Abandoned by Disney

Posted on 01/01/2015 by Luke Kinsella

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

Fins Can Only Get Batter

Posted on 31/12/2014 by Luke Kinsella

Today, Christine and I head over to Tsukiji to visit a fish market. Outside the train station, the outer market is crowded with mostly tourists. It is fair to say that along the small streets lining the market, we are literally packed like sardines. Many small food stores sell fish caught fresh this morning, and the smell of fish is pleasant and anything but overpowering. The freshness of the food here can really be noted.

Buckets of huge tuna sit soaked in blood and ice. Live crabs try to escape their fate by crawling from weighing scales, and the hustle and bustle of the market is present at every turn.

We wander the outer market and into what looks like a giant warehouse. This is the wholesale section of the market, and the biggest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world. People carrying huge white polystyrene boxes of frozen fish cruise past on electric bikes. Tuna that costs more than a house is on sale and on display. People are rushing. Market traders are yelling. It is all a bit overwhelming.

We wander the entire length of the wholesale market, which takes about twenty minutes at a hurried pace. At the other side of the market, we wander into a shrine to receive our fortune in the form of a sacred lot. One of the traditional cultures in Japan that you can experience at Japanese shrines and temples. We both pay ¥200 and both receive a ‘Very lucky’ fortune. We wonder if they are all the same.

After Tsukiji, we take the train over to Tokyo Big Sight. Outside Tokyo International Exhibition Centre, there are about one thousand people in cosplay, dressed as their favourite comic book characters.

Men dressed as women pose for photographs for a queue of excited otaku. A guy in a schoolgirl outfit follows us as we enter the main building. Today is Winter Comiket, a comic market event with a focus on independent manga artists. Ninety percent of the people here are men wearing glasses and conform seamlessly to the stereotype of a comic book fan.

Entry is free. Inside the West Halls, there are rows upon rows of small stands, each selling individual comic books. There is no stage. No other entertainment. Only comic books. I can understand the appeal to those who read manga, but for me, the event gives me very little satisfaction. In fact, Christine and I agree that it is all a little too much. The crowds are insane, and oddly, most of the comic books seem to feature covers that can only be described as pornography.

After ten minutes of wandering along endless rows of comics, we decide to leave. On the way out, we bump into Jeff. He is standing around playing with his ‘selfie stick’ with a disappointed look on his face. He only bought the stick today, but already, it has broken; perhaps through overuse, perhaps it was cheaply made.

We leave Tokyo Big Sight and walk across the Dream Bridge and the Teleport Bridge before arriving at Decks, Odaiba. We grab some cheap food at Yoshinoya, one of my favourite chain restaurants because it sells grilled eel with a bottle of beer at an extremely low price. After food, Jeff heads off, and Christine and I explore the area.

We are handed a flyer for the Tokyo Trick Art Museum. It looks interesting enough and is only ¥900, so we decide to take a look.

The flyer says, ‘Do you want to play with Japanese ghosts and monsters? You can take funny photos. Don’t be scared. It is fun.’ The queue is mostly populated by families with children. Perhaps this isn’t for adults at all. Trapped in the queueing system, there is no going back, and eventually, we’re inside and being given a guided group tour of the museum, in Japanese.

We wander through the Edo area and the ninja house. At one point, we have to find a secret door; perhaps the most interesting thing in the museum. We take photographs in various positions, but they all turn out looking poor. We solve optical illusions, look at drawings from different angles, and get eaten by a whale. The best illusion is one of a vampire with a wine glass.

After the Tokyo Trick Art Museum, we head back to Asakusa, to Cafe Byron Bay, to drink wine. We opt for a relatively early night, tired from five days of constant walking around and sightseeing. Tomorrow, an eagerly anticipated trip to Tokyo Disneyland awaits.

The Tooth Without Enamel

Posted on 03/12/2014 by Luke Kinsella

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.

In an Interstellar Burst

Posted on 30/11/2014 by Luke Kinsella

Toothache has returned. After two full months of remaining silent in the corner of my mouth, the pain floods back like a terrible memory. My previous trauma at the dentist is once again vivid in the forefront of my mind. Luckily for me, I still have some little yellow pills from my last visit to the dentist, and these will do for today to both numb the pain and numb my nerves.

I cycle to Seven Eleven. The moment I park my bicycle, a policeman appears out of nowhere, parking his bicycle next to mine as if intentionally blocking me in. He hops off his bike at practiced speed and starts speaking in a language so fast it might not even be Japanese anymore, pointing at me. Eventually, he asks, “Buy?” Presumably, he wants to know if the bicycle I was riding is stolen or actually my own. I hand him my residence card, and he punches my bicycle registration number into a small digital device. “Okay,” he tells me, handing back my card before riding off just as quickly as he appeared.

I leave the stolen bicycle at Minowa Station and take the Tokyo Metro Hibiya Line. Thirty minutes later, I arrive in Roppongi. My first stop today: a spot of traditional British lunch.

I am yet to see a sign for an ‘English Restaurant’; perhaps such a restaurant doesn’t exist. ‘Malins Fish and Chips’ is the closest thing I will probably find in Japan. My lunch is served to me in a newspaper-covered box: fish, chips, and mushy peas. A home comfort in the shape of a stereotype. The peas taste horrible, but the fish and chips are very good. I also order a fish cake. Sadly, this restaurant gets it completely wrong, and I am presented with something that looks and tastes nothing like the fish cakes I am used to back home.

I wander over to Roppongi Hills, an area rich with overpriced apartments, five-star hotels, and expensive shops selling ‘luxury’ goods—things people don’t really need. There are valuable bowls that are merely display pieces, candles costing over ¥10,000 each, and sofas with price tags equivalent to the average annual salary in Japan. After leaving the shops, I head out into a makeshift courtyard, only to find a giant spider outside.

This bronze statue was made by the French artist Louise Bourgeois and is one of the largest sculptures of a spider in the world. Many people are here taking photographs or posing beneath her egg sac. I snap a quick shot before heading up an escalator that leads into a cinema.

One of the main reasons I came to Roppongi today, other than to eat fish and chips, is to watch the movie ‘Interstellar.’ I pay ¥1800 and head inside to find my seat. The Japanese cinema experience is no different from what I am used to: adverts, terrible trailers for upcoming releases, and cute characters telling everyone here to, ‘Switch off your mobile phone,’ and, ‘Do not talk during the movie.’ About halfway through the movie, my little yellow pill decides to wear off. I am already in pain from having to listen to Matthew McConaughey mumble through his lines. Now I have a second level of pain, further adding to my misery.

After what feels like seven hours, the movie finally ends. I leave the cinema and head over to Tokyo Midtown to see some over-the-top decorations.

After looking at the decorations outside the overpriced stores, I head to a small ice cream shop. The staff here are the happiest people in the world. A sign at the counter declares, ‘We sing for tips.’ I order strawberry cheesecake ice cream in a waffle cone, with a latte for good measure. It is possible to request a favourite song, and the staff will cheerfully sing it as they prepare the delicious homemade ice cream. “Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O,” they sing to the man in the queue before me—an odd choice for a favourite song. I doubt the staff will know any Radiohead, so I don’t trouble them by asking. My ice cream and coffee cost me ¥940, another casualty of an expensive Roppongi.

After dessert, I discover that Tokyo Midtown is having its annual winter illuminations, known as ‘Midtown Christmas.’ Since I’m already here, I decide to check them out.

The illuminations are impressive, far better than those at Tokyo Dome. There are multiple displays, including Christmas trees that line the roads and champagne glass-shaped lighting arrangements. However, the highlight for me is the ‘Starlight Garden’—millions of dancing lights, cool smoke machine effects, and haunting music. It’s very blue. I watch for a while, transfixed by the light show, before pondering that the electricity bill here must be massive. Heading back to the station, I buy a selection of expensive cheeses before taking the train bound for Minowa.

On the train ride home, my mind is consumed by broken time paradoxes, millions of blinking blue lights, and my lingering fear of dentistry.

In the Land of Spuds and Money

Posted on 12/11/2014 by Luke Kinsella

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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