Conspirators of Treasure

The ¥130 sake cup vending machine near my house doesn’t require age verification. Additionally, there’s a vending machine selling lead pipes at the Asakusa View Hotel and another one offering plastic toy animals on the platform as you disembark from the Sobu Line at Akihabara Station. The latter is quite an unexpected sight, as plastic toy animals are the last thing on my mind when I exit a train. However, this is Japan, the land of the prizing sun, and today’s prize is tucked away inside a different kind of vending machine—the King’s Treasure Box.

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A sticker on the front of the machine displays the English text, ‘Let it get.’ Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I insert my ¥1000 note into the treasure box. Above the note slot, there’s an encouraging message, ‘One dream, One note!’ Among the potential prizes are a Nintendo Duel Screen, a PlayStation Vita, and even a product vaguely labelled as ‘Famous car.’

Following the instructions, I press any button, and the machine responds with an exciting clunk. I eagerly reach into the lower chamber to retrieve my prize.

My treasure quietly awaits me on the machine’s inner fake grass—Disco Glasses, proudly labelled ‘Made in China.’ These glasses, devoid of lenses and made from cheap plastic, boast voice-activated flashing red lights. Not exactly what I’d typically consider treasure. With no way of knowing if the machine stocks any ‘good’ prizes, it’s conceivable that it’s 100% Disco Glasses.

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Bitter and disappointed, I scrutinise the machine for refund information. Despite my limited Japanese ability, I discern that I can follow the ‘King’s Blog’ for more information. However, details about a refund aren’t quite as forthcoming.

Disheartened by my less-than-thrilling prize, I decide to escape my disappointment by taking trains. I make my way to Aoyama-itchome Station, where my friend Genmei is hosting an art exhibition in the basement of Club Edition. Titled ‘Colourful is Power,’ her display lives up to its name, boasting vibrant hues that captivate the eye.

The venue itself exudes a more bar-like ambiance than a conventional art gallery, contributing to its unique atmosphere. I engage in a brief conversation with Genmei, a talented live painter. Having witnessed some of her live art firsthand, I can confidently say that she is an amazing artist. Her creative endeavours predominantly unfold at trance parties or raves, drawing inspiration from the mood and music of the events.

In a friendly gesture, I offer her my Disco Glasses, but she gracefully declines.

genmei[1]

After leaving the gallery/bar, I step outside to find heavy rain pouring down. I navigate the rain-swept streets to reach the station and catch a train to Komagome. Today marks the opening ceremony for an event at Rikugien Gardens—an evening of autumn illuminations. I pay my ¥300 entry fee and enter the darkness.

These three-hundred-year-old landscape gardens have inspired countless poems. It’s been a while since I wrote a haiku, so here goes:

Hollow darkness welcomes me,
To black rain singing,
And decaying leaves screaming.

Stumbling through the woods, I eventually spot maple trees adorned with red and green lights. The path beneath my feet is sodden, my shoes squelching as they tread over the thick, wet mud. Small lanterns mark the way, guiding me through the enchanting scene. I follow the illuminated path, captivated by the beauty around me despite the biting cold. In the distance, ducks play in the lake, trees sway gently in the wind, and steam billows from spotlights, creating a stark contrast to the crisp winter air.

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After walking around for about an hour, I realise I am lost in a maze of trees illuminated by scattered lights. At times, I find myself stumbling through the silent darkness. Eventually, I spot a steward; he lacks an umbrella and is soaked to the bone. As I approach, he remains silent, lifting his arm to point toward a small gap between some trees that appears to lead into a void. Quietly following his unspoken guidance, I venture through.

Ten minutes later, I emerge into a scene that resembles a different planet.

Soft blue light gently bathes the fallen autumn leaves, casting a mysterious glow over the tremendous yet somewhat spooky sight. The surroundings are shrouded in mystery and framed by towering trees. A small speaker nearby plays calming music, the falling rain inadvertently adding to the soothing chorus. Mesmerised, I watch the patterns of blue smoke, finally able to enjoy some illuminations.

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Having witnessed this captivating spectacle, I embark on a ten-minute journey through quicksand-like mud, eventually finding my way to the exit.

Back in Asakusa, I indulge in drinks until midnight before heading to Tori-no-Ichi part two—the second day of the rooster this month. Once again, the streets are filled with people wielding massive rakes, partaking in the festivities. While the crowd revels in the celebration, I have a singular focus—the street food market.

I opt for Korean-style yakisoba, a generous serving of vegetables and noodles topped with kimchi. Satisfied, I join a relatively short queue for a ¥300 bag of hot baked kasutera. As I relish each bite of my favourite snack, I savour the moment. It’s precisely at this juncture that I discover the batteries in my Disco Glasses have died.

In the Land of Spuds and Money

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 Neputa 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 Neputa floats, featuring a samurai and a golden dragon, are skilfully dragged on wheels across the lively festival grounds.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.