A British Zombie in Tokyo

I am consciously choosing not to begin this entry with a description of how I was led to a suspicious-looking Japanese warehouse and asked to take my clothes off in front of a number of people, some of whom took pictures. I will leave this to worry my esteemed readers until later.

Instead I will begin my story yesterday morning, when I woke up earlier than intended but could not get back to sleep due to the presence of both a large construction site and an elementary school outside. Unfortunately, today was the day for which we'd reserved early Ghibli Museum tickets, and I was forced to rise anyway. Accordingly, I spent the day as one of the walking dead, only partly taking in everything that was happening to me (at least until I woke up a little in the evening). This may reflect on the quality of today's entry, especially since it led me to forget my camera.

Everyone doubtless knows of Studio Ghibli, Hayao Miyazaki's tool for creating some of the most beautiful animation known to man - even people who think "anime" is a kind of fish have probably seen and enjoyed "Spirited Away" (or "Sen to Chihiro no Kamikagushi" - props to the translators for a more elegant title than the original). The Museum, located in quiet Mitaka on the outskirts of Tokyo, is infused with Miyazaki's life and philosophy, in everything from the exhibits to the architecture and the rules (in perfect English, the booklet explains that Miyazaki wants visitors to be the museum's protagonists directly rather than through the filter of a camera lens - so there would have been no photos anyway).

This unique atmosphere, unmarred even by the hordes of tourists, is obvious from the second you enter the building and receive your ticket - an original cel from one of the Ghibli films. The architecture is simple yet whimsical, with narrow bridges across the main hall, winding spiral staircases and occasional features like little child-sized doors that inspire instant curiosity. The actual exhibits are likewise immersive, ranging from a study wallpapered with sketches both for the films and of various landscapes, flowers and other objects that inspired Miyazaki, to a desk for the design of Miyazaki's famous incredible flying machines, as well as endless notes, occasional musings on the nature of animators and editors, bookshelves of inspirational material drawn from across the globe (including Russian fairy tales; incidentally, some of the sketches had notes on them in Russian), a remarkable stroboscope exhibition, a Wallace and Gromit shrine (apparently, the creator is a friend) and, dotted around the place, various curiosities and experimental works, including a Mysterious Clockwork Fish hanging on the wall, which was definitely doing something, but what?

I think I could have spent hours in there, soaking up the atmosphere and taking my time browsing through everything the museum had to offer, but sadly Yuya set a relatively brisk pace, and I didn't have the energy to argue. The Urushibaras are magnificent hosts, but how do I escape from them when it comes to experiencing Japan on my own? (I ask with an edge of despair after just learning that Yuya may accompany me around Yokohama tomorrow)

Outside, Mitaka has some great woods for walks, with numerious cats, and we decided to walk to nearby Kichijouji, a part of Tokyo unusually full of greenery and small but high-quality shops, and accordingly a dream location for Tokyo people to live in. Apart from said greenery, and an exceptionally high number of English signs, I have to say it didn't look that special. I was also getting ever more tired. Unfortunately, Yuya had decreed that it would be inefficient, time-wise, to go home before the modelling audition at 7 in the evening. He may have been right, but I know I'd rather have spent the afternoon sleeping on trains than doing what we did, namely burning time in various shopping arcades. There was a magnificent second-hand games shop I wish I'd discovered before going to Akihabara, but other than that, not too much of interest (unless you count the fact that a nearby games arcade had a "girls' corner" which men were forbidden to enter unless they had at least one girl of their own). The definite low point came when Yuya took me to "The Loft", apparently a well-known Japanese department store. Well, it wasn't a technology and cool stuff store like the Yodobashi Camera (though we took a brief walk through the Kichijouji branch of that later). It was an actual department store. Lame souvenirs, household goods, furniture, that sort of thing. While Yuya seemed to enjoy various novelty goods, and apparently is an avid fan of digital clocks, I was Bored To Death, and would have contemplated murder or suicide had I the energy.

Eventually, glory of all glories, it was time to go to the modelling audition. Yuya and Michiko (whom I met at the rendezvous point a little in advance) accompanied me into Omotesando, Tokyo's centre of brand name fashion, filled with expensive-looking shops and stylish people. Along with a few other foreigners, we were finally walked along a complex path to a door through which we were invited two at a time (plus Yuya and Michiko). Inside was a non-descript single room that looked like part of an ordinary warehouse. Several clothes racks contained a variety of clothing. The company's stylist and designer asked people, one by one, to change into selected clothes and then walk up and down the room and be photographed.

I expected to be quite nervous, moreso given that there was no changing room or anything - at the end, when I was asked to take off all the fashion clothes and put on my own, I was in my underwear in a roomful of strangers - but after I decided to just treat the whole thing as an adventure, I found myself relaxing into it quite easily, and I was at my ease throughout, which I have a feeling made the stylist warm to me more than he would otherwise. While I was busy trying on the weirdest of clothes (there was a shade of orange which I refuse to believe can be fashionable in any part of the world in any time period), he and Michiko chatted extensively (apparently, their hometowns are close; he was also impressed that I'd studied at Oxford), and I think my part in the whole thing went quite well. Certainly, my immediate predecessor, a Swiss professional-and-didn't-he-know-it called Chris, got dismissed after a single set of clothes, whereas I was asked to try on all kinds of things before I was finally allowed to go (along with a travel fee - very kind of them). While I cringe at various things, including aforementioned orange and a certain Tom Brown's Schooldays set of shorts, the Urushibaras assure me that everything looked stylish on me, which is just as well since the final selection will be 15 out of 200 people. It would be nice if I got it, both as experience and as a confidence boost in my appearance (plus I might even get paid), but I'm not overly concerned. Easy come, easy go is the general feeling.

As one further proof of the awesomeness of the N. Hoolywood people, when Michiko went back afterwards to ask about good nearby restaurants, an assistant ended up escorting her to a distant restaurant, then (upon discovering it was full) to a second and even a third. We were very impressed that she'd taken so much trouble.

At any rate, such was my day in all its mixedness. The final call which will seal my fate will come today or tomorrow. Today I am taking off in the name of preserving what's left of my health after yesterday, so have no special news to offer. I did get to watch Bleach on TV, but the original intent of watching anime in its native habitat was ruined by it being not only video-taped but the tape being a low-quality recording - I'm actually rather surprised that a family in the heart of 2009's Tokyo use VHS rather than HDD or DVD.