www.QuoVadam.com

So, if you’ll recall from my ramblings in the prologue, I am really not fond of traveling in groups. The biggest reason for this is that rarely does the group ever completely get along. The only way for this to happen is if you somehow end up with a group of people who just seem to do their own thing, on their own time, and join the group whenever they feel its necessary. Amazingly, that seemed to be the case with this group.

Outside of our “class” meetings, everyone pretty much did their own thing. Some went in singles, others in groups, but all in all there seemed to be no arguments about where to go and what to do. If someone was doing something that seemed interesting to someone else, then they tagged along. If a group was going somewhere and someone wanted to go with, they jumped on board. There was very little, if any, arguments about where to go and what to do.

That said, I spent most of my time alone. There were a couple times where I went out with some of the others, but after hearing stories of their subsequent adventures, it made me glad that I decided to hang out in Yanaka instead. With most of them looking to party and bar hop, I felt like I would have been wasting my time. In their defense, however, they are all a bit younger and that may largely account for their seeking to party and my seeking out slower, more intimate settings. I am more interested in making real personal connections and the kind of connections afforded by club and bar hopping are often superficial at best. The slower pace of Yanaka afforded just such an opportunity.

As for opportunities, Django was just such a place. I would be lying if I labeled anything else as the highlight of my trip. Django left me with such a warm feeling. That feeling you get when you find a place you know can return anytime and you’ll always be welcomed with open arms. Yeah, that feeling. It wasn’t so much the place, or the music, or the food or drink. Anyone with any sense would tell you that the place is cramped, the music is loud, and the food and drink are rather pricey. None of that mattered to me. The people I met there, musicians, patrons, the owner, all made the place worth more than any price I could have paid just to be there. From the first night, the owner, Koji Haraguchi, welcomed me in and showed me hospitality in more ways than I could ever repay. I hope to keep in close contact with Koji as the years move on and will make an effort to visit him as often as I am in Tokyo.

On the other hand, there is the singer, Kyoko Yokomae, who also holds a special place in my Tokyo/Yanaka/Django experience. Whether our meeting was anything more than a meeting of like minds, a result of too much drink, or something more, I can not easily say. Whichever the case, a connection was made, and whether that connection will persist, is something that only time can tell. Regardless of the outcome, I feel like I learned a lot about the influence or, more accurately, the lack of influence that verbal communication has on making connections with people. Although my grasp of Japanese is minimal, if even considered existent, and, likewise, her grasp of English was only marginally better, we were able to carry on conversations which covered a range of complex topics and ideas. This is more than I can say for many of the conversations I’ve had in my own language over the past few years.

Amidst all of the topics of learning, this trip has shown me once again that uprooting myself, jumping headfirst into a completely different culture, and meeting new people is a deep down component of what makes me tick. This trip rejuvenated me in many ways. Since returning from China in ‘04, I had longed for the chance to travel. I missed the every day interactions. I missed walking down the street surrounded by people who didn’t know or speak my language. I missed the feeling of walking into a tiny restaurant on the street with no idea what they were serving, ordering the first thing I saw just to see if I could say it, and then striking up a broken conversation with the owner/cook. Most of all, I missed building the relationships with those same shop owners as well as the countless others I came into contact with from day to day.

The shop owners, the students, the teachers, these are the people that make my trips worthwhile. Without them, I would just be a presence, taking up space. Without them, I would know nothing about the culture. It’s when I begin to interact with them and engage them that I begin to learn. I learn about them, their friends, and their family. This interaction, this exchange, is what drives me. Hopefully, it won’t be long before I can return to it again.

Start the morning off right.

I woke up to an email from Kyoko stating that she would try to meet me around 11:00am to say goodbye. I had mentioned to her previously about seeing her one last time, as I felt, due to the hurried nature of our last meeting, that we were unable to have a proper goodbye. This seemed like a good opportunity to do so.

No one had informed me of there being a particular check out time for our group and after missing it by about thirty minutes, I felt a little silly. After packing up and carrying all of my bags downstairs, I headed out for breakfast. I paid one final visit to the bakery which had seen much of our business for the last two weeks, picked up some pastries, said my goodbyes to the lady working, and headed back to the hotel. After I finished my pastries and a cup of coffee, I headed out once more to find a cheap bag to hold everything I bought. I needed something mid-sized, fit for a carry on bag, and I wasn’t sure whether I would find it or not. However, as soon as I turned the corner at Yanaka Ginza, there was a bag right in front of my face. It was the perfect size and perfect price. I quickly headed back to the hotel to transfer things to the new bag and to wait for Kyoko.

As time drew close, I decided to shoot an email off to Kyoko and let her know that I was leaving soon. About thirty minutes later, we headed to the train station to catch the Keisei Line to Narita Airport. An hour later we arrived at Narita Airport, and three hours after that we were in the air.

When I checked my email the following day, I found out that Kyoko had visited the hotel at 11:00am but, since the lobby was full, chose not to intrude and returned home.

So much for proper goodbyes.

Today was our final full day in Tokyo and Munson Sensei had one more place for us to visit before cutting us loose to do our last minute necessities. Unfortunately, I became frustrated with my camera very early on in the day and decided to stop taking pictures before we reached the museum.

The Fukugawa Edo Museum, located in the southeast portion of Tokyo, is another museum showcasing the Shitamachi way of life. Though it is very much like the other Shitamachi museums, the Fukugawa Edo Museum’s main, and virtually only, exhibit features a full scale reproduction of a Shitamachi village. What really set this museum apart from the others, though, were the little details. The exhibit was built with a lighting system which dims and brightens every so often signaling night time and morning. Various animatronic and stationary models depicting everything from cats to snails which are placed all around the exhibit. This, along with the ambient noise tracks being played overhead, left me feeling almost as if I had stepped into a time machine.

In the back of the exhibit, through a small hallway, was another smaller exhibit. This exhibit consisted of many banners, which often were and still are sometimes hung in doorways and archways separating rooms in a shop or restaurant. The banners were printed with many different shapes and designs in various colors. After a quick passthrough, I ventured upstairs to find nothing more than what seemed to be an overlook into the main exhibit. I headed back downstairs and was informed by one of the other students that we were free to go and that the rest of the day was ours.

On my way to the train station, Kyle and Chris, a couple of the students from our group, caught up with me to find out how to return to the hotel. I wasn’t quite sure myself, as I had intended to just ask someone inside of the train station. So, once inside, we asked, got our bearings straight, and headed out on the train. When we got to the next station, I informed the guys they were on their own, and I stopped at a small electronics shop to look for some last minute items. After about an hour browsing, I jumped back on the train and headed to Ueno.

Once at Ueno station, I stopped in a coffee shop, the same from the day before, to write my final two journal entries. About four hours later, after writing two journal entries and drinking more coffee than I can remember, I decided to head to Harajuku for some more last minute gift shopping. I hopped the train back to the hotel, dropped off my journal, and headed out to Harajuku.

When I got to Harajuku, I walked down Takeshita-dori, stopping at virtually every shop along the way. I eventually made my way down to Omotesando-dori and picked up a few gifts at Kiddy Land, a very large and very popular toy store in the area. On my way back to Harajuku Station, I made a few loops around the area just to make sure I wasn’t missing any real “gems” in the plethora of shops available.

I noticed while walking, that I had passed a particular young lady more than once. She was young, maybe 16 or 17, and was walking alone. This, however, was not what caught my attention. Her walk was slow with a slight buckling at the knees, as if she was exhausted, or defeated. Her eyes were fixed on the ground in front of her, but just high enough that you could tell she was looking at absolutely nothing. She just seemed like she was utterly lost in her own head. I saw her stop and look at a few things, but even then it seemed as though she was staring straight through whatever she was looking at. The blankness in her face and the resignation in her walk left me feeling like she would have walked right into oncoming traffic or jumped off of a building without even a second thought.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to ask her if she was okay. I had no idea how. I didn’t even know where to begin. Perhaps I could have asked her in plain English. There’s a good chance that she would have at least understood the phrase, “are you okay.” Of course, there was also the chance that she would have perceived my attempts at dialogue as an attempt to pick her up. Either way, I still really feel like I could have and should have done something. I’ve never seen that deep of a sadness on someone’s face before. Maybe I misjudged the situation. Maybe my lack of familiarity with Japanese people and their facial expressions and mannerisms led me to think there was something wrong with this girl. I don’t know. I’d like to think that sadness and depression are universal emotions carrying with them universal expressions. Maybe I’m wrong. Regardless, this situation, just like the one with the old lady in Ginza, left me feeling like my response was completely inadequate.

As I got on the train, I decided at the last minute to head over to Shibuya to check out a couple more shops. I ended up leaving through the wrong exit, made a complete circle through Shibuya Station, and payed twice to go in and out of the station. I’m still not quite sure how that happened. I finally managed to find my way to the main exit and into the heart of Shibuya’s shopping district. I shopped around in Shibuya, looking at clothes, music, and various other things, for about an hour or so before I realized that it was almost 11:00pm. I decided to hurry back to Yanaka so I could catch Koji at Django one last time.

About thirty minutes later I arrived in Yanaka. I rushed to the hotel, dropped off my stuff, and hurried over to Django. I managed to arrive just a few minutes before the band was leaving and grabbed a seat a the bar. After sitting for a few moments, sipping some tea, and talking to Koji, another man came in and began a conversation with him. Apparently it was one of Koji’s friends, and he was rather drunk. He began talking to me in broken, drunk, Japanese with smatterings of English. I could tell that Koji was getting aggravated with the man, so I decided that I would make motions for leaving so that Koji could get him out as well. Once the man left, Koji and I said our thanks and farewells, and I headed back to the hotel.

Tomorrow we would leave.

With our time in Tokyo nearing an end, Dr. Munson had just a few more places on the list of sights he wanted us to see. Today’s items included a trip through Ueno Park to the Tokyo National Museum, Bentendou Temple, and then finally the Shitamachi Museum.

We arrived in Ueno around 10:00am and walked through Ueno Park to the Tokyo National Museum. We were given a little over two hours to tour the museum, so I took my time walking through the various exhibits. I found the first exhibit, a collection of various statues of Buddha gathered from all around Japan, to be quite captivating. When viewed from a purely artistic perspective, these pieces can easily be seen as exquisite. When viewed through the eye of my own faith, they become something altogether very different. Pondering over these things, I found myself spending a considerable amount of time on the first floor.

There were many other exhibits spread throughout, some of them holding my interest for far too long. An exhibit showcasing Japanese lacquerware followed the statue exhibit. Although not particularly interested in what appeared to me to be dishes, I did find myself lingering on one section of lacquerware. These pieces, after being lacquered, were sprinkled with gold dust. This gave them a shimmering quality, one which I was unable to capture on camera. I considered buying one of the reproduction pieces in the gift shop, but at nearly $3,000 dollars, I felt it would be a bit excessive.

Further down the hall were exhibits showcasing everything from swords (a few genuine Masamune pieces), recovered Ainu pieces, and various other pieces of art including paintings, scrolls, and sculptures. At the end of the first floor, under the stairs leading to the second floor, was a dimly lit exhibit detailing the journey of the Buddhist faith from India, through the East, and into Japan. In the details were various points describing the changes in nomenclature and artistic styles as the faith moved across the East.

As I began to make my way to the second floor, I noticed that it was time for our group to meet back up at the front of the museum. Looking around, I didn’t notice any one member of our group waiting in the area. So I walked outside for a moment and, after looking around, decided to head down to the gift shop. Apparently everyone had decided to converge in the waiting area behind the gift shop and, after making a couple purchases, I joined them in waiting for the few remaining members. Although I’m sure that the exhibit will be different, as we headed out I made a mental note to return some day to see what the second floor has to offer.

We walked back through Ueno Park and broke up to eat lunch in Ameyoko-cho which, if you’ll recall from an earlier post, is a very large open air market just outside of Ueno Station. I took a few moments to quickly look through a rather large toy store for a few last minute gifts. Unable to find anything particularly striking, I grabbed a bite to eat at the same Turkish Kebab stand I had visited on our last visit to the market, then hurried back over to meet the group at the entrance to the park.

This time, as we walked along the same path taken that same morning, we took a path leading across a small land bridge to the center of Shinobazu Pond. In the center of the pond sat Bentendou Temple. With a purifying well out front, a place for tying fortunes off to the side, and the main temple structure in the center, Bentendou was not unlike the many other temples I had visited over the course of my visit to Tokyo. What stood out about this particular temple, in my opinion, was not the temple itself, but its location. Even though some would have viewed the scene as boring, or lifeless, I saw a sort of melancholy beauty. The bright white sun, clear blue sky, and the city as a backdrop, all came together to create a striking scene. Unfortunately, being an amateur photographer whose feet are barely wet, I feel as though my pictures do not even begin to capture what I saw with my own eyes.

The walk around the pond was, in my eyes, no less spectacular. The sidewalk followed the edge of the pond to a small corner. On that corner sat a small museum dedicated to preserving the Shitamachi, or commoner, way of life. The Shitamachi Museum (in Japanese, but with pictures) was quite the treat, as we were guided around by a little old Japanese lady who worked as a volunteer English tour guide. Most of the pieces in the museum were donated, and even though most everything in the museum was authentic, this was a “hands-on” museum. We were allowed, and encouraged, to look around, touch things, enter the rooms (after removing our shoes, of course), and experience everything. Upstairs our tour was stalled by a table full of old toys and we found ourselves spending a great deal of time playing with the many puzzle and strategy games. So much so, that I’m sure some never realized the collection of pieces from the Great Kanto Earthquake displayed in the back side of the upper floor. After looking around at the various pieces and articles from the earthquake, I decided to take a seat for a few minutes. It wasn’t long before I was beginning to doze off. I as began to drift away, Dr. Munson told us we were finished for the day, so I pulled myself up and made my way to the train station.

 After a quick trip to the post office, I returned to the hotel and quickly jotted down and turned in my journal entry for the day. A few minutes later, I headed out to Ginza for a couple quick purchases. While shopping, I remembered that I was in need of a new set of headphones, so I stopped by the Apple store and picked up a pair. About an hour later, the temperature had dropped with the sun and the wind began to pick up, and I decided it was time to head back to the hotel.

On my way back, I decided to exit at Ueno Station for a short coffee break. This turned into a four hour affair, as I pulled out a book I had started reading on the flight over. Four cups of coffee and a brownie later, I finished my book and decided it was time to move over to Django.

I had arranged for Kyoko to meet me at Django following her singing gig. This was the final chance for Koji, Kyoko, and myself to get together before my departure Saturday morning. Having arrived a bit early, as Kyoko had mentioned that she would show after 11:00pm, I sat and enjoyed another cup of coffee as I listened to the nights performers. The group playing was a local trio and, unlike the many other performances I had seen over the course of the past seven days, they had no pianist and were being led by an electric guitarist. The group had a very jazzy sound which at times bordered on bluesy. I really enjoyed the departure from the sound that I had grown used to hearing when visiting Django. When the band finished, I expressed my gratitude and applauded their skill.

As the last band member was leaving, the phone rang. It was Kyoko. She had called to let us know that she was close by and would be there soon. While waiting, Koji handed me a bag. Inside of the bag was a beautiful printed towel, two food covering cloths made of loose weave cotton, and four coasters from kimono fabric. The coasters were identical in print to the ones used by Koji in the bar and when I thanked him I said that every time I used them, I would think of Django.

About twenty minutes later, Kyoko arrived. After getting settled in, we each took turns taking pictures with each other’s camera. We then gathered at the table for drinks and began discussing food. The topic turned to the food “natto“ which we had discussed on a previous night. I had commented that there are very few foods that I will not eat, and nothing which I will not try at least once. Kyoko then jumped up, mumbled a few words to Koji, and rushed out the door. A couple of minutes later she returned with a bag in hand. Inside of the bag were two containers of “natto.” She opened the package and prepped the dish with its packets of soy sauce and mustard. One hundred stirs later, sitting in front of me was a stringy, slimy, beany mound. The smell immediately reminded me of a strong cheese and the taste that followed was not much different. Already being a fan of cheese, yogurt, and other fermented types of foods, I found “natto” to be quite flavorful. The only thing I experienced that could be an affront to most palates would be the texture. Slimy is a texture that most people try to avoid and can sometimes ruin the best of flavors. I have never been one to let an aroma or texture to dissuade me from trying new foods, and I have almost always met with tasty results. As for “natto,” I would likely enjoy it more if it were served with rice, as the rice would tend to cut the taste.

Starting after 11:00pm left us with little time and it wasn’t long before we had to part ways. We hailed a taxi and when we arrived outside of my hotel, aware that this would likely be the last time I would see Kyoko, I said my goodbyes and expressed my deepest gratitude for her company and the hospitality shown over the past week. I told Koji that I would likely see him the following night, and waved good bye as the taxi disappeared down the street.

For pictures, click here. 

Today, rather than the standard sightseeing, we made an early morning trip to Harajuku to visit the Ukiyo-e Ota Museum of Art. We were then asked to find our way, on foot, from Harajuku to Shibuya station. For myself, this turned out to be somewhat of a mini-adventure.

Ukiyo-e, as mentioned in a previous post, is a style of woodblock printing or painting which depicts scenes of landscapes and various annual festivities and practices. The exhibition being viewed was entitled “Scenes of the New Year.” In lieu of the usual journal requirement, Dr. Munson instead asked us to pick a piece of art and, with as much detail as possible, re-create the scene in our journals. Being the detail oriented person that I am, this was a welcomed request. I called on my long dormant artistic tendencies and spent nearly two hours sketching a beautiful scene which depicted a courtesan, along with what appeared to be a child, picking the pine seedlings of the new year. I think it turned out well:

a copy of
Court Lady Doing Komatsu-hiki (pulling up small pines)
by Teisai Hokuba

Upon completion of my latest masterpiece, I headed out on my journey to find Shibuya Station, but not before enjoying a steamy latte across the street. It had been raining all morning and, luckily, I had packed my handy-dandy little travel umbrella. Accompanying the rain was a light snow, turning what would be a rather leisurely walk into a cold, wet, and somewhat hasty adventure. After I finished my coffee, I headed out, umbrella in hand, in search of Shibuya Station. To get my bearings, I walked back up to Harajuku Station. I took a left and started traveling what I thought was north. After quite a long walk through mostly residential areas, I found myself at Yoyogi Station. Hoping I could get an idea as to my location, I stopped to look at the train guide. This proved to be a fruitless endeavor as the entire guide was in Japanese. So I continued walking north, keeping an eye on the buildings which I thought were the same I had seen in Shibuya just a few nights prior.

It wasn’t long before my shoes had started taking on water, my socks were soaked, and my feet had numbed. I soon realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was and decided that I would turn left and work my way around until I came to another train station. At the very least, this would give me an opportunity to warm up a bit and get back to Harajuku Station where I could start all over again. A few blocks down the street, I came to a dead end which led to an entrance to some sort of shrine like area. Reading the sign, I found out that this was the Meiji Shrine, the same shrine which we had visited on our first full day in Tokyo. A quick look at the map revealed that my location at that moment was on the side opposite of Harajuku Station. Walking through the Meiji Shrine on such a quiet, snowy day was a wonderful experience and it made getting lost worth all the time and effort. Twenty minutes later I emerged from the Meiji Shrine, crossed Harajuku Bridge, and began my trek once more.

Getting my bearings a second time, I realized that, even though I was traveling in the direction I had intended, Shibuya was in the opposite direction. So, I headed south from Harajuku station and, about thirty minutes later, found myself in the heart of Shibuya. Full enough of adventuring for the day, and completely soaked from the knees down, I hopped the train back to Yanaka and to the hotel.

Once back at the hotel, I practically dove into a dry pair of socks. Letting my shoes dry for a few minutes, I walked around to see what everyone else was planning for the evening. After making the rounds, I decided to walk down the street and grab a bite to eat. I picked up a small tub of curry pork and a cornbread biscuit from a Turkish food shop. I made my way back to the hotel and enjoyed my meal while chatting with some of the other students about the day. A couple hours later, after warming up and relaxing for a bit, I suited up once more and made the short walk over to Django.

When I walked into Django, I ran into Dan, one of the students from our group. He had heard about the place from myself as well as a couple of the other students, Ashby and Matt, who had checked out the place a week earlier. After listening to the band play for a bit, we began chatting with an older man sitting across from Dan. He was a local real estate broker who had an office a few blocks down the street from our hotel. Our discussion began with me inquiring about the prices of rental properties in Yanaka, and progressed to me explaining my age and the lengthy gap between my high school and college years. Mentioning my past volunteer work led to a short discussion about my fascination with “omoiyari,” or compassion, and how I would like to study more about it in the future. Dan also mentioned his desire to return to Japan for study and possibly work. Eventually the topic turned back to music and the man began talking about his family. We learned that he has two sons, one who went to school for music and is now a famous Japanese pop musician, and another who was attending school for music but dropped out. Coincidentally, the ages of his sons were the same ages as Dan, 21, and myself, 27.

When the band finished, the piano player came over and the man we had been speaking to, whose name we never got, decided it was time to leave. As he left, Koji suggested that we move to a local restaraunt for a drink and a small bite to eat. So Dan, Koji,the pianist, and I walked down the street a few blocks to a little food bar. Everyone ordered a round of hot sake, except for me. Upon seating myself, I had noticed a bottle of Asahi Black sitting on the shelf, and being rather partial to dark beer, I ordered a bottle of it instead. Not that there’s anything wrong with sake, it’s just not something I prefer. I’m sure that in some way this was likely rude, as part of the exchange of communication and ideas when being invited out for a drink, particularly in Japan, is the sharing of similar items. Everyone drinking hot sake symbolizes the cohesiveness of the group, and it also makes the cultural actions of pouring each others drink all the more accessible. Pouring for the other person is a sign of respect, and part of a “dance”, one might say, that plays out through the course of the meeting. In some way, I denied them of this, and I’m quite certain that it did not go unnoticed.

While Dan and the pianist chatted, Koji and I had a short conversation about the differences between city types and rural types. We agreed that manners are much more prevalent in the rural areas than they are in the urban areas. Even in Japan, people are much more friendly in the smaller, slower areas than they are in the large metropolitan areas. Once again, I managed to turn the topic of discussion to “omoiyari” and Koji explained how it is losing its influence in the cities and yet still very foundational in the rural life. The conversation took its twists and turns, especially when Koji realized he did not have his Japanese-English dictionary and was unable to articulate some of his thoughts, but never veered too far off the topic of manners and “omoiyari.”

About an hour later, after a couple more rounds of sake for them, my one bottle of beer, and a few snacks along the way, our chatter came to a close, as it was time for Dan and I to head back to the hotel. Not that we were bound by any sort of curfew, but more that we had an early morning ahead of us. Koji and his friend walked us out and sent us off with hugs and laughter.

When we reached the hotel, I stood out front looking up and down the street. I expressed to Dan just how much I was going to miss it all. Yanaka, Django, Koji, Kyoko, and all the others, they are all a part of something so much bigger than just a simple visit. They made my trip worthwhile, and with two days remaining, a deep feeling, almost like homesickness, was beginning to sink into my heart.

Even though I plan to return, I couldn’t help but wonder, would I ever see these people again?

For pictures, click here.

Today’s itinerary held a full day in Ryogoku. Ryogoku is the home to the Ryogoku Kokugikan, the stadium where three of Japan’s six annual Sumo tournaments take place. Behind the stadium sits the Edo-Tokyo Museum, a large multi-storied building which showcases much of Tokyo’s history from its beginnings and through to the mid-1900s.

Upon arriving at Ryogoku Station, we walked the short distance over to the Ryogoku Kokugikan Sumo stadium and got in line for tickets to the days matches. Rather than sit through the matches between the lower tier rikishi for the better part of the morning and afternoon, Dr. Munson felt it would be better to get our tickets and then return for the more exciting evening matches. Getting the tickets turned out to be an exercise in accounting. The tickets themselves were originally ¥3600 per person, but we were given a group discount at ¥3250. However, after putting all of our money together, we somehow came up short and in the process of trying to account for everyones payment, ended up paying ¥4000 per person. This left a few people more than a little pissed off, as it seemed as though a couple people did not pay.

After that debacle we walked next door to the Edo-Tokyo Museum. This time the ticket process went quite smoothly and within a few moments we were beyond the front desk and on our way into the heart of the museum. In the center of the floor of the main thoroughfare was a large map showing the layout of Tokyo during its time as Edo with lighter lines marking areas of the bay which have since been reclaimed for development. It seems as though Tokyo and many of the areas to the south and east owe a lot of their modern existence to the development of reclaimed land.

Six floors up, in the main exhibition area, the building opens up into what seems like a large re-creation of Edo. Before entering the main exhibition, you must cross a full scale reproduction of Nihonbashi, the bridge which served as the beginning of Edo’s Central Business District. On the other side of the bridge were many small scale models of Edo period structures and scenes. Around the walls were collections of documents, letters, plans, and sketches by various people living throughout the Edo period. There were even a few handwritten letters belonging to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate and the man responsible for the birth of Edo as a viable city. Around the corner was a section which showed the various steps in the woodblock printing process. Although I knew it was an involved art-form, I found myself amazed at how many blocks it took to make one print. Nearing the end of the Edo side of the museum was a full scale re-creation a Kabuki theatre. Coincidentally, it just so happened that the scene being depicted came from the same show we had taken in the night prior. Our seats the night before had been so high in the theatre that it was difficult to see the actors full dress and make-up and this up close re-creation was a nice chance to see the detail in both.

The Tokyo side of the museum held replicas of the many buildings which were built after the infusion of Western influences. There was a fairly large section which held many pieces recovered from the wreckage resulting from the fire bombings of WWII. Unaware of the scope of the destruction unleashed upon Tokyo during that time, one demonstration in particular, which showed all of the areas of Tokyo which were firebombed during the war, sickened me greatly. Afterwards, I wandered around the museum, picked up a few odds and ends at the gift shop and grabbed a bite to eat. A short while later I met back up with the group and headed over to the Sumo stadium.

Honestly, I would have never imagined myself saying this, but I thoroughly enjoyed Sumo. Once you get past the sizing up and showcasing which precedes each match, the actual match is rather exciting. It doesn’t last very long, and can sometimes be nothing more than a shove or a flip, but it really is interesting to see which one of these hulking beasts of men are going to come out standing. The fact that these men look fat and wear something resembling a diaper thong means absolutely nothing when you see them go head to head, hear them collide, and realize that they could knock your head clean off your shoulders with a simple backhand. Watching the fans yell the names of their favorites, and then throw their mats when the Japanese rikishi beats the Mongolian Yokozuna, I realized that Japanese people love their Sumo, and they love it even more when one of their own wins. I’m not a huge sports nut, but this may be something that I will be paying more attention to in the future.

After making our way through the sea of people leaving the stadium and finding our way to the train, we all parted ways and I quickly found a bite to eat before heading over to Django. Tuesday nights, Django hosts a jam session of sorts. This Tuesday night I got to meet a few of the guys who were playing for Kyoko a few nights prior. One of them in particular, the drummer, Shigehito, or Shige for short, sat with me at the bar and talked for a bit. A very nice fellow, Shige, 33, plays and teaches drums professionally. We chatted about my major, and some of our various interests. Although both of us had a minimal grasp of the other’s language, we managed to get by quite well. It’s always interesting meeting new people, and being the talkative type that I am, I usually have no problem striking up a conversation with someone, even if they aren’t native English speakers. After Shige and the other band members left, Koji and I chatted for a few moments, had a couple drinks, and soon after I headed back to the hotel.

For pictures, click here. 

Today, following a morning which consisted of a little extra sleep and a bit more journaling, we made an early afternoon trip to Ginza, Tokyo’s original and still booming Central Business District, for some sightseeing and late evening Kabuki theatre.

Ginza is most well known for the designer shops which line Chuo-dori, the main street which runs through the Ginza shopping district. Names like Chanel, Burberry, Prada, and Gucci are commonplace along this main artery. At the intersection of Chuo-dori and Harumi-dori, the “main” intersection of Chuo-dori, were various flashy buildings. On one corner was a Jumbotron screen playing various advertisements in between the latest Japanese music videos. On another corner there was a large cylinder shaped building beside which there was a giant Casio sports watch. On yet another corner was a Nissan showroom which was showcasing their Nissan Skyline GT-R35 and their latest concept car, the Pivo2. Continuing down the street, I ran into store after store of designer clothes and accessories. After walking around and snapping pictures of names the likes of which will likely never adorn this modest frame, I decided, along with some of the others in my small group, to step inside of the Prada store. Picking up a small bag no bigger than a baseball, I was greeted with a price tag of ¥30,000. Worried that I might get my grubby fingerprints on such a pricey item, I sat it back on the table and left before my bull-in-a-china-shop ways got the best of me. Rather than continue to walk in shops full of things I knew I couldn’t afford, I continued my picture snapping as I walked up and down the sidewalks. One place I couldn’t pass up, however, was the Apple Store. With five stories of Apple goodness staring down at me, I couldn’t resist.

After walking around for a bit, my stomach began speaking to me, so I took a turn down one of the many side streets in search of something to silence it’s subtle rumblings. After searching for quite some time, I finally managed to find a small ramen bar and ordered a hot bowl of Chashumen. Following the Chashumen, I finished off my meal with a cold glass of Sapporo. I find that I really enjoy walking into the small shops just to see how well I fare when ordering in Japanese (or whatever language I’m speaking at the time). It’s a bit of a personal challenge to see how much I can order without having to resort to the ol’ “point and grunt.” Occasionally I fail, but usually I manage quite well.

Following the meal, I headed back out to the main drag. After walking around for a few, I was approached by a little elderly lady. With shoulder length grey hair and a slight stoop to her walk, her appearance denoted a woman who wasn’t far into her 70s. She caught my eye as I was walking by and looked at me as if she wanted to say something. As our eyes met, I slowed my pace and came up beside her. I said “konbanwa” (good evening), and waited for her to speak. She hesitated for quite some time, and as I was beginning turn and walk away, she finally managed to speak.”Help me,” she said. Slowly, I said, “nani” (what, or why). After a minute of struggling, she said, “money.” I was shaken, quite to the core. Not out of inexperience, as this was something to which I had grown quite accustomed during my time in China and Cambodia. No, my shock came from the fact that in all of my readings and instruction, I had come to believe that Japanese do not beg. Begging is shameful and does not happen. Some may have stories or know of instances where it may have happened to them during their travels in Japan but, by and large, it just is not commonplace.

Well, I wish I could say that I helped her. I wish I could say that I did something for her. The truth is, I did nothing. I didn’t know what to do. Perhaps it was the hardening which occurred from being constantly accosted during my previous travels. All I remember thinking was, “Huh?” I managed to say I’m sorry, and as I turned to walk away, I heard a tiny voice say “gomenasai,” which is the formal way of saying “I’m sorry” in Japanese. It wasn’t until I had walked away that the entire concept of begging in Japan crossed my mind. For this woman to stop a foreigner on the street in one of the biggest, busiest, and glitziest parts of Tokyo meant that she was likely serious. She needed help, and I did nothing. After walking twenty or thirty yards, I turned around hoping I would see her. I did not. To be honest, I don’t know what I would have done if I had seen her. I’d like to think I would have turned around and walked back to her with something to offer. However, I was so caught up in the shock of the situation that I didn’t know what to do. Why didn’t I try chatting with this woman like I did so many other people that I met? I could have taken her to get something to eat. I could have simply given her money. I could have done something. Instead, I choked, and did absolutely nothing. That short five minute exchange still bugs me, even now. Not because of what I did but, like so many things in my life, because of what I didn’t do.

After that, I wandered down the street somewhat absorbed into my own thoughts about what had just happened. I ran into a large portion of our group standing at a crosswalk and followed them the rest of the way to the Kabuki theatre. Kabuki was an interesting affair and, had my Japanese langauge skills been up to snuff, it would have been quite enjoyable. However, with the entire production being performed in Japanese, and an old style at that, my understanding of the story was dependent upon context and acting alone. The theatre did offer a small listening device which gave information about the story in English. However, after hearing from the instructor that on previous trips it had been distracting to some, I opted to forgo the option and enjoy the performance unhindered. It proved to be quite interesting and worth checking out once my Japanese language skills improve.

When Kabuki ended, the day too came to an end, as most of us returned to the hotel to finish up our journals and get some rest. Had it been another night, I would have likely been at Django. However, Koji had informed me the night before that Django was not open on Mondays. So, taking advantage of the early night, I packed it in early and got a couple extra hours of sleep.

For pictures, click here.