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.

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

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!

Blossoms in the Chill

Plum trees bursting with color proudly announce that spring is (slowly) arriving to our fair city.

Right by my station there is a trio of very pink ume, which brighten up the landscape every March. They are so perfectly balanced that they almost look fake, and contrast beautifully with the light green stripes on the Toyoko line trains as they zip by.

I appreciate the ume blooming despite the cold winds, bringing the reminder that plum and sakura flavored goodies will soon crowd shelves and menus across Tokyo.

Not far from my house there is a secret bairin (plum orchard), which I wrote about for Deep Japan. Check it out from here.

YaNeSen

My good friend from grad school, Dutchy, came and visited me over the summer, after her internship in Korea ended. While work was quite busy, I managed to take a bit of time off to go exploring with her, and introduce her to some of my fave places in Tokyo and Yokohama.

Naturally YaNeSen was a must see, so we wandered about taking pictures of temples and munching tofu tsukune (le yum). Here and there we encountered some of the ginormous cats that populate the graveyard, including one with a taste for sacred water.

Kakigori is the best thing to revive yourself after a long walk in the summer heat. Even the kitsune from the shrine seemed to be asking for a cool wind.

Toyoko Line Love: Tamagawa

Tamagawa station always seemed to me to be mainly an extension of the terribly tony Denenchofu, big faux-European houses and snooty restaurants... and to some extent that is true.

However thanks to his collection of magazines, Matcha-kun (whom you can see trying to sneak out of the photo below) found out that it is also home to a nice park, where we hoped to chill in the shade and catch the breeze.

Since I was starving, after rushing from my morning koto lesson in Saitama, the first order of business was a quick late lunch at the Denenchofu Club. I had actually seen the building (and people enjoying their dinner on the private 3rd floor) from my train window on the way home several times, and so was happy to finally figure out what it was. Lunch was a good deal, and came with two complementary rose-infused macaroons.

Tamagawa Park itself is actually quite sizeable, with a few hidden surprises (like a waterlily pond populated by tons of dragonflies) and a nice view over the river. Since the trees are quite dense and it is on a hill, the breeze is delightful.

Passing a little shoutengai, where a wagashiya makes fresh ayu-shaped sweets, we also visited Denenchofu Sengen Shrine, a branch of the big shrine at the foot of Mount Fuji. Instead of the usual ema, you write your wishes on little plates. As a big festival had just occurred, there were still strings of wind chimes criss-crossing the path, tinkling away with their cooling sounds.

A Sunday of Nostalgia: Bashamichi and Nihon Oodori

Yokohama is still something of a grand dame. Perhaps no longer the celebrated talk of the town, but with sparkle showing that, in her heyday, she was a beauty to be reckoned with.

The long wandering walk from Kannai to Nihon Oodori gives a glimpse into the exciting Meiji and Showa days, when this port brought the world to Japan, and viceversa. The sweeping stone buildings, reminiscent of Paris or London, topped with copper that has gone green with age.

Those born and raised in Yokohama are called Hamakko, children of the port. And even now, when in Tokyo more and more remnants of the past are torn down and replaced with conbini, Yokohama still protects her children and her history.

Stained glass, the scenes very different from those I grew up with in Europe, show in their tints the earliest memories of 'gaikokujin', of terrifyingly large ships and palanquins, overseen by the immortal phoenix.

Eventually, tired from walking and finding all restaurants closed for weddings (alas, the scourge of all port towns), we take refuge in the Cafe' de la Presse on Nihon Oodori. The press is quiet, and the sound of heels on wood parquet brings a hint of nostalgia. A very bistro lunch (main, salad, bread) rejeuvenates us, as we watch an omiai meeting unfolding (successfully, it seems) at a nearby table.

A Sunday in Motomachi

There are some days which are just radiant with simple perfection, blue skies,laughter and tea punctuating the hours instead of a clock.

Sunday started with a sudden bout of inspiration, leading me to a coffee shop two hours before the start of our date, to write and write and write. Walking past the sunset colours of my favorite hydrangeas, feeling particularly pretty thanks to my fresh, bright nails.

A lunch of sushi, my favorite umeshiso and wasabi root rolls melding across my palate. But lunch is quick, as the main event of the day is next: a walk across several of Motomachi's pocket sized parks with a friend of Matcha-kun's and (more importantly) his corgi.

 It has been far too long since I got to play with abandon with a corgi, and his owner seems thrilled that we get along and Kai obeys me so well. Of course the secret is the little bag of puppy biscuits I brought as a gift. We stop for a drink at a little bar populated with sunburned expats, Kai trying to get a sneaky sip of Guiness, to no avail.

We separate, my new friend tired out from all the excitement. Now in two, we stroll down to Ishikawacho, then the long single backstreet of Motomachi until getting to Mutekiro. The restaurant is, unsurprisingly, closed for a wedding, long swathes of unfortunately cheap looking tulle winding up the iron banisters, a pity on such a lovely Showa building. However the cafe' is open, and we step in for a pre-dinner drink. The Fauchon au lait, a strange but delicious combination of chilled milk and tea liqueur, served in a thick chilled glass, enchants so much that my companion can't help but laugh at my blissed out countenance.

Dinner is also courtesy of one of Matcha-kun's varied acquaintances. We enter Hollywood's basement, all beloved film memorabilia and dark corners. Jekyll and Hyde's food is amazing, particularly the 'secret pumpkin', and I am told the omurice is fabulous as well. I sip a Casablanca champagne cocktail, as a neighborhood cat slinks in to say hello. Perfection.

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