Sentient Pigs, Birthday Cake, Neon Electric Girl

Posted on 17/07/2014 by Luke

Today is different. For some reason I don’t feel like myself, I cannot explain how I feel. I just don’t feel right. I decide to sell my second camera, a Nikon. Never used. My Samsung camera literally taking all of the action.

I take a bicycle. Thirty minutes later, I arrive at Reisen Park. I step into the ‘We buy and sell any camera’ shop and place my bulky Nikon on the desk. I hand the man all the wires, still locked inside opaque plastic. ‘Charger?’ he asks. Oh, I forgot the charger.

One hour later, I return to Reisen Park with the charger, and the sale concludes. In the park opposite, a stage appears to be taken down. I stop by a bookshop and use some of my camera money to purchase a book; there are so many books I need to read. I spend ¥1160 on the one I choose, ‘Kafka on the Shore’.

Outside the rain drops like scattered gunfire, but you probably don’t care about the weather. I decide to grab an early lunch from the second floor of Hakata Station. I deliberately go via one of the shortest escalators in the World. Just for fun.

Most restaurants in Japan display plastic models of their dishes outside. These models are crafted so meticulously that mistaking them for real food is easy if you didn’t know any better. The attention to detail is incredible. Taking a chance, I enter a restaurant that lacks these plastic models, leaving me clueless about what’s on the menu.

It is one of those restaurants where Japanese is the only language spoken, which is fine by me. I order a set meal of tuna on seaweed with rice, accompanied by something resembling coleslaw but with a different taste, miso soup, a spicy horseradish green condiment (the name escapes my memory), and a delicious red bean cake for dessert. Overall, it’s a nice meal.

After I leave, a woman chases me out of the restaurant with my forgotten umbrella.

I return the bicycle to the hostel, just as the rain stops. I sit on the roof terrace and read eighty-six pages of Kafka on the Shore.

After reading, I take a stroll around at dusk. I walk toward Tenjin. I take a photograph of the city from the river, and then walk back. I was going to fill up space by talking about wasting electricity with all this neon, I will instead waste words telling you that Fukuoka is the sixth biggest city in Japan.

I realise on my walk back that I haven’t been on a train or bus for three days. Maybe I haven’t done anything but read for two. A Chinook passes over me. Ironically, I am on my way to meet a helicopter pilot.

At the bar, the manager pours me a free glass of ice cold rice wine. The helicopter pilot is with his wife. I talk to him for ten minutes, before sitting at the bar with my book. Not to disturb him as his food arrives. The helicopter pilot is Japanese, I met him last night in the same bar. His English is average. He told me to come back again today, “Not a problem,” I told him. “The bar is five minutes from my hostel.”

I sit at the bar for a while, eyeing the skewers of meat atop the glass counter. Eventually, the helicopter pilot’s daughter arrives. She’s studying English at university, and for the next two hours, we converse in English. Her eyes are a deep-set brown, strikingly profound. Her black hair has an unusual texture, reminiscent of straw to the touch.

I agree to meet her tomorrow over a bowl of Paella. She leaves. I pay for six Suntory whisky highballs and her orange juice, ¥2345. A nice clean number.

As I wander back via a Lawson Stores, I see these odd workers:

I see them everywhere, actually. They stand on roads, at entrances to car parks, and next to building sites. They wave on traffic and pedestrians with their red lightsabers. Sometimes there will be three or four, all standing on the quietest street next to a cement mixer or ladder. A very strange job.

Back at the hostel I have a craving for salt and vinegar crisps; another thing that I cannot find here. I sit in the lounge with a can of Suntory whisky highball, and talk with the Koreans. There is a Korean woman who is both the same age as me, and two years younger. East Asian age reckoning.

It becomes one of the Koreans’ birthday; an amazing cake duly arrives, bang on midnight.

One of the Korean guys is studying philosophy, and his sister is incredibly intelligent. We talk about philosophy, another thing I really miss doing. He quite likes my discussion on M-theory. We also talk a lot about sentient pigs.

The intelligent Korean girl tells me that my eyes look lonely.

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.

Mostly Calmness

Posted on 04/07/2014 by Luke

I am woken at 4:47 a.m. to an alarm coming from the direction of the ocean. I look out of the window, it is raining hard. I dart out of bed to check a computer. No active tsunami warnings. I have a look outside, the alarm is constant, the rain is heavy, but everywhere else is quiet. No one rushing around. No lights on in houses. No one else in the hostel awake.

I calm down from my initial panic and decide to take advantage of the onsen (hot spring) in the hostel; open 24 hours a day except during cleaning time. Thanks to the volcanic activity in Japan, there are lots of onsens all across the country. Onsen water is believed to have healing powers derived from its mineral content. I get out of the onsen and the alarms finally stop. I go for a nap.

In the hostel lobby I ask a few people what the sirens were all about this morning. Only one other person heard them. “If it was a tsunami warning you would know about it. Those things go on for ages,” he says. I tell him this morning’s sirens went on for at least an hour. He repeats, “Nah, if it was a tsunami warning you would know about it.” Not very helpful at all.

My original plan for today was a two hour bus trip to the top of Mount Aso; Japan’s most active volcano. It turns out though that due to heavy fog, the gate is closed and I wouldn’t have been able to ascend the crater. I decide to skip the volcano and head to Beppu Station. Outside the station there is even an onsen for hands. Beppu is part of Oita Prefecture. Today I take a train to Oita, the capital of the prefecture.

¥280 later and I get off the train and go inside an indoor shopping arcade to shelter from the rain. This huge arcade is packed full of people. There are so many restaurants, so much choice. Usually I spend a long time wandering around trying to find a decent looking restaurant, but here there are plenty I would eat at. I wander down Smile Smile Street, with its restaurants sandwiched between wedding boutiques and pachinko parlours. There is also a random boat in the middle of Smile Smile Street.

As I wander back through the arcade in search of breakfast, I am drawn to a restaurant called ‘Vegetbar’. It is not that the restaurant is vegetarian that draws me to it, but the incredible menu. I have developed something of a sweet tooth since arriving in Japan, yesterday I discovered that supermarkets sell strawberry and cream sandwiches. I notice a big sign in the window of Vegetbar that says, “Pancakes Meet Vegetables.” I go inside and order them not really knowing what to expect.

Waiting for my food, if the anticipation doesn’t kill me then the food just might. A plate comes out and I like what I see. Vegetables have been blended up and added to the pancake mix. The green one was my favourite. Served with the pancakes is raspberry sorbet, whipped cream, and a pile of fresh fruit. After I while I forget that I am eating vegetable pancakes. Meal and a drink, ¥1280.

As I head out of the arcade, I watch a Japanese woman running to give another woman her change. In Japan it is customary not to leave a tip. The service is almost always exceptional; the service cost included in the price. Boarding the train, I realise that today is the first time since Sunday that I have really seen lots of people in one place. I also notice how good my skin feels; the healing power of onsen having the promised effect.

Back at Beppu the rain has stopped. I decide to see what the indoor shopping arcade here looks like during the peak lunch time rush. As you can see in the photograph above, the arcade is full of closed shutter doors and an absence of people. The most interesting thing about Beppu indoor shopping arcade is probably the Boss Coffee vending machine at the entrance. “The boss of them all since 1992.”

I head back to Beppu Station and hop on a bus bound for Kintetsu Beppu Ropeway. The Ropeway starts at 503 metres above sea level and is a cable car that takes you to the top of Mount Tsurumi, 1,300 metres high with excellent views. On a clear day you can see the islands of Shikoku. The bus twists and turns as it climbs up the mountain and eventually arrives at the Ropeway some twenty minutes later.

Closed. The driver of the bus apologises and tells me where to stand for the return bus. I try to pay him the ¥420 for the fare but he refuses to take any money. Even the bus drivers are nice in Japan. I have to wait 25 minutes for a bus back to Beppu. The vending machine outside the closed Ropeway sells ‘Boss Ice Creamy Latte’ in a big can for ¥130. Every cloud. Speaking of clouds, it starts to rain again.

While I sit in the rain waiting for my bus, the cafe across the road is blaring out Japanese pop music. A few cars drive up to the entrance of the Ropeway, the passengers peek at the ‘closed’ sign before turning around and leaving. A wasted journey if not for the view. I take a bus back down the mountain and take in the beautiful scenery.

At the hostel I am surprised to see that working on the reception desk is my old friend Yojiro; the Japanese guy I met a few times in Tokyo. He arrived back here late yesterday evening and is having a party tonight at the Hot Bepper bar. I still haven’t been to this bar yet; it only opens on Friday and Saturday nights. He gives me a token for one free drink. I think about boiled eggs and wonder how real this ‘free’ drink will actually be.

I eat supermarket bought prawn tempura for dinner. Prawn on the Fourth of July. Brilliant. It gets to 6 p.m. and feeling that I’ve already done enough on what has been a very long day, I now have to get ready for a party.

Global Tower, Beppu Park, Crocodile Hell

Posted on 02/07/2014 by Luke

After a few days of relaxing and enjoying the views, I decide it’s about time I head out and see the sights. A sign in my hostel reads, “Like us on Facebook! You get 1 free boiled egg.” I instantly like them on Facebook. I write for a few hours then hire a bike from the hostel. ¥1000 deposit, returned to me when I return the bike. Not bad, a free bike.

I cycle around the narrow streets. Mostly empty with the exception of the odd car. I pass a shop selling face masks of Manchester United players and former Manchester United manager, Sir Alex Ferguson. As I cycle uphill I see a tower in the distance. It feels like I am cycling up a mountain. I suppose that I am. I park my bicycle at Global Tower. Here, I pay ¥300 to ride the elevator 100 metres to the top. Global Tower is the symbol for one of the largest most advanced conference facilities in Western Japan.

I take my first few steps out of the lift and onto the upper observation deck. I instinctively know that there is nothing below me. The platform hangs in mid-air. It takes me a while to find my feet; before I enjoy a lovely 360 degree panoramic view of Beppu and the ocean beyond. Very nice. I then start down a staircase encased with glass. The staircase literally floats in the sky between the upper and lower observation decks. It takes me a while to find my feet.

After leaving Global Tower, I cycle downhill in the direction of Beppu Park. My one speed bicycle gathers momentum, and I begin to overtake cars. I slow down and my brakes shriek. The loudest brakes I have ever heard. All around me in the distance I hear dogs barking at the sound of my shrieking brakes. I pass a random golf course made entirely from concrete, before arriving at Beppu Park.

The park has no entry fee, but I think it deservedly should. I cycle around the park. There are not many people here so I do a few laps and take in the lush greenery, the surrounding scenery, and the shelter of a bamboo forest. I leave the park and head further downhill toward the ocean where I stop off at a giant supermarket. Japanese supermarkets are amazing. They have a huge selection of ready to eat food in plastic trays, but it’s all fresh, mostly healthy, and mostly delicious. I spend an hour wandering the infinite aisles before settling on today’s lunch.

My lunch is amberjack sashimi, some shrimp cutlet with tartare sauce, and two side salads. I also find some cheese that for once isn’t in the shape of a Mushi Cake. Real cheese is scarce in Japan, so this is a big deal for me. With my meal I also drink a bottle containing seventeen different types of vegetable and three different types of fruit. Sounds quite healthy but tastes of disappointment.

Last night I took advantage of the free Nintendo Wii in the hostel and played Mario Kart with Ed, a guy from London. At the hostel, he asks me what I’m doing today. I tell him I don’t really fancy taking a bus anywhere (most tourist attractions here are accessed by bus), and that I’ve already hired a bicycle. We look at a map, Ed hires a bike, and we set off, uphill, in the direction of Kannawa. After about fifteen minutes we stop off for a ‘Cooling Break’ outside some netted complex that turns out to be a driving range.

Inside the driving range, we somehow communicate with a non-English speaking man at reception before receiving two clubs and ball tokens. I insert the token into the machine, expecting just a few balls, but at least 250 pour out—I wasn’t expecting this many. Taking our places on the driving range, we each have an auto tee-up machine, a little robotic arm that places a new golf ball onto the tee for us. We spend an hour hitting golf balls in the direction of a net. Beyond the net, all we can see is the ocean.

It’s approaching 2 p.m. and the sun is blazing. I asked yesterday if it ever rains here. The hostel manager told me that the day before I arrived they had just had two weeks of rain. Me and my good timing. Back on track and heading to Kannawa. After what seems like hours of more uphill cycling, we arrive at Kannawa Hyotan Onsen. Hot spring baths are everywhere in Beppu. Plumes of white smoke rise up in almost every direction. Even the cold water here comes out of the tap hot. We use the free outdoor foot onsen at the entrance and relax for a while before heading even further uphill.

We arrive in an area called “The Hells.” Eight connected outdoor springs each with their own theme. We pay ¥400 each and enter one of ‘The Hells’. Oniyama Jigoku, or Crocodile Hell. A sign inside says: “The force of the steam is so strong here that about one and a half train cars can be pulled by its pressure, and it creates ideal conditions for breeding crocodiles.” The sign is next to a really hot stream of spring water. The temperature, the sign says, is 99°C.

When the spring water cools in the winter, they put the crocodiles inside to breed. We wander around. The crocodiles are quite scary and there are lots of them. We stare at crocodiles for a long while. They do not move. They do not even blink. Playing dead a specialty of theirs. We find some enclosures with water and a few crocodiles swimming around. There is one giant crocodile that wants to eat Ed. At 5 p.m. Crocodile Hell closes, and a woman kindly asks us to leave.

Outside, the conversation turns to sushi, and we get on our bikes and head back to the hostel. The cycling is all downhill now. My favourite part. On our way we pass Beppu Port. A huge cruise ship waits at one of the terminals. A bright red lighthouse waits in the distance. Back at the hostel, still no sign of my free boiled egg, we ask for directions to the ¥100 sushi restaurant. It turns out that it’s inside the same shopping complex as the supermarket I had visited earlier today.

At the restaurant, nearly all of the sushi is ¥100. We order our food on a computer screen, it is then made in the kitchen before arriving to us on a train. We order plate after plate of sushi. It’s actually surprisingly fresh. Ed orders a beer, I order a Suntory whisky highball, and we get through eleven plates of raw fish on rice between us. The cost is about ¥1100 each.

After sushi we head back to the hostel and watch the news. Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has revised Article 9. Four of us have a long discussion about the changes to the Constitution of Japan. It is massive news here and I’m hardly surprised. People have been protesting in the streets; on Sunday a man in Shinjuku made a statement by setting himself on fire. War, what is it good for? Abe-solutely nothing.

After we finish our discussion, three of us head out with a couple of beers and have a little wander around Beppu at night. Also, I took this photograph of a dragonfly that I quite liked:

A Kale of Two Sakes

Posted on 23/06/2014 by Luke

I ride the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line. I get off the train at Nihonbashi Station to buy a drink. I recently discovered that there is a small shop selling ¥300 smoothies here. It is the same side of the crossing gate as the tracks so there is no need for me to buy another ticket. I buy a smoothie and hop onto the next train some two minutes later. Today I choose a healthy bright green plastic cup of crushed kale.

From Harajuku Station, I take the five minute walk to Yoyogi Park. There is a festival here today in celebration of fifty years of diplomatic relationship between Japan and Jamaica. The festival is relatively quiet, but it is still morning. There are market stalls selling jerk chicken, mugs, and adorable hats adorning the Jamaican flag; the usual. There is a stage and a choir, they sound good but they are only sound checking, so no one applauds when they finish. I wander for fifteen minutes before deciding to leave.

As I exit the festival a man with a shaved head and white clothing approaches me. He hands me a gold card with a picture of Siddhārtha Gautama etched to the surface. He is not a native Japanese person, and is probably not even a real monk. He tries to get me to write my name, address, and how much money I am willing to ‘pledge’ to him. I tell him that I’m not interested, give him back his card, and walk away shaking my head. Using religion to scam people out of money, that’s a first.

Around the corner from the park, opposite the entrance to Harajuku Station is Takeshita Street; a famous pedestrianised shopping street with an amusing name. It is lined with small boutiques featuring all the newest fashion, and far too many ice cream shops. There is nothing really of interest for me here so I walk the length of the street before returning to Harajuku Station and jumping back on the train.

Back in Asakusa I hire a bicycle. ¥200 for four hours, brilliant. I park my bike at the hostel and sit on the pavement to take photographs of a lit up Tokyo Skytree; I try to improve the image by messing around with my cameras settings. Someone shouts my name from behind me, “Luke, what are you doing sitting on the floor?” It is a woman who works at the hostel. I tell her I am messing around with exposure and shutter speed. “Oh,” she says rather confused, “I’m emptying trash!”

I think to myself that I probably know more about emptying rubbish than I do exposure and shutter speed.

Back on my bike, I cycle around in search of food. After a while, I eventually give in to a Seven Eleven tartare sauce fish burger and a bottle of Pocari Sweat. Pocari Sweat is going to be the first sports drink that has a billboard on the moon, or so an advertising leaflet claims. I cycle around the quiet back streets of Asakusa, stop off for a rest outside the exciting World Bags and Luggage Museum. No idea. I randomly bump into a person I know from the Fuji TV show; he is stood talking to a man dressed as a tree. No idea.

Back at the hostel I chill out in my favourite room, the 4th floor laundry lounge. The room is actually an outdoor conservatory in a big tent. It features a ball pit, a lovely water fountain, and a bath tub full of soil. Cherry tomatoes grow from the soil. I sit on a chair and read the last thirty or so pages of Murakami’s ‘Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World’. It is here that I lose myself to the tranquillity of my surroundings. A staff member interrupts my serenity. She is here to do ‘maintenance’ on the ball pit, or so she tells me with a grin. She elegantly makes sure all the balls are neatly resting in the bathtub before leaving me in peace.

After finishing my book I pop over the road for a quick drink in A.S.A.B. I chat to the bar owner and ask him if he knows any good places to eat. “Yes,” he states matter-of-factly, “I draw you map.” He draws me a map. I thank him, pay, and leave the bar. His map is very accurate and I find the place with ease. Inside, I take a stool at the bar and am handed an English menu, a nice surprise.

So, from the top left I have a pot and saucer of Japanese mustard for dipping, fresh cabbage served on ice, a side salad, spring onions, rice, a white box, some odd tasting red pickles, edamame beans, and the star of the show, cutlassfish marinated in soy sauce. The set meal also comes with miso soup, but it is pork based so I ask to have my meal without. I drink two Suntory whisky highballs whilst I feast, and pay ¥2240.

Now, that white box. Natto. It has no place with the rest of the meal so I take it back to the hostel. On the way I buy a tube of salt and vinegar flavour Pringles. I eat the natto using chop sticks, I wrap three to five fermented soy beans around a crisp; the correct way to eat natto, probably. The natto smells so bad that it even comes with a sachet of strong smelling mustard, and some red sauce that just about cancels out the disappointing smell.

In the hostel I meet up with a couple of guys from Hong Kong, and Aaliya, the Canadian I met during my first week here. It is her last night in Japan, so we decide to drink. We go to a bar, closed. We go to another, they’ve stopped serving. At the third bar, Asakusa OTO, we are humbly welcomed inside. It is a sake bar selling Japanese rice wine. It tastes okay, better than the supermarket rubbish I am used to. Sayaka, the English speaking Japanese staff member asks me to go through her English menu and correct the twelve mistakes. The owner of the bar puts on the ‘most famous’ Britpop band ever, Ride. I tell him I’ve never heard of Ride. Instead he puts on The Smiths.

‘Girlfriend in a Coma’ plays in the background while I eat crushed ice with sweet sauces. Delicious. It is time to leave after about an hour of sake drinking. We go to pay and the owner refuses to take our money. He says I should tell more foreigners about his bar in exchange for the drinks he has given us. It’s the least I can do, I tell him, scribbling his website on the back of my hand.

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