Towering Above the Rest

Posted on 25/07/2014 by Luke Kinsella

The day began with a ¥1000 haircut, which is actually quite cheap for a haircut. I was a little worried about communicating in Japanese, but the barber understood what I wanted and did a very good job. After finishing the haircut, he surprised me by vacuuming my head. I wasn’t expecting that!

With my nice new haircut, I decide to check out some boat racing. At the Kyotei Boat Racing Stadium, security is very tight. The entire perimeter of the 1,397-capacity atrium is littered with security guards. Today happens to be the 28th Ladies Championship Boat Race. I pay my ¥100 entry fee and take a seat on the steps outside that overlook the racecourse.

This is one of 24 boat racing stadiums in Japan, a sport that is unique to the country. As the race starts, I pull out my camera. Instantly, one of the security guards taps me on the shoulder. “No photography is allowed here,” he says. The above photograph of no race happening was the only one I could manage to steal.

The six boats complete three laps of the 1,800-metre-long course. The red boat, numbered five, gets bumped by another racer and ends up stalling. It reminds me a lot of greyhound racing. Strangely, there’s betting involved here too. Boat number one emerges as the winner. A 1-4-2 tricast yields ¥1590 from a ¥100 bet.

After the boat racing I swing by Fukuoka Yafuoku! Dome.

The dome serves as the official baseball stadium for the Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks. It holds the distinction of being Japan’s first stadium equipped with a retractable roof. With a capacity of 38,561 spectators, seat prices range from ¥1000 to ¥14,000. Baseball enjoys immense popularity in Japan, and based on the games I’ve caught on TV in bars, it seems the Hawks are a pretty good team.

Beyond the dome in the distance is Fukuoka Tower. I park my bicycle near the tower and take a closer look.

Fukuoka Tower kicks Beppu Tower to the dirt. Upon entering, I’m pleasantly surprised to learn that as a foreigner, I receive a twenty percent discount; I pay ¥640 in total. Stepping into the tower’s main area, I’m instructed to look up. Following the instruction, I gaze upward to see a 108-metre shaft above me.

“The lift takes seventy seconds. The tower is 234 metres tall. The viewing platform stands at 123 metres,” the attendant states mechanically. “The tower has been built to withstand magnitude 7 earthquakes.”

On the fifth floor of Fukuoka Tower, the view of Fukuoka City is wonderful. In the distance I can see Hakata Bay, in the opposite direction I can see the Sefuri Mountains.

I take the stairs down to the third floor, then ride the lift down. At night, the tower will be illuminated in ‘Milky Way’ colours—whatever that’s supposed to mean. The illuminations change for each season.

My next stop is in the building opposite the tower. On the second floor, I visit Robosquare. This is absolutely the place to be in Fukuoka if you like robots, want to learn about robots, or take part in robot workshops.

It is free to enter. Inside, there’s a robot museum and a little shop selling robots and other kits. Some robots are for playing, while others are for interacting through conversation. Sadly, I arrived twenty minutes late for the 2 p.m. performance. Me and my bad timing.

After Robosquare, I head five minutes to the Fukuoka Disaster Prevention Centre. It’s a facility that realistically simulates various disasters for visitors, serving as an excellent way to promote citizen safety in case of emergencies. Additionally, it houses a museum dedicated to firefighting and earthquakes.

Entry is again free, and so is the one-hour tour. During the tour, you can watch a video about safety before learning how to react in a number of simulations: handling strong winds, extinguishing fires, navigating through rooms filled with smoke, and escaping safely. There are doors simulating water pressure: a car door submerged underwater that visitors can try to push to test their ability to escape. Photographs depicting earthquake disasters adorn the walls. It all feels rather macabre.

Finally, there’s an earthquake simulator where you have the chance to hide under a table with a pillow on your head and experience the impact of a magnitude 7 earthquake on the Richter scale. Unfortunately, I arrive late for the tour and miss out on the simulations. I contemplate waiting for the next tour, but it won’t start for almost an hour.

I return to my bicycle, only to discover it’s about to be clamped. The security guard has already fastened seat clamps to other bicycles nearby and is currently inspecting the bicycle two from mine. Casually, I walk toward my bicycle, adrenaline pumping through my body, and swiftly unlock it as fast as I can.

I shoot off in the direction of Ohori Park. Me and my impeccable timing.

Ohori Park is lovely, offering cycling, jogging, and walking paths—all flat concrete, my favourite surface. Distances are marked along each path, making it an ideal spot for athletes to train. The route circles a vast lake at the park’s centre. I cycle the route several times before deciding to head back to the hostel for some food.

Down a random side street near Tenjin Station, something incredible happens—I spot the YouTube personality Micaela Braithwaite pleasantly strolling along. As we pass, I greet her with a rather coy “Hello.” She replies with a slightly hesitant “Hi.” I glance back for a second look, but she’s already gone.

The very reason these two weeks in Fukuoka even made it onto my itinerary is because of her. Before returning to Japan, I spent a fair amount of free time scouring through YouTube videos about the country. Micaela’s videos always towered above the rest. Based in Fukuoka, her captivating videos about the area were the reason I felt compelled to visit. Without her videos, Fukuoka would never have crossed my mind.

As I continue cycling, somewhat starstruck, I find myself unable to stop thinking about the day’s events. My mind conjures endless possibilities. If I had stayed for the disaster tour, I would have undoubtedly ended up with my bicycle clamped. The remainder of the day would’ve been miserable—I’d have had to explain it all to the hostel staff, pay a fine, waste the entire day sorting it out. It’s astonishing how two minutes made such a significant difference. Lost in these thoughts, I realise I’ve been cycling instinctively for ten minutes without noticing. I have no idea where I am or how I got here.

…

Back at the hostel, Ged shows up—an Englishman I met back in Beppu. He’s staying here tonight but leaving Japan tomorrow. He hands me his Seishun 18 Ticket, having used three of the five days on it. I offer to pay for the ticket, but he refuses my money. This ticket grants me unlimited travel for any two days on any Japan Rail local line. It’s amazing—I can essentially travel from Kyoto to Tokyo for free with this ticket. Thank you, Ged.

I head out for some food and a couple of Suntory whisky highballs at my favourite bar. Attempting to read my book, I feel a little troubled. I can’t shake off thoughts of the alternative version of me—standing there, trying to explain myself to the bicycle traffic warden. Nothing has felt real to me since that moment.

I leave the bar after only two drinks. Gazing at the sky, I see a star, for the first time in eight weeks.

Rice and Shime

Posted on 18/07/2014 by Luke Kinsella

I wake up at 11 a.m. Today, I’m heading to a place called Dazaifu, roughly fifteen kilometres away. Cycling on my one-speed bike in a straight line towards it, it should take me about an hour. Last night, the girl I met suggested I visit there—a kind suggestion.

As I set out, I discover a Domino’s Pizza just five minutes away from the hostel on the same road. I haven’t had one since arriving here—fifty days in Japan, only four pizzas so far. Tomorrow, it’ll probably become five.

A bit further along the road, near the Mikasagawa River, the skyscrapers start to disappear, and the sight of rice growing underwater becomes commonplace. Paddy fields full of semi-aquatic rice—it’s a picturesque sight, deserving a photograph.

Amidst the distraction of the rice fields, I suddenly realise that I am completely lost. In typical Fukuoka fashion, I see no maps, and signs pointing to Dazaifu have ceased to appear. Eventually, after cycling for about an hour, I find myself somehow at the base of a mountain.

For about ten minutes, I cycle without seeing another pedestrian. Eventually, a sign for a place called Shime catches my eye. My brain pauses for a second before a pun crashes into my consciousness. I decide to head there if only to make use of the pun: Rice and Shime.

It turns out Shime is up a hill—likely the same mountain I spotted earlier. I haven’t done much uphill cycling since Beppu, so my knees aren’t quite prepared for it. The footpath leading into Shime is in a state of disarray. Eventually, the incline transforms into a decline, and I find myself in a free fall into Shime. The wind is refreshingly cool on what is otherwise an alarmingly hot day.

If you thought my post about Nishioita Station was exciting, wait until you hear about what Shime has to offer. Low-flying planes drift over and hang gracefully in the sky. At least I can follow the planes and track back to Fukuoka Airport; I know this isn’t far from Hakata, where I am staying.

I cycle around Shime, searching for anything of interest, but find nothing. Wikipedia confirmed it: ‘Although the town still has a railway station, the line is no longer used.’ Seems there’s no escaping Shime. Just as I decide to leave, I finally spot something noteworthy: a chicken wandering around in some mud.

“Koke-kokko,” says the chicken in Japanese.
“Cluck-cluck,” I correct in English.

As I leave Shime, I find myself on the urban expressway, where all of the signs point to unfamiliar place names. I give in and revert to my plan of following the planes, soon arriving at the not very well-signed Fukuoka Airport.

I see the same Chinook I saw yesterday, just landed. How very odd—I haven’t seen a Chinook in over fifteen years, and yet this week, I’ve seen the same one twice.

After cycling for a total of three hours, I arrive back at the hostel and indulge in a Seven Eleven lunch: a bottle of Pocari Sweat, a fruit salad, and, as usual, egg sandwiches.

After lunch, I do my laundry. In the Coin Laundry waiting area, there’s a rather odd set of photographs. I have no idea what they are showing. Alongside the images are some Japanese notices.

I translate the notices back at the hostel. They read, ‘To prevent theft: if you notice any suspicious individuals, please contact the barnyard alternating Hakata police station if it was a robbery.’ There are also references to a theft in February, and still images captured by the 24-hour CCTV camera showing the criminal’s face. Named and shamed in a Coin Laundry.

After doing laundry and spending some time on Skype, I head to Hakata Station. Instead of taking the lift, I monotonously explore each of the ten floors. Hakata Station is a massive shopping centre with all sorts of shops, including the biggest bookstore I have ever seen.

There’s a record shop selling rare Japanese versions of classic albums. Perhaps there’s a profit to be made in reselling, but I don’t have the patience for that. I check for ‘Com Lag,’ but it’s the only Radiohead album they don’t have. The record shop also dedicates three entire aisles to the music of everyone’s favourite J-pop idols, AKB48. Crazy.

On the roof of the train station, I sit for a few hours, finishing off 159 pages of a Murakami novel. Night quietly sweeps in. The view at night is okay, but devoid of any stars. I ponder for a moment, questioning reality.

The Murakami book somewhat inspires me to make some changes in my life, specifically to start running more often.

On the tenth floor of Hakata Station, a Spanish restaurant.

Paella and Rioja happen.

I jog back to the hostel, finding the late hours have already wrapped the city in silence, a stark contrast to the bustling streets earlier. Passing by the second Christmas tree I’ve seen since arriving in Japan, I can’t help but wonder why it’s there; it does seem a little early for such decorations.

The reflection of Lawson blue bounces off the glass beyond.

Birds Thrown Around, Bullets For Hail

Posted on 11/07/2014 by Luke Kinsella

The largest storm on the planet passed through Beppu last night. The storm had drifted a little south of its predicted trajectory, but we still got hit by the strong winds; they sounded like a bullet train as they rattled the windows and the walls. I read somewhere that three months of rainfall will fall over Japan in just two days. This morning I take a walk to the beach to see how high the sea level is. I am surprised to see so many boats on the fierce waters.

Further down the beach I see houses with their windows boarded up. Thankfully, I see very little damage to anything. Beppu has survived the Super Typhoon and everyone is safe. Life goes on as normal here. Across the road the 24-hour pachinko parlour is packed full of people and cigarette smoke. The light rain all but stops so I wander back to the hostel to grab a bicycle.

I cycle the ten minutes to the Rakutenchi Cable Railway Station. The train here only goes up the mountain to Rakutenchi Amusement Park. The park is closed today because of the typhoon. Oddly, the rest of the trains and buses in Beppu carry on as normal, except at Rakutenchi Cable Railway Station. With the park closed, I decide to go back to Kanawa Hells to finish what I started last week.

On my way to the Hells, I see a road sign for ‘Beppu Univercity’. I find it unbelievable that major road signs can contain such errors. At the Hells of Beppu the sun is shining; not the weather you would expect the day of a Super Typoon. The Foreign Tourist Information Office is closed today; I am not sure if this place offers information to foreign tourists, or information about foreign tourists.

Shiraike Jigoku, White Pond Hell, is the first Hell I visit. I am pleased to find that it is open. I pay my ¥400 entry fee and admire the white pond. The water apparently is, “Transparent but as time passes it turns a blue-white colour.” I have no idea why the sign says this, the pond water is clearly green. Also at White Pond Hell, there is a really old aquarium with just three fish.

Opposite Shiraike Jigoku is a closed red door. The sign next to the door says Hinryu Jigoku, Golden Dragon Hell. Inside this Hell is a, “Dragon statue with steam coming through its mouth that seems to be flying when water spouts out at sunrise.” This is actually the 9th Hell of Beppu; I’m not sure if it’s still open to the public as it’s not on any map. Anyway, I mention it only because I really enjoy the impressibs description on the sign:

The next two Hells I plan to visit today are halfway down the mountain and about ten minutes away. I get back on my bicycle and take a very fun bike ride down the winding mountain path, through the many forests and tunnels carved into the mountainside.

Chinoike Jigoku translates to the amusing, ‘Bloody Hell’. Here there is a massive pool of red hot mud estimated to have been here for over 1,300 years. This is Japan’s oldest natural hot spring. It takes its name from the image of hell found in Buddhism. There is also a nice waterfall here. Some colourful Koi Carp fish swim in the pool below.

Carnival Cutouts are found everywhere in Japan. Wooden life-size cutouts you can put your face through are commonly found at every tourist attraction and randomly placed on the streets for no apparent reason. I can cycle around Beppu for ten minutes with my camera and will easily find ten Carnival Cutouts. Everywhere. After Bloody Hell, I head next door to Tatsumaki Jigoku. It is closed today. I see a sign saying Beppu Station 7.5 kilometres and decide to head back to the hostel for my new favourite food, natto.

Back at the hostel enjoying my natto, a member of staff finds it hilarious that I wrap my fermented soy beans around potato chips. Whatever. After food I head to Beppu Tower. It is one minute from my hostel and I still haven’t been. Beppu Tower was probably once a marvel, but now it is used as an advertising billboard for the brewery Asahi. There are eight neon Asahi signs on the Tower; four in Japanese and four in English. The Tower stands at a Herculean 100 metres tall.

I pay my ¥200 and ride the silent lift to the seventeenth floor. It’s one of those lifts that doesn’t display the current floor number and doesn’t really feel like it’s moving. After about thirty seconds, the doors open, and a Japanese lady at a desk greets me as I hand her my ticket. I begin to wander around.

Inside the Tower there are black and white photographs of crowds of people standing not too far from where I am standing right now. There are photographs of Japanese celebrities. There are pictures of the Tower through the ages. It used to look quite nice when it was first constructed in 1957. Today though, far from the bustling crowds, I am the only person here.

The view from the Tower is good. A full 360 degree panoramic view. The only problems here are that the glass in some of the windows is cracked and broken. Other windows are filthy on the outside and are in desperate need of a clean. Some of the photographs I take just don’t turn out at all; my camera unable to penetrate the thick layers of dirt.

Back at the hostel I book a ¥2100 bus ticket for Sunday to my next stop, Fukuoka. Just when Beppu was starting to grow on me too. I speak to a Korean guy (and fellow avid bicycle enthusiast), he tells me about something amazing that he saw today. It’s only 6 p.m. so I decide to check it out before the sunset. As I cycle down the ocean, I quite like the look of the sky.

My destination is beyond the Monkey Park, some 5.7 kilometres each way. As I cycle, I realise that I haven’t seen any stars yet in the six weeks I have been in Japan. Very odd. Anyway, I finally reach my destination; an old landlocked boat converted into a play park. There are slides, tunnels, ladders, and a climbing frame. There is also a weird rope ladder that leads into the hull below. I am very tempted to go on the slide, but there is a couple on the ship too, seemingly on a romantic date.

After exploring the abandoned ship, I abandon ship and cycle back to the hostel for the last time tonight. At the hostel, the excitement in Beppu never ends; Justin, a staff member here, has found a crab in the male onsen. Everyone is going crazy about the crab. They finally catch it and take it back to the ocean, where it most likely belongs.

So Long, Tokyo, and Thanks for All the Fish

Posted on 29/06/2014 by Luke Kinsella

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.

Mascot, Mascot, Mascots

Posted on 11/06/2014 by Luke Kinsella

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 the 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.

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