Day 20

We were up and out by 6. Late. We needed to be there at 6. It only takes 15 minutes to walk though. So we walked to Sensoji temple.

As we got closer we saw more and more men walking around wearing what looked like a short yukata that stopped at the thigh. Then a few women too. The men wore a headband and the women a kind of material tiara. It's a little strange seeing people walking around a city without trousers on in the morning. But at 6am everything seems a little strange to me.

We arrived at the outskirts of the temple grounds and large fences had been erected around which stood spectators looking upon the start of the Sanja Matsuri. The Sanja Matsuri is a festival where various groups of people collaboratively, and competitively, dance portable shrines (mikoshi) around town. Through the gaps I could see one of the mikoshi being carried and bounced along. We relocated to another spot and waited for a long time until the shrines finally marched past. It was a bit of mayhem very early in the morning and I couldn't really appreciate it.

This weekend is trouserless weekend!

Afer a few hours we gave up. We went looking for some breakfast and tried a few izakayas that were serving breakfast to Sanja Matsuri participants, but we were denied entry being told that they were 'closed' or 'had no english menu'. I'm extremely skeptical about their excuses.

So we got some breakfast at a ramen shop, though I had Japanese curry rice, and then crashed back at the hostel to recover some lost sleep. A few hours later we went souvenir shopping around okamachi, but the details of that trip are top secret! mochiron desu ne!

A little later we rejoined the celebrations. The mikoshis were being marched down the main roads and Japanese traditional music was audible from far away. Some kid's mikoshis were also being carried.

The mikoshi a little closer

Food stands lined the sides of the roads. I love fesitval food! takoyaki, yakitori, fresh fruit, bananas coated in flavoured sugary crusts, even a special festival version of okonomiyaki. Of course I sampled as much of these as I could manage. There was also a really nice bread, a bit like naan or roti canai, but with honey inside. Wonderful!

Sugar coated bananas

Just outside one of the main festival areas I was looking for a dustbin to rid myself of watermelon skin. As I walked I saw ahead a woman striding purposefully away from a man dressed in mikoshi-carrying gear. As she walked he kept obstructing her and she would find a new route, or try to shove him out of the way. It seemed to be a rather public lovers spat, that passers-by kept their distance from. They turned down a side aisle when I found a dustbin. I discarded the melon but stayed put, staring at the two. I wanted to be nearby if the shoving and yelling escalated, and the couple were too wrapped up in their own business to notice a tourist watching them from the sidelines. I looked around for someone in a uniform. Nothing. Passers by continued to actively ignore the couple, as they do in every city I've visited. It occured to me that calling a policeman over might not actually be helpful depending on the nature of the fight. After a while they seemed to be a little calmer so I moved on, content that the situation would resolve itself.

Inside the main Sensoji temple grounds there were all sorts of foods being offered. Like ice cream in almost any possible flavour

I chose plum!

A bit later we got shattered again and decided to head back to the hostel. On the way back I stopped to get out some money. Even more than in England, signs and voices constantly nanny you in an effort to make sure that you fall in line. When using an ATM to withdraw some money you are told exactly what to do at all times, in English if you like. I wasn't really paying attention but when I was nearly done I was vaguely aware of hearing "...you have completed your transaction. Please take care not to leave anything behind." So I took the money from the machine before removing my card. The voice immediately retorted "you have left something behind!!!!".

After another short break we decided to go check out the Tokyo Tower! We got off the train at Tokyo station (obviously!) and headed west. The more I look at large objects in the distance the more i realise how pathetic the human visual processing system is. Besides the various ways you can trick it with flashing lights and simple colour illusions, I found looking at the Tokyo Tower from about a mile away rather misleading.

Looking at the 333m tall Tokyo tower (a full twelve metres taller than the Eiffel tower, Take that frenchies!) from this distance I realise how blatantly the brain fails to appreciate relative scale and distance of a large object. I simply have no conception of how big it is going to be when I stand next to it. Will it be enormous like the Petronas towers, or will it be kind of big like the tower that holds our Big Ben?

We walk past a large temple, almost as big as sensoji, and are gifted with a hint of incense once more. It always smells better in the evenings. By now I can see that the Tokyo Tower is no Big Ben. An enormous metal rigging like an offshore platform, the red and white spike looks like an industrial facility and seems to clash with the otherwise glass and concrete landscape of commerce which surrounds it. At the foot of the building, I cannot say that it seems bigger than the Umeda Sky Building, although it ought to since it stands at almost twice the height, but this building seems insubstantial compared to a rectangular skyscraper so its probably another optical illusion caused by tapering of the structure.

The glowing spike of DOOOOM (aka the Tokyo Tower)

The observatory has two decks, the standard (at 150m) and the special (at 250m) but you can only buy a ticket to the special level from the standard. We take a lift up, but little of the walls are glass and the ride feels nowhere near as special as the Umeda Sky Building where we took a glass lift up and then an escalator through a glass tube. The standard observatory was noisy but not loud and, as it is a completely sealed capsule, my first reaction was to note with disappointment that the air is still. No breeze ruffles my hair, and I feel a total and complete isolation from the scene outside the window. It is as if looking at a computer monitor and noting that the graphics are rather impressive. This place does not move me. It's too dark by now to see Fujisan (assuming it was clear enough in the day), but the urban cityscape blinks on, indifferent. In the near distance cars parade the square around us, but trying to look farther is futile as another tall building impedes the view. In fact at a height of 150m there was little sense of elevation above the rest of the city, at all. I almost felt as though I might just be on the top floor of a mall in Shinjuku.

Looking northeast the Tokyo Skytree blinks and flashes in the distance, with white rings travelling around the plane parallel to the ground. The Tokyo Skytree has been a constant presence in the background of the city during our time in Tokyo. Scheduled to open may 22 it serves as a visual metaphor of things left undone. Southeast, a suspension bridge shimmers along the length of its curve, and circular patterns whirl and change colour on a ferris wheel. Downtown the main streets light up like runways, but the steady drift of traffic seems oddly static and irrelevant. Southwest is less colourful. Only a horizon line of red dots break up the grey-black concrete and littering of yellow apartment lights. Vertical stripes seem to stick out from the pack, like the bars of an equalizer.

On the observatory floor people chatter, take photos, buy junk from the gift store, and queue up for tickets to the special observatory. There is a slight note of excitement in the chatter, but no romance or serenity and I am too tired to get excited over a picture of concrete and steel. An intermittent jingle breaks through the chatter to inform the next guests that they may ascend to the special observatory, and consequently the place feels rather like a busy waiting room.

When our number was called we handed our tickets in at the entrance and were directed to an escalator. Ascending through a dark corridor out of the noise of the school children was bliss and felt a little like entering the VIP section of a club. The sensation was quickly dispelled when escalators turned into stairs at the top of which was a queue for an elevator.

When the elevator arrived it featured much more glass and the ride up seemed a bit more interesting. An announcement was made in a posh American English voice but Ed and I were chatting and not really listening until our attention was piqued by something unexpected: "... if you hear a cracking noise, that is the sound of a safety device operating normally and is nothing to worry about". I immediately worried. What if it we don't hear it, will we fall to our death? We heard a cracking noise. The elevator shuddered. Bloody Hell! now I was worried. This doesn't feel safe at all.

As it often is, however, the limbic system of my brain was wrong and we arrived safely (evidenced by your reading this blog). The doors opened and the chatter returned, though less excited, almost more sophisticated somehow, definitely less childlike. The special observatory was very small, perhaps only 20 metres in diameter, and around 40 people were in this space. The view was better, it's true, but going to high places just for the view makes no sense to me. The view should be a positive part of the overall experience. I also care about the smell, the sound, and the feel of the place.

It's a shame. I don't know if it was worth the visit here or not. If I lived in Osaka though, the odds that you'd be able to find me on the rooftop of the Umeda Sky Building on any given night are pretty good. Pretty good indeed.

Tomorrow morning there will be a solar eclipse visible from Tokyo! Unfortunately we have been unable to obtain any solar eclipse glasses. We'll probably still get up though and go to Ueno park. Then we'll be browsing Kappabashi for a bit before checking out Shibuya with Tatsuya! The last full day. It's very sad indeed.

If you're still reading, thank you for getting this far and putting up with all my opinionated nonsense. I hope it has been educational! As a reward, you may have some bonus photos. Also a bonus 'typical experience in Japan'. Douitashimashite!

Take care!


Photos:

Now that's the right attitude

The tagline says "A wonderful ring cake was ready. It is more delicious when eating in the family. Please spend wonderful time." Sage words indeed; we should all learn to spend a little more wonderful time.

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Typically Japanese Experience:
I sit down next to a stranger.
stranger:  "Hello", he smiles, "where are you from?".
me:  "England".
stranger:  "where?".
me: "U.K., England".
stranger: "Ah! England. Ahah, you are English Gentleman!".
me: "Yeah, I get that a lot... (in Tokyo)".

Day 19

We got up at 4am, washed, threw on clothes, and dashed out of the door. We "rushed" (though ed refused to travel faster than a brisk walk) to the station arriving just in time. The train wasn't there. Apparently there was no train at 4.36 after all, but there would be one in 5 minutes. Fine. Waiting on the platform I heard a near constant jingle of the cheery music that plays when a ticket is used and a gate opens.

At least 30 people were on these platforms. Ed suggested that they might be returning party goers on the first train back, but many wore suits and I don't think Ueno is the right place for that anyway. We hopped on the train and sat down. Various suited and casual passengers sat around us in silence. Opposite us a woman filed her nails and held a conversation with her friend. They had camera bags.

We arrived and for once went exactly the right way. A few minutes later and we arrived at Tsukiji Fish market. Tsukiji fish market is only partially open to the public. The outer market is always open, and only a few with early reservations can enter the main auctions.



We squeezed through an alley with haphazardly parked cars and vans. Three wheeled vehicles with a standing driver at the front and a platform no larger than a desk behind filled the streets. The platforms were empty but would surely be carrying crates of fish later. A few confused looking tourists were spaced intermittently. I stopped one to ask one where the reservation office is but she said that reservations were now sold out. When confirming with a security guard, he informed us that tourists started arriving at 3 this morning to get tickets, and they were gone by 4.15. We could have never made it today.

Very disappointed, we investigated the outer market. Wooden stands displayed fruit, bags of spices and bonito flakes, kitchen utensils, sushi knives, and of course the smaller fish.

I suggested we revise the plan I had constructed the day before. If we go to the sumo today, after some sushi breakfast, we can return to Tsukiji in 2 days. We stopped in at a sushi restaurant that looked decent and not too busy. Sitting at the bar I watched the chefs work their craft.

The second chef took some rice in his right hand and rolled it in circles, compressing and discarding the excess grains while simultaneously selecting a piece of pre-sliced fish with his left hand. With the rice held in the palm of his right hand, he used his right index finger to scoop a smudge of wasabi and smeared it on the underside of the fish. He placed his palms together and gave a quick shake, aligning the rice and fish. Finally he rotated and gently compressed the sushi a few times at 90 degree angles to ensure it forms one piece. The whole process took under ten seconds, and he looked entirely casual almost as if daydreaming.

Meanwhile the head chef reached his arm into a tank full of eel, lobsters, and various fish and tried to retrieve a small white prawn-like creature. It shied away. "Kowaii, kowaii", he said: "it's scared".

Ed ordered the breakfast set which looked good and had great variety.

mmmm.. omelette sushi.

I ordered the only set offering 'blue fin tuna' which also came with salmon and mackerel. Though I lamented the relative lack of variety, I was confident that the specificity of the label 'blue fin' would pay off. I was not wrong. The salmon and mackerel were good but the tuna was incredible. Silky smooth of texture and sweet of taste with a hint of zest from the garlic. I had made the right choice (which I know because Ed got fed up of wasabi and gave me the last of his.) It may not look as impressive, but the taste was astounding.

The rice was hidden underneath.

Afterwards we caught the subway to the Ryogoku Kokugikan (where the sumo tournament is held), passing by the Tokyo-Edo museum and what looked like a statue of a wizard standing on a turtle.

Ed stood in line and I investigated the front to make sure we were queuing in the right place. After perusing the ticket board I headed back to the end of the queue but was accosted by a tall blonde western lady in a patterned red and white kimono. She asked if I had understood the sign and told me that there were 300 tickets available. Great. Only about 100 in the queue. A little later security guards dressed all in blue with megaphones took turns announcing that tickets would go on sale at 8 and some other things I didn't understand. Another guard individually explained the message to us (and anyone else who looked western). "Tickets will be sold at 8. At 7.40 we will give you a number which you can buy only 1 ticket. Sorry about my English. A woman will come at 7.30 and explain". I looked at my watch. 7.26. Really? His English was fine, and why would I want this explanation if I was getting one in 4 minutes. This must be the pre-explanation briefing. At exactly 7.30 an attractive Japanese lady wearing copious amounts of blusher and a purple kimono-like jacket explained the same information to us. She also carried a map of the Ryogoku Kokugikan and showed us where general admission seats where in the hall.

Our numbers were handed out as specified at 7.40. #69 and #70. Great. At 8am a drummer started playing at the top of the tower beside us to mark the opening of the day's sumo. It was not a taiko, something a little smaller. We bought our tickets and decided not to go in just yet. Bouts started at 10.50 and we needed to get some money out first. So we went in search of a post office. It was inside a hotel, but it was closed until 9 so we sat in the cafe with our grossly over-priced drinks for a while. When it was nearly 9 we returned and the armour clad officer responsible for opening up tried to convey that the ATM was out of order. Things were just not going to plan today. We for asked about alternatives at reception and headed off to a seven eleven.

On the way back to the Ryogoku Kokugikan we stopped briefly at another park. There was a shrine, water, trees. The parks here are always rather pretty. Ed wandered around taking photos while I relaxed on a bench. After a little while we see off again passing through the rest of the park and I noticed a flower bed with a door nested inside it. When I asked Ed what was inside he said it looked locked. I asked how it was possible for a door to 'look locked', asking further if he meant that it looked closed and he assumed this meant that it was locked. Ed is getting fed up with what he considers to be my pedantry. For my part, I simply don't like making assumptions and would rather clarify if he had any additional information. I love exploring, and know that in his position I would have always tried a locked door. We're both tired though and less tolerant than usual.

We got back to the Ryogoku Kokugikan and still ended up rather early for the sumo. The first bout was at 10.50 and that was between the jonokuchi, the lowest rank. The hall must have had only a couple hundred audience members at the time. I guess most people are only interested in the elite.

The main hall of the Ryogoku Kokugikan

The bouts started and a formula quickly became apparent. First a man sings a haunting melody (with lyrics written on a fan) once facing east (towards one wrestler), then again facing west (towards the other). The tonal quality of the song is not all that different to the Muslim call to prayer. Then another man with a green or pink robe, a paddle, and a Shinto hat walks in and calls out the names of the competitors. The two wrestlers then stand up and step into the ring. First they face outwards, clap, raise each leg high and stamp once, bend down low, and finally they face off before repeating the process. It's not clear to me whether this behaviour is practical (as a warm up), psychological (to show off their bodies and strength), or purely ritualistic in origin, but my suspicion is mostly the former. After this they bend low, touch their knuckles to the white lines on the floor and face off. Then they stand up, like that was only a practice run. The wrestlers slap their legs and bodies a few times. The man in the colourful robes adopts a deep stance and yells something. This indicates that they may begin when they are ready. They put their knuckles on the floor again and, at some unspecied point, one or both of them choose to launch like a rugby player into a scrum.


While they struggle to throw, push and lift each other the 'referee' in the coloured robes calls out rhythmically; presumably to make the event more exciting, Which it does. Each new referee has a different signature call. When one wrestler loses, both wrestlers and the referee return to their starting positions and all bow to each other. The loser walks away and the winner bends low once more and draws the kanji for 'money' (which he has now won) with his open palm in the air.

Spot the odd one out :)

The rules of the bout are very simple. Don't touch the floor with anything above your feet. Don't step out of the ring. That's it. They're not allowed to punch either, but there's plenty of jabbing palms into the face. They also aren't allowed to grab the belt near the 'personal region' or anything other dirty tactics. In its original form sumo was a religious ritual and did in fact permit striking (it was pretty much anything goes).

See how the judge on the left looks afraid? He should be.

To be perfectly honest I was not hugely enthralled by the sumo. But then, I've never been particularly interested in watching sport. I've effectively played this game plenty of times during classes at kixx martial arts, and I would much rather play it than watch it. Don't get me wrong, it is exciting to watch, but a whole day of sumo is far too much for me to avoid boredom. If I were to go again I would buy the ticket and then only show up for the final 20 fights or so, like most people did.

The wrestlers themselves are all obese, of course, though they have considerable muscle too and are very strong. They must struggle with health problems later in life, though, and it makes me wonder if the original sumo wrestlers were obese. I suspect they were not. They were warriors by trade so they would have needed to be able to run, not just push. Of course when arbitrary rules are introduced into a sport which pays money, participants will inevitably customize themselves to maximize their advantage within those rules. And this, I suspect, is what happened when sumo was popularised during the Tokugawa shogunate about 350 years ago.

I took a break for lunch in the restaurant inside the Ryoko Gokugikan. A wide range of sushi and syabusyabu style dishes were one offer. I selected a dish called the 'whale set'. I consider that ordering this food constitutes a minor ethical dilemma. On the one hand, I probably shouldn't be contributing to the economy of farming an endangered species. On the other hand I consider it my duty (and quite often my wish) to try as many different things (not just foods) as I can, for it is necessary to broaden one's base of experience in order to broaden one's mind. A broader mind is capable of broader understanding and thus has a greater capacity for empathy. In that sense, I could argue that it's my moral duty to eat the whale, although you could counter that it's a one sided argument because its problematic for me to try being eaten as well. You, the clever and objective reader, will no doubt consider this to be a rationalisation designed to permit me to do as I wish without experiencing guilt. And perhaps it is. But even if it is, that doesn't mean the logic is faulty. Feel free to decide upon my ulterior motives as you please. So I ate the whale. This is what it looked like just before I ate it:

Left: tasted like a cross between tuna and beef. Right: tasted kind of like bacon really.

It was pretty good.That's probably not a good enough argument to support whale hunting though (whale farming, on the other hand, is a completely different argument. If we farmed them they definitely wouldn't go extinct!).

I returned to the main hall, beers in hand, and ed and I placed bets on which wrestler would win each bout, basing opinions on arbitrary things like 'apparent flexibility' or who 'looks like they want it more'. At 3pm the Juryo (lowest ranking full professional) wrestlers turned up and stood in a circle wearing their respective colours. When they fought, the Juryos were clearly a step up. During one of the matches a wrestler was thrown off the north face of the platform and landed directly on one of the four judges. He was a bit dazed but he seemed okay after a few minutes.

The formula changed a little with the higher ranks. After the warm up, the would throw a handful of salt into the ring, as a symbolic purifying act. They do this, then line up, then throw more salt, many times before actually beginning. By 4pm the Ryogoku Kokugikan was quite full, and crowds were cheering on their favourite competitors.

By about 5pm we got extremely tired and a bit bored so we left. When we changed at Akihabara, Ed and I decided to go for a wander before heading back. Though I was tired, the energy of the bustling streets infused me and I was excited to investigate all the bright lights. Akihabara electric town looks mostly like this:

Anime characters everywhere!

For those who don't know, Akihabara is famous as an 'electric town' and is comprised almost exclusively of game/dvd shops, anime/comic shops, arcades, and cafes/restaurants. The theme of the entire town, however, is the manga subculture. I know that some people have various preconceptions about both the electric town itself and the manga subculture, and I want to adress that here. The subculture is one mostly drawn from manga, anime, and games, and people, to varying extents, incorporate elements of these references into their lives. Some simply buy keychains and nice things to hang from their bags and purses. At the other extreme are the 'otaku' who spend all their time playing games and watching anime to the point that it's difficult for them to conceptualise that humans and anime characters might behave differently. But to characterise Akihabara, and the associated subculture, by either of these extremes is rather unfair. Akihabara is about one thing: fun!

The negative preconceptions I have heard generally revolve around two major themes: the sexualisation of women/girls, and addictive behaviour (particularly to games).

To answer the first point: it's true that if you open your eyes in Akihabara you will be looking at something anime, and the majority of the characters have highly exaggerated features. Many of the female characters are portrayed scantily clad or in suggestive positions. All of these are fair points. But an integral characteristic of anime is that appearances are idealised. It's not just the female characters which are exaggerated, and that's what the customers want to purchase. In just the same way, it is not purely acting talent alone that makes Scarlett Johanssen famous.  As for the more explicit material, if you want to find adult themed versions of such characters you most certainly can. You always, however, have to go looking for it down an alley or on the top floor of a building and entry is denied to under 18s. 

With regards to the actual people, a great many women around Akihabara dress up in cos-play (costumes of anime characters) and most of them are handing out leaflets or inviting you into a store. However, from my experience their dress code is almost always less provocative than the outfits of many ordinary Tokyoites, and they're definitely less provocative than the outfits of many English women on a Friday night. At any rate most of the women in Akihabara are there to shop for cuddly toys, or play in the arcades.

'Maids', and a creepy doll, waving out of a balcony in Akihabara

Now to address the second criticism. It's probably fair to say that it's not too healthy to spend all your time in a darkened room with high pitched music jingling at close to 90 decibels. It's likely that playing sports outside in the sun with your friends is better for your body and your mind, especially if you're young and growing. At the same time, however, the people that do spend a lot of time in these places are a little bit geeky and that's what geeks like doing. If they weren't here, they'd probably be at home playing on their own. Additionally the arcades stipulate that customers under 16 years of age may not enter after 6pm and customers under 18 may not enter after 10pm. I suspect the curfew is legally enforced, but whatever the reason it's a pretty good idea.

I'm not defending the overt sexualisation which sometimes appears in anime, or the behaviour of teenagers who waste away playing video games, nor am I condemning the sub-culture because of these aspects. I'm simply pointing out that Akihabara is a place where people go to forget their stress and do silly things, like dress up, sing karaoke, and hang out with friends.

Friends enjoying some drinks and a game of darts. I swear they're not paid actors!

As I said, Akihabara is about fun. And it is fun! I had a great time playing an old fashioned side scrolling space shooter on a dual 40inch screen with a kick ass sound system, and singing karaoke in a booth.

To prove the point I visited one of Akihabara's legendary maid cafe's. For those who don't know, a maid cafe is a place where the waitresses are dressed like maids but with a kind of anime flair, and generally act 'kawaii'. I had always thought that 'kawaii' meant 'cute' in English, since that's how it's translated in anime's, but that translation does no justice at all, as I was about to find out.

Some of the maids stand around on the street in costume handing out leaflets. Their voices are shrill and piercing, and their actions are exaggerated. When they wave it is deliberate and accentuated, and they carry a permanent smile. Inside the cafe the white walls are covered with red and pink curtains and heart-shaped decorations. Soft toys lay piled in a corner, and a small stage is beside the bar. The tables are aligned in long rows forcing customers to sit beside each other and be sociable. I was directed to the end of one row and sat next to a young Japanese man.

The maid asked me if I knew the system, and when I said no she fetched a piece of paper with English sentences written on it and placed it on the table in front of me. It explained that the maximum stay was 2 hours, 1000 yen buys a seat at the table, and the minimum number of orders was 2. Savvy business model, I thought. Fine. The maid introduced herself, "my name is Ran, please call me by my name". Instinctively I gave her my name and extended my hand. She extended hers but did not touch me and shook her hand up and down playfully, as if shaking hands with the air. Ah that makes sense, they probably never touch customers. I'm sure they get some strange people from time to time.

Ran produced a small red fake candle and placed it on the table top. She crouched down beside it and told me to count with her from 3 to 1. I did as instructed and then she blew on the candle and nothing happened. She fixed it. We repeated the process and it magically lit up. I guess it might have been a little more impressive had it worked straight off. Anyway I ordered a beer and got chatting with the young Japanese man, Tatsuya, and his girlfriend Mikoshi. He was eager to practice his English, and I was glad to talk to someone if only to bring some normalcy to the madness around me.

When Ran brought my beer she insisted that I copy her. "Moy Moy Kyu", she squeaked, creating a heart symbol with her hands as she spoke. I did as commanded and she let me alone with my beer. I asked Tatsuya what it means. He laughed and told me "it means nothing, it has no meaning".

Eventually Tatsuya and Mikoshi had to leave and, electing to forgo one of the ridiculous looking bear-faced cream deserts, I ordered a coffee. I couldn't remember which maid was Ran. Not that the maids looked particularly similar, but she made no special impression on me and they were all dressed broadly the same. Instead I got Anju, who also insisted I call her by her name, and who I also immediately forgot.

I didn't get to see any maids perform songs because neither I nor any of the other customers 'purchased' any. I think that's how it works, anyway, because a few set meals had a maid's face next to them, though I may have misunderstood. I was not unhappy to leave before my allotted two hours, mostly because the ultra high pitched voices simply became too repellent. But I left feeling as though I had dispelled, in my mind, some myths and mystery about the legendary 'maid cafe'. Under the ultra kawaii veneer the maids are cool and professional. It's also clear, however, that the whole point of a maid cafe is to let go, have fun, and not be afraid to be a bit silly; which is exactly what Akihabara seems to be about.

It was a long day, and I have another early morning. Tomorrow we plan to ambush the Sanja Matsuri festival before it starts at 6am!

Thanks for reading to the end!

Day 18

Today we return to Tokyo for the final leg of our journey around Japan. I am conscious that there are many details I have neglected to mention in these reports, either because there has been so much else to say, or because I have become so accustomed to such little details that it has not occurred to me to mention them and I will no doubt find their absence strange when I return.

For example, vending machines selling drinks and cigarettes are everywhere. Literally they can always be found within a few hundred metres. Inside shrines and temples, at the top of mount misen, almost anywhere in Japan that you might be. The cans and bottles inside are all labelled with a blue or red word: tsumetai (cold) or atsui (hot), because you can buy a hot or iced version of most drinks, not just coffee. Within the city centres, you can also find Pachinko parlours nearly everywhere you go. They are all the same. Cool and sexy anime characters adorn their pink and yellow fronts, and they are always called something flashy like 'Zipang 2'. Inside the loud bleeping and ringing sounds and the strong tabacco odour is so repellent that I have no intention of setting foot in one again.

For breakfast we stopped in at one of the various luxury bread shops. They're not at all bad, but the price tags and decor clearly mark the bread shops as somewhat of a luxury store. I had a walnut and raisin bun. Very good. We took a quick stroll to the nearby Momodani park while eating breakfast. When we got there we found that there was little greenery, and the park was entirely dominated by a baseball court, so we returned to the hostel, checked out (receiving little thank you sweets) and caught our train.

Before boarding the Shinkansen for the last time I purchased a starbucks matcha (powdered green tea) latte to go with my tiny bread, cheese, frankfurter thing. The latte looked like a cup full of green goo, and one could be forgiven for not tasting it on that basis. Though it may not look appealing, the matcha latte is actually quite tasty, though perhaps a little too creamy and not bitter enough for my tastes. We waited on the station. Before long the dolphin-nosed Hikari 446 floated onto the platform with elegance, and we took our final trip on a Shinkansen. 

Looking out the window the towns and cities flew by, again, faster than seems reasonable. Another Shinkansen passed by us in less than a second, and the impact of the air blast was noticeably mitigated by the elongated nose. Sitting at the next station another Shinkansen resembled the passenger row of an aircraft, though the windows were large and shallow, unlike the portholes which stripe commercial airliners. I have mentioned before that the service and comfort is similar (but better) than that of an aircraft. Ed pointed out that you should expect aircraft service when paying aircraft prices. I wonder how much the general staff on a Shinkansen are paid, and if the job requirements and interviews are much tougher than for an ordinary railway. These trains are marvelous. 3 hours from Osaka to Tokyo, including six stops at Kyoto, Nagoya, Hamamatsu, Shizuoka, Shin-yokohama, and Shinagawa. That's a bit like getting a train from London to Newcastle in 3 hours with six stops. Absurd!

We arrived and said our farewells to that wondrous technology. Finding the 'hostel' (it's really a hotel) was simple thanks to the incredibly explicit directions they provided on their website. On the reception desk they had this sign:

Gotta love the 25 hour day, that extra hour comes in so handy!

We checked in and threw our stuff down. While Ed took a shower I made a rough plan for fitting in all the things we want to do in the short time frame left. The plans seemed to fall naturally into place and, assuming there are no major cock-ups, we might be lucky enough to do everything we'd hoped here, but I don't want to give the surprise away so more on that later.


First we headed off to Ueno Park to have a wander and check out the museums. Most of the museums were about to close because we arrived not far off 5pm, but the most interesting two, the Tokyo National Museum and the Tokyo Science and Nature Museum, stay open until 8. So first we had a look around the park. It's pretty. On one side we found a large lake divided into three sections by three paths which meet in the middle at the foot of a shrine. The reeds bowed down to the winds and the trees roared with delight as we strolled through. I held onto my hat.

The lake at Ueno park

Before long we headed into the Tokyo National Museum. We got lucky; it turns out that the 18th of May is 'National Museum Day', and all the museums are free! Inside, works of art were laid out in chronological order describing the history of Japan, and it was rewarding to see depictions and stories of people and places we had learnt about throughout our journey. I had a certain sensation that the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together, and that names I had heard before were no longer isolated sounds but real stories with actual, tangible consequences. One highlight for me was a calligraphy scroll featuring an excerpt from 'The Tale of Genji', which is still on my 'to read' list. The ink scroll was adorned with petals and leaves so delicate that they at first appeared to be butterflies. Unfortunately some works were photography prohibited and this was one of them so instead please enjoy these exhibits:

Twelve heavenly guardian deities

Partitions depicting Fujiyama bursting through the clouds

Next we went into the Science and Nature Museum. It had a huge iron sperm whale out front as a feature. We weren't sure what we would find inside so we went to the first floor exhibit. It was artistic displays of the bones of Jomons. The Jomon people were the people that lived in Japan around 16,000 years ago and were slightly anatomically different from people today. I wasn't particularly interested in looking at skulls and bones however so I waited outside. Looking in, I watched the living watch the dead. Skulls, teeth, and bones with printed numbers, painstakingly reconstructed into skeletons. 'There are no dead here', I thought, 'there are only white sticks and rocks assembled into the effigy of human mortality'. The living observe with mild curiosity.


We moved on shortly thereafter to what looked like it could be a highlight of the museum: Theatre 360! It seemed to be some kind of domed cinema type affair and, even though we were informed it was just in Japanese, it looked interesting so we queued. After a number of safety briefings (really, seriously, don't lean over the railings!) we were led inside. It was a bridge about 3m wide and 15m long largely made from perspex, except with a black central beam. A white screen surrounded us in the shape of a sphere (or maybe an oblate spheroid I'm not sure). After rapid firing more safety warnings the lady that led us in turned off the lights and pressed play. A globe appeared and we flew around it watching animals be merry. It was an advertisement for Minolta.


Then the show begun in earnest. A black globe appeared above and in front of us, lit only by the millions of dots of artificial lights at night. Incidentally I love these maps! It revolved, was sliced open showing its cores, and then restored. Next we were quickly plunged into the centre of the earth and the screens around us depicted a globe, but viewed from the inside! Italy kicked to the right, and it took a minute to readjust my eyes to seeing something so familiar made to be so unfamiliar. Seeing the globe like this was thrilling though for its simple but clever novelty. Then the world turned black. Blue and red viscous liquids began to flow. I assumed the narrator was describing magma. We elevated and, for a split second, I thought I felt the floor move but it was an illusion. We exploded out of a volcano before floating around the world. The screens went black again. After a few seconds more small coloured spheres fly about and collide. This was the beginning of the universe. Particles stuck together and formed atoms and then molecules. Molecules accrued and formed stars and planets, then galaxies. Finally the narrator mentioned how without dark matter only about 16% of the mass of the universe is accounted for (I didn't understand the Japanese but I figured out a few words and I read Stephen Hawkings' latest book recently). I got a kick out of the film, even though the CGI was mediocre by modern standards, and it was rewarding to be able to look in any direction and see some new part of the show. I also liked the way they presented the story of the universe so concisely and clearly. It must be great for children.


We left and found a cheap tempura place for dinner. It was fine, but nothing special compared to some of the meals we've had. We have to try harder to avoid shops that look like they might be part of a chain!


I am in this country for only a few more days and as I draw nearer to returning to the U.K. I do not feel an overwhelming sense that I'm returning home. If anything I feel, in many ways, like I already am home, or like I'm in a different part of home. Almost like this may be some part of London I've never been to before where people have a strange accent and I can't quite figure out what they're saying. Even so I can get by reading context and body language. It may seem strange or even conceited to say such a thing after only spending a few weeks here. I'm sure I have no conception of what it must be like to live here. But I can't shake the feeling that it's so similar to England, and where things are different it is, usually, rather like they were broken before, but now they're fixed. I'm not saying there's nothing wrong with this place or the people in it, but I could imagine living here one day, if the right opportunity came my way.


So! only 3 days left here! Tomorrow I get up at 4am, which is frankly leaving it a bit late, to go to Tsukiji Fish Market!!! The auctions start very early in the morning, and we have to get there even earlier than that to register to be allowed in as spectators. We'll also try and see some of the Sanja Matsuri if we can


Take care peoples!
Arigato Gozaimashita!

Day 17

We got up a little late and had a 'fast food' breakfast of grilled fish and fried beef with rice, coleslaw, and miso soup. Not a bad breakfast for about 4 pounds. We took a few trains to Kyoto; we had unfinished business there!

The first destination was Sanjusangendo, famous for housing 1000 life-size statues of Kannon (the buddhist god of mercy). Once we left the station and headed off I felt my back starting to get wet. I dropped my rucksack as fast as I could and removed the, now burst, bladder from it. Damn! oh well, all my possessions seemed okay. I dumped the bladder and continued on. We stopped in at a post office to withdraw some money. Card denied. Turns out Nationwide considered my trip to Koyasan to be 'unusual activity', despite my informing them of my visit to Japan. I sent some emails to try and solve the problem.

We continued on until we arrived at Sanjusangendo. The hall is very long, as it is required to hold so many life sized statues, and plain of colour, wooden and white, but it was once painted in vibrant blues, yellows, and reds to mimic the kaleidoscopic nature of buddha's world. I like it better like this. In the near distance cranes reconstruct the city and a helicopter circles overhead. The new and the old sit side by side together.

A cleverly designed layered wooden foundation makes this building earthquake resistant

Inside two sets of ten tiered rows of 50 standing golden statues of Kannon await, with one large Buddha between each group of  500. Each Kannon has 42 arms (although it is called the 1000 arm Kannon) each holding some kind of implement which helps to ease the suffering of the people, and improve their joy. At first the Kannons look identical except for the location of the patches of black rust upon their shining gold leaf. They stand, eyes closed and at peace. Upon further inspection however they each have slightly different features, a straighter moustache here, gaunter cheeks there. They were in fact created by 700 craftsmen, so the similarity is rather impressive. A further 28 Japanese guardian deities, such as Fujin (god of wind) and Raijin (god of thunder), protect the hall.

A strictly no photos policy was in place, which irritated me for the same reason as it did in Kamakura. I still did not know whether the reason was financial or religious however. Walking around behind all the statues more 

information about the hall was available. It used to be home to an annual archery festival, Toshiya, in which an event called Oyakazu (many arrows) was held. The archer would sit at one end of the veranda outside the hall and fire arrows at a target at the other end of the veranda (120 metres away) for 24 hours without break. Records are kept and the greatest ever competitor, Wasa Daihachiro, fired 13,053 arrows of which 8,133 hit the Target. This is an amazing feat. Remember these are traditional Japanese bows, not recurve bows!

I headed into the gift shop and found various photos of the statues for sale, thereby confirming my more cynical hypothesis about the financial motivation behind the prohibition on photography. How disappointing. But it is for this reason that I am able to direct you to this wiki page to see them: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sanjusangendo_1979.1.55P01B.jpg.

We left and started walking towards the Kiyonomizu temple, being only briefly distracted by the Kyoto museum advertising its exhibition of one of Rodin's thinking men. On the way we stopped into a shop selling rather stunning traditional Japanese crockery at equally stunning prices.

yup, that says 100,000 yen.

Following the wrong path up the hill towards Kiyonomizu we found ourselves in another large cemetery, but didn't hang around for long. We turned back and headed up the correct path past rows of omiyage (souvenir) shops selling fans, swords, jewellery, matcha (rice flour based cakes to have with green tea), and just about every green tea flavoured sweet imaginable. When we arrived the temple looked impressive, but much like many we have seen. A large gate, a pagoda, a few temple buildings. A bell tower still had buddha's colours applied.

Colourful painting is the gate to buddha-land!

When we reached the main building the view was good, but nothing compared to mount Misen on Miyajima, or the Umeda Sky Building, since it does not face the city and the trees cannot be viewed far into the distance. The view of the main building from a side building is actually far more impressive.

Kiyonomizu (perfect water) temple.

The statue of Buddha inside Kiyonomizu did not have any restrictions on photography, which seems to confirm my earlier hypothesis.

When we were done we left and, after grabbing a green tea ice cream filled choux pastry (surprisingly good), we started walking to Fushimi inari shrine (famous for its 1000 torii). After repeatedly cross referencing the appalling tourist map of Kyoto with local maps and course correcting as necessary we found ourselves on a tiny hill path behind a suburb. Almost ready to turn back I asked a man walking his dog "sen torii, doko desu ka?" (i had forgotten the name). "fushimi inari?" He asked and when I confirmed he continued "masugu itte. Ikimasu. Ki o tsukete." Pointing the way. What a kind old man. Thank goodness he was around to help. So we continued hiking up the dirt path, for it was steep, and eventually found a torii, then a few more, then a dense row of them forming a path which split and regrouped forming loops. We came across this sign a few times which made us giggle:

The first rule of monkey club is, you do not talk about monkeys!

We took a 30 minute walk around the largest loop, which led us up into the forested hillside and past many smaller shrines. Each torii has inscribed upon it a name and the amount of money that person donated to the shrine in order to buy the torii. I began touching each gate and counting in Japanese. I reached hyaku hachi jyu (180) and gave up; the torii were so closely packed that were I to count them all I would have been there for half a day. However we did get some lovely pictures and videos.

To get this photo I pressed the button on the camera and then sprinted up the stairs!

When we finally left the Fushimi Inari shrine we found the main entrance with its giant Torii, shrine buildings and two of these fearsome fellows:

Nature's guardian

We caught the train back to Osaka since it was getting late. It's probably possible to do all of that in less than the 6 hours it took us, however you'd need to do a lot less walking and get lost far fewer times, and what would be the point in that?

Now we're off for some yakitori and beers to celebrate the conclusion of our time in the Kansai region of Japan, for tomorrow we head back to Tokyo where many wonders may await us, such as Sumo or Tsukiji Fish Market. Who knows for certain? Not I! Tune in next time on Khan and Ed's aimless wanderings in the land of the rising sun!

Day 16

Nara today! On my way out I picked up 'kansai scene', a free magazine written in English. I started to read it on the train. The main article had photos of girls licking doorknobs. The article was really about stereotyping and lazy journalism though. An artist took photos of girls licking doorknobs because he thought they would be attention grabbing, but the western media tends to portray this kind of thing as the latest fad in Japan, and therefore yet another example of Japan craziness. But in Japan most people have not heard of these photos, and consider them a bit crazy. This kind of thing does happen a lot. I remember an article about the new Japanese fad of wearing LEDs behind your teeth (http://www.ndtv.com/article/technology/new-japanese-fashion-led-lights-for-your-teeth-81184). It turned out, of course, that the Japanese 'students' were paid actors working for a marketing ploy, and the LED mouthpieces were never for sale.

The article pointed out that earlier this year 4000 people rode the NY subway without trousers (http://improveverywhere.com/2012/01/08/no-pants-subway-ride-2012-new-york-reports/). If such unusual behaviour was reported as yet another example of U.S. craziness, it would no doubt be met with derision, and there would be further stereotyping of our cousins across the pond.

I wondered about my blog and the image of Japan I portray. In some ways I am doing much the same thing, (although my work is intended to chart my perceptions and experiences, not sell newspapers). Even so I want to set the record straight. I have seen many weird and wonderful things here, and some of them are commonplace (like the wonderfully sensible toilet-sink). On the other hand, one of my overwhelming impressions of Japan has been that's its not so different from the U.K. It has a similar climate, though a little more humid and warm. It has cities full of teenagers discovering love (and pain) and business men exhausted after a tough day at work, both far too busy and wrapped up in their own worlds to notice a tourist onlooker. It has old people trying to navigate the rush of the streets, with a little more time for pleasantries than the young. It has beautiful rural locations full of pine trees and rivers, with rooks, deer, pigeons and carp, all making and sustaining their homes. It has people going about their daily lives, wearing 'normal' clothes, doing 'normal' things, and it has the people who live at the edges of normality. And while its important to note the cultural differences (the value placed on the communal activity of eating, for example, is higher) it is unfair to categorize this place, or its people, only by their differences. Such a thing undermines both our understanding of the nation, and our capacity for empathy with its people.

There was an excellent quote by Barbara Holthus of the German Institute for Japanese Studies. "One should be cautious about the casual use of the term stereotype, since the word itself is a difficult one. Our world is very complex. Humans need to make it less complex, and to do so, there is an absolute need to stereotype things that we don't personally know about. So stereotypes per se are not 'bad'. But if they are thoughtlessly used, in other words, if we let stereotypes turn into prejudice, then we have a problem."

The train pulled in at Nara. Walking through the station, a lady wearing two flags poking up from her back handed us fliers offering a guided tour of the main Nara attractions for 2000Y. My curiosity was piqued, I was not looking forward to simply wandering by enormous relics devoid of context or story, and the idea of having a guide appealed. Ed was not enthused. I figured, 2000Y is not cheap and the group probably would slow us down so I let it go. We headed out into the town square, and then immediately ducked into the adjacent tourist office. Picking up a map I spotted various fliers for volunteer guides offering a walking tour for free. Ed looked far from thrilled by the idea, but I persevered and asked at the main desk. The receptionist called a student guide to assists us. When she had finished she told me to head to another tourist office, on the way to the Nara attractions. "Her name is Keiko, she is waiting for you."

So we trundled off in the direction we had already planned to go. The suns rays pounded down in waves, like a bad headache. We stepped inside the information centre and asked after Keiko. The staff asked us take a seat and said she is on her way, but I got the distinct impression that they had no idea when she might arrive. I couldn't be certain they even knew who I was talking about. So we sat and waited a few minutes. I looked around aimlessly: books, leaflets etc. Nothing of special interest. The staff at the desk were fussing over some other customer now. Looking forward again I noticed a young woman outside through the glass wall. she wore a sunhat, glasses, and a lanyard around her neck. She looked like she was looking for someone. I rose to ask a member of staff. A man rushed over asking me to be patient. I pointed at the young lady outside the window and asked 'is that Keiko?'. It took him a few seconds, a remarkably long time really, to notice that she looked rather like a guide. He dashed outside to ask. I followed and introduced myself to our waiting guide, subsequently fetching Ed who seemed to be a little in his own world.

Keiko, about 5'6" and a little slight, was extremely friendly and polite, and had great, though not perfect, English. Together we all made our way to the first attraction: Kofuku ji. We learned that Keiko is a 21 year old masters student. I wondered why such a person would spend her free time helping visitors. Perhaps there is a university incentive of some kind, I wondered.

We headed to Kofuku-ji meaning something like 'happiness-making temple'. We arrived at a small shrine with baby Buddhas as we had seen before. Keiko pointed out that this is a memorial to dead babies and children. Since to die so young implies great evil, they must be in Hell, so we throw water onto the statues to cool the fire. The redness of the bibs is to repel demons.

Evil babies

Moving onwards we approached a 3 storey pagoda. Keiko explained that the three floors of the tower represent past, present, and future. She also directed our attention to the 9 rings on the needle of the pagoda.10 is considered a perfect number in Buddhism, she said, but if you have perfection the people will be lazy and will not try harder, so we only have 9 rings.

Continuing down the lane Keiko went on to explain, at my behest, the role of the the strange and complex ornament on the rooftop of some temple buildings, stating that because wooden buildings are prone to fires the shape acts like a sprinkler and there is a hand pump built into it. Next we saw the tomb of Fujiwara no hito (the Fujiwaras). Fuji means wysteria, and wara means field. Fujiwara no hito used to run Nara back in the 8th century when Nara was the capital. I was impressed by Keiko's knowledge. I did not know how well informed a student guide would be.

Turning a corner we saw nursery children all holding hands in a circle with teachers singing a song. I asked Keiko and she translated the lyrics "if all of the children smile we'll create one big smile". It reminded me a little of the hokey kokey. We came across another pagoda, this time with five levels. Each level represents one of the 5 elements. Earth, water, fire, wind, and sky.

We left Kofukuji and took a quick stop at a small centre unmarked on the tourist map. The modern building was thoughtfully designed. At the rear an old lady chuckled to herself beside the artificial stream as the goldfishes rushed towards her, eager to be fed. Ed and I had a quick go on the earthquake simulator inside: a chair that slid left an right in the pattern of the shaking of a quake. I have been in an earthquake before, though a small one, and although it is clear, while sitting in this chair, that you are perfectly safe it is easy to imagine how terrifying it might have been for real. There were three earthquake settings meant to mimic the feel of real earthquakes, the third setting was the recent Tohoku earthquake at Sendai. A fourth setting was the Tohoku earthquake again, but with a seismic isolation system activated. The ground rolled slowly to the left and right, but felt completely stable. Underneath the museum we saw the full size isolation system.

We marched on to the next destination: Todaiji Temple, the largest wooden building in the world. It's very impressive. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that, like many Japanese historical buildings, it was rebuilt after a fire and the original building was 150% of the size of this one.

The enormous Todai-ji

Huge numbers of school children were visting and Keiko pointed out that this is the field trip season for schools. We wandered around the inside of the temple while Keiko explained what the buddhas symbolised and why they look as they do. One of the construction quirks I found fascinating was that the stones of the path leading up to the Todaiji were from India, China, Korea, and Japan (moving from the centre of the path to the edge), to symbolise the path which Buddhism took to travel to Japan.

Next we went up to Niigatsu do, a hall up on the hillside with a great view over Nara. Keiko pointed out that the pillars which look like slim tombstones are actually names and figures indicating the donations made by people to the temple. While standing on the balcony of Niigatsu do, Ed was accosted by a group of primary school children. He completed a short interview and signed off their sheets for them.

eto... can I help you?

We also got a photo in front of the Niigatsu do with Keiko. I used what is quickly becoming my most natural sounding phrase in japanese, "shashin o totte kurema senka?", and I heard Kieko mutter "Sugoi Nihon go". Awesome, that beats the usual, polite, 'Nihon go no jose'. And here it is:

Me, Keiko and Ed stand in front of Niigatsu Do and a horde of school children

I tried some Mitarashi Dango (rice balls dipped in sweeted soya sauce. Very good!) on the way out of the Niigatsu Do and Todaiji complex. Next we needed to get some lunch, having not had any breakfast, so Keiko took us to a restaurant where I could try some Kakinohazushi (even though she doesn't like it and recommended against it!). Kakinohazushi is sushi wrapped in persimmon leaves, which makes the sushi a little sour. The restuarant was on the second floor (a gift shop on the first), and had a rather nice view of the Todaiji. We ordered our meal sets and the food arrived:

This is the first sushi I have ordered in Japan, amazingly, and I have to say I was not disappointed. Perhaps the Kakinohazushi which Keiko tried before was a bad example, or maybe the sushi I received was more bland than usual, but it was only very slightly tangy and delicious. The tempura, with green tea salt, raddish, and lemon was amazing, of course. And the pickled vegetables were also delicious. The noodle soup was light and refreshing, and the fresh fish and mochi were also wonderful. A flawless lunch indeed!

More amazing Japanese food including my first Japanese sushi!

While eating we chatted about various things, work, university, languages, etc. I asked Keiko why she chose to give up her free time to show tourists around Nara, was it to practice her Japanese? "Two reasons" she said, "first, it's most important to help out tourists. Second, I can improve my English. But I think it's win-win". I admired that she considered helping others more important, and was willing to give up her time to do it. It reminded me of the rescript on education by emperor Meiji and how it says to "advance public good and promote common interests". I was slightly surprised when she changed the subject and said "do you use rude words? Like, in normal conversation do you say fucking and things?". It took a second to figure out that she was asking us if it was common, in English, to use rude words for emphasis during conversation. I confirmed her suspicion and learned that it apparently is also common in colloquial Japanese.

If you get lost, just follow the lanterns

We headed out to the Kasuga Grand Shrine. Kasuga supposedly has three thousand lanterns! I don't know if it's true, but there are so many, it could be. The path to the main shrine building was long, and full of trees, grass, streams, and deer (Nara is famous for having wild deer roam about almost everywhere). Keiko explained that since the gods of Shinto represent aspects of nature, the shrine grounds must reflect this.

Delightful looking wysteria branch, my dear

Inside the main shrine the monks wear a small wysteria branch on their head to symbolise the now deceased Fujiwara family, and Wysteria plants are grown.

We grabbed an ice cream on the way back to the tourist information office and said our farewells to Keiko. We got a train back to Osaka, and nosed around in the local 100Yen shops (waaay better than pound shops) before heading back to the hostel to rest for a bit.

A little bit later and as the sun set we made our way to Osaka station. Out of the platform we headed north to the attractive Umeda sky building. The building itself vaguely resembles two skyscrapers with a U.F.O. trapped between. It has an open air ring on top which sits at 173m above sea level. Up here the breeze is gentle and cool. Ultraviolet lights attached to the inner glass wall turn the floor into a bed of stars. Lovers hold each other, kiss, and have their photo taken.

(X-files theme tune plays inside my head)

When I raise my eyes from the building itself the city of Osaka shines. Red and white stars on tall buildings pulse at eye level and the city glitters behind them. Cranes sit on rooftops and dangle lines, fishing in the street. Illuminated lifts sweep along the vertical planes of hotels, while trains weave between them on the horizontal curling as spaghetti on a fork. Planes, lights in the sky, growl as they glide down to earth. From another view 6 parallel bridges cross the river and the two sides do battle, shooting cars and trains like fiery arrows across the divide. 

Watching the trains and cars is a joy from up here

I am humbled, once more, by the power of science and the man hive. The world around me is so perfectly terraformed away from anything natural, and in all 360 degrees the city stretches outwards indefinitely. From up one can see the millions who scurry below, living out their little lives. Striving, caring, loving, and dying. And that I am but one of them is painfully clear, and highlights my insignificance.
At the same time I enjoy this place in a way similar to the beach on Sakurjima, the peaks of mount Misen, or the Kaiyukan (aquarium). From up here I can watch the writhing and stretching of the living organism we call Osaka, and almost the same sense of serenity may be found, as though this is an urban shrine for the secular. Perhaps it is simply the sense of isolation from people and the experience of beauty which generate this feeling of reverence. Shinto shrines use a buffer of nature around them, buddhists use mediation and construct giant Buddhas, and the Abrahamic religions utilise prayer and construct enormous cathedrals, mosques and synagogues; all to force the individual to slow their mental state from everyday affairs and plunge them into a state of reverence. Yes, all that is required is an impression that something is so much greater than oneself, and the mindfulness to notice it, for there to be reverence and, ultimately, worship.


But whatever the psychology, this place, the Umeda Sky Building, offers the mindful observer an opportunity for a rare moment of poignance.


It also makes me think, people, myself included, try so desperately to capture a piece of such places with photos and words. But the sense of being here cannot be meaningfully caught, at least not with today's technological miracles. But, so desperate are we to convey what we feel, we spend more time futilely trying to capture what we should be experiencing. I have said it before but I cannot understand the tourist who takes his photo and leaves without ever really seeing, hearing, or experiencing.


We stayed for a good two hours before eventually descending and finding a ramen shop near the train station. This concludes the activities of day 16. Tomorrow we return to Kyoto, to see the important bits we missed before!

Arigato gozaimasu!

Ki o tsukete kudasai!