TOKYO TALES III

Long, long before we left for Japan, there was one thing that we were fixated on - Tsukiji, Japan's oldest, biggest and iconic fish market and the tuna auction in the early hours of the morning. This is where the world's biggest Bluefin tuna are sold to the highest bidder and it was in January this year that a record sale of over $6,00,00 was made for a single Bluefin tuna! 

 

We had even worked out a schedule of sorts to have an early night on one particular day so as to be able to make it to the tuna auction. 'Homo proponit, sed Deus disponit', remember the school days proverb of man proposes and god......that happened to us. Included in the welcome kit awaiting us in the hotel room was this very loud and clear notice that the tuna auction was strictly out of bounds for tourists, who could however visit the market after 10 am. That was some blow. 

 

There was also the tacit warning that Tsukiji being a highly busy place, tourists should not get in the way of business. I got a taste of it even before we entered the main block. A go cart type of a trolley was being driven by three guys who seemed to be more involved in their own conversation and not watching where they were going. As they were heading closer, unsure of what to do I stopped walking and stood still. That was a major mistake. Suddenly there was a bit of hollering in Japanese from all across and like a rabbit on the run, I dashed across to the nearest safe corner while the three whizzed past. 

Why the time stipulation for visitors was clear after we got there. The wholesale dealing appeared to be over and there was more packing up for the day than display. But that was more than made up by the retails stores and above all, the eateries. There were also sections where the packing up process was halfway. The eyes and mind boggled on marine creatures that one had never seen, heard of and is unlikely to see again. The lanes lined with eateries and produce stores were packed. It became a game to single out those with long queues of foreign tourists to guess in which international travel magazine it had been listed! There was sensory overload every which way especially the presentation and taste, from the simple to the supreme, from subtle to sublime. And the range of colours was something else altogether. 

 

Tsukiji shows its age especially in comparison to its swanky neighbour Ginza and the skyscrapers that surround it. Its history is interesting. Tsukiji translates into 'constructed land' and it is, the land having been claimed from the Tokyo Bay area after the 1657 Great Fire of Meireki devastated Edo or Old Tokyo. According to the official site of the market, it used to be a quiet region housing only shrines and homes for Samurai  families. Today the Namiyoke Inari Jinja shrine is right next to the fish market and is viewed as the guardian of Tsukiji. Namiyoke means 'protection from the waves'. How the fish market took birth is another story of interest. The 1923 Great Kanto earthquake destroyed much of central Tokyo including the Nihombashi fish market, which was then relocated to Tsukiji and operations began in 1935. Some of the buildings, it says are more than 80 years and that the owners usually live on the upper floors. There have been talks of relocating and reconstruction. Whatever be it, I agree with the site's claim that, 'it is and it will be the best marketplace for customers to buy fresh seafood, vegetables and Japanese traditional food materials'.  

 

 

 

  

      

 

 

 

 

 

After the hustle and bustle of a fish market, the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden is more than poetry, serene and stunningly beautiful. A feeling of total tranquility envelops one. It is in the English garden section that from end March hundreds of cherry trees blossom. Now its every possible shade of greenery with the russets seeping in. With endless rolling lawns and walking paths that weave in and out and bridges that are reflected in still waters. The garden is said to have been originally a feudal lord's Tokyo residence during the Edo period which started in the early 17th century. Imagine! It's next avatar was that of a botanical garden. Then apparently in the early 20th century it was transferred to the Imperial family and finally in 1940 it became a public park. And thank god for that!


Shinjuku is a marvel. The garden has four sections - English Landscape; French Formal; the exquisitely beautiful Japanese Traditional compete with tea house and Haha to Ko no Mori  or the Mother and Child Forest. Not surprisingly there were many young mothers and children, infants to toddlers having quiet cuddly moments or energetic running around games with much laughter. For a price and with prior booking, one can participate in the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. Twelve years ago I had done that and at the causing annoyance, especially to die hard lovers of the ceremony, I have to admit that while I loved the whole ceremony and dutifully abided by every rule, the jarring bitterness of the tea, particularly after eating two small dry sweets- one pink and one white- almost had me screaming for life. May be it was the clash of two extreme taste or whatever, but I couldn't wait for it all to be over. It was an experience I was not going to repeat and thankfully on the day we visited the tea house was shut. Tada! With so much beauty around right down to the brightly coloured koi in the water bodies, missing the tea ceremony is not a loss.       

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the frenzy of a fish market to sublime soothing scenery and then we did an about turn and sashayed to the Shibuya Crossing. Of course, we didn't sashay but couldn't help overdoing the alliteration overkill! The Shibuya crossing is said to be the busiest intersection in the world and it is certainly some sight. Located outside Shibuya Station, the crossing is a huge spread with giant zebra crossings marked systematically. At first glance when you see people converging from every side - remember the lights go red in all corners simultaneously - it looks like a loose assembly of endless people heading for a bump in somewhere or the other. But amazingly it works out like a synchronised number. How do I know? Because I crossed it from all directions and not once did I have to go sorry or excuse me. During weekends it is said more than a thousand people cross at a time. Whew! We had been told to head to Starbucks, 2nd floor at the Tsutaya building on the north side for the best overview of the crossing. Well guess what? Everyone seemed to have been told the same thing and there went my plan to hang around till nighttime and watch the Shibuya show.   

To make up for it we sought out the Spanish Hill (Supein-zaka) in Shibuya. There are two versions as to why it is so called. One is that it resembles a typical street in Spain and second and the one more flouted about is that it is so called because of its similarity to Rome's famous Spanish Steps or Piazza di Spagna. Some major optical deficiency here. And the verdict? Hmmm. Lets leave it at that.

 

 

 

 

For me Shibuya was not so much about the busiest crossing or the Spanish Hill or the fashionistas, for me it meant not just seeing but touching the bronze statue of Hachiko. If you have seen the British-American movie starring Richard Gere and sobbed heart-brokenly throughout it despite the change of location and culture, you know what I mean. For those not clued in, Hachiko was this Akita dog whose loyalty to his owner, a professor, was so profound that after his owner died, for nine years he continued to wait patiently near near the Shibuya train station for his return. Apparently he used to see his owner off to work every morning at the Shibuya train station and turn up every evening on time to meet him there on his return from work and walk home together. Hachiko died near the Shibuya train station in 1935. His bronze statue keeps the legend and the love alive.

  

   

 

TOKYO TALES II

You shut your eyes, you open your eyes. Yes, she's still there. Very much so.  If you see the Statue of Liberty in Tokyo, you are not hallucinating. She lords over the Tokyo Bay.  The smaller replica of the US Liberty lady made her first appearance in the Year of the French in end 1990s. Presumably she was supposed to be a temporary guest, but popular demand turned her into a permanent fixture.  Beyond her lies the Rainbow Bridge and for some reason I feel she should have completely dwarfed it. A niggling feeling, something like when you are a guest at someone's house and an askew picture on the wall drives you nuts with the itch to straighten it.  Then I realise that the Liberty lady in USA is responsible for the distorted visionary perception; you feel that all ladies holding torches aloft should be humongous!

Thankfully, after the heavy rains the previous days, it a blue sky, sunny-ish day.  The bay spreads all over and makes a pretty picture; the lady framed against a background of blue skies, blue waters, the Rainbow Bridge and some tall and towering buildings. Unfortunately, the earlier heavy rains have resulted in a gusty windy hangover and all sailing trips are suspended. Compensation comes in the form a candy store nearby.    

Looking at the Liberty lady and what lies beyond her, it was hard to imagine that even in the 1850s Japan was one of the most isolated nations in the world. The hundreds of miles of water surrounding her physically isolated her, even from Asia, and the ruling Shoguns fought every bit of the way to keep her that way. Today I feel it is one of the most tourist friendly country. Whether you speak Japanese or not is irrelevant as is the colour of your skin or your passport cover. 

 

 

 

As we looked down from the Tokyo Tower Main Observatory, the city could have looked like any super developed urban space, but for the open spread right below, dotted with quintessential Oriental sloping slate roofed structures and lots of landscaped greenery. Behind the biggest structure lies a graveyard, neat and well tended to. It is the Zojoji Temple, the head of the Jodo (Pure Land) section of Japanese Buddhism.  Our friend, Masakazu Maeda San, who is graciously accompanying us for the day, tells us that is centuries old. Later Google God tells me that the original temple was built in 1393 and shifted to the present location in  1598, which means it is nearly 420 years old! But sadly, again as per Google God, that most of the current buildings are reconstructions barring the main gate, the Sangedatsumon which survived many fires, earthquakes and wars and dates from 1622. It must have been some Herculean task to rebuild the damaged temple over and over again. Is it any surprise that 'Gaman' a Japanese world of Zen Buddhist origin, connotes patience, endurance, perseverance, tolerance, self-control and self-denial. Somethings so intrinsic to Japan and Japanese.  Insert two letters, h and d to read Ghamand and you have the Hindi word for arrogance!   

At one section of the Observatory deck there is lots of excitement. Apparently some clouds have rolled by to reveal Mount Fujiyama. I convince myself that the flat top rise is the volcano that the Japanese revere so much. It is at its base that the Japanese gathers in hundreds and thousands to witness the sunrise on the first day of every year. As we move on there is a niche on the right side, a small prayer house. I don't know which Kami (deity)it was dedicated to but I dutifully followed the three-step instruction on the board that prescribed 'The Praying Etiquette' - bow twice deeply, clap your hands twice and bow once more and found all eyes on me. Clearly I was the only one to follow the prescribed etiquette. Well, what else do you expect a lady to do when it is a matter of etiquette?

  

The main gate of the Zojoji temple is stately as usual and so is the entire complex. But what is unique is the long stretch to the right of the main temple with rows of cemented small statues of children, each with red crochet hat and red bib with colourful windmill fronting them. These are 'the care guardian deities of children.' To quote verbatim,' they are dedicate for the safety growth of children and grandchildren, as well as for the memorial service of still birth or miscarried children'. The red hats are to keep their heads warm. That made me shiver. Children are supposed to be running around, playing and having a whale of a time and not represented by cold cement figurines whatever the overload of bright red props. That and the red and white Japanese Eiffel version of Tokyo Tower soaring up behind the main temple and, straight up in the distance from the cemented children deities made a strange picture. The very old, the very new, centuries old faiths and the communications and observation tower, Tokyo Tower all coming together. Looking at the tower, standing among the cemented children deities in an ancient temple complex, I momentarily thought that maybe that was the way to make it come full circle - the earth, the sky, the dead and the living.  If that was not enough, there was a group of nine kids- I did a head count- being escorted around the temple complex by two teachers. I would really like to know  what they were told about the children deities in red crochet hats.

 

 

 

 

The husband and I had been differing a little on going to Asakusa. I had been trying to convince him that he simply couldn't give a go by. But he felt that going to see one more shrine made no sense, even if it was Sensoji shrine, one of the oldest in Japan. All my spiels that beyond it lay an older, quieter and above all, less touristy section of Tokyo  didn't seem to sway him. After the Zojoji temple visit, our friend Maeda San said and now to Asakusa and that was that. Men!

Sensoji shrine is a mixed bag because of the throng of tourists and locals. Built in 628 (yes three digits only) it is an imposing shrine literally towering with five pagodas and almost flamboyant with the typical orange-red colour usually associated with oriental holy places. That was my first tourist destination in 2005 and the rush of people on a hot July afternoon had become tiring after sometime. There is no lessening of the intensity this time too, it is packed to the gills. The very touristy facet is also evident right at the road leading to the temple packed with souvenir shops and eateries. That however, cannot in anyway subtract from the beauty of the temple complex, especially the little secluded corners with statues of Buddha and presumably religious symbols. There are the usual youngsters attired in traditional garbs looking for the right backgrounds for their photo shoots. Soon the buzz is infectious and putting aside the cynical tourist persona, we get caught up in the washing rituals and offering prayers. Besides, there was Unagi lunch to look forward to and explore the more charming side of Asakusa and its neighbourhood.  

 

  

 

 

  

The charming side that I really want to check out was Kappabashi Dori, at the corner of Asakusa. Kappabashi is better known as the Kitchen Town and anything and everything related to the kitchen is available in multiple varieties, right down to life like plastic food. I didn't want much; I just wanted a Japanese knife. And I found one. What impressed me more than the amazing display, the layout, the mind boggling variety or anything else was the inscrutable expression of the the two gents manning the store. There wasn't any expression of any kind whatsoever, not even a fleeting one. Again nothing when our friend Maeda San introduced us as guests from India; they just bowed. For one moment I was quiet tempted to pick a knife randomly and walk out without paying just to see if there would be any reaction from them. Also very impressive was the way one them held a white sheet of paper and sliced it with the knife silently and in much less time than the blink of an eye. No expression again. 

Kappabashi and its surrounding area is an interesting blend of commerce and some residence. That was, I think, the only place where I saw electric wires strung in a, what I thought, rather unsystematic manner for Japan. It made me feel good for some reason. For those into cooking and kitchen wares, Kappabashi can be both delightful and vexing. The first because you can go crazy in sheer delight and the latter because you know you have to be very very selective and you just keep on dithering. You finally pick a few pieces and barely five minutes later, you feel maybe it was the wrong choice and you should have gone for something else! Just maddening. Never mind, the knife will make up for it.

Have you ever walked the streets with a largish knife in your bag? Try it. For no rhyme or reason I wanted to tell the world about it!