’re left utterly baffled. It remains an enigma, leaving us without a single clue.

We head to a Japanese bar nestled behind Senso-ji. This area houses around ten small bars, each with only two to three bar stools. I’ve long desired to experience a drink in one of these hidden spots since my visit in June, yet I never found the courage to venture in alone. Describing the way to this area would probably confound you; it’s remarkably concealed, and my directions are truly abysmal.

We settle in a small bar called Tom². This bar, with only four bar stools, feels quite spacious compared to the others nearby. ‘I Was Made for Lovin’ You’ by Kiss fills the air from the speakers. Two Japanese men occupy two stools, and we take the remaining two. The bartender seems a bit tipsy. We order a Suntory whisky highball and a beer for ¥500 each, and enjoy complimentary peanuts.

Then a dog appears.

The dog, incredibly friendly, joins us and settles in. We discover that Tsutomo, the owner, resides above the bar. We linger for some time—I manage to outlast Robin in drinks, and eventually, he departs. I remain for two more. The two Japanese gentlemen present speak minimal English, and the dog, unsurprisingly, doesn’t contribute much to the conversation. So, I sit there, mostly in silence, sipping my drink and exchanging glances with the dog. An atypical end to the evening.

Sunday

I rent a ¥300 bicycle for the day and cycle thirty minutes to Nihonbashi, making a stop to see my friend Daisuke along the way. It’s a shame to find out he no longer works at the hostel where I’m staying. Today, Nihonbashi hosts the annual Fukagawa Hachiman Matsuri festival. It’s considered one of the three major Shinto festivals in Tokyo and is likely the largest.

The festival is celebrated in its entirety once every three years, and today happens to be that day. With one hundred and twenty portable shrines, three hundred thousand participants, and half a million spectators, it’s definitely not an ideal day for cycling.

Amidst the crowds, people throw buckets of water over those carrying the shrines, a ritual to cool them down, earning the festival its nickname, the ‘Water Fight Festival’. It’s undoubtedly challenging to bear these enormous shrines in such sweltering heat, particularly under today’s scorching summer sky. I opt to step away from the bustling crowds and take a stroll through Nihonbashi. While I visit the renowned Nihonbashi Bridge, it fails to captivate me. I decide to return to Asakusa in search of some food.

I head to my favorite Japanese restaurant, Mizuguchi. I indulge in breaded salmon and salmon teriyaki, served with a side of greens, potato salad, pickles, and rice. Absolutely delicious. The total comes to ¥1810, including a Suntory whisky highball.

As I leave the restaurant I hear applause. It turns out there is a street performer just outside. Never a dull moment in Asakusa on a Sunday.

The street performer does a balancing act whilst juggling a traffic cone between two sticks. He has drawn in a huge crowd. He is also a comedian. Throughout his routine he speaks intermittently on a microphone, telling jokes in Japanese, everyone laughs. When he is finished he cheekily places three bowler hats on the floor, upturned for tips. I give him ¥1000. He was really good.

Back at my hostel, The Strokes are playing from the speakers. ‘Is This It?’ I write for a while before heading back out to meet fellow Englishman, Richard. We meet at 8 p.m. and drink until 4 a.m. A typical end to the evening.

Gion with the Finned

Posted on 03/08/2014 by Luke

Today is my last day in Kyoto. Tomorrow I will go to Osaka for three days, before heading off to Nagoya. I still have one temple I want to see, a temple with a difference. I head through the arcade, the same French song is playing that I’ve heard about four other times this week. I know the song but can’t recall the name. There is a pachinko parlour with a picture of Rowan Atkinson on the advertising board. There is also a strange mascot wandering around the arcade, promoting a festival here this evening.

I start by walking through a district called Gion. Gion is the most famous place in Japan for spotting geisha, although here they use the local term ‘Geiko,’ which translates to mean a ‘person of the arts.’ Gion is filled with numerous traditional old streets lined with even older houses, alongside a mix of theatres and other traditional entertainment.

I head up the mountainside to my last Kyoto temple, Otowa-san Kiyomizu-dera, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the seventeen Historical Monuments of Ancient Kyoto. There are some very interesting things to do here. One of them is walking from one sacred stone to the other with your eyes closed. If you succeed, you will supposedly be lucky in love. Another, which is actually prohibited now, is the chance to jump from a 13-metre-high stage. Surviving would mean your wish would be granted. This tradition dates back to the Edo period, where the survival rate was 85.4%.

The main reason I came here, though, was to experience the ‘womb’ of Daizuigu Bosatsu. This occurs not in the main temple building but in the smaller Tainai-meguri Hall. It costs me ¥100 to enter. I take off my shoes and walk down a few steps, all the while holding onto the handrail made of prayer beads. Beyond the steps, I take a right turn and enter a room of complete darkness.

Daizuigu Bosatsu, a female Bodhisattva, possesses the mystical ability to fulfill any human wish. Alone, I navigate through a labyrinth of corridors shrouded in an abyss of blackness so consuming that it swallows all semblance of light. Oddly, it is somewhat peaceful, yet simultaneously horrifying. After an eternity of carefully navigating through the darkness, a distant glimmer pierces through the shadows—a radiant stone. It is at this stone that I make a wish.

Once outside, I continue to wander through this vast temple complex. Here, there’s a natural water spring available for ¥200, but I opt not to drink from it. After sufficient exploration, I decide it’s time to head back; the heat becomes a bit too overwhelming for me. As I descend the mountain, I catch sight of an incredible, bright red shrine: Yasaka Shrine.

My next destination today is along the Takase River, at The Birthplace of the Japanese Motion Pictures Industry. Inabata Katsutaro showcased the first experimental film in Japan. Following his visit to Paris in 1896 to attend the Paris Exposition, he returned to Japan with a cinematograph he acquired from the French inventor Auguste Lumière. In 1897, he screened the film in the garden of the building.

Unfortunately, the building is closed today.

I feel a little hungry and decide that today I’ll try grilled eel for the first time. After wandering for a while, I finally find the place and take a seat in the restaurant. There are probably eight or nine other people eating here. The restaurant plays no music, and there is absolutely no ambiance. Nobody talks either; everyone just sits in silence with their grilled eel, as if waiting for the end of the world.

The menu is a little pricey, so I opt for the small grilled eel on rice with pickles. It arrives with a teapot full of hot green tea. Had I known, I wouldn’t have ordered a beer. The dish, called ‘Unadon,’ is delicious. It’s not what I was expecting; the texture is somewhere between meat and fish, and the soy-based glaze is delicious. Even the rice is good; I savour every grain. In total, it costs me ¥2800, an expensive treat.

I head back to the hostel for a short while to write before heading out again for the Kyoto Tanabata Festival, which starts at 6 p.m.

The festival stretches all along the Kamo River, hosting around one hundred small stalls selling various Japanese snacks, little gifts, and the usual souvenirs. Dubbed the ‘Star Festival,’ it’s said that writing your wish on a special piece of paper here will magically make it come true. One side of the festival is adorned with paper lanterns, while the other side is lined with lanterns made of reflective coloured paper.

At the entrance to the festival, a female performer is essentially doing karaoke, while at the other end, people dance to music on a stage. For no apparent reason, one guy is dressed as a polar bear. As nothing particularly interests me about the festival, I walk its length and then leave.

I head back to the hostel, up to the roof terrace, to read my book.

The evening sky looks like the end of the world.

Mushroom With A View

Posted on 15/07/2014 by Luke

Today was supposed to be a day off writing, a day to myself. I wake up at 10 a.m. full of energy. I hire the hostel bicycle for two hours. Two hundred yen but I don’t mind. The bicycle is bright yellow but I don’t mind.

Fukuoka is massive, it reminds me of Tokyo; similar but of smaller scale. There are skyscrapers all over the place. Littered between the buildings, random glass boxes on street corners display ceramic artwork; poetry is written next to streams and etched into fountains. It feels like I am wandering around inside some giant outdoor art exhibition.

As I cycle around I get a little lost. I find an area of just temples and shrines, tucked neatly away between traffic jams and chaos. After a long look around Fukuoka, I finally find a map and make my way back to the hostel, my two hour bicycle rental almost up.

After a Family Mart lunch of salmon onigiri and egg sandwiches, I do some work for a few hours, writing. I make plans to meet Amy and her friends outside Tenjin Station at half ten. At half Tenjin. I don’t know her friends, so it is nice of her to include me. The plan for this evening is ¥2000 all-you-can-drink karaoke, before going to see the festival at 4:59 a.m.

Amy also suggests a few places I should check out. With four hours to kill, I decide to follow her advice and head to Hakata Station, specifically the tenth floor. The early afternoon drizzle has cleared up, so there’s no need to carry around an umbrella all evening—a welcome bonus. As I take the lift, I notice twenty-two other people joining me; I am the tallest.

On the tenth floor there is topiary everywhere, mostly rabbits and bears. ‘Against All Odds’ by Phil Collins blares from every speaker. There is a miniature train track but the train doesn’t seem to be in operation in the evening. Planes land at the nearby Fukuoka Airport, mountains watch in the background. The view is sensational.

There are gardens, waterfalls, fish, a viewing platform, and a shrine. The beauty of the place somewhat takes me aback; I almost forget that I am on the roof of a train station. I decide to stay for the setting sun at 7:29 p.m.

I walk to Tenjin for food and to take in a bit of the nightlife. I forgot how much of a trek it was to get here; it takes me half an hour from Hakata. Outside a restaurant, I spot a plastic model of a bento box that looks amazing.

Inside, I sit at the bar. The fish is all set out behind glass in front of me. I order a set meal. It contains miso soup, vegetable tempura, sushi, a selection of pickles, potato salad, and a small Japanese omelette. I drink a beer and watch the chef carefully cut and prepare the fish.

The chef asks me if I am American. I tell him England and the atmosphere suddenly changes. Not that there was really a mood in the first place. It is difficult for me to explain. The chef just becomes a little more relaxed and begins to talk a little as he prepares my food.

I don’t drink the miso soup, it has a pork broth. I eat everything else though. The sushi is excellent, very fresh. The mushroom tempura was, hands down, the finest food I’ve ever tasted. It was truly amazing—an exceptional delight. The batter, an exquisite blend of lightness and delicacy, achieved sheer perfection in its simplicity. With a beer my meal is ¥2808. This is actually the most expensive meal I think I have had in Japan. I tell the chef the food is ‘maiuu’ a slang word meaning ‘delicious’. Everyone laughs.

I meet Amy and her friends at the North Exit of Tenji Station. Our group consists of a total of fourteen people. To karaoke! As per usual in Japan, songs are selected using a computer screen, drinks are ordered using a phone. Someone is ordering a round, I ask for a highball. A translation issue occurs and am I handed four drinks instead of one. I can’t give them away.

The karaoke is excellent value. You can order a drink and it arrives in under a minute. In Asakusa, the service at karaoke was incredibly slow. I first met Amy back in England at an open mic night, where she was performing; I somehow forgot just how well she can sing though. There is a really nice mix of Japanese, English, Canadian, French and American people in the group. We sing a lovely mix of Japanese and British pop classics.

After six hours of drinking (and free French fries), we walk back to Hakata for the Oiyamakasa main event of the Hakata Gion Yamakasa Festival.

The first team leaves the starting line at Kushida Shrine at 4:59 a.m. Thousands of semi-naked men wearing loincloths race through the streets carrying decorative one-tonne floats. The floats look spectacular. Spectators shout, ‘Oisa oisa,’ applaud, and splash the semi-naked men with water to keep them cool.

At the festival I take far too many photographs of other people taking photographs. The turn out is amazing for so early in the morning; the streets crowded with crowds. We stay for maybe an hour.

I finally get back to my hostel at half six. Far too late a night, but absolutely worth it.

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.

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