The Time Traveler’s Strife

Posted on 01/04/2015 by Luke

Today, I decide to explore the Asakusa area once again. Recently, I engaged in a conversation with friends about Denbou-in Gardens, the secret gardens I visited, hidden in the grounds of Senso-ji Temple. Intrigued to discover more about this area and its hidden gems, I then heard a mention of the interestingly named Drawing Light Temple. Obviously, I wanted to find out more. In the blazing sunshine, I head to Asakusa once again and search for the temple.

It takes me about thirty minutes to wander through the huge complex of temples and shrines that make up the Senso-ji compound before I eventually find a rather obscure-looking tunnel with overhanging plants and nondescript flowers. Oddly, I have never seen this tunnel before, so for the second time in just over a fortnight, I have stumbled upon a new place in Tokyo, a city I have lived in for eight months now. Hidden beyond the foliage, on the other side of the tunnel, sits the impressive Drawing Light Temple.

Built in 1609, this temple houses the goddess of protection from drawing light images. Fortunately, an English sign serves to remove any confusion and informs me that, “The Goddess in this temple protects against photography, portraits, and reflections.” Ironically, photography is allowed here. As I read the signboards about the history of this place, it becomes instantly apparent that if this temple was built in 1609, as the sign states, then it precedes the very first photograph, making it impossible for the goddess that resides here to know what she would be protecting against. It reminds me of the Flying God Temple, where people go to pray before they fly on an aircraft. The god there existed before aircraft were even invented. Even the story about the origin of Senso-ji, concerning the golden statue of Kannon fished from a lake, is riddled with confusion; the statue is no longer housed in Senso-ji Temple, and has never actually been seen by anyone who can prove it existed in the first place.

The inconsistencies and inaccuracies in religious narratives make me increasingly sceptical. Considering the possibility that religious stories and certain deities might be nothing more than fabrications is a notion I had never entertained before, but it now begins to take shape in my mind. What if it’s all untrue? I ponder this for a moment, and then, quite unexpectedly, I spot a magical cow.

“Look closely,” says a sign next to the cow. I stare at the cow, not really sure what I am supposed to be seeing. Everything here looks perfectly normal – just a statue of a cow. Below the sign, there is a description in Japanese, which later translates to read, “As a way to protect the stolen soul, in the cow, your image will be hidden from the drawing of light.” I take a photograph of the cow, and oddly, my image isn’t present. Very strange. I take seven more photographs from various angles, yet each time, the scenery behind me is visible, but my own reflection is mysteriously erased.

Why a cow has been chosen to symbolise the absence of reflection is beyond me, but some sort of wizardry is at hand here – a trick of light, perhaps. Continuing my exploration of this hidden temple, I discover that it holds the origin of the story that a photograph can steal your soul. It was said that when this temple was built before photographs were invented, the thought of an image of a person being taken was a direct link to the spiritual world. This history has also spread to the rest of the Senso-ji area, where no mirrors can be seen at any of the temples or shrines. It makes me wonder if the Edo Period in Japan was populated by time travellers, building temples everywhere that predict future inventions.

As I leave the Drawing Light Temple, I continue my exploration of the nearby area and discover another display of inconsistent historical information.

The Stone Lantern of Rokujizo was built in either 1146, 1150, or 1368, and already I find that there are too many contradictions. The sign even states that the details are unknown. Yet, the lantern itself features topography that wasn’t used until 1834. So somehow, the lantern features Japanese text that was first used 688 years, 684 years, or 466 years after it was originally built. My suspicions surrounding the history behind Senso-ji Temple are once again confirmed here.

I continue my tour and find a monument to Kume no Heinai. He was a samurai in the Edo Period and a master of sword fighting. Over the years, he killed many people before eventually turning to a life of virtue. Heinai began to live in Kongo-in Temple, inside Senso-ji Temple, and devoted himself to Zen Buddhism. He held religious services in honour of the souls of the people he killed. One day, he ordered his followers to carve his figure in stone and bury it in a busy district of Asakusa, so that forever, people would step on him—presumably what he thought he deserved after years of killing. Oddly, Heinai was in good health the day the statue was ordered to be built; however, the next day, he died suddenly, as if his fate was already known.

My final stop is the peculiarly named, Bell of Time.

This innocent looking bell housed in a wooden structure, to the untrained eye, wouldn’t be significant. To my overactive imagination, this confirms my earlier suspicions that religion, or at least the area around Senso-ji Temple, was built by time travellers, and this bell was their time machine. Obviously, time travellers building temples sounds ridiculous, although the evidence is definitely here. If this isn’t the case though, then perhaps instead, religion is being used to make money here; exploiting the beliefs of innocent people, and making this area more attractive to tourists. It does seem from my brief attempt at investigating the area, that most of the information I have discovered is based entirely on lies.

Japanese New Year’s Eve

Posted on 02/01/2015 by Luke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Schindler’s Lift

Posted on 17/12/2014 by Luke

Recently I have been a little caught up with having a cold, taking numerous visits to the dentist, and a sudden urge to spend the remainder of my free time filling out multiple sheets of paperwork pertaining to banking and insurance. This morning, I head outside to discover that everything has fallen down. I lift my bicycle up from the floor, pulling it apart from the scattered mess of other fallen bikes. The temperature in Japan is freezing cold now. Two days ago, there was snow in central Tokyo. Today, a strong wind blows through the air. I take my bicycle, armed with winter clothes, and cycle to Asakusa.

I head over to Senso-ji, passing hordes of skeletal trees. For the next three days, a festival takes place. Something to do with badminton rackets, or so it seems.

Today is Hagoita-ichi, a festival of decorated battledores—old-style badminton rackets depicting characters from kabuki shows. There are about twelve different stores here, each selling these rackets at a high price. These decorated wooden boards are supposed to deflect evil; perhaps this is where the ‘bad’ comes from in badminton. The sport that these rackets are used for is something of a Japanese childhood game called ‘hanetsuki,’ very similar to badminton but played without a net. I suppose the evil is the shuttlecock, and hitting it toward your opponent is a way to deflect that evil upon others.

The traditional way that hanetsuki is played involves the use of face paint. If you lose a point, your opponent gets to rub paint on your face. If you were terrible at the game, I suppose after a while, your colourful face might begin to resemble one of the characters portrayed on the hagoita. These days, these rackets are mainly used for decoration purposes. Sandwiched between the stores selling badminton rackets are food shops, and one specific store caught my eye because it looked so out of place.

Daruma dolls are traditional Buddhist dolls depicting the image of Dharma, and they are considered a symbol of good luck. With white eyes that stare into nothingness, it is said that if you colour in one eye, you can make a wish. Once the wish comes true, colour in the second eye, and your Daruma is almost complete. The only thing left for the doll is to be returned to the temple it was bought from and burned. It feels slightly unfair to burn an object that has done its best to grant you a wish, but sadly, that’s just how these things go. As I am taking a photograph of the dolls, a man next to me is doing the same. His hat flies off his head in a gust of wind. Somehow, I manage to reach my hand up and catch his hat in mid-air, like a pro.

After the festival, I go to Akihabara for some Christmas shopping. In Japan, where Alcatraz-themed restaurants and robot cabaret shows are common, it’s no longer strange to find a cafe themed around a popular girl idol band. Akihabara is bustling with comic book stores, video game shops, and large electronic department stores. However, that’s not my reason for being here. Almost instinctively, I leave the station and head directly to the AKB48 Cafe and Shop.

The last twenty-three single releases by AKB48 have consistently claimed the top spot on the charts, indicating their immense popularity among Japanese people. One clever marketing strategy involves including a ticket for a handshake with a band member with every CD purchase. Observing the guy in front of me in the queue buying over one hundred copies of the same CD, it’s clear that he’s a fan of the handshake perk. I exit the store with ten copies of ‘Kiboteki Refrain’, and I can’t help but feel like a weirdo. Nevertheless, I’ve managed to wrap up Christmas shopping for ten people in less than ten minutes.

Before returning to Asakusa, I make a detour to Yodobashi Camera to play some piano. However, after thirty minutes, I decide to leave because one of the staff members is giving me an ‘are you going to buy anything?’ sort of look. Outside Akihabara Station, somebody seems to have mixed their Christmas up with Easter.

For some unknown reason, it is not possible to open a bank account in Japan unless you have lived here for a minimum of six months. Since my time in the country has exceeded that quota by almost three weeks, I decided it was about time to get my documents in order and take the plunge toward integration. But, I can’t just wander into a bank saying, “I have been here six months, give me a bank account!” First, I need to get myself a personal seal. Not the aquatic mammal I had been hoping for; this seal is more like a stamp and is known as an ‘inkan’.

I head over to a small inkan shop opposite Tawaramachi Station and take the escalator up to the second floor. The escalator provides me with amusement, and the title of this overdue blog post practically writes itself.

Inside the shop, there are wonderfully expensive stamps on display in high-priced cases. Since I am only getting this product for one reason – a bank account – I opt for the second cheapest option available. The woman draws a circle that takes up a whole page of A4 paper and asks me to write my name in the way I would like it to be engraved in the stamp. Horizontally or vertically? Kanji or katakana? I don’t really care, so I just scribble my name across the paper as quickly as possible, and with very little thought.

Next, I select a case, once again opting for one of the cheapest available, but still seemingly of high quality. Perhaps there is no such thing as bad quality inkan. I hand over ¥2950, the cost of both the inkan and the case. The woman informs me that it will be ready in thirty minutes, hands me a slip of paper, and asks me to bring it back with me when ‘my time is up’.

Half an hour later, I am the proud owner of my very own inkan. Naturally, I head home immediately and start stamping my name on everything I own.

Necks, Lights, and Video Ape

Posted on 04/11/2014 by Luke

Culture Day is held on the 3rd of November every year. It is an event to promote the arts and Japanese culture. Introduced in 1948, Culture Day is a public holiday. On this day, the people of Japan have a day off from work, and events will take place throughout Tokyo. An interesting fact I have learned is that it never rains on Culture Day; statistically, it is the clearest day of the year.

Outside, it is raining. I decide to head to Seven Eleven to buy a coffee. At the checkout, I am asked to place my hand in a box. I pull out a small piece of paper with a picture of a banana on it. Great! I’ve won a banana. This is quite possibly the best thing that will happen to me all day. I take my bicycle and head over to Asakusa, to Senso-ji. Today, I am here to satisfy my heron addiction. At the temple, the rain has all but stopped, and the crowds are slightly larger than usual. People on holiday have flocked to the temple to see the festival.

Today marks the White Heron Dance festival, a one-thousand-year-old tradition. The event features eight women dressed as herons, gracefully making their way through Kaminarimon Gate toward the main temple. Following closely behind them is a small wooden cart, accompanied by drummers, a man carrying a huge umbrella, three percussionists, and another man with a baton. Additionally, a woman carries a box full of confetti.

The procession sets up just beside the temple, and a huge crowd of people forms a circle, watching attentively. The music starts, and the heron dance begins. The women move with elegance, their dance slow and precise. Wings expand and contract, and heron heads bob gracefully. The woman with the confetti tosses it to the birds, and they pretend to be fed. As the dance draws to a close, its cleansing ability purifies the souls of the deceased.

After the event, I decide to explore a little. At the small nearby Awashi-do Temple, a monk sits chanting and hitting a drum every second. He maintains a steady, practiced rhythm and doesn’t appear to blink. Just outside, at a market stall, a man sits in a chair, waving his hands from side to side and singing, “Nice to meet you, where are you from?” I tell him England. “Aaaaah, Englandooo, Englandooo!” he joyfully sings.

As I wander around to see if any other Culture Day events are taking place, I stumble upon a small stage hidden away in one corner of the temple grounds—and a monkey.

As I explore further, I discover not just one, but two monkeys. The first, accompanied by a man, showcases its natural ability to dive through hoops. The second monkey, with a woman, possesses impressive skills — it can jump really far, leap over hurdles whilst wearing stilts, and even walk on its hands. I applaud the performance, though I can’t help but question the potential cruelty involved. In an attempt to pay it forward, I give away the banana I won earlier.

I leave Asakusa and head over to Ueno Park to enjoy some light art. Today, the park is adorned with illuminations created by Ishii Motoko, the woman behind the lighting designs for Tokyo Tower, the Rainbow Bridge to Odaiba, and many other projects throughout Japan.

The water fountains are lit up, and the sky is filled with colours from lasers projected from a small lighting booth. The Tokyo National Museum has transformed into a whiteboard for projected images; arts, antiques, and artefacts housed in the museum are displayed in full colour across one of its walls. Lanterns line the paths, and small stalls are set up, selling meat, sweets, fruits, and assorted Japanese snacks.

Similar to the other events today, this festival also showcases animals. Scattered throughout the park are many animals from Ueno Zoo, adorned with fairy lights. A significant effort has been put into this, making the festival a lot of fun. However, at times, it does feel like I am at a premature Christmas market.

I learn that in the past, this day was a public holiday celebrating the birthday of the Meiji Emperor, who was the first person to eat meat in Japan back in 1872. After his death in 1912, the day ceased to be a public holiday until it was reinstated in 1948 as Culture Day. Interestingly, a significant aspect of Japanese culture today involves the consumption of animals, which might explain why every event I have visited today has some sort of animal theme.

I head back toward the water fountains, where a stage has been erected. It’s only quarter to six, and the park is bustling with parents and young children. On stage, a woman is dancing with a pole. The pole dancing eventually concludes, and a drum kit is set up. The band is scheduled to perform at 6 p.m., but at five minutes past, there is still no sign of a performance.

Ten minutes pass, making the performance fifteen minutes late. Finally, the flowers begin to light up, water fountains dance once more, and a band takes the stage. Comprising a saxophonist, a hornist, two trumpet players, and a drummer, they kick off with a musical rendition of ‘When You Wish Upon a Star.’ As they consider playing their second piece, I notice some tempting lights in the distance.

The wall of the National Museum of Nature and Science is also lit up, featuring a dazzling light show depicting the story of evolution. The lights showcase the earliest eukaryotes to the animals of today. Volcanoes erupt, and monkeys transform into men. I stay for the entire show, enthusiastically applauding with the rest of the crowd at the end.

After the illuminations, I meet my friend Khin, and we head to one of my favourite bars, Nui. At the bar, we join a group of Australians. One of the women, Claudia, grew up in Perth, the same place as Khin — quite the coincidence, maybe. When I mention where I’m from in England, I’m surprised to find that she has heard of it; most people haven’t. My surprise deepens when she takes out her passport and shows me the section displaying her birthplace. Oddly, it is my hometown — the same city, the same hospital, but more remarkably, we were born on the very same day. Such a small world. Our paths crossing in a Tokyo bar, woven together by the cosmic dance of a shared day.

“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.

Coincidences, Strangers, and Stranger Coincidences

Posted on 03/06/2014 by Luke

I wake myself up screaming in pain. I have cramp in my left leg and I’ve just woken everyone up. Not the best start to the day. I have a shower, get dressed, then stumble to the lift. Researching cramp, Yahoo Answers tells me that I need to drink more red wine, add more salt to my diet, and eat less bananas.

At the hostel I meet a freelance journalist from Canada. Her name is Aaliya. It is her first day in Japan, so I offer to give her the tour of the area. We walk to Senso-ji where we both receive an o-mikuji fortune. Aaliya gets The Good Fortune; it says that the ‘patient will not get well soon, but will escape death.’ I hate to think what the bad fortune is like. I receive The Best Fortune.

After a stroll around Asakusa, we take the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to Shibuya. A short walk from the station and we arrive at the famous Shibuya Crossing. There are three massive television screens mounted on buildings, they only show advertisements. We decide to go into the Starbucks Coffee shop for a better view of the crossing. I later find out that this is the busiest Starbucks Coffee shop in the world.

Overall, I find Shibuya Crossing to be quite underwhelming. It is literally people crossing a road. How this became a famous tourist attraction, I have no idea. After we take photographs of people crossing a road, we walk around Shibuya for a while. We notice a neon sign saying ‘CAT’ and decide to check it out. It is, of course, a cat cafe; a place where you have a cup of tea surrounded by cats. Unfortunately, they only allow two people in at once for thirty minutes at a time; there are two people already waiting, so we decide to leave.

After a walk around Shibuya, we change to the Yamanote Line and head to Akihabara. Here we get some food. Tempura again today, two prawns, squid, sand borer, and scallop served on rice with seaweed. ¥1280 with a pint of beer. After a look around a few of the shops in Akihabara, we head back on the train and return to the hostel.

Radiohead are playing on the speakers in the hostel lounge. There is also a film crew here interviewing people for Japanese channel TV Tokyo. I hang out in the lounge with a couple of the hostel staff who have just finished their shift for the day. One of the staff members recommends that I check out the Robot Restaurant in Shinjuku, another recommends I eat at an Alcatraz themed restaurant. I note both down as options for another day.

I hang out for a while longer with one of the guys that works here; he is genuinely hilarious and I can see myself becoming good friends with him. We joke about forming a Japanese manzai act together; a style of traditional comedy here in Japan involving two performers. He says that if I want to I can work at the hostel for three hours a day, cleaning, in exchange for a free room. A lot of backpackers do this, apparently.

After a light snack of salmon teriyaki, I head out to an izakaya pub with Aaliya and two of her friends from the hostel, James and Matt. Here we drink for a while, sitting outside and enjoying the warm evening and a light breeze. Eventually the three of them head back to the hostel; they have to be up at 3 a.m. to catch a taxi to the Tsukiji fish market. I decline the invitation to join them; I will be not be getting up that early.

I wander alone around Asakusa at night, taking my time, taking photographs and taking in the neon lights. When I get back to the hostel, I grab a beer in the lounge. I hear a man talking about Shane Carruth, director of Primer and Upstream Color. I am surprised to hear his name. I join the conversation and it transpires that we have both read Shane Carruth’s script for his abandoned project, A Topiary.

The man says that another director he really likes is Zal Batmanglij, I am also a huge fan. I find it very odd. The conversation naturally turns to Brit Marling and Mike Cahill, and the coincidences continue. This is probably only interesting to me, but it seems that all of my favourite people, artists, authors, and musicians keep being mentioned. I didn’t say so in my blog a few nights ago, but the Irish guy staying in my hostel room, his favourite author was the same as mine, Iain Banks. He was also reading a different book by the same author as me, Haruki Murakami. I find it all very strange.

I stay in the hostel lounge and spend the rest of the night drinking with some random people. Two of which are from England. There is talk of a group karaoke trip tomorrow, which I really hope goes ahead. The rest of the night becomes a bit of a blur, and I retire to my room just before 3 a.m. Meanwhile, the others wake up to visit the fish market.

A Tale of Two Squids

Posted on 31/05/2014 by Luke

I wake up to the birds cheeping outside and the sun blazing through the window. An early start today in the far too hotter than I’m used to 30°C Tokyo sunshine finds me out and about for 9 a.m. I head across to the bar I had been the previous evening, which luckily for me, doubles up as a vegan and vegetarian restaurant in the day time; and only a 45 second walk from my hostel too. After a breakfast of beans, egg, and toast, washed down with a damn fine cup of coffee, it’s time for a stroll.

I take a five-minute walk to Senso-ji, a Buddhist Temple in Asakusa and the oldest temple in Tokyo. The entrance to the temple is marked by a giant red and white lantern, and probably the largest lantern I have seen in my life. This section is known as Kaminarimon, or the Thunder Gate. Standing either side of the gate are two large statues, the one on the left, I am told, is Fujin, the god of wind; and to the right, Raijin, the god of thunder.

Continuing towards the temple, there’s a line of over 80 stalls offering fans, umbrellas, souvenirs, and an array of food items (bean paste buns and rice crackers seem to be popular today), along with clothing, handbags, and even a stall claiming to sell tortoise shell and coral. Known as Nakamise-Dori, this stretch forms a beautiful lantern-lit pathway of stalls leading to the temple.

In the temple courtyard stands Goju-no-To, a five-story pagoda that stands at 53 metres tall, making it the second-highest pagoda in all of Japan. Prior to the temple entrance, there’s a massive cauldron emitting thick incense smoke. This cauldron marks the threshold before the entrance to the Hondo, or Main Hall. Inside the Main Hall, a striking golden statue of Kannon, the goddess of mercy, awaits. Legend claims the statue was retrieved from a lake in the year 628 AD by two fishermen.

After some sightseeing around the temple, I head to a nearby shaded indoor market. After a short while, I notice a woman who, for no apparent reason, is strolling through the market balancing a bottle of green tea on her head. As she passes by, I stop and turn around to confirm what I had just witnessed – indeed, a woman balancing a bottle of green tea on her head. In the process, I almost get knocked over by a passing cyclist.

Upon returning to the hostel, I start feeling somewhat tired: a touch of jet lag, extended periods of wakefulness, and my newfound, albeit very healthy diet of Suntory Black Boss Coffee being the obvious causes. I opt to take a nap.

I awaken. It’s 8 p.m., and outside, the darkness of the sky has been replaced by the brilliance of vibrant neon lights. I realise that Japan takes on a strikingly different appearance in the evening. I begin my walk back toward Senso-ji, passing by pachinko parlours, game arcades, and brightly lit restaurants that seemed non-existent earlier today. The streets are now bustling with people seated at tables, dining. Shutters down, shutters up—there isn’t a clothing shop in sight; everything has been transformed into restaurants.

I return to Senso-ji to witness the Pagoda and Temple illuminated at night—an impressive sight. Strolling back through Nakamise-Dori, almost all of the 80 stalls are now closed with their shutters down. Only a single food stall remains open; it’s time to find something to eat.

I opt for a tempura restaurant that proudly boasts an English menu. According to the menu, their prawns are exceptionally tasty due to being raised using extensive aquaculture—an environmentally friendly method. They exclusively use 100 percent vegetable oil with no cholesterol. Ordering a tempura set with noodles and a pint of Kirin Beer, I indulge in tempura sweet potato, lotus root, squid, and prawn, all served on a bed of rice. While the squid tempura is remarkable, the standout, confirming the menu’s claim, happens to be the most delectable prawn I’ve ever tasted.

The meal, including the beer, costs me ¥1060—an incredibly reasonable price indeed.

Deciding to conclude the night back at the hostel, my appetite is thoroughly satisfied. I purchase a few affordable cans of Asahi from the vending machines and head to my room, where I’m greeted by a few fellow roommates. A lady from Taiwan offers me some squid on a stick. ‘Try it,’ she says with a grin, ‘it’s nice and a little bit spicy too!’ For some reason, I agree to give it a try.

Two minutes later, I’m still at the tap, trying to wash away the taste of what must have been the most disgusting food I have ever tasted. The texture was chewy, the taste was off, the regret was apparent.

My second day in Japan oddly mirrored by both morning and evening visits to Senso-ji Temple: walking the same streets once bathed in the brightness of a hot sunny day and then again in the neon-lit darkness of the night; and some food to remember, followed by food to forget.

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