Adieu Tokyo

A small garden in the Todoroki Ravine Park 

Breakfast at my hotel in Ueno. I had the pancake for this morning's repast:

As I wrote in the previous post there are very few must-see sights or things to do remaining for me in Tōkyō 東京. Instead, feeling as natsukashii 懐かしい as I was the day before I set off to seek out yet another old residence of mine. This one was located in Setagaya Ward 世田谷区, or to narrow it down, in the Kaminoge 上野毛 area. The station there had been rebuilt in 2011, 17 years after I'd moved out. Designed by none other than Tadao Andō 安藤忠雄, it bears little resemblance to the unremarkable little station I used to use on an almost daily basis. Further evidence that neighborhoods get better once I'm gone:

"Tax the Rich". An idea I could get behind were I eligible to vote in Japan. This is a poster for a candidate from the Japanese Communist Party 日本共産党. The city I moved to from Kaminoge was Komae 狛江市. During the time I lived there Komae was under the authoritarian thumb of a Communist mayor. All private property was seized by the city, and anyone who objected was shipped off to a gulag. Fortunately he was ousted in a bloodless coup in 2012 and Komae is now safely back in the hands of the Establishment:

My old アパート. I used to live in the ground level unit. It was the first apartment where I lived alone, sans roommates, and I loved it. It was a standard 1K, meaning there was a six-tatami mat room, as well as a small kitchen and a UB (Unit Bath - toilet and bathtub/shower in the same room). The building was already 20 or so years old at the time I moved in, meaning it must be approaching sixty years of age, but it still looks habitable. Over time I made my rabbit hutch more comfortable, buying a bookcase and covering the tatami mats with carpeting. The final step was having an air conditioner installed - until then I had somehow managed to make it through several hot and humid Japanese summers with nothing more than an electric fan to keep me cool (and only an electric blanket and a space heater for the chilly winters). 

Two things kept me living there instead of moving upscale. One was location - the neighborhood was very nice, with the Tama River 多摩川 being a relatively short walk away and convenient train connections to Jiyūgaoka 自由が丘 and Shibuya 渋谷. There was even an art museum with an attractive garden about eight minutes away on foot that I would occasionally visit. Setagaya itself is probably the most comfortable of Tōkyō's 23 wards due to its greenery and quiet suburban feel.

The other factor was cost. During a period when Tōkyō's property prices were still extremely high as a result of the asset price bubble I was only paying ¥63,000 in rent, just $630 or so at that time. Now, thanks to the weak yen, that rent would only be around $400 USD!:

The other reason for revisiting old haunts was to see the Todoroki-keikoku 等々力渓谷 again. Tōkyō's sole remaining natural ravine (or valley, or gorge,depending on the translation), I would go there from time to time (only a 17-minute walk or one station away from Kaminoge) for a brief respite from Tōkyō's concrete jungle. It was rarely busy, and some Japanese people I asked had never even heard of it, even though they lived not too far away. I don't recall ever seeing another Westerner there whenever I visited. The trail begins at the Golf Bridge ゴルフ橋:

 

However, I began to notice a distressing trend beginning two or three years ago. Those dreaded foreign influencers and content creators started to post about Todoroki-keikoku, applying the kiss of death - a "hidden gem" located "off the beaten path". I had to see for myself if things had changed as a result. On a drizzly Friday morning there was only a handful of visitors walking along the Yazawa River. However, half of them were people who looked like me, and there was even one older gaijin couple being led about by a local guide, as if the ravine was in a remote location and the only way to find it was to utilize insider knowledge, instead of being a short walk from Todoroki Station 等々力駅.

At least the gorge wasn't overrun with visitors, Japanese or otherwise. It remains a pleasant walk (especially when the climate is more cooperative). The valley is home to some horizontal kofun 古墳 (ancient burial tombs) dating from the late Kofun 古墳時代 to Nara 奈良時代periods: 

How a kofun looked back in the day...:

...versus what you can see today. There are some kofun in the Kinki region 近畿地方 that are larger in volume than even the Egyptian pyramids, though this clearly wasn't one of them. The practice died out (no pun intended) with the introduction of Buddhism to Japan in the 6th century CE, leading to cremation becoming the preferred method of dealing with the dead:

The Fudō Falls 不動滝 are/were used for takigyō 滝行, an ancient spiritual and physical discipline practice where participants stand directly beneath a cold, cascading waterfall. I've never actually seen anyone engaging in this practice here:

The grandiosely-named Todoroki Japanese Gardens 等々力渓谷内日本庭園 is actually just a small, though pleasant garden:

At the top of a short staircase leading away from the ravine is the main grounds of the Todoroki Fudōson Temple 等々力不動尊. There were only a few visitors here, but again about half of them were gaijin like me:

Time brings changes and I need to keep up with them, as does the Todoroki 等々力 area itself (I once considered moving into an apartment not far from the southern end of the ravine), though I hope it remains the quiet neighborhood that I remember from decades gone by. But int the meantime I had places to go and people to see, so I moved on and back to Ikebukuro 池袋. Outside the east side of the station I saw this "Taiwanese Castella" shop. Castella カステラ is a Japanese honey sponge cake, though it was introduced in Nagasaki 長崎 in the 16th century by Portuguese missionaries and traders. It would've been interesting to sample the Taiwanese take on this treat...:

...but I had a lunch date with another old friend, this time at an okonomiyaki お好み焼き restaurant: 

I've known Aviva for 36 years, dating back to when we both teaching (and in her case, training) at ECC, one of the largest Eikaiwa 英会話 school chains in Japan (and one of the few to survive the down years of the late 1990s when the Japanese economy stagnated after the asset bubble had burst). The last time we had met was in June of 2023, when my daughter joined us for lunch (also in Ikebukuro). I'm happy to report that she is still her cheerful, outgoing self and I hope that never changes:

After a brief return to my hotel in Ueno 上野 for a short rest, social gadfly that I am I was out and about again, this time to meet another old EEC friend for dinner in Yūrakuchō 有楽町. While waiting for Wes, I snapped this photo of a small Shintō shrine 神社 located opposite the izakaya 居酒屋 where he had made a reservation:

Located under the train tracks, Andy's Shin Hinomoto 新日の基 was a great call by Wes. I was not satisfied with the photo of the exterior of Andy's that I took so I've "borrowed" this one:

https://www.timeout.com/tokyo/bars-and-pubs/shin-hinomoto

Andy's is a long-running establishment in the Yūrakuchō area, with origins stretching back to 1946 from what I could find on the Internet. Andy, the current owner, is a native of England who married into the family and took over the helm from his father-in-law. The grub was great, especially the seafood, and the lively atmosphere as the place soon filled up at the end of the working day was conducive to a great evening of catching up:

As I noted above Wes is another friend from my Tōkyō English teaching days. Looking back at our last crossing of paths, it was also three years ago, in the evening after having had lunch with Aviva earlier in the day. History repeats itself, though this time Amber couldn't join us:

 

My last full day in Japan found me once again in Shibuya, a district I used to know very well through work and personal connections, but which has been undergoing a massive redevelopment project in recent years that has eradicated several once-familiar buildings:

Hachikō ハチ公 is still there, of course, but as the curmudgeon in me likes to remind people, back in my day if you wanted a photo with the mutt you just walked up to it and had someone take your picture, without any need to wait in a queue:

Nonbei Yokochō のんべい横丁, a small district of around 40 largely intimate bars and izakayas that dates back to 1950. I think I may have drunk at one of the establishments back in the day, but the good friend of mine who took me there knew one of the bar owners and was a regular at her place. Nowadays, of course, the vibe is very different thanks to a clientele that's much more diverse. And it turns out I'd returned to Nonbei Yokochō in the company of my wife and daughter in the winter of 2024:

The reason I was in Shibuya was to meet up with yet another friend, this time at a Turkish restaurant called Kebab Chefs ケバブシェフス渋谷:

I've known Doug for around 25 years, when the two of us were studying Japanese at a school in Okazaki City 岡崎市, in Aichi Prefecture 愛知県. After lunch we took a long stroll, first from Shibuya to Harajuku 原宿, and from there around Yoyogi Park 代々木公園, stopping at one point for a coffee and ice cream break:

And if you think you've detected a pattern you would be correct. Yes, it'd been three years since our last get together, and, yes, Amber was present as well:

Touching base these past few days with Doug, Wes, Aviva and Jun (see the most previous post) was the best way to finish up what had been yet another enjoyable visit to Japan. But as they supposedly say in France Rien de dure; soon it was time to wrap things up in Tōkyō and *sigh* prepare to return to China. With a relatively early morning flight the next day, I had booked a room in a hotel at Haneda Airport 羽田空港. Before checking in there I had my final dinner at the airport, a karaage から揚げ set to go with a 生ビール:

As I was able to access the Hotel Villa Fontaine Grand Haneda Airport ホテルヴィラフォンテーヌグランド羽田空港 directly from Terminal 3 I couldn't see how large of a building it was. The length of the corridor on my floor provided a clue, however:

Sunrise on the final morning as seen from my room:

My plane took the scenic route from the terminal to the runway. Kawasaki's 川崎 industrial complex could be seen off in the distance:

じゃまた:

And so another journey in Japan is in the books, this one significant in that I reached my goal of visiting all 47 of the country's prefectures. This one was particularly enjoyable thanks to the opportunities I had to see old friends again. But now this era of good feelings has to come to end. For one reason I'm back at work in Guangzhou 广州. And for another I've chosen to end this post (and the series it covered) with a rant. Read on...

My final thoughts are concerned with seeing so many foreign travelers (yes, myself included) during the time I was in Japan. To give some background, I lived for ten years in Tōkyō starting in 1989; spent three months studying in Okazaki; stayed one month in Matsumoto 松本; and finally resided with Shu-E for 17 months in Yokkaichi 四日市. Since 2006 every year I made a solo trip to Japan from Taiwan before joing the Foreign Service in 2012, and have returned to the country nine times since then (not including this most recent visit), most of them with my wife and/or daughter. That's 37 years in total for those of you playing at home. Prior to Covid I could travel outside of the larger cities for long stretches and not see a single Westerner (except perhaps the local AET). However, this time I was surprised at how many fellow gaijin I came across in Kakunodate 角館 and Towada-ko 十和田湖, and would continue to see until I returned to Tōkyō (and the latter of course being swarmed with tourists from all over the world). I've long been aware of these so-called "hidden gems off the beaten path" (news flash: they're neither) from decades of reading guidebooks and talking with Japanese people, but how did these visitors learn of the OiraseValley 奥入瀬渓流, Goshikinuma 五色沼 orAizu-Wakamatsu 会津若松? 

I put the blame on Instagram and, even worse, content creators. Doug pointed out the reasons for why gaijin end up in Japan have changed over the years. In the late 1980s people traveled to Japan because that was where the money and the future were both perceived to be (similar to how China is thought of these days by some naive folks); or, like me, they were genuinely interested in the country's culture and history (lengthy side note: in college I took several classes in Japanese history and cultural anthropology as part of my East Asian Studies minor; in the introductory session of one history class the professor showed slides of the neighborhood in Kōbe 神戸 where he lived while he was teaching at a university. Instead of traditional gardens or elegant women wearing kimono, there were photos of drab danchi 団地 housing blocks, as well as my favorite, that of a giant bowling pin with female breasts standing atop a bowling alley. This upset a few of the students because even then some people had definite fantasies as to how Japan should appear). At the language school in Okazaki many of my Western classmates were inspired by anime アニメ and manga 漫画 to study 日本語 (looking back on my childhood I did watch Speed Racer and all those kaijū 怪獣 movies, so perhaps my muses weren't all that different). Today it seems to be primarily so-called influencers on social media.

Has overtourism become an issue in Japan? A lot of Japanese (including my friend Jun) think that's the case. The same social media that drives so many foreigners to visit the country is also replete with videos of non-Japanese acting boorishly, or at the very least not behaving according to local customs. To be honest I didn't witness any terrible behavior on this trip, though I did silently reproach some tourists with backpacks and suitcases trying to board crowded trains at the tail end of the morning rush hour. But the sheer number of non-Japanese in places like Shibuya is overwhelming at times. 

There is a small upside to all this. By virtue of saying a few words in Japanese when checking into my accommodations (especially the more traditional kinds) or ordering in restaurants I would invariably be the recipient of praise for my linguistic dexterity, which to be honest was a much-needed ego boost. Rather than demonstrating my (limited) fluency, however, the constant choruses of 上手ですね more likely reflected the linguistic limitations of the vast majority of my fellow gaijin travelers. 

So what does this all mean? Nothing, really. As much as I would like to separate myself (and be seen to be separate) from the pack, I'm still a tourist, a non-resident stopping in every now and then to see a few sights and eat some food (and spend some money) before going home or moving on elsewhere. There's little I can do vis-à-vis the millions of other foreigners except to keep traveling to less well-known destinations, speak Japanese as much as I can and try to follow all the cultural and social norms. Even back in the day I was conscious of being the good gaijin, especially when it came to living in an apartment after being turned down many times for not being Japanse. I didn’t always succeed but I tried my best to remain aware.

Yes, I have my own personal bucket list of things to cross off when it comes to Japan, but I’m not looking for that Instagram-friendly shot to generate views and promote my lifestyle brand. Nor am I going to make blog posts or YouTube videos on "5 secrets you didn't know about...", complete with a thumbnail showing my shocked face. I just want to continue exploring a land that has meant so much to me over the last few decades. You're more than welcome to come along, though I don't mind doing it on my own, either. 

またね...

*If you couldn't deduce that was sarcastic commentary on the state of political discourse in my homeland, there you're also part of the problem. I hope you enjoyed the midterms! 

 

Japanese stuff. Lots of Japanese stuff...

Tokyo National Museum

Tōkyō 東京. I couldn't believe I was in Tōkyō again. Well, actually I could. After nine days traveling from Kakunodate 角館 to Mito 水戸 via Towada-ko 十和田湖, Sendai 仙台 and Aizu-Wakamatsu 会津若松, I was back in the Japanese capital to close the circle that had begun eleven days before. This time I was staying a short walk from Ueno Station 上野駅. I've been to Ueno on a number of occasions in years past, but this would be the first time for me to sleep in this part of Tōkyō (I usually stow my bags in Ikebukuro 池袋 or Shinjuku新宿 whenever I'm in town, though at my daughter's suggestion the two of us based ourselves in Akihabara 秋葉原 during our extensive visit to Japan three years ago). 

The NOHGA HOTEL UENO TOKYO (no, I didn't accidentally hit the Caps Lock key) ノーガホテル上野東京 is a boutique hotel with a suitably minimalist design, hosting a clientele almost exclusively foreign, and a largely white and middle-aged (like me) one at that, with a sprinkling of families thrown in. Breakfast in the first floor restaurant was a buffet on the upscale side with a main dish ordered at the table. For that first morning I opted for the suitably stylish French toast:

The outdoor lounge on the second floor. A nice spot to enjoy a coffee while pondering what to do that day:

I've been to Tōkyō so often over the years (including the decade I actually resided there) that there are no more "must-see" places to visit nor activities to cross off on a travel bucket list. But that doesn't mean there aren't any old favorites to see again. One such place is the Tokyo National Museum 東京国立博物館, to which I hadn't been in quite some time. As the museum didn't open until 10:30 I took a stroll around Ueno Park 上野公園, the city's central park. A statue of Prince Komatsu Akihito 小松宮彰仁親王, the first president of the Japanese Red Cross Society: 

Kiyomizu Kannon-dō Temple 寛永寺清水観音堂:

The Saigō Takamori Statue 西郷像, a well-known landmark in Ueno Park honoring the samurai 西郷隆盛 who played a key role in the Meiji Restoration 明治維新, only to turn against the new government in an ultimately doomed uprising. Except that according to a book I'm currently reading this may not be the legendary figure after all, but rather one of his brothers who served as the model. Apparently during the time the statue is supposedly depicting Saigō, he had a beard and was rather on the obese side (a far cry from the heroic character based on him and played by Ken Watanabe 渡辺謙 in the historical travesty The Last Samurai). Historical revisionism?:

Ueno Park is famous for its cherry blossoms (and the crowds they attract, as I can attest from first-hand experience), but in early October the trees are bare (much like the plum and cherry trees in Mito's Kairaku-en 偕楽園 when I had visited the previous day):

Masaoka Shiki 正岡子規 was a major literary figure during the Meiji era 明治時代. He was also an avid baseball player who enjoyed playing the game in Ueno Park in the late 1880s:

Ueno Park is home to Tōkyō's highest concentration of museums, such as the National Museum of Nature and Science 国立科学博物館: 

But the museum I had come to experience (again) was the National Museum, home to the world's largest collection of Japanese art. There are four galleries in the complex, but I chose to focus on the Honkan 本館, aka the Japanese Gallery, covering the expanse of Japanese history from the Jōmon Period 縄文時代 (14,000-300 BCE) to the Edo era 江戸時代 (1603-1868), and occasionally beyond, in a building that dates back to 1938:

Warning: I took a lot of photographs while inside the Honkan, only some of which I'm sharing here (you can always scroll down to the part of this post that covers what I did after the museum). Because it would take time to write a description of each object shared below, I took the easier route and have included photos of the labels for almost all of them. Let us begin with these religious figures:

The following is an example of maki-e 蒔絵 or Japanese lacquer decorations:

Samurai stuff:

Examples of Japanese ceramics. Korean potters forcibly brought over to Japan during the Imjin War 文禄・慶長の役 played a major role in the development of this art form:

Noh 能 masks:

A map of the Mishima Post Station 三島宿, one of the 53 stops along the Tōkaidō 東海道, the main route linking Edo 江戸 (Tōkyō) with the Imperial capital of Kyōto 京都:

At one point I stepped out into the museum garden, which is only open during certain times of the year. It had been drizzling the previous evening when I arrived in Ueno from Mito. On this day the sky was gorgeously clear:

Back inside:

The section of the museum where I took the most photos was the one that covered the ancient arts (11,000 BCE to the 7th century CE):: 

I also took a particular interest in the next gallery, which focused on the arrival of Buddhism to Japan in the 6th-8th centuries:

A tiny Zaō Gongen 蔵王権現 (10th-12th centuries) from Mount Ōmine 大峰山, a sacred peak I hiked in 2007: 

One of the more modern items in the museum's collection:

A scene of Korea from when the country was under a brutal Japanese occupation:

I enjoyed the religious paintings and folding screens:

More ceramics...:

...and more weaponry:

If you've made this far in the post you have my respect. I spent around 2½ hours in the Honkan before returning to the real world. The building to my right as I stepped outside was the Hyōkeikan 表慶館. It appeared to be closed which was fine as I hadn't intended on going inside. But as I took a photo of the exterior (the building was completed in 1908). some very important-looking persons emerged from the front door. The man in white (below right) was telling someone near me not to snap any pictures, so I assumed that I was also under that guidance and quickly moved on: 

Some items of interest (at least to me) on the museum grounds:

For lunch I went to the museum's onsite restaurant called THE RESTAURANT, where I had the beef curry set:

Including lunch I was at the Tokyo National Museum for more than three hours. Other than the Honkan, I didn't visit any of the other galleries, though I did go in the Gallery of Hōryū-ji Treasures 法隆寺宝物館 (exhibiting masks, scrolls and Buddhist figures from Hōryū-ji Temple 法隆寺 in Nara Prefecture 奈良県, to which I've been a couple of times) during a visit in the 1990s. Back in Ueno Park I passed this statue of Hideyo Noguchi 野口英世. A childhood injury suffered when he was two years old set off a chain of events that eventually led him into the field of medicine, where he became a noted bacteriologist. His portrait graced the ¥1000 note from 2004 to 2024, though they are still in circulation:

Ameyokochō アメ横町 is a long-standing open-air market located between Ueno and Okachimachi 御徒町駅 Stations. It started as a black market in 1946 but is now a busy tourist site. I went there a couple of times in the past century. It was always bustling, but back then the vast majority of visitors were Japanese. Oh, how times have changed:

There are shops selling fruits and vegetables, seafood, street food, dried goods and spices. But it isn't only food - there are also stalls peddling cosmetics, shoes and fashion. Speaking of the latter, other than American servicemen, who buys these kinds of jackets?:

Feeling nostalgic, I traveled from Ueno to Ikebukuro 池袋駅 on the Yamanote Line 山手線, then changed to a Tōbu Tōjō Line 東武東上線 local train. My purpose was to visit the first place where I lived after my less-than-triumphant arrival in Tōkyō in the winter of 1989 (not counting the first six days where I stayed in a budget minshuku 民宿 near Tamachi Station 田町駅). Kotani House was a "gaijin house", a shared guesthouse meant as a short- or medium-term lodging option for foreigners. This one was located in Toshima Ward 豊島区, a short walk from Shimo-Itabashi Station 下板橋駅. During the four months I stayed there I shared a six-tatami mat room with a rotating cast of varying nationalities, including two women - Keiko-san, the owner, didn't care as long as she had a paying resident. I moved out that June when she announced she was selling the property (this was during Japan's asset price bubble バブル景気), and I heard the house was going to be demolished to make way for a parking lot. There is in fact a small car park occupying the corner but the building next door looked very familiar. It certainly appeared ancient enough and the number of windows indicated multiple rooms inside. Confirmation would lie with the white door on the side - if it opens directly onto a staircase going up to the second floor then it would be the former Kotani House. However I wasn't about to try the door myself uninvited, so I'll probably never know for certain:

Ikefukurō いけふくろう is a famous stone owl statue inside Ikebukuro Station that's been around since the late 80s/early 90s. It's so well-known as an iconic meeting spot that I'd never heard of it until now though I must've walked by it countless times in the past. I had to scout out the location because I would be meeting old friends there this day and the next:

Having seen the first place where I lived in Tōkyō, and with time to kill before my aforementioned appointment at the owl, I ventured over to check out the last place where I lived in the capital, a roughly ten-minute stroll from the east side of Ikebukuro Station. Having been completed in 2012, Tokyo Skytree 東京スカイツリー certainly wasn't off in the distance at the time I departed in the late summer of 1999:

My apartment was on the second floor, but as memories begin to fade I struggle to recall which one it was:

For the duration of my time in Japan on this visit I was able to avoid the siren song of Taiwanese milk teas, despite the presence of Gong cha in several locations. I've unfortunately made up for lost time since returning to Guangzhou 广州:

The east side of Ikebukuro Station, anchored by the Seibu Department Store 西武池袋本店. The Tōbu Department Store 東武百貨店 occupies the west side, while Lumine ルミネ is located near the south and west sides:

That evening at Ikefukuro I met up with Jun, whom I've known for the past 37 years since we got to talking one evening while waiting in the taxi queue in front of Ikebukuro Station. I usually try to get together with him when I'm in Tōkyō, though the last time was around three years ago when Amber came along. We went to an izakaya 居酒屋 on the west side of the station, which became the setting for an evening of good food, good drinks, good conversation and good times, a reminder of happier days of a time gone by: 

But as we grow older, we tend to look back only on the good old days while overlooking or downplaying the negative things that also happened (and there were many, most of them self-inflicted), resulting in a pathetic wallowing in an idealized past. Life in Tōkyō wasn't easy when I was living there, and it was largely through the friendships I made that I was able to survive and move on. 

Do I regret ever leaving? Hell, yeah, I do. But that mourning is tempered by the knowledge that I would eventually emerge from some lean times in Taiwan as the patriarch of a small but wonderful family. Those years in Tōkyō were both the best and worst times of my life. The best in that I had some incredible experiences and met some truly special people (two of whom sadly died too soon, leaving me to ask that eternal question of why am I the one who survived), but also the worst in that I was largely at fault for a failed marriage that left me broke and broken. A big part of myself was left behind when I departed the city and the country, but being able to seize the many opportunities to return, even if only for short periods of time, has helped me soldier on. As long as I'm capable of doing so (financially, geographically and physically), I will continue to visit Japan and its capital city. 

I realize the above paragraph reads as the closing chapter in this series of blog posts on my visit to 日本, but there's still one more to come, so please have a look. I promise it won't involve any further museum visits.

These musicians aren't Japanese (they're Korean and Taiwanese) but the sentiments are there: