Dome Alone

Posted on 26/11/2014 by Luke

Over the last few days, the temperature has been getting increasingly colder. Winter is finally upon us. Recently, as I have wandered around in just a short-sleeved shirt, I have started to lose count of the number of times I have been asked, “Aren’t you cold?” The weather today is 18°C, and Tokyo is just a rainstorm away from resembling an English summer. I head out into the freezing cold in search of something to do.

My first stop is an event in Asakusa known as Neko Matsuri, translating to mean ‘Cat Festival.’ Unfortunately, a more accurate translation might be ‘Cat Disappointment.’ The festival consists of two small market stalls selling cat postcards and biscuits with cat faces on them—nothing else, not even a cat mascot to photograph. Disappointed, I leave the festival and start walking in the direction of Ueno Park to see some ninjas.

Today is the Iga-Ueno Ninja Festival. Market stalls here sell overpriced food, and on stage, a band comprises eight young women dancing and looking exhausted. The only ninjas present are those trying to trick small children into winning rubbish prizes at fairground-style attractions. Once again, not a very exciting festival for me; perhaps this one is more of a family event, and coming here alone at thirty years old, I am probably not the target audience. At least I got to see a man dressed as a ninja, though.

I take a short wander in the direction of Akihabara Station. Inside the station, I am surprised to find that just outside the entrance to the Sobu Line is a live music event known as JR Live. With five different lines at Akihabara Station, only the people heading to this platform get to witness the delights of this event. It’s a strange location for a stage, if you ask me.

The band is dressed in festive clothing and is performing a familiar tune, but I can’t quite place it. The poster says that ‘This mini orchestra can be enjoyed by both children and the elderly.’ Once again today, I don’t quite fit into the age demographic, and subsequently, I can’t enjoy the music.

I take a train and arrive at Suidobashi Station. From here, I walk five minutes to Tokyo Dome. Today, and for the next three months, the entirety of Tokyo Dome City is wrapped in light as part of its annual winter illuminations.

It becomes apparent to me that at this time of year, all the interesting festivals seem to have finished, only to be replaced by Christmas illuminations and other festive events. In a country where fewer than 1% of the population are Christian, I find it strange that so many places are littered with Christmas decorations, playing Christmas music, and promoting a holiday that doesn’t quite fit in with traditional Japanese culture.

The theme for this year’s Tokyo Dome illuminations is ‘Light of Promenade,’ and there are lots of lights—2.2 million to be exact. Attractions include the ‘Galaxy Dome,’ the elaborately titled ‘Glorious Chandelier,’ and a ‘Milky Way’ of light featuring a 140-metre-long corridor lit by motion sensors. The corridor of lights changes colour as people walk beneath them. The corridor is directly under the path of a well-lit roller coaster; as the ride roars above, the lights flicker and shake.

Despite the subtle Christmas theme featuring only nine massive Christmas trees, the rest of the illuminations look quite nice. An instrumental version of ‘A Whole New World’ from Disney’s Aladdin plays from every speaker in the vicinity. A giant statue of Ultraman stands guard beside a glass pyramid of multicoloured lights, and people dressed in Santa Claus outfits dash about merrily.

Alone, I walk the full length of the illuminations, passing couple after couple holding hands and smiling. I realise that this is my first time seeing any public displays of affection in Japan. It reminds me of just how lonely it is here—the mix of Christmas displays, pretty lights, and couples in love. I take one last photograph of some ordinary trees before heading back to the train station.

On the train, I see a sign that says, ‘Merry ChristmaSOCKS!,’ and it instantly cheers me up.

On the Other Side of the Mountain

Posted on 08/11/2014 by Luke

Today, I am exactly halfway through my trip. To celebrate, I have decided to take a break from city life and booked a night at a Japanese inn, known as a ryokan. It is situated in the middle of the mountains in a place called Nikko, in Tochigi Prefecture. My plan for the next few days is to experience a more traditional side of Japan.

From Asakusa, I pay ¥2390 for an express train taking 140 minutes. At Shimo-imaichi Station, I have to change to a dreaded local train. On the platform, I wear a short-sleeved shirt. A Japanese man says to his friend, “Look at that guy; he must be freezing!” I admit, it is a little cooler than Tokyo, but I only have to wait two minutes at the cold station platform. I eventually get on the local train. It sounds like a roller coaster as it claws its way up the mountainous tracks. The train’s only luxury is its heated seats; they make the whole train smell like the inside of a giant hairdryer. Five minutes later, I arrive at Tobu-Nikko Station.

I head out of the station and onto an old bus; the transport on this trip is getting progressively worse. The place I am staying tonight is at Yumoto Onsen; ninety minutes from Nikko Station and some 185 kilometres north of Tokyo. It’s just gone five, but the sun is no longer visible. The bus crawls through the darkness. A warning says, ‘Hold onto the handrail as the bus will sway from side to side as it makes its ascent.’

The bus eventually arrives at my stop, the last stop. I pay ¥1700. This is also the last bus. I am trapped up here now; no coming back. Outside, it is freezing cold—the coldest I have been since leaving England. Luckily, at the bus stop, I am greeted by warm smiles. A Japanese woman with a sign is waiting for me. We head to her car, and she drives me thirty seconds to the place I will spend the night

Inside the ryokan, she takes me to my room—the biggest room I have stayed in since being in Japan, spacious and warm. It has a massive double futon laid out, and a table of equal size. The woman starts by preparing me a hot cup of green tea before leaving to prepare my dinner. I get dressed into my yukata, carefully ensuring I cross it left over right; crossing it the other way is how the dead are dressed at funerals, and I am not dead. I also make sure to tie the bow behind me; a bow at the front is how prostitutes dress.

At 7 p.m., the woman comes back into my room to serve me dinner.

My food consists of buttered trout, salmon, vegetable tempura with natural salt, radish, simmered sesame tofu, lotus root, miso gratin with cabbage, yuzu pepper salad, grilled eggplant, fried tofu, boiled tofu in a soy milk pot with mushrooms, rice, a selection of vegetables, a selection of pickles, and a couple of things I can’t identify. The entire meal is pescatarian, and all the food is of the highest standard. I don’t usually like tofu, but up here, it is made from the cleanest of mountain water and tastes phenomenal.

After a while, the woman comes back into my room to clear and clean the table before bringing me dessert. In comparison to the huge dinner, my dessert is somewhat anticlimactic.

I help myself to a couple of the complimentary bottles of Autumn edition beer before deciding to take a dip in the hot springs. I book the outdoor onsen for forty-five minutes. Outside, there is not a single sound. The stars are out. Mountains loom in the distance. The contrast of boiling hot water mixing with the cold winter air is wonderful and relaxing. After my time is up, I head indoors to onsen number two.

The indoor onsen doesn’t offer a window, so there isn’t much of a view. It is a rather lonely experience. After I get out, I take a shower. It is etiquette in Japan to shower before and after getting into a hot spring bath, so this is actually my fourth shower this evening. I notice weighing scales in the changing room; I haven’t weighed myself since before I came to Japan. After a massive meal and a not-so-massive dessert, I am surprised to discover that I am 7kg lighter than when I arrived in this country.

Back in my room and with kilogrammes to gain, I decide that the perfect way to cool off is with a delicious tub of homemade cream cheese and alcohol-flavoured ice cream. Sulphur from the onsen taints the experience slightly, the smell of rotten eggs lingering in the room.

I sip quietly on complimentary beers with the window wide open, wrapped up in my traditional Japanese clothing. The clean cold air is nothing more than a fresh distraction to the silence that engulfs me. Outside, the only thing I can see is hot smoke billowing from the many hot spring baths and the dark outline of mountains in the distance.

Swings and Sound and Boats

Posted on 13/08/2014 by Luke

My hotel offers a ‘classic’ help-yourself breakfast, so I opt for a bowl of rice, pickled cucumber, a pot of natto, a salad, and a couple of croissants. Natto for breakfast—enough to wake even the dead! I add mustard to rid myself of its abhorrent taste.

The day is gloomy with the threat of rain, yet curiously, I can’t seem to locate my umbrella—this is becoming a regular occurrence. The rain halts, I absentmindedly leave my umbrella outside a shop, and upon exiting, it slips my mind entirely. Now, sans umbrella, I’m left fervently hoping the rain stays at bay. But as expected, the very instant I step out of the hotel, the rain begins to pour.

Today, I only have two things on my sightseeing list, and they’re quite a distance apart. Given that I’m in Japan, the journey between them is sure to unveil something intriguing along the way—perhaps even a shop shaped like a boat.

I head into Arc City and visit the Hamamatsu Museum of Musical Instruments. It’s the largest municipal museum of musical instruments in Asia and was the very first of its kind to open in Japan. The museum boasts an incredible display of 1,200 musical instruments. Admission costs just ¥400.

Most instruments come with two sets of headphones. I thoroughly enjoy examining each instrument, studying its unique shape, and imagining how it might have sounded in use. I then choose a pair of headphones to listen to its actual sound—A great way to kill a morning.

The museum showcases instruments from across the globe, with expansive sections categorised by continent. Here, I delve into a wealth of musical knowledge. My particular fascination lies with transverse flutes, shakuhachi flutes, and Japanese taiko and tsuzumi drums. Moreover, I uncover an intriguing fact: the very first Japanese-made piano originated here in Hamamatsu. This revelation perhaps accounts for the abundance of music shops, Romantic-era traffic lights, museums, and two concert halls.

In the ‘hands-on room,’ I indulge in playing a variety of instruments, but the spinet piano steals my heart as a favourite. Lost in the museum’s captivating exhibits, time slips away unnoticed, and I find myself leaving after two or three hours.

Outside, the cicadas persist in a symphony of their own, undeterred by the torrential rain. Amidst the deluge, there’s at least one person seemingly relishing the downpour:

Seeking refuge from the weather, I find solace inside Hamamatsu Station. Ascending seven escalators to the 8th floor of the shopping complex, I reach a bookshop. In Japan, lingering or sitting down to read books in a bookstore is perfectly acceptable. Similarly, spending hours browsing magazines in a convenience store is considered normal. I pass fifteen minutes here before descending, only to discover that the storm has worsened.

Everyone at the station appears as ill-prepared as I am. Umbrella-less, they huddle together, patiently awaiting the rain’s cessation. I hastily make my way to Seven Eleven, purchasing my sixth umbrella for ¥540. The surrounding buildings are shrouded in a white mist of cascading water—an unexpected sight, especially considering my plans to visit the beach today.

As time passes, I find myself seated on the only bench in that deserted shopping arcade. With several hours to kill due to hotel cleaning schedules, I contemplate. During a storm like this, I can’t help but wonder if the safest haven might just be a shop shaped like a boat.

After a while, the rain subsides, prompting me to stroll to the beach, a journey of about an hour. This beach holds significance due to the Nakatajima Sand Dunes, and it serves as a conservation area for the nesting Loggerhead Sea Turtles. Every summer, these turtles come ashore to lay their eggs on this very beach.

“Prazer em recebê-los!” says a drawing of a Loggerhead Sea Turtle in fluent Portuguese.
“Nice to meet you, too!” I reply, in fluent English.

These sand dunes rank among the three largest in Japan, and the wooden fences stand to protect their conservation. A warning sign sternly advises, ‘Do not damage the fences!’ The wind, notably stronger in this area, renders my umbrella ineffective—unless I’m keen on turning my sixth umbrella inside out.

By the time I reach the sea, I am completely soaked. I was really hoping to see a turtle, but I sadly can’t find any; not too surprising really, they are a rare and endangered species. After the beach I head into a nearby park. There is a big man-made hill in the park built specifically as a tsunami evacuation point. There is also a windmill and a set of swings. I rest my legs for a while.

swing

On my walk back to the hotel, I pass a pachinko parlour called, ‘God’. I also pass dozens of construction sites promising modern skyscrapers; office blocks and apartments. It seems that the southern part of Hamamatsu is the last and latest to be developed, perhaps in four or five years this place won’t seem so desolate.

The rain stops just before I cross the river.

After walking for an hour, alone, my thoughts begin to wander and I drift off into daydream.

Upon returning to the hotel, I realise I can’t recall the journey here, yet here I am. After drying off, I dedicate some time to researching my trains for tomorrow. It appears I have yet another four-and-a-half-hour local train marathon to endure. However, I don’t mind; after forty-eight days away, I’m finally heading back home to Asakusa.

So Long, Tokyo, and Thanks for All the Fish

Posted on 29/06/2014 by Luke

After a month of staying at the best hostel in the world (and finally memorising all nineteen stops on the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line), it is time to move on. The anticipation of spending eight hours on two different trains is something I lack. To avoid a whole day of travel I instead book a really cheap hotel at Kokura, which is the destination of the first of two trains.

At Tokyo Station, I purchase a ticket for the bullet train, the Shinkansen Nozomi. This high-speed train reaches speeds of up to 186 mph. After handing over my ¥22,310, I receive my ticket and proceed to the platform. I wait for thirty minutes while the train is cleaned in preparation for departure. The cacophony of noise from other platforms, announcements, station staff, and random whistles and bells floods back to me; I had forgotten just how prevalent it was when catching a bullet train.

I take my ‘reserved’ seat by the window. The perfect seat. No one sitting next to me, and a plug socket for all my charging needs. If I had booked a ‘non-reserved’ seat, it would have meant queueing outside one of the first three carriages. When the doors open, it’s basically a free-for-all—first come, first served for seat selection. With my journey lasting an exact 4 hours and 48 minutes, rushing and fighting over a seat was out of the question. If no seats are available, you’re forced to stand up. Opting for a seat in a reserved carriage is well worth the extra couple of thousand Yen.

Back at my seat I weigh up the prices. A seven-day JR Rail Pass costs ¥29,110; this allows unlimited travel on all JR Rail lines for an activated seven-day period. Considering I still have a second leg of travel tomorrow (which will cost another ¥4000), the JR Rail Pass is a necessity if you are visiting Japan and plan to travel across the country. Travelling from Tokyo to Beppu will almost cost me the same as the seven-day pass.

The food cart eventually passes and I buy a packet of crisps for breakfast (Anytime, any where; right?) and a beer. I work my way through a third of Murakami’s ‘A Wild Sheep Chase’. Three beers later and I go for a doze. I wake up with an hour to go so listen to OK Computer. OK Commuter. I arrive at Kokura. My journey is an exact 288 minutes. Not a second more. Not a second less.

Kokura is located between Honshu and Kyushu; two of the largest of the four main islands that make up Japan’s geography. Honshu is the largest island, referred to as the Japanese mainland. It is the island that I’ve just left. Kyushu is the most south-westerly island, and where I am heading. Outside Kokura Station I am surprised to see a vending machine that for ¥650 sells unusual bottles containing fish in a brown liquid. I have no idea.

I am still reeling from the fish vending machine. With no sense of direction I find that my hotel is clearly marked on the Township Guide Map. Hooray! I take an unhurried walk carrying all of my stuff on my back for the first time in a month; I am sure it is heavier than I remember. I hate this kind of travel, moving to a hotel for just a day, then on to somewhere else. Nope. Book two weeks at a time minimum in the same place, that’s how I prefer it. I can take my time and take it all in. One thing a day. I don’t like to rush about.

After checking in to the hotel, I venture out for some food. Exhausted from the hours on a train and a few too many heavy nights of drinking, I grab some quick stand up sushi and head back to the hotel. The hotel was really cheap, ¥3400 cheap; and I understand why. The room is the size of a small cupboard. I can’t get the television to work, but luckily there are instructions in Japanese. I take a photograph of the instructions and my camera translates them to English. “Press and hold Power then press 3, 1, 3.” It works! I spend the night watching game shows and talent shows before falling asleep.

The next day (which is today, unless you’re reading this on a different day) …

I wake up to find time has moved the day to Sunday. To make up for my lack of updates I will continue on with this one. I’ve been merely socialising instead of sightseeing and feel a bit bad having not wrote anything for five days. I check out of the hotel early. Not to miss an opportunity, I head for Kokura Castle. The skies are hot and clear and I feel out of place with an umbrella and a rucksack. After seeing the castle, I head back to Kokura Station.

No one I have met has spoken English in Kokura. I get through the ticket booking process by nodding and saying, “Hai!” I think the first question was, ‘single or return?’ The second was probably, ‘reserved or non-reserved?’ I receive my single reserved ticket; it costs me ¥4220 for 1 hour and 8 minutes on a train. This weekend is getting expensive and I still have to hand over ¥18,000 for two weeks at the hostel. On the way back, at least my travel time will be broken up by two-week intervals as I sweep back towards Tokyo. Between now and then I have 7 weeks of semi-planned stops along the way.

Beppu-bound on the Limited Express Sonic Train, I am glad for last night’s rest; having my own space and a bathtub were quite the treat. On the train I continue to read ‘A Wild Sheep Chase’ and find myself laughing out loud at regular intervals. The train journey flies by in no time at all.

I leave Beppu Station in awe. Beppu is by the sea and surrounded in every direction by tall mountains covered in wildlife. At my hostel I discover that I am a one minute walk from the beach and a two minute walk from Beppu Tower. As I hand over my ¥18,000, the woman at the reception desk finds it unusual that I am staying for two weeks. “What are you going to be doing for two weeks?” Take it all in. That’s how I prefer it. I don’t like to rush about.

It is Sunday and there is a nearby section of interesting intersecting streets filled with shops, bars, and restaurants; mostly closed. I find a vending machine selling not fish, but ice cream. I also find that my Suica card works on the vending machines here, a nice surprise. These little Japanese pre-paid cards can be used at Seven Eleven stores, some vending machines, and ticket barriers. I didn’t think they would work this far from Tokyo. The Pasmo card definitely doesn’t work. If you plan on travelling around Japan, always choose the Suica card over the Pasmo card.

I find a pasta and pizza restaurant with no English menu. I order a glass of wine and a pizza in Japanese. This is the first time I’ve ever felt I needed to speak the native language. In Tokyo I could get by just fine. Perhaps this is for the better; I got a little too comfortable and this might just give me some motivation to actually study a bit harder. The food costs ¥842 for the lot. At least I’ll save some money on food here.

Back at the hostel for 3 o’clock chicken time! I realise that I’m going to miss the crew in Asakusa; I’ve been missing a lot recently. I remind myself that this is not for here. Moving on I find my room; it is a traditional Japanese-style room with a Tatami flooring. Four beds, so sharing with just three others. Less crowded which is good. The view from the balcony is amazing. I can see Beppu Tower, which lights up at night. I can see a horizon of skyscraper obstructed mountains. I wonder which way the sun comes up; my sense of direction very much missing too.

I explore my local surroundings. There is an international bar called Hot Bepper, it is thirty seconds away. You might think I exaggerate with my walking distances sometimes, but I can actually see the bar from the hostel. The bar has its very own table tennis table and is hosting a tournament next week. Hot Bepper is also run by the same company that runs the hostels I’ve been staying at. I like the pun name too, considering where I am.

I swing by the nearby Family Mart. An occurrence that will never fail to make me smile occurs. Staff at a convenience store greeting me through the door, bowing, saying thank you, bowing, and saying goodbye as I leave. Back at the hostel, I drink Suntory whisky highballs and write up the two days you’ve just read. I plan now to take a hot spring bath in the hostel’s very own hot spring baths; before heading out to the Hot Bepper bar, which will most likely be closed on Sundays.

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Tag Archives: Loneliness

Dome Alone

On the Other Side of the Mountain

Swings and Sound and Boats

So Long, Tokyo, and Thanks for All the Fish