Revisiting the Past: Kitasenju

Recently, spurred by the desire to try a great Thai place which appeared on one of our current drama obsessions (Kodoku no Gurume), Matcha-kun and I ended up at Kitasenju.

To tell the truth, I had tried to ignore this (admittedly blameless) area for a good long while. When passing through the station on my way to my koto lessons, I whisked from one line to the next, and never left the station.

The reason is silly, but not entirely. Several years ago, I actually stayed in Kitasenju for about a week. I was in Japan to job hunt and visit my then-significant other. As Kitasenju is out of the way, and home to a lot of Tokyo's day laborer population, the lodging was really cheap. 

This was not a great time in my life. I was in grad school in London, so doing the long distance thing with my SO, and having absolutely no luck finding a job that would take me back to Japan. 

As the SO was also busy, I ended up spending a lot of time running around for interviews, then walking around alone. My last 2 days in the city were spent rambling about, missing this person who had been 'forbidden' (!!!) to spend the evenings with me... mostly because his parents were afraid he would get plastered right before his first day of work. 

Eventually he did show up on the eve of my departure, after his first day at work. Drunk after a welcome party for new recruits... not a good state. One of my major issues with him was his inability to stop drinking at a reasonable point, so you can imagine how upset this made me.

All in all, the whole mess left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. And I guess it made me irrationally dislike Kitasenju.

How different things are now. Exploring the long shoutengai shopping streets hand in hand with Matcha-kun, I could literally feel my heart lift. This place now has new memories affixed to it, the dark aura it had in my mind is gone.

Perception is a funny thing. The things, places and people we thought were so perfect or pursued so assiduously actually turn out not to be what actually makes us happy.

The total shitamachi-ness of Kitasenju now can actually speak to me. The long street with colorful hand-painted shutters, the cute little cafes and bars, the calls of merchants purveying everything from snacks to futon. During that visit I couldn't even see it.

But now I can. Forgive me Kitasenju, let's be friends.

Here it Comes!

Strap on your seat belts and prepare for much enthusiastic blithering... for autumn has finally hit Tokyo (well, Tachikawa, but close enough). Behold, photographic proof!

The ginkgos of Showa Kinen Park have turned that glorious shade of goldenrod which delights the hearts of all koyo fanatics. As Tachikawa is about 3-5 degrees colder than Tokyo proper, we got a sneak peak of the autumnal glory which should hit the city in around 2 weeks.

In other, vaguely related news, for some reason the IKEA in Tachikawa is much less crowded than the one in Yokohama. And their delivery service is much faster! Good to know for peeps seeking cheap chairs and printed fabrics (!!!).

可愛いのに (Even Though You are Cute...)

Recently I came across a phrase that gave me pause, and as it has been tumbling about in my brain for a bit without coming to a satisfactory conclusion, it shall end up here for public(ish) debate.

The perturbing phrase was: 

'Even though you are so cute, you still care about/are interested in the homeless'.

Now, just take a minute to let that sink in and roll around your brain for a minute.

Since when does cuteness have anything to do with humanity? 

I have heard people here make comments about (primarily women) who volunteer a lot and are not blessed with media-sanctioned good looks on the lines of : 'yeah, she looks like she would volunteer a lot'. Does this mean that only 'homely' women volunteer? Perhaps the implication is that they are not attractive enough to find a mate to snarf up their time? How incredibly narrow minded, should that be the case.

Are the cute exempt from responsibilities to their fellow (wo)man? Are they too busy traipsing along in high heels on the arm of some dude? Is it 'dangerous' for cute women to be close to the homeless? Is their time considered more valuable? 

Perhaps it is more a societal issue. Homelessness is often seen as being due to some flaw in that person, when in fact people often become homeless due to reasons beyond their control (escape from abusive situations, loss of home due to illness, mental illness, sudden firing after the age of 50 etc). So, are these people not worthy of support? Considering some of the reactions I have personally heard when going to help out at food pantry events, this is a persuasive argument.

Or maybe it is a comment on the lady in question instead. Are cute people supposed to be vapid and innocent to the messier sides of society? 

It is the のに (even though) part of the phrase that bothers me. Why couldn't it just be 'you are super cute and your concern for other people is praiseworthy'? Telling people they are awesome is certainly a nice thing to do, but it doesn't have to come with a side of comparisons.

Thoughts, suggestions or comments welcome.

Sundays in the Shitamachi: Arakawa Line

The charming little Arakawa line is one of Tokyo's hidden gems. An old-fashioned tram, it snakes (very slowly) from around Waseda all through the shitamachi, before ending up Minowabashi.

The trams themselves are a bit of a mishmash, with modern streetcars mixed in with adorable older models, all papered on the inside with advertisements that seem to have remained the same since late Showa. 

The tracks are tightly sandwiched between houses and shopping streets, the little free space often taken over by impromptu gardens of roses and hydrangeas. In short, a nostalgia buff's idea of heaven. 

After buying a cheap all-day pass (only 400 yen, yay!), we jumped on near Ikebukuro and headed towards Sugamo.

Sugamo also happens to be known as 'Grandma's Harajuku', with the average age appearing to be somewhere around 60-70. The long shopping street, which is quite close to Koshinzuka station, is well-stocked with tea, old-style breads and snacks, along with the famous shops purveying bright red underwear (said to promote health...by what means, I choose to not inquire).

Our first stop, inspired by Matcha-kun's desire for coffee, was at a little wood paneled coffee shop, across from a crazy umbrella store. The iced coffee came in tall, brass goblets. Perhaps not the most convenient vessel, but certainly an entertaining one, ideal for proposing silly, caffeine-fueled toasts.

After checking out Asukayama park, with its fanciful playground and fun concrete elephant, we headed back towards town (and dinner). The final stop of the day was at Zoshigaya cemetery. Thanks to the tradition of cremation (ie. no zombies), Japanese cemeteries hold no fear for me, and in fact are a special favorite for walks, checking out unusual tombs and the giant cats that often populate them.

While a whole bunch of famous historical figures are buried here, I cam looking for two in particular. Ogino Ginko (the first female doctor in Japan) and Natsume Soseki (the famous writer). Sadly, despite checking maps and roaming back and forth, we couldn't find John Manjiro (one of the first Japanese people to visit the United States) whom Matcha-kun wished to visit... perhaps his spirit wasn't interested in guests right then?

Tradition: Behind the Snark

My affair with Japan is like a good relationship: I care for the darn place so much that at times I hate it. I can't pretend the bad sides don't exist (that would be denial, very unhealthy), but after cooling down remember once again why I fought so hard for so long to return.

Outside the new Kabukiza, glowing in Ginza's neon twilight, I can just make out the sound of the hyoshigi, the inimitable high-pitched wooden clappers, which never fail to make my ears prick up.

From my open window I watch a trademark Yokohama Pastel Sunset, and hear strains of far-off Bon Odori music.

Walking home I smell curry, unagi and ramen, laced together with a faint hint of summer rain on the wind.

,

Funny how it is smallest things that reassure us that all is well.

卒業: Graduating from share houses

Living in a share house can be a blast. Although your experience can depend a lot on where you live and your sharemates, it is a good way to save money, while also ensuring that you will have access to a few well-sized shared spaces (spacious living room, kitchen, bath). It is also nice to have someone to greet you and talk with when you get home.

However, it does have its downsides: an upstairs neighbor with an elephantine footfall, people playing music late at night, waiting your turn to use the shower, food occasionally disappearing.

I have been very lucky with my living arrangements and sharemates, and we have had a lot of fun times...but I have come to realize that it may be time to graduate from shared living.

There will be lot to miss. My share house is particularly lovely, with a wild garden and fresh tomatoes everywhere, that you can eat right off the vine. The sunsets over the Prince hotel, pink and lavender, which I can see from the large sliding glass door in my bedroom. The strange call of the mobile tofu salesman, and the distant sound of trains rolling by on quiet evenings. Dinners spent discussing romantic conquests while eating takoyaki and parties in the fairy-light encircled garden.

But I have lived in my share house for almost three years now. And, with the exception of my Fulbright year, I have shared rooms or housing for over 9 years (not to mention, of course, all the years previous to those, when I lived with my parents).

I want to be able to go home and know that it will be quiet, that I will be able to laze about in the bathtub when I want to, walk around in underwear and a t-shirt if I feel like it, or take up the entire floor to do weight training and stretches without compunction.

While I don't intend to move immediately, my eyes stray more than ever before to the 'for rent' posters which cluster on the windows of real estate agencies. Imagining and plotting where to live next is immensely fun for me, as I have a bit of a love affair with real estate.　How big is the apartment? How much? Do they allow pets? No, no tatami floors. Is there a park nearby? A supermarket? Could I bike to work? The possibilities stretch out endlessly, like my friend's Maine Coon cat in the air conditioning.

At the same time it is a little frightening. Will I miss the 'instant community' of a share house? How very different it must be to share space with 1 person instead of 7-8. On a more practical level, how annoying to have to pay more rent!

Somehow, despite technically being an adult, this all feels very 'grown up'. Weird.

Wind Chime Festival at Kawasaki Daishi

I don't know about you, but I am one of those people who always finds out about a cool festival...right after it has concluded.

The Kawasaki Daishi Wind Chime festival has been on my to do list for years. But, as it only lasts 5 days (of which only two are non-work days) each time I have managed to be elsewhere or forget about it. But this year I actually got my butt into gear (aka: wrote the days down in my planner) and whisked off on the adorable retro trains with a running friend and her boyfriend, to check out the chimes.

The temple is a 10 minute walk away from the tiny Kawasaki Daishi station, and is a nice old-fashioned temple town, the main street dotted with purveyors of kuzu mochi, the local delicacy.

Approaching the temple, the energetic sound of cleavers on wood welcomes visitors, as old fashioned candy stores line the way, interspersed with shops selling bright red daruma . The sesame filled candies are definitely worth a try!

The wind chime market itself is covered and misted with cool water, a nice respite from the July sun. The creators of these lovely crafts come from all across Japan, representing almost every prefecture, to display and sell their wares. The varieties are endless, from classic glass globes and iron bells, to unusual charcoal, bamboo and pottery chimes. The sounds are also very important, although it can be hard to figure out where they come from, due to the sheer quantity of wind chimes! Personally, I am partial to high, light bell tones (from small, heavy iron chimes) and the charming clunky sound of pottery chimes.

The colours and shapes are a feast for the eyes, and it is hard to choose a favorite amongst them all. Eventually I settled on a colourful fuurin from Akita, a heavy bell attached to a hand-decorated silk ball (in the picture above).

These apple chimes were a big hit, lots of children were requesting their parents to buy them. The glass chimes were the most creative, with all sorts of different shapes... including a cucumber which was entirely too suggestive!


My new chime is proudly hanging by the window in my room... now if we could just get a breeze to go with it!

(All photos by the awesome Eugene Roussin, used with permission)

Nihonbashi to Ningyocho: Business in the Shitamachi

In preparation for the Olympics, Tokyo is getting major face-lifts. Nihonbashi, which used to be a shabby but well-beloved shitamachi haunt has now been invaded by the Coredo shopping centres. While they are tastefully wa, and house some interesting traditional shops (for example crafts made using gold leaf from Kanazawa), this is not the Nihonbashi I remember.

Much of the shitamachi is home to traditional Japanese industry. By this I don't just mean artistic crafts (old style umbrellas, lacquerware, wood working) but also businesses that cater exclusively to the Japanese market. Walking from Nihonbashi to Ningyocho you find purveyors of those iconic OL uniforms, small workshops manufacturing a very specific part for kotatsu heaters, printers of promotional uchiwa fans.

The longer I live and work in Japan, the more I have come to realize that there are two business models that do very well here: either be extremely local or go completely global. The interesting thing is that the actual size of the business is irrelevant. Companies that deal with business globally are usually thought of being ginormous corporations... and yet there are tiny 3D printing specialists or app creators in Tokyo that have dedicated customers on every continent. On the other hand Japan Rail, the queen of the 'super local', is massive.

The old and the new coexist peacefully. Although I am often annoyed and flummoxed by how slow business can be here, it comes with some benefits. People will hang on to traditions for dear life, even if they are the last ones chugging along. Even when it is not profitable. Companies are often loath to leave their suppliers, who they have known for decades, in the lurch. While business-wise I fully understand this does not make sense, on a human level it is kind. 

Sometimes I think resistance to change, in Japan, can be a strategy of its own.

In Ningyocho there is a traditional sweets parlor called Hatsune. It has stood in the same spot since 1837, purveying old fashioned anko and jelly desserts, along with traditional kakigori (the type topped with green tea and red beans, or syrupy preserved apricots). They make tea in a cast iron tea urn, which is both time consuming and easy to burn oneself on while bustling past, just because it tastes a bit better.

Time does not stand entirely still at Hatsune, but their dedication to the old has served them well, as the competition for seats is fierce. Well-to-do ladies in expensive summer kimono (obviously regulars, from the chit-chat) smile benevolently at younger customers and the unusual Japanese/foreign couple at the table next to them.

The global and the local sit companionably side-by-side, over ice and tea.

Rainy Day in Tokyo: Palm Shoutengai

While the sights of Tokyo are certainly beautiful and worth a visit, it is the hidden, homely sides of the city that I love best.

I will admit that there is a bit of pride attached to this, as I enjoy knowing things that other people don't... let us assume that this is due to too many years in graduate school, mixed with a bit of a character flaw.

However, this eternal search for something new and exciting has also led to a very useful discovery: what to do on rainy days in Tokyo!

The covered shoutengai in Musashi Koyama (just two stops away from Meguro) is almost 1 kilometre long, and like all shoutengai is just stuffed with stores and restaurants. My favorite was, oddly, a store which supplies Buddhist altars and graveyard supplies. There were very realistic candles shaped like beer, sake cups or green tea, which you light when paying your respects to your ancestors. I thought these were adorable and very clever, as leaving actual food and drinks on graves seems somewhat wasteful (Matcha-kun, of course, thought my interest was really weird).

In addition there are arcades, pop-up shops, musical performances and enough odd little stores to keep your eyes wandering!

And of course, you cannot go anywhere in Japan without considering food... of which shoutengai are bountiful purveyors. From croquettes to sweets and bread, there is always a delightful smell to tempt you. In our case, we wandered all the way down to the end of the shoutengai. Right outside the exit was a 'gratin restaurant', serving up wonderfully nostalgic versions of pasta gratin and doria. Matcha-kun remarked that they reminded him, in the best way possible, of Japanese school lunches. I had a potatoe and pumpkin gratin, along with a cup of milky coffee redolent of the Showa era.

The long tunnel branches out near the entrance,  with the right branch leading to (selfishly) my favorite part of the shoutengai. Why selfish? Well, basically it is the oldest part, and a great deal of businesses are closed or largely ignored... but ever so nostalgic-looking. If the rain abates, then you can continue walking straight ahead, until you get to Nishi Koyama, and its open air shopping streets (lots of nostalgia here too!)

Covered shopping streets are definitely worth a look, especially during these wet tsuyu days!

Strange culinary experiences, and where to find them

Being a vegetarian in Japan kind of precludes one from most of the 'weird' culinary experiences so many people have when visiting or living here (raw chicken or horse sashimi, fugu, dancing shrimp, Kobe beef etc...).

However never fear, there is enough weirdness to go around, even for us!

One of the oddities I have come by recently is the new 'SpoonVege' ice cream from Haagen-Daaz (which comes in cherry/tomato and orange/carrot flavours). I tried the cherry/tomato version, which was interesting. I have actually had tomato softserve in Aizu before, and this was a much richer version thereof. I could barely make out any cherry in the mix, but it was certainly not unpleasant. I intend to try the carrot one as well, to see if the fruit flavour is more noticeable.

The second interesting spot is a 'instant curry' and canned food restaurant (if one can use that term) right near Ekoda station. They have a HUGE selection of curries, from vegan curries from India to grape-flavoured curry from Yamanashi, and everything in between). They provide rice, drinks and, if you need something extra, lots of canned delicacies (from the usual yakitori, to more exotic things like snails and dolma). Sounds like a fun, cheap night out to me!

Sunday in Style: Nezu Museum

To tell the truth, lately things have been a bit tough for Ms. Godzilla. 

Nothing life threatening, but my confidence has been shaken and am not feeling quite like myself (whoever that may be).

When these things happen, I find two things very helpful to get some perspective: going somewhere beautiful and taking on a slightly different persona.

Hence, last weekend's trip to the Nezu Museum (which is near Aoyama, not Nezu). The art collection is mainly Asian artifacts, displayed in a few small galleries. While certainly pretty, they are no match for the extraordinary gardens. 

The Japanese gardens are filled with bright green momiji, which conceal a wealth of interesting statues and traditional teahouses (including one in a small boat, how exquisitely iki). The purple iris' were in full bloom, and the whole ensemble was simply breathtaking.  

As for the different persona, putting on a kimono is one of the fastest ways to accomplish that. You need to walk straight-backed, at a stately speed, with the long shoulders of a murderous queen... it certainly gives me  boost (it also helps that one also gets complimented by passing strangers.)

Snow, Coffee and other Loosely Related Things

Snow in Tokyo is always a big deal. Each year they proclaim that it is the 'first major snowstorm in 13/20/100 years', when I perfectly recall that it snowed last year (and the year before) as well. Is it city-wide selective amnesia?

One thing snows means, for me, is a considerable uptick in the amount of time spent in cafe's, keeping out of the cold wind while also being out of the house.

I wish I could blame my increased coffee consumption on the weather, however it is much more closely linked with work (which has improved quite a bit, as I have gotten more used to busting out keigo at a moments' notice). The tech world is fueled by coffee and sugar, and I love both.

Bakeshop in Jiyugaoka remains one of my favorite places for brunch and a giant cappuccino on a cold Sunday morning. The fact that you can usually get a table is also a major plus (as are their really mouthwateringly delicious baked goods).

While exploring Sangenjaya, Matcha-kun and I came across Cafe Obscura, a charmingly tiny concrete bunker with a selection of interesting books and really top notch coffee. I also recommend their chiffon cake, which more closely resembles springy American-style angel food cake.

Keep warm, and watch out for the next storm tomorrow!

Better Late Than Never

As a koyo freak, I was a little disappointed to be away from Tokyo for the peak of the season. But I was lucky enough, after much careful koyo-stalking, to get one golden afternoon with the leaves.

 

The first attempt was not entirely successful, when I coerced Matcha-kun into an overly early, rain drenched walk in Shinjukugyoen... very little colour, but a rather unique chance to have a 'kashikiri koen' (private park).

Kichijouji is slightly colder than the rest of Tokyo, so the leaves in Inokashirakoen change colour earlier than their more centrally located cousins.

 It was predicatably crowded, and many fine examples of 'girl-rowing-boat-while-boyfriend-looks-on-boredly' were on display. Still, it is so pleasant to lounge on a bench with a cup of hot tea, under a golden canopy, and watch the swan boats go by.

My apologies for this seasonally inappropriate post, but it is hard to repress a koyo obsession. Stay tuned for exciting adventures in Nagano!