Last Day of Summer

Posted on 24/09/2014 by Luke

Today is the Autumn Equinox; officially the day that summer ends and autumn begins. The weather seems to have forgotten about the shift in seasons, and has kindly gifted us with a clear sunny day and 27°C temperatures; the perfect day for say, a boat trip. Once a month, throughout summer, the people of Asakusa have a boat party. Fortunately for us, Dagmar and I have been given an invite.

The boat wasn’t cheap; we each paid ¥8640 in advance. This price includes ‘nomihodai’ and ‘tabehodai,’ which means ‘all-you-can-drink’ and ‘all-you-can-eat’. At half-past twelve, we meet up and head to Umayabashi Bridge, where our eagerly-awaited boat awaits us eagerly.

The Japanese boat is referred to as ‘Yakatabune’, a traditional wooden boat with tatami flooring, primarily used for entertaining guests. The forty of us pile in and take a seat on the floor at a huge table where a banquet is already laid out. The boat gets moving along the Sumida River in the direction of Odaiba. Shuhei, the organiser, makes a speech, we toast, then start to eat. The meal initially consists of sliced raw fish, salad, edamame, rice, pickles, and prawn tempura.

Beer is passed around in huge bottles to fill small glasses. My glass is always kept topped up by someone else when it gets low; in turn I return the favour when I see someone else with a glass running absent of alcohol. The food is delicious, the beer ever flowing; a great start to the afternoon.

We cruise along to excellent views of Tokyo, and I take photographs, eventually coining the word ‘boatographs’. As we head towards Tokyo Bay, more food is served: white fish tempura, eel tempura, sweet potato tempura, and finally, my favourite, mushroom tempura.

A few of the Japanese guys gather at the bow of the boat, cheering each other on to drink massive glasses of Japanese sake. I head over to take a photograph and am dragged into the madness. I’m handed a glass of sake, everyone cheers, and I drink. “No good, one more time,” they say. Great. After a second chant, I drink a second glass of strong sake.

After about forty minutes, people seem quite drunk. We anchor in the middle of Tokyo Bay, opposite the Fuji TV Building.

Another speech is given, an endless supply of food continues to flow from the small kitchen. The beer just about stops, and people begin to take advantage of the all-you-can-drink spirits. There is a huge selection of shochu, wine, sake and whisky. After a while, we all head to the upper deck for a group photograph, before heading back below for more food and drink.

Karaoke begins, bringing with it a drinking game. A microphone is passed around and everyone sings one line of the song. Whoever sings the last line of the verse has to drink. When the microphone lands in my hand, I improvise something in English to the same tune. People applaud, and somehow, I escape the fate of trying to sing broken Japanese lyrics.

We sing many songs and drink many drinks. I make some new friends and talk to the people I already know. The boat tilts from side to side, the party in full swing. Shuhei goes around pouring drinks into glasses, urging everyone to down them. It seems that everyone is determined to empty every bottle on the boat, and we indeed do just that.

The boat starts up again and cruises back toward Asakusa. More speeches are delivered, followed by more karaoke. We’re treated to a black bean dessert before finally docking back at the Umayabashi Bridge. A traditional clapping ritual signals the end of the festival, and we all disembark for one last group photograph. It’s only 4 p.m., but I’m already feeling a little drunk.

A few of us share a taxi. The doors to the taxi magically open and close by themselves. Five minutes and ¥700 later, we arrive back at the hostel. One of the staff members hands me a piece of paper that says, ‘Last Summer Party.’ It turns out tonight, the hostel is hosting a Bon dance party—a traditional folk dance to commemorate the lives of loved ones who have passed away. Free food and drink are also available. Excellent.

I drink plenty of water and sober up ready for my second party of the day.

Grandiose Encounters of the Third Class

Posted on 28/07/2014 by Luke

I went without any Internet connection for a few days, so I couldn’t post anything. Here’s a summary of the last three days:

Friday – Fukuoka

Today, I met a German guy named Klaus. It’s his first day in Japan after spending a month in South Korea. He wants to stay here tomorrow night as well, but there are no available rooms in the hostel. I cancel my reservation for tomorrow night, and he takes my room. I wanted to start traveling early tomorrow anyway, as I have a fourteen-hour train journey to endure.

Klaus and I take a stroll around Hakata Station. I show him the sights, starting with the roof terrace. We then wander through the enormous indoor shopping complex, exploring various random gifts. I spot some excellent souvenir ideas. Later, we head for food—a classic dish of mixed vegetable and prawn tempura on rice, accompanied by a pint of Kirin Beer. Kirin isn’t my first choice for Japanese beer, but I don’t complain.

Afterward, we head over to Tenjin Station because Klaus is really keen on seeing the giant cardboard train. I don’t mind showing him around as I have nothing else planned in Fukuoka. Klaus is quite funny, and his English is good, so I don’t have to speak slowly or anything. We enter the building where I thought the cardboard train was, but we can’t seem to find it. Unfortunately, I deleted the photograph, so I can’t prove to him that it was real. He starts doubting its existence altogether, and I begin to question it myself, still feeling a bit off-kilter from yesterday. We hesitate to ask anyone else about the train because it might sound absurd. “Excuse me, miss, could you point us in the direction of the giant cardboard stream locomotive, please?”

After an hour of searching, we eventually find it in a completely different building from the one I had sworn it was in.

Next, we head to an izakaya by the river. It’s the first time I’ve visited an outdoor izakaya of this style. We choose the most welcoming one. “Please, you are welcome,” the owner says with an honest smile. This place serves skewers of meat and noodle soup. Klaus and I do what Germans and Britons do best: drink.

We meet a couple of Japanese people: two guys, one of whom had visited Berlin last year, so he and Klaus engage in conversation. Two girls, one of whom had spent six months studying English in Leeds, so she and I chat. As the night progresses, Klaus teaches me about South Korea, and I share my knowledge about Japan with him. We drink, joke, and before we know it, the night disappears.

Saturday – Okayama

I board my third and final train for the day at Shimionoseki Station, taking the JR Sanyo Line. The train is old, with uncomfortable seats, no toilet, and no vending machine. I wish I had more than one bottle of water. The train announcements are exclusively in Japanese. Am I even on the right train? How would I even know?

This ‘local’ train makes an astonishing 83 stops, taking a total of eight hours. Finally, at 9 p.m., I arrive in Okayama. I decided to break up my travel to Kyoto with a nice stopover in a pleasant-looking business hotel. I enjoy staying in a hotel once a month; it offers a refreshing change from the noise of a dormitory room. By using my Seishun 18 ticket, I save myself the ¥16,060 that the bullet train would have cost me. In exchange, I sacrifice 569 minutes of my life.

As I step off the train, the speakers are bellowing out the tune, ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad’. In fact, they play the tune every time a train pulls up here. You might go insane if you were a member of the station staff. Leaving the station, I realise just how exhausted I am from doing absolutely nothing but sitting on trains. It wears me out.

There is a really lovely fountain just outside the entrance. I believe it’s shaped to look like a dandelion.

One thing I notice immediately about Okayama is the maps—they are everywhere, massive, and in English. My hotel is on the same road as the station, about halfway between here and Okayama Castle. I grab a well-deserved can of Suntory whisky highball for the walk.

The main road through Okayama is wide, with trams drifting through the middle of the lanes. Neatly pollarded trees, lit up by lamps, line both sides of the pavement, adding to the city’s charm. Finding my hotel, I notice it’s slightly more upmarket than I’m used to. The room is of average size, with a laid-out yukata on the bed and all the usual hotel amenities. Unfortunately, my view isn’t of the castle but of the train station. Oddly, the hotel exists in a time before the World Wide Web and does not offer Internet access.

After settling into the hotel, I decide to take a walk. I head into the park, passing a group of people exercising to music from a stereo in the street. The park is pitch black, but I can vaguely make out a lake in the middle. In the distance, I see the castle, illuminated by bright green lights.

Similar to the park, the castle exterior is pitch black, earning it the nickname ‘Crow Castle’. After visiting the castle, I step out of the park and into the light. Following the neon signs, I navigate interlocking side streets filled with restaurants. People stand outside, attempting to usher customers into their establishments. As I walk around with an empty can of highball, a trick I discovered, I notice that nobody wants someone with an open can of drink in their restaurant. Consequently, I am almost completely ignored by the touts.

I decide to dine at a small family-run restaurant. Surprisingly, they have Basashi (raw horse meat) curry on the menu, alongside natto curry. Opting for a fish curry, I’m asked by the owner, ‘Medium heat, medium curry, okay?’ I request it to be hot. He brings out the familiar chart with the five chili symbols. His chart looks like this:

One: For children.
Two: Mild curry.
Three: Extremely hot!
Four: Daredevil!
Five:

Five is left blank, presumably because no one orders a five. I ask for a three. ‘Three!!!’ he exclaims. His response makes me start laughing. When my curry arrives, the smell is enticing, and the heat level is just right. It costs ¥1019, including a small can of Kirin Beer. It’s a good meal, albeit with a substandard beer.

Sunday – Kyoto

After traveling for four hours on trains, I finally arrive in Kyoto. I switch to the subway line headed to Kawaramachi Station, and surprisingly, the subway train happens to be the nicest I’ve ridden all week. Remembering my station name won’t be an issue either. During my month in Tokyo, my local station was Tawaramachi Station—here, just a letter’s difference. Leaving the station, I walk directly into a massive shopping arcade that sprawls out in every direction.

I pass by a huge market where everything is produced and sourced locally. There are numerous vegan and organic restaurants here as well—my kind of place. Additionally, within the arcade, there are random temples dotted about. Seishinin Temple is sandwiched between a small shop selling calligraphy on wooden blocks and a shop selling human caricatures.

It is only 2 p.m. and I have one hour before I can officially check-in. I find the hostel and fill out all the necessary paperwork and pay. The hostel offers to look after my bags for an hour. As I hand over my one bag, the staff member gives me a bewildered look. “That’s it?!” He asks me with surprise in his voice.
“Yep, that’s it,” I tell him.
“Not very heavy,” he says, struggling to grasp the concept of my luggage.
“I like to travel light,” I offer as an explanation. His expression retains a sense of disbelief.

I have an hour to kill, so I decide to find some lunch. I head to a small restaurant across the road that offers natural organic food. Like most restaurants here, it has an English menu, probably due to the sheer volume of tourists. They offer free wireless Internet, and Björk’s music is coming out of the speakers. I order a salmon, mushroom, and cheese omelette over rice, served with a big salad, along with a green tea latte. Although the food doesn’t look too pretty, it tastes and smells amazing. The meal costs ¥1944. No complaints here—good food, good music, free Internet.

Kyoto was formerly the imperial capital of Japan for over a thousand years. Now, it serves as the capital of Kyoto Prefecture. It’s often referred to as the ‘City of Ten Thousand Shrines.’ I’m not certain if it actually has ten thousand shrines, but it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if it did. I’ve counted eleven already today, and they were all within the indoor shopping arcade.

I return to the hostel to retrieve my room key. The hostel is modern, featuring five floors and a roof terrace. I decide to explore the public areas. The lounge is adorned with small wooden boxes housing growing plants, adding a touch of nature. A huge glass bay window floods the dining area with natural light. The outdoor roof terrace is neatly arranged, complete with beer and cup noodle vending machines. It seems someone in the hostel has organised a weekly late-night running group, with a clear emphasis on ‘going for a beer afterwards.’ I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy my one-week stay here.

The hostel also features a library, and unlike Fukuoka and Beppu, it has a lift. While I’m writing up my weekend, a Japanese guy who works here comes over and introduces himself. He seems quite a character and turns out to be one of the barmen at the hostel’s bar, which is located in the basement and stays open until midnight every evening. They also offer ¥400 beer on tap. Tonight, the hostel is hosting a monthly party, which is fantastic—another stroke of lucky timing. At the party, I discover that the other barman is my friend Shonosuke. I had no idea he was here. Brilliant!

Udon in (three-hundred and) Sixty Seconds

Posted on 22/07/2014 by Luke

With the sun directly above me, there’s nowhere to hide from the heat. I anticipated the scorching conditions; the seat on my bright yellow bicycle was already burning when I first set off. I had to pour a bottle of water over it to cool it down; the water began to boil on the pavement. The tarmac here blisters and broils.

As I head toward Tenjin, I realise I’ve inadvertently chosen to wear a bright yellow shirt. I must look rather peculiar: a foreigner on a yellow bike, clad in yellow. Fortunately, I find a nice cycle path with newly laid tarmac, and my destination seems to have chosen itself.

Inconsiderate pedestrians often walk on the cycle path, obstructing me without a care. I make a stop to let a taxi pass, as I usually do, and the driver nods in acknowledgement, as they typically do. Interestingly, here, even when the crossing light is on a pedestrian green, motorists can still turn left, but they must yield to pedestrians first. I’ve made it a habit to let taxis turn before me, especially when they have a passenger. I like to think I’m doing everyone a favour.

I cycle for what feels like an eternity until I reach a place called Ohahsi. Not much happening in Ohashi, so I spot a sign for Hakata Station and decide to head back. On my way, I come across a woman holding a sign that says, ‘Time Sale.’ I humorously decide to ‘buy’ five minutes. Additionally, I encounter an army of crossing guards—three people directing one vehicle. Absolutely insane.

Attempting to find some eccentric Japanese electronics to write about, I discover that everything seems rather ordinary. Instead, I end up in a music shop on the seventh floor of Hakata Station. I spend about ten minutes practicing the piano, drifting away as I try to recall how to play the only song I can fully remember: ‘To Zanarkand’ by Nobuo Uematsu. It eventually comes back to me, but it was mentally challenging. The thought crosses my mind that I might have forgotten how to play the guitar by now.

I spend a while restaurant window shopping, stopping to admire the models of plastic food. A sign outside a Chinese restaurant catches my eye.

Instead of dining in Hakata, I opt for Tenjin, thinking it would be a better choice. With tired legs, I decide to hop on a subway train for the first time in nearly a month. I’m surprised by how soft and springy the seats on the train are, probably because the bicycle seat is hard and uncomfortable.

I disembark at the last stop, Fukuoka Airport, realising I’ve taken the wrong train. Not to worry, it was just a two-stop ride, and I won’t be charged for my mistake. As everyone exits the train, I wait a moment while it’s cleaned, and then I board the same train heading back to Tenjin. Surprisingly, many others do the same, presumably having made the same mistake as me. One of the things I enjoy about subway trains here is that since the tracks are separate from the ticket gates, you can effectively ride the train all day, getting on and off as many times as you like. There’s not much purpose in doing so except to rectify errors.

Ultimately, I spend a full thirty minutes on the train, the same amount of time it would have taken me to walk. The fare for this brief trip amounts to ¥200.

In Tenjin Station, there is a train made out of cardboard. The detail incredible. The photograph doesn’t do the quality of this cardboard art justice though:

I explore the thirteen floors of the train station, the overwhelming feeling I experienced on my first day in Fukuoka now just a fleeting thought.

I leave the train station and make my way to an indoor shopping arcade near the much-loved Reisen Park. There, I spot an udon restaurant—a Japanese dish I’ve yet to try. I opt for a mix of healthy and slightly indulgent choices by ordering a big set meal of udon served with vegetable and seafood tempura, on rice.

After placing my order, I notice I’m not offered a towel, something I’ve grown accustomed to in Japan. Typically, when dining at a restaurant, you’re almost always handed an ‘o-shibori,’ a wet hand towel to clean your hands before eating. Surprisingly, I’m also not given any water, and I sit waiting, feeling quite thirsty.

The drink I order takes five minutes to arrive, the food takes six.

The food turns out to be a bit of a puzzle; I have to assemble it myself. I pour the jug of sauce onto the tempura and then crack the egg on top, just for good measure. As I start sprinkling sesame seeds over the lightly battered vegetables and seafood, a Japanese man eating nearby tells me to stop.

He lifts the tray of sesame and wasabi to reveal a dip hidden underneath. ‘This,’ he points out, ‘is for udon.’ I express my gratitude for his guidance. Hopefully, I managed the tempura correctly. Once I finish my cold tempura served on warm rice, I move on to the ice-cold udon. Interestingly, the dip meant for the udon is warm, making everything seem quite backwards.

I find these thick wheat flour noodles a bit dull. I dip them, slurping and chewing at the seemingly endless strands. As I eat, my reflection stares back at me from the sauce. Hoping for a change, I mix some wasabi into the dipping sauce for a kick, but it doesn’t seem to make much difference to the dullness.

The food didn’t quite meet the usual standards I’ve come to expect in Japan. Perhaps my expectations were too high. The total cost of ¥1060, including a drink, offers good value for what was an average meal.

As I step outside the shopping arcade, the evening has settled in, casting a dark, starless sky. Walking along the river, I’m surrounded by crowds and vibrant bars. I pause to admire the numerous izakayas lining the riverbanks, each offering its own specialty food. It seems like an ideal place to unwind after a hectic workday or a leisurely Sunday afternoon spent in the sun.

Returning to Hakata Station to retrieve my bicycle, I encounter the same busker for the third consecutive day, stationed along my familiar path. Today, we exchange pleasantries. Judging by his accent, he’s a fellow Englishman. Our interaction has been evolving: yesterday, we greeted each other with a ‘hello,’ and the day before, it was a mere nod.

Back at the hostel, I make new friends. An Australian guy tells me that he went for a walk on the beach today and the sand was so hot that it burnt the soles of his feet. Blisters and broils.

Mostly Calmness

Posted on 04/07/2014 by Luke

I am woken at 4:47 a.m. to an alarm coming from the direction of the ocean. I look out of the window, it is raining hard. I dart out of bed to check a computer. No active tsunami warnings. I have a look outside, the alarm is constant, the rain is heavy, but everywhere else is quiet. No one rushing around. No lights on in houses. No one else in the hostel awake.

I calm down from my initial panic and decide to take advantage of the onsen (hot spring) in the hostel; open 24 hours a day except during cleaning time. Thanks to the volcanic activity in Japan, there are lots of onsens all across the county. Onsen water is believed to have healing powers derived from its mineral content. I get out of the onsen and the alarms finally stop. I go for a nap.

In the hostel lobby I ask a few people what the sirens were all about this morning. Only one other person heard them. “If it was a tsunami warning you would know about it. Those things go on for ages,” he says. I tell him this morning’s sirens went on for at least an hour. He repeats, “Nah, if it was a tsunami warning you would know about it.” Not very helpful at all.

My original plan for today was a two hour bus trip to the top of Mount Aso; Japan’s most active volcano. It turns out though that due to heavy fog, the gate is closed and I wouldn’t have been able to ascend the crater. I decide to skip the volcano and head to Beppu Station. Outside the station there is even an onsen for hands. Beppu is part of Oita Prefecture. Today I take a train to Oita, the capital of the prefecture.

¥280 later and I get off the train and go inside an indoor shopping arcade to shelter from the rain. This huge arcade is packed full of people. There are so many restaurants, so much choice. Usually I spend a long time wandering around trying to find a decent looking restaurant, but here there are plenty I would eat at. I wander down Smile Smile Street, with its restaurants sandwiched between wedding boutiques and pachinko parlours. There is also a random boat in the middle of Smile Smile Street.

As I wander back through the arcade in search of breakfast, I am drawn to a restaurant called ‘Vegetbar’. It is not that the restaurant is vegetarian that draws me to it, but the incredible menu. I have developed something of a sweet tooth since arriving in Japan, yesterday I discovered that supermarkets sell strawberry and cream sandwiches. I notice a big sign in the window of Vegetbar that says, “Pancakes Meet Vegetables.” I go inside and order them not really knowing what to expect.

Waiting for my food, if the anticipation doesn’t kill me then the food just might. A plate comes out and I like what I see. Vegetables have been blended up and added to the pancake mix. The green one was my favourite. Served with the pancakes is raspberry sorbet, whipped cream, and a pile of fresh fruit. After I while I forget that I am eating vegetable pancakes. Meal and a drink, ¥1280.

As I head out of the arcade, I watch a Japanese woman running to give another woman her change. In Japan it is customary not to leave a tip. The service is almost always exceptional; the service cost included in the price. Boarding the train, I realise that today is the first time since Sunday that I have really seen lots of people in one place. I also notice how good my skin feels; the healing power of onsen having the promised effect.

Back at Beppu the rain has stopped. I decide to see what the indoor shopping arcade here looks like during the peak lunch time rush. As you can see in the photograph above, the arcade is full of closed shutter doors and an absence of people. The most interesting thing about Beppu indoor shopping arcade is probably the Boss Coffee vending machine at the entrance. “The boss of them all since 1992.”

I head back to Beppu Station and hop on a bus bound for Kintetsu Beppu Ropeway. The Ropeway starts at 503 metres above sea level and is a cable car that takes you to the top of Mount Tsurumi, 1,300 metres high with excellent views. On a clear day you can see the islands of Shikoku. The bus twists and turns as it climbs up the mountain and eventually arrives at the Ropeway some twenty minutes later.

Closed. The driver of the bus apologises and tells me where to stand for the return bus. I try to pay him the ¥420 for the fare but he refuses to take any money. Even the bus drivers are nice in Japan. I have to wait 25 minutes for a bus back to Beppu. The vending machine outside the closed Ropeway sells ‘Boss Ice Creamy Latte’ in a big can for ¥130. Every cloud. Speaking of clouds, it starts to rain again.

While I sit in the rain waiting for my bus, the cafe across the road is blaring out Japanese pop music. A few cars drive up to the entrance of the Ropeway, the passengers peek at the ‘closed’ sign before turning around and leaving. A wasted journey if not for the view. I take a bus back down the mountain and take in the beautiful scenery.

At the hostel I am surprised to see that working on the reception desk is my old friend Yojiro; the Japanese guy I met a few times in Tokyo. He arrived back here late yesterday evening and is having a party tonight at the Hot Bepper bar. I still haven’t been to this bar yet; it only opens on Friday and Saturday nights. He gives me a token for one free drink. I think about boiled eggs and wonder how real this ‘free’ drink will actually be.

I eat supermarket bought prawn tempura for dinner. Prawn on the Fourth of July. Brilliant. It gets to 6 p.m. and feeling that I’ve already done enough on what has been a very long day, I now have to get ready for a party.

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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