Blog needs aside, I wasn't planning to spend as much time here as I'm going to, but Michiko insisted that after an exhausting day at Akihabara I should do something less intense, and had made various arrangements practically before I knew it. On the plus side, in the evening, Michiko, Yuya and I are going to the Shin-Yokohama Ramen Museum, which collects a variety of representative ramen shops all within a retro Tokyo setting (different sources disagree as to which decade, so I'll let you know later). The first of its kind, the museum launched a fad for food-themed attractions. Now there are curry museums, Chinese food museums (notably in Yokohama's Chuukogai, Japan's largest Chinatown) and all manner of others.
Anyway, back to Akihabara. I didn't end up going into any of the smaller and more otaku-ish stores, largely for fear of boring Yuya (who knows a bit of anime, but isn't a fan the way I am). Perhaps I was wrong, since when we went to the Yodobashi Camera, a famous and towering department store, he and I spent quite some time amidst the games, PC and DVD sections (he's a big Dragon Quest fan, as well as a lover of Japanese variety shows). Did you know that there are more than a few Ghibli movies yet to be translated into English? The Camera itself was pretty impressive, with PA announcements in perfect English, Russian, French, German and Chinese just in the short time I was listening. It was huge, and filled with clever concessions to customer convenience, including an area for field-tests of executive office chairs. Yuya and I took advantage of this to rest our tired legs while pretending to be interested in the various reclining levers. Since the prices seemed little better than usual, I bought only the one thing I knew I wouldn't find elsewhere - one of a selection of films for Japanese learners of English. Namely, a copy of the Matrix with software that breaks each English line down, with a natural Japanese translation and a detailed analysis of the various meanings of the original phrase in Japanese. I have a feeling that this will come in very useful, especially since the Matrix is a film I am capable of watching over and over.
We also went to the nearby Kanda Myojin, a Shinto shrine inhabited by the tutelary deities of Tokyo. Given this fact, it was surprisingly tourist-free. There is little to say about it, since we couldn't go inside the shrine proper (though we could see into it). I drew an oracle (omikuji), which told me that I had deeply, deeply average fortune, and uttered a brief prayer, Shinto-style, at the appropriate place. I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.
The Kanda Myojin shrine gate, complete with traditional Japanese vans.To the sides of the gate, there were explanatory posters with the shrine's history, as well as guard dog-type statues.
The shrine proper. Cast coins into the box at the top of the steps, bow, clap twice to get the attention of the resident kami, pray (making a silent wish) and bow again. It might come true. Additionally, from the top of the steps you can just about see the holy objects within the shrine, including some beautiful sacred swords.
One of two buildings to the sides of the main shrine. This one is a rest area and souvenir shop. The one across the grounds looks roughly the same, but has the feel of a conference centre, not to be wandered into randomly.
The traditional Shinto oracle machine.
My disappointment, both at the lack of historical authenticity (err...as far as I know) and at my rather boring fortune, was only partially assuaged by the fact that the slip of paper was handed to me by a bobbing oriental dragon.
After a long walk to search for a "family restaurant" where we could get cheap food and I (still not being hungry due to feeling like it was 8am) wouldn't be obliged to order, we came across "Jonathan". This, once again, may be a private joke, but finding a "welcome to Jonathan" sign in the world's supreme geek hotspot made me very happy. Incidentally, I discovered that it is standard for restaurants here to offer unlimited free refills. In this weather, it is truly heavenly.
Jonathan, katakana edition.
Welcome to Jonathan...While the quality of the English is well above the local standard, the menus inside were exclusively Japanese (though with lots and lots of katakana).
Finally, on the way back I got a glimpse of the legendary Japanese rush hour. Wow. Even though being on a not-too-popular route took the edge off, the crowding was exceptional. People in every available space and a few non-available ones.Here endeth the sequential narration. The following are random remarks and observations, many of them containing facts about Japan that people will already know.
This poster, found near Akiba, reads "I am a cat stalker". This is fully as alarming in Japanese as in English, and when I asked to confirm the meaning of "stalker", Yuya did so in a hushed voice. That said, the poster details the thoughts of a woman who loves cats to the point of stalking them in a fairly warm manner, and the cat in the photo looks remarkably at peace.
Again near Akiba, the special report claims that this seafood bar, "Maguro-tei", is a famous otaku haunt. From outside, there is no special feel to it, perhaps because we came in the middle of the day.
The logo of Mitsukoshi, a famous Japanese department store chain. The Japanese seem invariably delighted when I tell them there is one in London.
This one's for Densha Otoko/Train Man fans. Incidentally, though Yuya tells me it is a foreign brand, I have never heard of Hermes outside Japan, and welcome the input of anyone who has.
Ebiya, a tiny (literally) Edo-period antique store. The logo practically screams "come in and enjoy our wares".
Japanese vending machines are something else. For a coin or two, one can buy any of a large selection of drinks (cold green tea is common - I don't like the taste, but it's surprisingly refreshing), or health supplements (middle), or curry with rice (bottom). These machines are ubiquitous, and I am told many other sorts exist - from cigarettes to used girls' underwear.
A volume of the manga "Bleach" I browsed in a convenience store was notable not only for being half a year ahead of the American translation, but also for having yomigana written next to every single kanji - even the most basic ones you learn in primary school. Truly a blessing for the Japanese learner, and accordingly I must get some on my return to Akiba, especially since (though I didn't check the price) they are allegedly much cheaper here. Incidentally, the formula of giving kanji readings separately allows authors to play some neat tricks - for example, Kubo Tite, the author of "Bleach", writes the current villains' special abilities in kanji (which give you the meaning), but gives them Spanish yomigana to fit the flavour of his setting.
The Urushibara family breakfast is grand in scope. It comprises a small dish of vegetables and ham (the lack of ham on my plate is the one concession I've been able to win, having explained that English people don't eat meat at breakfast), cereal, a drink and at least two pieces of bread. As for the latter - a country where rice will always be seen as a superior alternative, Japan nevertheless puts us to shame with its variety, including delicious an-pan (bread stuffed with sweet red bean paste). I am told, though, that most families are more restricted in the scale of their morning meal.
To be honest, the Urushibaras' unremitting kindness and consideration are so intense as to be almost suffocating. They do so much for me between them, from looking up information on places that I mention wanting to visit, to putting extra food on my plate when I can just as well get it myself (among countless examples). They give the impression of wanting to meet my every desire, including ones I haven't realised yet. There is so much of what from an English (or even Russian) perspective I would call "going beyond the call of duty" that I simply don't know how to respond beyond constant "thank you and/or I'm fine". Am I causing them trouble? Am I unwittingly sending out signals that cause them to make unnecessary effort? In a country where the polite facade is elevated to an art form, my hosts are impossible to read (even when I'm certain I understand what they're saying), and I can only hope that they always "mean it", because I have no way of telling. Nor do I have any way of repaying such a vast amount of care and attention.
Incidentally, this can be seen in microcosm with compliments. One of the basics one learns when studying Japanese culture is that compliments are typically met with humility rather than gratitude. One says "oh, I'm not that good" rather than "thank you". But now that I'm here, I'm increasingly wondering whether this is really completely true or whether I'm missing something, because I get complimented a lot (a friend told me once that "you're so good at Japanese" is almost a reflex triggered by foreigners knowing Japanese at all, and I'm starting to believe it), and there simply isn't enough vocabulary in the world to keep being humble without repeating myself. Given how frequent compliments are as an expression of politeness (worldwide, really) and how constant politeness is in Japan, not to mention how often Michiko asks me what I think of a particular dish (bear in mind that a typical Japanese dinner seems to consist of half a dozen different dishes), there must be some sort of middle way.
Japanese trains. Rush hour crowding aside, they're amazing. Because the two rows of benches are far apart to facilitate standing room, in less busy periods they feel spacious. There are different kinds of carriage, including "reduced air conditioning" carriages for people who get cold easily, and women-only carriages for those afraid of chikan or public transport molestation (apparently, a real problem here). Each type's arrival position is clearly marked on the floor of the platform, as are queueing lines in front of doors. Meanwhile, the trains feature electronic displays with journey information, station names and even the locations of stairways etc. on the upcoming platform (displayed together with the position of the current carriage). The ticket gates are the most human-friendly I've ever seen, over a metre in length with small flaps at the other end that will not suddenly hit the user (or crush their legs to smithereens, like the old-fashioned Moscow gates which gave me a permanent phobia as a child). They also feature readouts for money paid and money remaining when you use Pasmo (the local equivalent of London's Oyster card). The Tokyo train and subway network is considerably more extensive than London's, and infinitely more reliable (you can set your watch by it), but also more expensive - a two-way journey between Ookurayama and Akihabara (an hour long, and admittedly Yokohama is technically a separate city) cost me over two thirds of what would buy an all-zone, all-day travelcard in London. That said, I haven't tried buying individual tickets yet (the system is pretty complicated, and Yuya discouraged me, so I'll do it when out on my own and have room for mistakes), so I have limited data for comparison.
I'm still a bit jetlagged. During the day, I'm largely fine, but sleep at night is tricky. The family goes to bed around midnight and gets up around eight (I estimate, always being the last one up), which is less sleep than I need. I will have to work on this.
I can't think of anything else at the moment, so I guess this will do. Tonight, Shin-Yokohama Ramen Museum, tomorrow the world! Of Asakusa.
P.S. Formatting errors in this blog are largely not my fault. Blogspot laughs at my attempts to insert breaks between some paragraphs and photo captions, seemingly arbitrarily.
No comments:
Post a Comment