Into the Belly of a Whale

I am filming the rain as it slowly sweeps toward me. The rain is just a bit further away on the other side of the road. It’s heavy, two weeks worth of rain all in one go. As it passes through me my umbrella goes up with the flick of a button. Flick. Swoosh. Patter patter. At Tawaramachi Station, I see a member of the hostel staff. He doesn’t have an umbrella. I walk him the five minutes to the hostel holding my umbrella above us both, much to his delight.

On the way back to Tawaramachi Station, the path is already flooded. The thunder sounds like a drum, a big booming drum. It starts from behind me and roars across the sky travelling above me and away into the distance. One fell swoop. I stand for a while watching the lightning over the Sumida River, it dances around Tokyo Skytree, a giant lightning rod on a day like today. I wait with my camera, poised for the shot that never comes. Ten minutes pass and I decide ten minutes is long enough to wait.

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I grab the train to Shinagawa, via Nihonbashi for a ¥300 orange and ginger smoothie. Outside Shinagawa Station a thick grey blanket of cloud covers every inch of the sky, casting rain and darkness across the city. Street lights have come on and it’s only 10 a.m.

I go to the Tokyo University of Marine Science and Technology. There is a museum here about fishing methods. There is also a big round pond for the turtles to swim around in.

The highlight for me is something you won’t find in a guidebook. A full size skeleton of a western gray whale. There is a sign saying ‘open’ but there is not a sole in sight. I enter the room housing the giant whale skeleton. It is incredible. The way the exhibit has been put together allows you to walk inside its rib cage, into where its stomach would have been. I contemplate spending three days and three nights in the belly, like Jonah, but the smell of the bones is quite potent. Like a rotten seaside smell. I take a few photographs, but the whale is so big, I can’t fit it into a single shot.

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I wander around the rest of the university campus. I find it interesting to get a perspective of what it’s like here at a university in Japan. They have tennis courts, surfboards, labs, classrooms, a whale skeleton, boats, dormitories, and an outdoor swimming pool brimming with rainwater. I leave impressed. In Tokyo, every train station has its own theme tune for each train line, and the Tokyu Toyoko Line does not disappoint.

Back at the hostel I think about moving on. A hostel in Beppu claims that: “If you are tired while you are traveling, Beppu is the best place to relex! [sic] Beppu is blessed with abundant nature for trekking, soaking in natural hot springs, or playing in the ocean. You can choose what you want depending on your mood. There are eight different kinds of hot springs, depending on the area you go to.” The hostel having its own hot spring bath making the decision very easy for me, and I book a two week stay.

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Outside the rain has just about stopped, so I go to hire a bicycle. Bright green, my favourite. Yesterday I wanted to buy my own bike, I even went to the bike shop. The guy told me I can’t buy a bike unless I have a permanent address. Apparently, to prevent theft, all bicycles in Japan have to be registered to an address and all bicycles are stamped with approval. Each cyclist has a card with their name and address and a number matching the number stamped to the bike. If stopped by the police you can prove the bicycle is yours. If a bike is abandoned the police know who it belongs to and will charge you to have it sent back.

On my bright green hired bicycle I cycle to Ueno. There is an expedition on today at the Tokyo National Museum. It is art work from Taipei and has been big news in Japan for all the wrong reasons. The Japanese billboard advertising the Treasured Masterpieces from the National Palace Museum in Taipei had omitted the word ‘national,’ an act that was perceived by the Taiwanese government as undermining the nation’s dignity. The exhibition was almost cancelled until a last minute correction was made and an apology from Japan was given. Unfortunately, the famous ‘Jadeite Cabbage’ was left back in Taiwan amidst the controversy. I came here solely to see The Cabbage, so perhaps it was a wasted journey. Outside the museum, I eat green tea ice cream while gazing in, saving my ¥1600.

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The time is 19:11, so I head to Seven Eleven. I buy Inarizushi (sushi rice wrapped in deep fried tofu). I also buy an egg sandwich, a box of natto, and some hot chilli flavoured Potato Chips, for the natto. At the counter, chopsticks and a mint tipped toothpick are given to me in a handy little bag, complimentary of course. I head to my hiding place on the 4th floor of the hostel and read. The packaging for my sandwich thanks me for eating its contents. I eat natto until I run out of Potato Chips.

I decide to cycle around Asakusa looking for something to do. Outside Senso-ji Temple, I spot a television crew and TV presenter Kazuo Tokumitsu. He is with a female singer who’s name I haven’t yet discovered. She sings a few songs, her voice sweet, her smile sweeter. She thanks a few members of the crowd and then everybody leaves.

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Back at the hostel, I plan on an early night. My early night doesn’t quite happen though and somehow I’m in a bar with three guys from the hostel. For some reason, I can still recall the stench of the whale bones. I stay to watch the first half of the Uruguay game, before giving in to slumber at around 2 a.m.

Stop! Hamarikyu Time!

It’s 9:31 a.m. and the bar in my hostel is open for business. Japan are playing their opening World Cup game in just under thirty minutes; much to the delight of the staff here. Samurai Blue, a ¥300 cocktail named after the Japan squad is being sold. ‘Free’ soft drinks and bar snacks are also available. Almost everyone is wearing Japanese football shirts, face paint, and bandannas. Fans are waving megaphones and flags.

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Yesterday, a fifty inch television was installed in preparation for the ‘big game’, and signs advertising the match were strategically placed around the hostel. The football is finally here. TV Tokyo are here again too; filming ‘foreigners’ in the hostel who are watching the match. After a good start from Japan, the game ends in a disappointing defeat, but everyone remains upbeat.

I apply for some jobs before deciding to leave the air conditioned hostel and get some breakfast. I go outside to check if I need an umbrella today or sunscreen. Outside clear skies and 30°C; so much for the rainy season. My breakfast consists of a crustless egg sandwich and a British stereotype in the form of Royal Milk Tea; I’m anemic royalty! It is one of many satisfying moments to my day.

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After breakfast I have no plans, so I take the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to a random station. At Shinbashi Station I walk past a Porsche showroom, a broadcasting tower, and an advertising museum. I keep walking until I eventually find an information board with a map; ironically the advertising museum isn’t advertised on the information board. I see a place nearby that looks like a park and decide to check it out.

On the way I pass a drunk man in a Japanese football shirt, randomly singing the names of football players. He slurs his words and staggers as he drinks from a can of Kirin Beer. I arrive at the park, which isn’t actually a park. I pay the ¥300 entrance fee, and enter a place called ‘Hamarikyu Gardens’.

The Hamarikyu Gardens were once the family garden of the Tokugawa Shogunate, but were later donated to the City of Tokyo by the Imperial Family in 1945. They are now designated as a Special Place of Scenic Beauty and Special Historical Site of Japan. I wander the lush gardens for a while finally free from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo; however, my tranquillity is somewhat spoilt by the tall office blocks that scrape the sky in every direction.

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Back at the hostel there is a poster pinned to the notice board for a gyoza party tomorrow night, offering free dumplings. There is also an advertisement from broadcaster NHK. It is looking for volunteers for a TV program I am familiar with called ‘Tokyo Eye’, which is broadcast worldwide via satellite and the Internet. It’s for a short documentary to film tourists experiences in Odaiba. I sign up.

On Tuesday morning I am to take part in a televised bike tour featuring local foods and activities as part of the ongoing TV Tokyo documentary. On Wednesday morning I am involved in a feature for Fuji TV at Cafe Byron Bay; the English bar I have mentioned many times before, and my local drinking establishment here in Asakusa. It has been voted number 1 out of 2,136 restaurants in Taito on TripAdvisor.

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Japan has been kind to me so far, and I consider myself lucky to be featured in three different television shows in my first three weeks of being here.

I swing by Cafe Byron Bay for a quick Suntory whisky highball (whisky and soda). A few highballs later and it’s time to eat. I am still exploring the thousands of restaurants in Asakusa; today I decide on Indian cuisine. I order a vegetarian set meal for ¥980. At the time of ordering there’s a lovely little scale ranging from one to five chilies. I ask for three and the waiter says, “Three! But three is really really hot!” I change my mind and choose two chilies.

My food arrives. It includes a salad, a lentil based Daal, a nondescript ‘vegetarian curry’, the smallest portion of rice I have ever seen, and the largest naan bread I have ever seen. It tastes great, and the photograph probably doesn’t do the food justice. The Daal is so hot that it causes my eyes to water; I somehow manage to eat it though. It is so hot that I hate to think what would have happened to my eyes had I ordered the three chilies option. Presumably the five chilies option was off the Scoville Scale and on fire.

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After my meal, the chef personally comes out of the kitchen and asks me in English how my food was. I tell him that it was very good and I would return. I actually would return and had already been eyeing up the Tandoori Fish option on the menu.

Back at the hostel for a few cans of Suntory whisky highball. I end up in A.S.A.B. drinking with a Swedish guy who’s friend looks and sounds exactly like Steve Buscemi. After a couple of drinks here I take the two minute walk from the bar back to the hostel for a relatively early night.