Under the Spreading Cherry Blossom Tree

As the heat of 23°C sweeps across Tokyo, it brings with it a sea of pink and white flowers. Spreading in every direction are sakura, flowers that only bloom for about a week of the year and are so delicately dependent on weather conditions that they could easily vanish in an instant. The problem with cherry blossoms is that they take a while to reach full bloom, and in previous years, 100% hasn’t quite been reached. This year I am fortunate, and the weather has been excellent. Today, the flowers are at their full potential and will stay like this for a few days or until it rains. If it rains, the flowers will wash away, sharing the same fate as a ludicrously named spider in a nursery rhyme.

I head toward the Sumida River, passing rows of flowers that line the river on both sides. The same river, but this week, offering an entirely different setting.

sumidasakura

I cross the river and head into Sumida Park. I have arranged to meet my friends for a traditional event known as hanami. I wander the park, passing large groups of people drinking alcohol as they sit shoeless on bright blue tarpaulin. As I traverse the verdant gardens, after a full thirty minutes, I arrive at the location of the first-ever cherry blossom viewing party of the Imperial Court. Just over the hill behind this historic location, sit my friends, drinking whisky at noon.

As I gaze at cherry blossoms and observe the other people here enjoying their little picnics of alcohol and snacks, I realise that a man from Pizza Hut is delivering a hot pizza to one of the groups at the bottom of the hill. I find it astonishing; firstly, how could the delivery man ever find the group that ordered, and secondly, if this were in England, the company would never deliver to a crowded park. They would insist on a postal address, and if that couldn’t be provided, they would simply refuse.

hanamipizza

We sit under a cherry blossom tree, mostly in quiet contemplation. The point of hanami is to enjoy the flowers, the alcohol, and the company of others. As I stare at the flowers, I recall a story about horses. In the past, many Buddhists would ask to be buried with sakura, so to shake the branches and release a snowfall of flowers, horses would be tied around a cherry blossom tree. This is actually the reason that raw horse meat in Japan is known as sakura.

Sakura also has a third meaning, a stooge. Many years ago, people would be allowed to view kabuki shows for free, in exchange for over-the-top laughter and applause. These stooges would sit in the audience to encourage the paying members watching the show to participate in applause. It is said that the applause blooms very quickly, spreads, then fades away, much like the flowers. Our party eventually fades away too, just like the flowers, and I take my leave and walk toward Asakusa, to look at some cucumbers.

cucumber

Within the grounds of Sogenji Temple sit a pair of perfectly preserved kappa. Child of the river and an imaginary animal said to help local people with float control, or so the confusing sign states. It is said that a kappa has a bowl on its head, always full to the brim with water. If the bowl becomes empty, then the kappa sadly dies. Apparently, eating cucumbers rehydrates the kappa, keeping it alive, which might explain the cucumbers. I bow at the kappa statues, hoping to see them bow back, thus spilling their bowls and killing them in the process, but nothing happens. Just a statue covered in cucumber, staring blankly at me. A man cutting the lawn tells me that there are limbs from an actual kappa inside the temple; however, I am not allowed to see them, and am given no explanation as to why not. It makes me wonder why he even mentioned it in the first place. Regardless, I leave the temple with a free cucumber under each arm.

I turn back to cherry blossom viewing once more and head to the overly crowded Ueno Park.

uenosakura

The park has one of the best spots to view flowers in Tokyo, with endless rows of blossoming trees spreading from the middle of the park all the way to the Fountain of Frog. There isn’t much else to do here though; I have seen flowers already and am perhaps losing interest slightly. I instead wander away from the park, in search of something interesting.

Eventually, I stumble into Toeizan Kan’ei-ji Endon-in, a temple that features many graves of famous perished people, including that of a priest named Ryoozenji. The priest had a revelation in a dream, and upon waking, he invented a powerful medicine named Kintaien. This medicine cured every illness in the world, and he sold it at a drugstore that was owned by his nephew. All of the profits from this super drug, Ryoozenji spent on a library in the grounds of this very temple. I find it a little odd. If I had invented a drug that cured every illness in the world, I would have thought my profits would have stretched a lot further than a simple library. Still, the story of Ryoozenji isn’t the strangest thing at Toeizan Kan’ei-ji Endon-in.

insectmon

Next to the copper bell sits a large stone surrounded by plants. I take a closer look and discover that this rock is a tomb that contains the souls of insects. Specifically, insects that were sketched by a lord in the Edo Period. This type of monument is known as a Mushizuka and was built to console the spirits of various insects that were both drawn and used for science.

I leave the temple and return to Ueno Park. Most of the people in the park are gathered for hanami, but there is one area where the crowd seems to be oblivious to the beauty all around them, engaged in a protest of sorts. A man stands with a book and a microphone, shouting loudly and with anger, as fifty elderly Japanese men sit and watch in awe, nodding in agreement. I am not sure what the man is so angry about, perhaps the flowers, but regardless, he does his protest next to a sign that ironically says, “No protesting, no gathering, no advertising, and no politics.”

publicitystunt

I leave the park with a head full of cucumbers. As I wander down flower-covered roads, I turn onto Kappabashi Street, in the hope that I might meet an actual kappa. Obviously, nothing transpires, so my float control dilemma will have to wait until another day.

A Handful of Salt

Sometimes in Japan (and the same can be said for life in general), I have absolutely no idea what is going on. Today, a red carpet has been placed in the middle of a busy road. Not only does this carpet obstruct many motorists who drive down here every day, but it actually stretches the entire length of Kappabashi Street – and Kappabashi Street is a very long street indeed. Is the head of state making a surprise visit? Is some type of awards ceremony about to take place, perhaps? Or is there no reason at all for this vermilion impediment? Only time can provide the answer.

redcarpet[1]

For the last few months, I have been trying my hand at a little private English conversation practice with just one student—a 71-year-old Japanese man who has lived in Asakusa all his life. With a keen interest in food and Japanese history, he has provided me with an endless source of knowledge about post-war Japan and the changing attitudes amongst Japanese people. I enjoy teaching him, and our conversations often cover an array of topics, such as Bonseki, China Syndrome, and foods I’ve never heard of before in my life. Today, we are heading out to try such a food.

He drives us across Tokyo to Yotsuya. On the way, he starts a conversation with the dashboard of his Toyota, instantly reminding me of something from a science-fiction movie. In Yotsuya, we visit a shop called Ariakeya. The shop specialises in selling just one dish—a Japanese delight known as ‘tsukudani’.

fishfish[1]

If I were to ask anyone to name three foods associated with Japan, tsukudani probably wouldn’t even get a mention; and, if I’m completely honest, I had never heard of it until last week. Tsukudani most commonly involves seaweed, meat, or fish (often pond fish) that has been simmered in soy sauce and mirin. It can be eaten up to a year after it is made. Many years ago, this was a staple food in Japan, but due to its high salt content, it has become somewhat less popular, with concerns about salt being bad for health and such.

The woman in the shop is very pleasant and can speak excellent English; she has even prepared an English menu for me in anticipation of my arrival. I am offered samples of various dishes before settling on my favourite, Maguro—cubes of tuna. Soft, but surprisingly chewy at the same time, the outside is extremely salty but very sweet. The middle offers a dryness that you would expect from marinated cubes of cooked tuna. Overall, the fish is pleasantly moreish.

As we leave the shop, I notice a small tray of salt outside the entrance to a restaurant, guarded by a shisa—an Okinawan dragon. Curious about the purpose of this salt display, I ask my student. In his usual enthusiastic way, he explains to me that many years ago, the Emperor of China lived in a Palace so big that the only way he could get anywhere fast was to ride around on the back of a bull. Inside the Palace, the Emperor had three thousand women, each in separate rooms. Every night, the Emperor would tour the Palace on the back of his faithful bull and decide which woman he would spend the night with.

bullsalt[1]

The women knew that the Emperor rode around on a male cow; I mean, everyone knew, it was hardly a secret. The women were all desperate to marry the Emperor, for the wealth and status they would receive if such a ceremony occurred. Finally being freed from their solitary rooms in the Palace was often considered a secondary incentive. Somehow, the women discovered that the bull liked eating salt, so every night, they would place saucers of salt outside their rooms. The bull would smell the salt, stop to eat, and hopefully, the Emperor would choose that room to spend the night. Somehow, this tradition of salt piles outside of rooms came over to Japan, and salt is now placed outside many restaurants. Bulls represent customers, or so the custom goes. The story made me wonder if the idiom ‘Like a bull in a china shop’ took any of its origin from the same story, but before I have time to ask, we are back in Asakusa, and I have a red carpet to inspect.

Back at Kappabashi Street, some women are singing in front of a man that I think is supposed to be a clown. Eventually, though, answers come, and the reason for the whole street being closed off becomes apparent.

kappacarpet[1]

A kappa (or at least a man dressed as one) follows the red carpet, walking the length of Kappabashi Street. The kappa stops intermittently to wave at the passing crowd, walking alongside an old woman carrying a scroll, and has a big red heart painted on its back. I have no idea why. No idea about any of this.

Back at home, I dine on my neatly wrapped packet of tuna cubes, which cost ¥432. Tsukudani is usually enjoyed with rice, but I will snack on this salty-sweet tuna as it is. Unfortunately, this type of food is not too pleasing on the eye; it might look like something you would serve to a domestic animal or a bull, but its taste suggests that this might be a bit of a waste. The tuna is, in fact, delicious and perhaps one of the best foods I have tried in months. The only problem, again, is the high salt content, but that shouldn’t put you off trying it at least once.

tunacube[1]

I seldom place links to other websites, but I genuinely enjoyed the food from Ariakeya, and they were very nice to me, so here is their shop:

http://www.ariakeya.com/

Japanese New Year’s Eve

New Year’s Eve in Japan differs significantly from the celebrations and lively scenes I’m accustomed to in England. We kick off the evening at our favourite izakaya, where the owner, in his broken English, warmly greets us with, “Good morning this evening.” The atmosphere is festive, with people enjoying drinks and exchanging smiles all around. Among the options on the extensive Japanese menu is ‘Smile, ¥10, limited to ten per day.’ Fortunately, the stocks are plentiful, so I toss the owner a ten-yen coin in exchange for his wonderfully elaborate smile.

The television set above the bar is broadcasting the 65th annual Kohaku Uta Gassen.

NYtelevision[1]

Kohaku is a live talent battle between two teams of musical acts that have had a successful year in Japan. The white team consists of all male artists, while the red team is composed of all female artists. This exclusive, invitation-only event happens to be the most-watched show on NHK every year. Audience members cast their votes, and the only prize is pride for the winning team.

I was thoroughly enjoying a band of male vocalists singing, “La lalalala lalalala,” when out of nowhere, the owner of the izakaya switches channels to watch the latest episode of the popular pirate anime, One Piece. Food is then served to each of us in tiny bowls—traditional Japanese soba noodles, known as toshikoshi soba.

NYfood[1]

Soba noodles are notably thin and long, with the belief that their length symbolises a long life. It is also said that consuming these noodles helps ward off any lingering ghosts as the New Year arrives. The seasoning for the meal is served from a salt shaker crafted from a light bulb. While I’m unsure if this is part of the traditional way to eat Japanese soba, I find it quite appealing.

One Piece comes to an end, and the owner channel-hops, briefly settling on boxing before switching back to Kohaku. On the television, Idina Menzel graces the stage, singing ‘Let It Go.’ It’s quite rare for a non-native Japanese artist to be invited to perform at the event, but given the immense success of the movie Frozen in Japan, her appearance comes as no surprise. It’s at this moment that I’m hit with my first Tokyo Disneyland flashback.

We continue to enjoy our drinks, with people singing along to ‘Let It Go.’ Suddenly, the owner begins handing out gifts in small white envelopes.

NYsheep[1]

Next year marks the Chinese zodiac year of the Ram, or ‘sheep’ as my Japanese friend corrects me. I suppose interpretations vary across countries. The pendant I receive, if I’m completely honest, looks more like a goat. Regardless, I appreciate the gesture and the unexpected gift.

As midnight rapidly approaches, we finish our drinks and take a wander over to Senso-ji for Joyanokane. At the stroke of midnight, a priest will ring the bell 108 times, symbolising the 108 sins of Buddhism. Unfortunately for me, sarcasm is one of those sins. By merely staying and listening to the tolls of the bell, your body and mind are believed to be cleansed—an excellent way to start the year, if only we could get close enough to hear them.

nysenso[1]

It’s incredibly crowded here. People are queueing up to make their first prayer of the New Year. Others are here to shop at the many little food stores lining the route to the temple, while some are here to count down to the New Year. Our purpose is simpler—we are here to listen to the bells. Eventually, as the clock approaches midnight, we manage to get close enough to the temple, arriving at about two minutes to midnight.

The first bell chimes, and we cheer. Suddenly, as if a switch has been flicked, the plastic sheeting over the market stalls starts to shake. A ferocious wind appears out of nowhere, and the temperature drops to the lowest it has been since I arrived in Japan. It’s as if the gods are angry or trying to sleep, with the millions of people here disturbing their slumber.

It will probably take over two hours to queue and make our first prayer of the year, and the cold is too much to bear. We decide to postpone this ritual until tomorrow. Instead, we opt to get our fortunes for ¥100 each. Surprisingly, none of our group receives a bad fortune. I, personally, receive a ‘Good Fortune’ that says, ‘The linen robe turns into a green one.’ I’m not entirely sure what this means, but I presume it implies that I will turn into a kappa.

After receiving our fortunes, we go our separate ways. As I cycle home, the wind almost blows me off my bike.

Mascot, Mascot, Mascots

The elevator stops at a random floor. I stick my head out, but there’s nobody there—very odd indeed. Outside, the rainy season has decided to take a day off; the weather forecast for Tokyo today is ‘scorchio!’ I am up quite early so I decide to do my laundry. I chill out in the ball bath for a while whilst waiting.

Once finished I leave the hostel and decide to check out Kappabashi Street; a road I have walked past at least thirty times since being here but have never bothered to venture down. It is a shopping street selling many specialty goods, mostly kitchen products. This street is littered with pink lanterns. It also has its own special mascot, the kappa, a Japanese river imp.

PINKS[1]

After walking the full length of Kitchen Street, I arrive at Ueno Station. Here I take a train to Ikebukuro.

I visit an art gallery, only to find a sign inside stating ‘closed today.’ I start to ponder if anything in Japan is ever open. Outside, I notice a sign reading ‘パフォーマンス中’, with ’12:15′ scribbled below it on a whiteboard. Translating the sign, I discern it means ‘performance at 12:15’. It feels like my Japanese learning is finally paying off.

I head across to a nearby McDonald’s to kill half an hour and to kill my healthy diet. I sit down in a private booth, there is a screen in front of me so nobody else can watch me eating. All very strange.

Back outside the performance is about to start. A man appears dressed as a type of Godzilla human statue. He walks slowly to the middle of a large open area and stands on a slightly raised platform. Here he remains perfectly still. Two minutes later someone puts a coin in his collection bucket. It is at this moment he comes back to life to give the person a ‘thumbs up’, before returning to his original position.

Stone[1]

It is a hot day. The sun burning in the sky, but there is not a bead of sweat on the man. There is a moment of comedy when a woman poses next to the statue for a photograph, presumably she thinks the statue is real. The man steps off his raised platform and sneaks up on the lady; when she finally notices him she lets out a loud scream and everybody laughs. After a while of literally standing around, I decide to grab the train bound for Harajuku.

At Harajuku Station there is a sign with arrows pointing to nearby tourist attractions. Takeshita Street, Yoyogi Park, the NHK Building, and Meiji Shrine. All four are within five minute walking distance from the train station. I toss a coin and it lands in the gutter. I toss another and it directs me to the NHK Building.

NHK is Japan’s national public broadcasting organisation, its equivalent being the BBC. Inside I see everything from props and set locations, the history of NHK, quiz machines to test my knowledge of NHK, a machine that lets you be a nature cameraman, and my favourite activity, a mock up television studio.

NHK1[1]

At the mock up studio I am seated at a news desk and instructed to look at the camera. Next, I take part in a fake weather broadcast. I stand behind a Tokyo skyline and point at things which are being projected onto a large television screen. It is all very exciting.

I get the chance to witness a live broadcast. Behind a large glass screen, NHK is airing a television show called ‘Studio Park Kara Konnichiwa.’ It’s a live chat show featuring two hosts, a guest, a producer, and four cameramen. I stand and watch for a while, probably fifteen feet away from the show’s hosts, before eventually realising I can’t understand a word of what is being said. So much for my Japanese learning finally paying off.

Leaving the NHK media theme park, a statue of Domo-kun waves me goodbye. Domo-kun has been the broadcaster’s mascot since 1998, and is described as ‘a strange creature that hatched from an egg’. Goodbye Domo-kun! The exit leads out into Shibuya. I am surprised just how close together everything is in Japan and wonder why people waste so much time here on trains.

mascot[1]

On the train, I see an advertisement for the FIFA World Cup; it shows the mascots for the Japanese National team. They are the Pokémon characters Bulbasaur, Charmander, Chespin, Fennekin, Froakie, Helioptile, Litleo, Meowth, Pancham, Pikachu, and Squirtle. I am looking forward to the World Cup and think Japan are worth a punt at 200/1. Back at the hostel I discover that England’s game against Uruguay is at 3 a.m. here. I am no longer looking forward to the World Cup.

I eat Wasabi flavoured crisps, watermelon, and my favourite food, Cheese Mushi Cake. I then head out to the English bar where I practice my teaching skills. Much to my delight, the English bar is playing Beatles Radio; a mix of original and cover versions of Beatles songs. I stay until last orders and head back to the hostel to find a party going on and a guitar.

I play ‘Give up the Ghost’ by Radiohead. After I finish a man says that the way I play reminds him of Thom Yorke. His comment makes my day. Later, three ladies from Thailand who had heard me playing earlier approach me and start talking to me in Radiohead; the perfect end to an evening.