Issue 24 - adjustment
A possibly weekly email about what's been going on in my brain
30 April - 6 May 2023
Now that my trip is over I can say things that I didn't dare say during it for fear of karmic retribution, like: wow was I flipping healthy these last three months. I not only didn't catch The 'Rona, but had no colds, stomach upsets or really any ailments apart from sore legs from so much walking. I would estimate part of my vitality was the vegetable heavy diet, but probably more due to the mask mandate that was only eased halfway in, and even then didn't really take hold until the final few weeks. By then I was more likely to see an unmasked foreign tourist than a masked one which was disappointing, but not unexpected. But I'm going to try and keep up the diet at least right? I'll let you know after this bacon and sausage sandwich.
This newsletter issue feels a little like the part of the movie where the protagonist has been saved but then there's actually more to go - think Castaway or Room. Did you sign up for the introspection that comes afterwards?
Tokyo (part 2)
Harajuku
On my penultimate full day in Tokyo I visited Harajuku which is not only a teenage fashion nexus but also home to the lovely Meiji Jingu ensconced in a forest oasis between Shinjuku and Shibuya. The walk around the shrine and surrounding area is wonderfully peaceful and I also played paparazzi to the Shinto wedding procession that was taking place. Takeshita Dori, the main shopping strip of Harajuku was, as you would expect for a Saturday, absolutely stacked and my futile efforts to find a lunch spot were met only with long lines, even at 11:30.
Having visited Harajuku before, what surprised me most was just how... corporate it's become. Gone is the quaint cottage-like station, now a bland concrete and glass block, but along with it the impromptu cat-walk / meeting place for quirky and alternative fashionistas. Now a lot of the stores are upmarket designer brands rather than weird and wonderful independents, even down the narrow backstreets. I am desperately fashion challenged so this transformation doesn't directly affect me, but I found the experience a little like a nascent Ginza, a none too positive change in my book.
Ueno
My final day in Tokyo and I cut through Ueno park and spent a few hours wandering around the Tokyo National Museum; given the grey and muggy weather it was best spent indoors. The museum was one of the first places I visited when I first arrived in Japan in September 2006 so there was a wistful symmetry to my return on my last day. As well as a fantastic collection of historical Japanese art, there is an exhibit on traditionally made swords and a full wing on Asian art from places I'd never really considered before like Vietnam, Thailand, and Cambodia (then Khmer). As it was the Sunday before Golden Week it was busy, which meant a worrisome number of people who didn't know basic museum etiquette like the patient footsies needed to navigate displays without blocking others, or respecting the "quiet please" signage. The permanent exhibits were superb, but the special exhibition on Tofukuji was worthwhile for the breadth of art - scrolls, calligraphy, folding screens etc. - that has come out of that particular Kyoto temple.
It perhaps wasn't the big blowout that some end up doing on their last day in Tokyo, but for me it was a peaceful and fitting end to my time in the city.
Odds and ends
Of the places I've written about this and last week, there were a few that I visited that didn't warrant a full section of their own.
First was Ginza which I visited immediately after Jinbocho and is about as polar opposite to that area as you could get. A collection of gargantuan department stores, arcologies of consumerism that immediately triggered my flight or freeze response. I'm not someone who buys a lot of things, so wandering around the white marble effect floors, flourescent lighting and curated displays of Expensive Trinkets was like being dragged across sandpaper. A mecca for some perhaps, I about-faced from Ginza very shortly after arriving.
Next was Shibuya which is more or less right next door to Shinjuku and is where I had a food tour from the same company as my one in Osaka. I didn't spend an awful lot of time in Shibuya proper but it felt like a more presentable Shinjuku: just as much bustle but far less seediness. As for the food, we started with wagyu grilled right at our table, then sushi in one of the stores owned by Kiyoshi Kimura - famous for paying the most for tuna at auction - followed by okonomiyaki again fried at our table, and finished off by doriyaki. Like in Osaka, the food was superb, the group though was a mixed bag.
The list of sights I wanted to see in Tokyo had an entry in it that just said "Big Gundam": an almost 20 metre light-up statue located in Odaiba. I dropped by after seeing the Accidentally Wes Anderson exhibit, however as Odaiba is exposed to Tokyo Bay the rain was accompanied by a blowing gale. Navigating between the many entertainment complexes, I pulled my coat tight, snapped some phone pictures and then quickly departed. I didn't even stay to see it light up.
Asakusa and Sensouji were (like Ueno) some of the first places I visited on my inaugural trip to Japan, so they hold sentimental value for me. Sensouji is well worth visiting even if you are templed-out; however it is the oldest and most popular temple in Tokyo so has the foot traffic consummate with that. Asakusa area is a lovely part of Tokyo and pleasant to stroll around to appreciate the older town feel of the city.
Ikebukuro felt like a more human-scale Ginza, with Sunshine City replacing the towering department stores and shops like Junkudo instead of Gucci and Bvlgari.
Shinagawa's Musashi Koyama was where I picked up most of the souvenirs for my friends; Japan's covered shopping arcades are great specifically because they eschew big glitzy stores (partly due to size limitations) so allow smaller, specialist shops to flourish.
Journey home
I don't have any issues with international flights - it's everything surrounding them that I take umbrage with. The longest part of my journey - Tokyo Haneda to London Heathrow - was scheduled to be longer than my outbound flight by almost two hours. With the Russian invasion of Ukraine we no longer flew west, instead heading east over Alaska, Greenland, and Iceland. Unlike my outbound flight though, we left on time after an airport taxi with a driver filled with sighs collected me from my hotel and made a smooth track across an early morning Tokyo. I was levied with a luggage surcharge, something I was used to for the domestic flights but not internationally, especially as I was technically allowed two checked in bags that cumulatively could be heavier than my one bag; I wasn't about to repack or start an argument at four in the morning so winced at the cost, grimaced at the absurdity, and continued on.
I had paid for an identical exit row seat to my outbound flight which, in retrospect, has significant downsides. Sure you get all the leg room you could want, and not having to disturb your neighbours every time you want to stare bleary-eyed into the toilet mirror is a plus; but the exit row is also where the toilets are, so throughout the almost 15 hour flight you get a procession of people walking past you, hanging around, and generally being a bother, to say nothing of their propensity to walk clumsily into my legs when passing, robbing me of the benefit of all that leg room.
But there were no incidents, no screaming children or adults, and despite the disappointing lack of mask-wearing onboard, I came through unqueasy and (thus far) unblighted by the usual plane maladies.
Then there was Heathrow Terminal 5.
As a re-introduction to Britain this was about as coarse as it could get. My joy at hearing English quickly ebbed as I heard some choice insults hurled in anger (the C word within an hour!). "Unattended luggage will be removed and destroyed" was an oft repeated announcement, not exactly the attitude I was used to from the prior three months. I was scheduled for a two-ish hour layover, but that turned into over four hours as the Heathrow to Manchester flight was delayed first by an absent gate then by everyone trying to fit their wheeled luggage into the overhead bins.
But the trains were still running when I landed in Manchester, and despite a buttock-clenchingly long wait for my luggage I made my connection through Manchester Picadilly and on to Sheffield. The train may have thrown me around, and ten minutes outside of any urban area phone signal disappeared (compare this to me checking Twitter in the middle of nowhere a couple of weeks ago), but it got me ever closer to my destination. A taxi journey later and I was home, finally, twenty seven hours or eighty six days since I set off.
Reacclimating
Sure Heathrow T5 slapped me with re-entry shock, but things evened out when I got home right? Well, arriving at 10:30pm meant if I wanted to sleep at all I couldn't immediately make myself a cup of tea. But the one the next morning was glorious. On the topic of sleep, I sang the praises of Timeshifter for sorting my jet lag out outbound, inbound however was less successful. Despite following its recommendation on exposure to sunlight, it wanted an absurd 11 hours of sleep on the flight. I managed six and that's being charitable with my timekeeping. The result is a less than ideal situation where my sleep schedule is almost back to normal but my other rhythms (food, creativity etc.) are all over the shop.
It has surprised me how quickly I've slotted back into my daily life though. I don't miss the concentration of people or the constant travelling (I have seen enough of the metros of different cities), I do miss the sense of safety and possibility though. I remarked to one of my good friends that I think I've done and seen enough "things" for a while, I'm all out of energy for doing, you know, "things".
The question that nags me though is that on the grand and imaginary scales of my holiday, did I do enough? Did I visit the "right" places so that when someone asks if I did X I can tell them I did, or that I knew of it but chose not to. It's a silly thought because it has no logical end and places my enjoyment in the hands of an observer. A few people have asked me what my favourite place was and I really don't know. It feels a bit like asking which diamond is your favourite, they're all diamonds at the end of the day.
Someone also asked me if I ever used one of the fancy toilets. I grinned and told them that I didn't use anything but fancy toilets, and boy do I miss them. I looked at importing one after my last visit and while possible, with all the motors and pumps and jets and heaters, when something inevitably went awry there wouldn't be the servicing and support network like there would be in Japan.
Which is all a long and winding way of saying: I'm okay. My compartmentalising brain will unpack things in its own time, but for now I haven't been subsumed by a wave of sadness like I somewhat expected.
Links and things
- The "baseline" scene in Bladerunner 2049 was written by Ryan Gosling - a really fascinating look at the implications of one particular aspect of the movie and what it's based on
- The Backrooms - starting as "creepypasta" on the infamous 4chan, this video series is superbly unsettling and it's no wonder that it's been optioned for a film
- A playthrough of Elevated Dread - the Backrooms videos reminded me of watching this playthrough of indie game Elevated Dread that is likewise deeply disconcerting without being out-and-out scary
- Confinement - the theme tune of the creepy commercial in Elevated Dread is an "SCP" (a collaborative writing wiki focusing on weird science fiction) which when I searched for the original led me to this fan-animated series that tries to mimic edgey western "adult" cartoons, but is charming in its own way
- Are you lonely?
- Tokyo Station ticket area during Golden Week - there's a reason I came back when I did (money, but also Golden Week)
This was hand-crafted by John.