A Handful of Salt

Posted on 12/01/2015 by Luke

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.

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’.

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.

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.

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.

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/

Palace Under Fire

Posted on 24/12/2014 by Luke

Today is His Imperial Majesty the Emperor’s 81st Birthday. To celebrate this momentous occasion, the people of Japan will enjoy a public holiday, taking a day off work. The only person not celebrating, it seems, is His Imperial Majesty the Emperor himself. Today, he will address the nation from the inner grounds of the Imperial Palace, a place that is only open to the public two days a year. Not one to pass up an opportunity to go inside the Imperial Palace walls, I head straight to Kanda Station directly after breakfast.

I enjoy a leisurely thirty-minute walk. The sky is clear, the sun is bright; it feels far too hot on this December day to resemble the apparent winter. His Imperial Majesty the Emperor himself couldn’t have ordered better weather for this special day, even if he tried. I walk to the Imperial Palace, stopping to admire some trees along the way. It seems that I go through phases of fascination, and, as you might be able to surmise, this month’s juncture is trees.

The trees here were once used by the Meteorological Agency to help further their studies into phenological phenomena. These Yoshino Cherry and Japanese Maple trees served as specimens. The long-term observations from studying these trees helped solve problems regarding changes in weather conditions almost sixty years ago. With this data, the Meteorological Agency can accurately predict the days when cherry blossoms will flower. An important and worthwhile discovery.

When I finally arrive at the Imperial Palace, I find out that I have missed His Imperial Majesty the Emperor’s speech by a mere two hours; I will still be allowed inside, though, if I can find the correct entrance. I wander around the outer Imperial Palace walls. There is a large statue of Wake no Kiyomaro, a preacher of Buddhism and once a trusted advisor to the Emperor during the Nara period.

Wake no Kiyomaro had his share of good and bad fortune. He was once exiled for years and forced to have the sinews of his legs cut out, rendering him immobile. Luckily, some stone boar statues magically came to life and healed his legs, and he was freed from exile. Eventually, he was reinstated as a trusted advisor to the Emperor. Nowadays, he is remembered by the grand title of ‘God of healing foot disease,’ and at this location outside the Imperial Palace, he has become a regular target for defecating birds.

I eventually find the entrance to the Imperial Palace grounds. Here, I get told off by a policeman for walking against the flow of people. One-way system, no signs. I head across the coned-off concrete and to a security checkpoint. After being thoroughly searched, I am clear to enter the inner grounds, free of charge. At the gate, I stand and watch a lifeless guard. He doesn’t blink for well over five minutes. I speculate that this man is actually an android, but his lack of animatronic function appears to counter my observation. I want to stay and watch, to see how long he can go without blinking, but a policeman kindly asks me to move along.

Inside the Imperial Palace grounds, there are more security guards than visitors. I wander past some overgrown trees and toward the Imperial Household Building. Outside, a small marquee has been erected. At the marquee, I am given the opportunity to write my name, nationality, and a nice message for His Imperial Majesty the Emperor. I write ‘Happy Birthday, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor.’ I take care to write it down neatly and deliberately. A sign hanging above tells me that my message of ‘Happy Birthday, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor,’ will be duly forwarded to its highest destination as an expression of my warm congratulations.

After signing, I continue along the one-way system. Still no signs. The grass here is completely overgrown and is in desperate need of a gardener. The Japanese taxpayer covers the cost of outer garden maintenance, which boasts neatly trimmed grass cut on a daily basis. It feels like a waste of money to me. Inside, it is a very different story. Perhaps the tax money doesn’t quite make it into the ‘inner sanctum,’ or maybe His Imperial Majesty the Emperor is required to cut the grass here by himself. I am not sure, but regardless, the grass inside the Imperial Palace grounds is an overgrown shambles.

I pass an Obansho Great Guardhouse, one of three remaining, and the final checkpoint on the way to the Imperial Palace. This place would have had the highest-ranking samurai guardsmen stationed here. Ironically, it is at this point that the security guard and police presence seems to completely diminish. Further along the path, someone appears to have forgotten their ladder.

I walk idly along, somewhat unimpressed. I head up a slope before passing through the remains of Chujakumon Gate and into the public gardens. These gardens are somewhat more remarkable than the rest of the Imperial Palace grounds; the grass here is cut really short. Before me stands an orchard. His Imperial Majesty the Emperor personally planted three of these cultivars in 2008: the Sanbokan Grapefruit, a sour orange; the Tangor, a cross between a tangerine and an orange; and the Cherry Orange, a variety of Mandarin orange. The orchard was created on the site of the Castle of Edo based on His Imperial Majesty the Emperor’s idea that visitors would be able to enjoy the popular fruits of the Edo era.

Forgetting about fruit and foliage for a moment, I decide to check out the mysterious Ishimuro Stone Cellar. Some people say this was an emergency storehouse to supply the inner section of the Imperial Palace. Some people say that this stone cellar housed an underground passage that once led directly into the Imperial Palace. Some people say that this cellar was a secret passage that led to hoards of treasure. I personally hope it was used as a secret passage, but perhaps I will never know. Despite the angle of the photograph, it is not possible to explore deeper inside the Ishimuro Stone Cellar, thanks to a fence blocking the entrance.

My final stop is the Tenshuku Donjon Base, the highest-ever donjon built in Japan and a symbol of the Tokugawa Shogunate’s authority. Just nineteen years after it was built, in 1657, there was a conflagration known as the Great Fire of Meireki. The fire lasted three days, claimed over 100,000 lives, and destroyed this donjon. It was never constructed again.

The view from the ruined donjon is the old Edo Castle Honmaru Goten Palace, now just a large lawn full of people sleeping and enjoying the sunshine. Formerly, this area was lined with buildings. Presumably, these too were burnt down during the Great Fire of Meireki; a fire that is considered to be one of the worst disasters in Japanese history. A fire that left the old Edo city, now known as Tokyo, in complete ruin.

The fire was said to be caused by a priest. According to legend, there was a cursed kimono that killed teenage girls, and the priest decided to burn it on that day in March 1657. It didn’t help that the buildings of that time were made from flammable materials such as wood, were built closely together, and had thin paper walls. The fire spread to all parts of Tokyo, leaving destruction and devastation in its wake.

From the ruined donjon, there is barely a trace left of the fire. All that remains is the site of an old castle now replaced by a neatly cut lawn, an orchard of lemon trees, and the overly developed city skyline looming in the distance.

Head of a Lion, Tail of a Dog

Posted on 21/10/2014 by Luke

The sun is shining, which naturally makes me feel productive. I head over to Roppongi to visit the Tokyo Midtown Award 2014. The awards are in their 7th year, and the ceremony is a design and art competition sponsored by Tokyo Midtown. Its aim is to discover and support future designers and artists. Fourteen award-winning artworks and designs are on display, all competing for the grand prize: a trophy designed and produced by the famous Japanese sculptor Kimio Tsuchiya.

The audience here are given the opportunity to vote by pushing a button on a digital display board. The display unfairly shows the number of votes each piece of art has received. Currently winning is a piece from Saki Maeda, called, “Konkan.”

“Konkan” is similar to the Japanese “inkan,” a name given to a personal seal commonly used in Japan in place of a signature. Inkan are akin to the emblems used in medieval England, stamped into wax to seal an envelope. This seemingly simple piece of art holds slightly more depth. My interpretation is that the two konkan represent the male (black) and female (red), lying together to symbolise the seal of marriage.

Among the other pieces are: Waami, a Japanese-patterned grill pan; Yoroikappa, an armored raincoat; Origami Tale, a fairy tale told using paper folding; Harmonaca, a box of harmonica-shaped sweets filled with red-bean paste; and Omikuji, a selection of Japanese fortune picks. The winner of the competition will be announced on Friday, November 7th.

My favourite piece is Toru Otsuka’s, Empty Freezer.

The reason I vote for this piece is not just for the incredible design, but also for the fitting message that accompanies it:

“Buddhism teaches of impermanence, that there is a beginning and end to all things. As long as this world is impermanent. Buddhist statues will some day fade just as disposable cups do, and may not be much different. However, Buddhist statues and disposable goods are considered separate. That is why I would like to use the same carving techniques for Buddhist statues on disposable goods, indicating my questioning of existing values.”

After browsing all the pieces vying for the prize, I step back into the sunshine and make my way to the outdoor display area. Today, an exhibition called ‘Seating Forest’ is taking place. The setting is hardly a forest; instead, it’s a collection of diverse chairs, each carrying a unique theme or artistic edge.

There are seats that take the concept of ‘musical chairs’ a bit too literally, crafted from musical instruments; sitting down causes the seat to play music. Additionally, two chairs shaped like ears are placed on opposite sides of the forest. These ears are somehow connected, allowing communication between the individuals seated in them. However, the standout chair is a wooden structure featuring a seat on a pulley, with apples hanging from above. It allows me to hoist myself up into the sky while remaining seated.

After Roppongi, I head over to Asakusa. Today, two of my friends are playing afternoon jazz music at a bar called Soultrane, named after the Coltrane album. The bar is a bit tricky to locate, but eventually, I find it, pay my ¥2000 ‘music charge,’ and take a seat. It’s tiny, with a drum kit in one corner and a grand piano in the other. Other instruments here include a double bass, a trumpet, two guitars, and a flute.

There are about ten people here, all flipping through sheet music books—a music collective and the closest thing to an open mic event I’ve found in Japan. As a song finishes, people applaud in appreciation, and then the owner/barman calls out names. If your name is called, you get up and play, even if you have no knowledge of the song. If he asks for the trumpet and you play the trumpet, you perform. After two hours of live spontaneous jazz, we all part ways.

I wander through Asakusa for a while, and head to where all the performing artists hang out. This afternoon, they are wrestling.

The four wrestlers are incredibly lively, each dressed as characters from popular television shows. Pikachu is seen taking a beating from a character resembling Goku from Dragon Ball Z. Meanwhile, a ninja stealthily moves about, brandishing ‘Kapow!’ signs in true Batman style at precisely the right moments. Adding to the chaos, a person dressed in pink manages to overpower everyone using their tail. The scene is a whirlwind of props and rapid costume changes.

Eventually, the wrestling finishes and is replaced by the spray paint space art performer, whom I’ve seen many times before. I decide to continue wandering around. As I stroll, I pass by five geishas adorned in full makeup. Soon after, the sound of drums catches my attention, prompting me to follow the noise until I arrive at Kokusai Street.

In the middle of the road, music fills the air. Today marks a festival celebrating music and dance from the Okinawa Islands. Okinawa, situated as the furthest southwest prefecture in Japan, lies directly south of Kyushu. With its tropical climate and frequent encounters with typhoons, Okinawa seems to be both an attractive and challenging place to live. Interestingly, Okinawans have a longer life expectancy than people from anywhere else in the world, attributed to their incredibly healthy diet.

There are about ten different acts from the islands, and the procession traverses the full length of the street, culminating on an outdoor stage situated on the second floor of a hotel. The music is fantastic, and the dancing is equally impressive. Some of the costumes or characters, however, are rather intimidating.

Shisa, the official mascot of the island of Okinawa, embodies a fusion of a lion and a dog and is believed to ward off evil spirits. Three shisa are present today, each seemingly more intimidating than the last. Ironically, the only spirits here that appear malevolent are these lion-dog creatures themselves.

As I watch the well-choreographed dancing and listen to the music, I notice a sign proclaiming ‘Best International Authentic Town,’ while another heralds the event’s tenth year celebration. However, the only downside to the event is the absence of stalls vending local cuisine—those dishes known for their health benefits and longevity. I’ve been curious to try the exotic ‘dragon fruit’ of Okinawa, but alas, there are neither dragons nor fruits in sight.

I stay at the festival until it ends, then head home to dream of lion dogs wrestling with giant Pokémon, all set to the music of ‘Polka Dots and Moonbeams’.

The Golden Reptile

Posted on 13/10/2014 by Luke

With a new home comes a new train station. Today, I head to the nearby Minowa Station and take the Hibiya Line. At Kayabacho Station, a man runs out of the train as the doors close, trapping his foot. He falls over, smashing his face on the platform. The doors re-open, he gets up, and walks away calmly, as if it didn’t happen. The train is also full of screaming babies, which is endlessly annoying. I much prefer the calmness of the Ginza Line. I remain on the noisy train for as long as I can stand; which happens to be twelve stops later, at Hibiya.

“I’ve never been to Hibiya before, but the area seems to take its name from a train line, so I’m hopeful I’ll find something interesting here. Inside the station, the yellow area information map presents a world of endless possibilities. There’s the Passport Centre, the Imperial Hospital, or even the Diet Building. Instead, I opt to explore Hibiya Park. As I approach the park’s entrance, a group of marathon runners rushes past me. In the distance, I hear the sound of megaphones. Inside the park, a festival.

Today marks the 21st Railway Festival. On the main stage, a big yellow mascot, shaped like the front of a train, dances around energetically. Market stalls are brimming with train-based information and souvenirs. Adults form queues, eager to have their photographs taken with various images depicting trains through the ages.

A crowd of people stands silently, engrossed in taking photographs, so I head over to investigate. A man holds up a sign that reads ‘On Air.’ A complete film crew is present, recording for a channel called Ch.546. They are filming a segment focused on the railway festival, featuring what seems to be a Japanese idol displaying a remarkable enthusiasm for trains.

The bustling stalls attract a steady stream of people, children brimming with excitement, and families enjoying picnics. Despite the event being a railway festival, the only physical trains in sight are on a miniature track featuring characters like Thomas and Percy from Thomas the Tank Engine—a ride that children happily pay an overpriced fee to experience.

Deeper into the festival grounds, a queue of over a thousand people forms for a live music event. I decide to continue my stroll through the park, which turns out to be quite charming with its fountains, ponds, and well-tended gardens. After a while, feeling a bit bored, I decide to leave and make my way to Ginza. Here, I indulge in the familiar tranquillity of the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line until I eventually arrive at Ueno Station.

Today marks the 31st Kappabashi Kitchen Festival. I start my journey from Ueno towards Asakusa, walking through the bustling Kappabashi Kitchen Town. The place is crowded; too many cooks.

This area is a hub where all the kitchen shops in Japan are clustered together. It’s the primary destination for purchasing kitchen products in the country. The festival serves as an avenue for shopkeepers to sell off their summer inventory at discounted rates, making room for their winter stock. Prices have been significantly reduced, resulting in a rush of shoppers clamouring for bowls, knives, pans, and even shop signage. Meanwhile, the enticing aroma of delicious food from various small stands fills the air.

I swim through bustling crowds until I spot a group of people capturing photographs of a statue—a golden kappa.

The kappa has evolved into the official mascot of Kappabashi Street, although the reason might not be immediately apparent. One story suggests that ‘kappa’ translates to ‘raincoat’ in Japanese, as many merchants used to hang their wet raincoats out to dry on a nearby bridge. Another tale revolves around a merchant named Kappaya, who supposedly constructed a canal in the area to manage floodwater. Consequently, the street was named after him to honour his contributions. However, as time passed, these origins faded into obscurity, and now the street is simply associated with the homophonically named kappa—a mythical frog lizard—replacing historical roots with legend.

At the Asakusa end of Kappabashi Street, I make a brief stop at Cafe Byron Bay for a radio interview with the Japan FM Network, discussing vending machines. Interestingly, the interview won’t be broadcast until next month, and despite being recorded in Tokyo, it’s to be aired everywhere except here.

Turning the corner from the cafe, I’m greeted by the commencement of festivities—traditional Japanese taiko drums echoing through the air.

As I finally depart from the festival, the resonating beats of the drums linger in my ears. Heading back towards Minowa, the rain begins to fall—another typhoon approaching. Quick to act, I grab some snacks from Seven Eleven and opt to seek refuge in my apartment for the evening, bracing for the impending storm.

“But Sir, it’s Only a Model”

Posted on 30/09/2014 by Luke

Today is the third and final day of a street performing arts festival in Asakusa. Outside, it’s a clear day and a wonderful 28°C. I spend the best part of the morning wandering between the many different stages. I see a magician, a group of jugglers, a yo-yo master, people dressed in Halloween costumes, and a guy who specialises in tricks using crystal balls. Every performer seems to draw a strong but silent crowd.

At lunch, I head back to Koto, to Tokyo Big Sight. Today, the venue hosts The 54th All Japan Model and Hobby Show. Alongside this event, there are many other exhibitions at Tokyo Big Sight, including the Trend Fashion EXPO and a free show about female auto racing drivers. I head to West Hall Two where the entrance fee is ¥1000.

The event today is organised by the Japan Radio-Controlled Model Manufacturers Association and the Japan Plastic Model Manufacturers Association. Inside, there are almost ninety different stalls representing various branches of the hobby and model industry. Upon entering, I’m greeted by a display of scaled-down model warships.

All the major model companies are present. Kyosho proudly claims to produce ‘The Finest Remote Control Models.’ Nippon Remote Control showcases their latest flying helicopters, while Tamiya demonstrates their new remote control car. Besides remote control products, the exhibition features model trains, warships, cars, toys, hobby crafts, painting supplies, and character figures.

A woman in cosplay is signing various publications, while other individuals in cosplay attire are attempting to attract visitors to their stalls; women pose for photographs and entice men to buy tanks. Thousands of items are on display, including models of famous historic sites in Japan. Among them is a to-scale model of Kaminarimon Gate at Senso-ji Temple, priced at ¥38,000. Additionally, various figurines featuring characters from famous Japanese anime make an appearance

As I mentioned, there’s a substantial section dedicated to remote control flying machines. While some machines are more impressive than others, the skill level of the operators varies. I observed a guy attempting to elegantly guide a helicopter through a hoop, but instead, he spectacularly crashed it, causing one of the wings to snap off. This unfortunate incident promptly led to the closure of the exhibition. However, amidst these mishaps, some machines stand out for their superior performance. I watched another person skilfully manoeuvre a large drone vertically, achieving somewhat impressive speeds.

I visit a shooting range where individuals are aiming at targets with fake plastic guns. Several talks are ongoing throughout the venue. A woman delivers a speech on a large stage, captivating the attention of many eager attendees. However, as is customary in Japan, I notice the restriction against taking photographs of people on stages, a common practice here.

Bandai’s presence here is immense. A massive crowd gathers to watch a special viewing of a new episode of Gundam or something similar. They’ve set up a stall showcasing figurines aligned with the upcoming release of their new film, Space Battleship Yamato 2199. Additionally, serving as the representative for Star Wars in Japan, Bandai offers an extensive array of merchandise. A giant screen plays footage from one of the Star Wars movies, drawing people to photograph models of Darth Vader and the Millennium Falcon. It’s a bit overwhelming with the sheer volume of offerings.

I decide to leave and head to the train station, taking the Yurikamome Line to Shinbashi before transferring to the Ginza Line. However, I get distracted and end up missing the Tawaramachi stop. Instead, I disembark one stop later at Asakusa Station, which happens to be the last stop.

I decide to stroll through Senso-ji on my way home while the sun is still shining. Amidst my walk, I come across a shrine I’ve never seen before—Hikan Inari Shrine. It’s notably small but carries a profound symbolism of recovery. What strikes me as unusual, though, is the presence of over three hundred small statues of foxes inside the shrine. I notice an important-looking sign in Japanese and decide to photograph it.

Back at the hostel, I ask my friend Hiro to translate the sign. It reads, ‘Please don’t ring the bell at night, as our neighbours in the area are trying to sleep. Be careful not to wander around too much in the evening because you might be possessed by a fox.’ The concept of being possessed by a fox is quite intriguing. Apparently, there’s a traditional folktale in Japan about a condition called ‘Kitsunetsuki,’ which refers to a form of madness caused by fox possession.

I decide to explore this superstition further. I spend the evening wandering around the temples and shrines of Asakusa, until I turn into a fox.

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