Pieces of Japan: Day 2 - Frozen

20th December 2009
Tokyo, Japan

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Shibuya: Down Love Hotel Hill

 Living out of Suitcases

Down Love Hotel Hill

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Odaiba (Day): Remnants of the Fall

Washington Ariake Hotel - Of Service and Value

Room with a View

Brown, nothing but a sea of brown of varying shades and textures; lighter and darker shades, smoother and rougher textures beckoned us from across the street.

Often read about and seen in pictures, but never experienced first-hand, we just couldn't resist wanting to explore the little patch of brown that we had seen as we were on the monorail.

Nothing but trees and leaves, and the casual Sunday-dog-walkers were probably giving us weird glares as they saw our amazement and constant photo-snapping, at what was, perhaps to them, nothing more than just trees and leaves, an everyday sight.

But if they knew our story and if they knew our origin, then perhaps they would be able to relate to our wonderment to something so simple - the very sight of seeing brown leaves, and the thought of considering ourselves lucky to fall between the cracks of the seasons and to be able to catch the remnants of fall on our supposed Winter Escape.

The Fallen

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Ginza: Paupers on Privilege Street

Human Traffic: the only Traffic on Sunday

Heat flowed through my mouth as I took a big and deep bite into it, part of me wanting to savour the refreshing bout of warmth, but part of me also reminding myself to hurry to the next bite, as it would only get colder with each bite I took, and fast - much faster than I wanted. 

This, or rather these, was lunch. Doing our rounds at the food level of the major departmental stores we saw along the way, picking up whatever we fancied, and then heading out to the seats along the street to enjoy, or perhaps consume them - considering the highly ephemeral nature of said enjoyment, amounting from the chill of the winds and how fast it turned the food cold.

It was a Sunday on Ginza, and routinely, the major road had been blocked off for the afternoon to allow locals and tourists alike to parade down the street lined with names such as Burberry and Shiseido (which in this instance, was a confectionary) and whatnot.

Chairs lined the middle of the road, and we found comfort in these for the times that we could not find anywhere suitable for us to take a breather and just fill our stomachs with the food in hand. Ever so often, we were the focus of the local glances and the occasional stare, harbouring a tinge of negativity as I continued to nimble on my croquettes, and cakes and the like.

Little did I know (and only to find out later) that it was actually disapproving to be seen eating out in the public in general in the eyes of the Japanese.

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Odaiba (Night): Frozen

It was warm inside, and my body was still adjusting to the much-needed warmth. It had been a long night - perhaps not so much in measured in terms of time, but definitely when measured in terms of experiences, or rather, hardship.

Every second out in the cold was a battle in itself. Each time the chilly wind blew, sending a running chill through my joints, (particularly my knees, as they were the least shielded), it took an increasingly great effort to grit my teeth and hold my ground, trying all sorts of methods - the rubbing of hands, the shuddering of shoulders, or a little hop-about-on-the-spot dance to try to garner warmth, all in the name of trying to take in the bay-side sights for that little while longer.

Odaiba's bay-side night scene was as beautiful as I remembered it to be, with the multi-coloured Rainbow Bridge setting the main piece of the backdrop, but this time coupled with a specially Diamond-lit Tokyo Tower adding to the colours and the flavour. The ripples on the bay resonating according to the strength of the wind, as the colourfully-lit boats in a distance sailed along the bay regardless.

Not Pictured: Crazy Shivering

Yet, the luxury of simply standing there to garner the sights was not one that we could afford, as one thing that we learnt on our journey was that: where there's water, there's bound to be wind; and that simply means making it unbearingly cold.

But we were in a safe refuge now, as we probably felt that we had bore enough of the cold and garnered enough of the sights for the night, and all we wanted to do know was to hunt for a place to eat, but for some reason were side-tracked along the way by the distracting lights and sounds of the nearby arcade.

Japanese was boomed continuously from the speakers, and naturally we didn't understand a single word that was said, but it didn't matter, as we were already familiar with the process - only that it had been probably too long since I stepped into one of these, and definitely a first with her.

A timer suddenly showed up on screen without warning and I hurried pulled her to my side just a second before a camera snapshot was heard from the speakers. We were frozen in time as we were, and then the timer started again, as we adjusted ourselves for the next.

It's rather ironic that for something so common, we had to come all the way to Japan to do it together after a good 2 years. And yet, something made this experience feel so familiar and yet so different at the same time.

On one hand, it was reliving a part of me that used to be an everyday thing, and yet, on another, it felt so fresh and so different being in the same booth with her, in a foreign country. Perhaps in that little booth, it shouldn't have mattered where we were, and yet, somehow, it did.

As the sticker-photos dropped from the slot after they were fully printed, I looked at her as she picked them up and held it in her hands, looking hard at it and shifting her gaze slowly across each and every individual shot lovingly.

I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the head, as she looked up at me with a sparkle in her eyes.

Ironic, how the simplest thing that we had done all day was perhaps the most emotionally profound.

Venus Fort

- Photo Album @ 20th Dec 09 -

Spur

The "3" was obviously missing and that made a whole lot of difference.

Suddenly, all that I propragated evaporated before my very eyes when I realised that I had been imagining the "3" all this while.

Paradigm shift. 

The difference between "31" and "1" made an extremely big difference. Checking and double-checking made me realise that it was now or never.

Hesitantly, I made the booking, knowing that I only had 4 days to plan my itinery. Day after day since then, I woke up with second thoughts, wondering if I made the right choice, wondering if I should go ahead with it, wondering if I should be putting the money to refurnishing my room, or finally landing the PS3 (especially when it is just inches within my reach financially, after 2.5 years).

Is it worth it to exit my comfort zone, to be thrown into the midst of adventure once again, navigating a foreign land and hardly speaking the foreign language? Perhaps it is a little too soon, perhaps I don't need it; but yet, to pass on the chance to return to the beautiful Land of the Rising Sun to garner new sights and accumulate new experiences on a free ticket provides an all-too-tempting counter-argument.

And so, here I am, 4 hours away from my second trip to Japan in 2 months, with fragments of the previous holiday still deeply etched into my memory, and yet, going for another vacation that, some would argue, I don't actually need.

Anxiety almost suffocating me as I attempt to grasp the uncertainty and unfamiliarity that I am about to put myself in again.

Was it too rushed? Where will I stay? Will I manage alone? What will go wrong this time?

Thoughts upon thoughts flood my head as I sit here thinking, playing out the worrying scenarios in my head, and yet, ambivalently, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation to the adventure that awaits.

"Free-spirited" is a word that I like to be associated with. Images of me picturing myself travelling on my own with a backpack to unknown and unfamiliar destinations in my own time have been haunting my dreams and thoughts since I was 10 years younger.

"One day, one day," were the words I told myself then, but with time, that "one day" only grew further and further away, growing fainter and fainter, as school, work and the busy schedules slowly engulfed it.

And now, by a stroke a (mis)fortune and circumstance, here I am at the brink of rekindling a forgotten thought, to live a forgotten dream - if only for a week.

Deep Breath.

- Leap of Faith -

Pieces of Japan: Day 1 - Journey to the West

19th December 2009

Tokyo, Japan

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Narita Airport: First Light, First Sights

First Light

Narita Express: Journey to the West

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Shinjuku: The Taste of Familiarity

The west-side of Tokyo was home to 3 major lifestyle districts of Tokyo City; from the neon-lit streets of the Kabukicho-Cho in Shinjuku, to the Fashion district of Shibuya,  to the famous weekend cos-play-filled streets of Harajuku.

Familiar teritory for sure, as I had already trodden on this west-side path the last time I was in Tokyo, and sought to play more of a guide to my companion this time around. But things in Japan change so fast, and there is always something new to see.

Alighting at Shinjuku station, we caught a glimpse of the district by day, before the vices and sin set in with the setting of the sun. It was just another Saturday afternoon in Shinjuku, and provided a relatively quiet start to our trip.

Walking past a black and white signboard, I felt the unspeakable urge to lead my companion in for some  authentic Japanese sushi. The customary greeting before taking our seats, our cover was immediately broken when we started ordering. By it was the end that counted, as we still managed to get the dishes we wanted.

Sashimi Platter

Grabbing a slice between the chopsticks and dipping it in the Japanese Soy Sauce, I raised the piece of fresh Sashimi to my mouth, letting it slide gently across my tongue and down my throat. Such freshness, such authenticity, such texture, such... familiarity.

Looks like some things didn't really change over the last 2 years.

Hidden between an alleyway, red gates led to a traditional Japanese shrine, said to be particular auspicious for businesses, legitimate or otherwise. It was strangely ironic to find a holy place just a few streets away from the Red Light District just down the road, but perhaps it's where the sinners are that the saints are needed.

More than the irony, what resounded more with me was the sense of calm that came upon me as we made our way through the gates just to take a look at a rather conventional but characteristical shrine. The ability to simply stop along the way and walk into an alley to explore served as a very good reminder that we were on vacation, and we had all the time in the world.

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Harajuku: First Christmas

The marker in my hand touched the card on the table, as I struggled to scribble something down, the sounds of the crowd overwhelmingly drowning out the squeaks that came from the writing.

Said to be the first time Christmas was officially decorated and celebrated in Tokyo, faces upon faces had come to bathe in the atmosphere, rending a normally peaceful afternoon in Harajuku littered with cos-players utterly unrecognizable as I felt hundreds upon hundreds of faces giving me a quick glance of curiosity as they passed on by while I continued to write.

The streets within the network of alley-ways were mostly left unscathed by this episode, but out on the main road, it was nothing but crowds and chaos - an orderly kind of chaos at least.

"Ok darling, I'm done." I said to her, handing her the card.

She joyously hopped over to the tree, where hundreds of other wishes were hanging, and circled it looking for a good spot. Finding a spot she was satisfied with, she brought the card up and started tying it to the tree, hoping to join the other hundreds in a journey of well-wishing and fulfillment.

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Shibuya / Shinjuku: Looking for Love 

Christmas Hachiko

The rolling of the wheels was the only constant sound that broke the silence that fell between us. Across the crossing, through the crowd and now up the hill. The silence was natural, as at a time of fatigue as such, it would probably be better to conserve the energy and not waste it whining about how strained our arms were or how sore our feet were from all the dragging and walking.

The strain in the arms came from dragging a good 20-kg luggage each for a good 30-minutes across the Shibuya district and enduring the stares of numerous onlookers. They say that a million people cross the Shibuya Crossing a day, and it sure felt like it - from the crowd that we had to push through and swerve around to get to our destination.

Shibuya Crossing

The soreness of the feet was simply the toll the day's accumulated mileage - and on this particular day, we clocked too many. Partially from the intended destinations, but also partially from the better part of the evening spent in trying to recee for a abode for the night.

We had come into the first night wanting to try something a bit more crazy and a bit more wild in the form of staying at one of Japan's notorious Love Hotels, mostly for the sake of the novelty. But as with these shady places, unlike normal hotels, reservations are not allowed and they only open for booking for an entire night after a certain time.

From Shibuya to Shinjuku before deciding to settle for Shibuya, we finally withdrew our luggages from the locker from Shinjuku and decided to drag them out to the Love Hotel Hill at Shibuya to settle for the night.

Kabuki-cho at Shinjuku

We arrived at the entrance of one of our earlier short-listed candidates panting, as I told her to stay put and take a breather while I went in to get us a room. A slight sign of relief came over her anguished face was the last thing that I saw before turning around and entering the Love Hotel.

We had short-listed a few candidates based on the look of the rooms and of course, the price - since we were on a bit of a budget. As I entered the Love Hotel and made my way to the counter where the friendlier-than-the-rest lady receptionist was waiting, I had forgotten that I had to go to the machine to select a room first before making any form of payment.

So I made a quick turn to the picture board that depicted all the rooms and displayed their availability. To my horror, none of the rooms were lit, and it was only a mere 15-minutes after the "book for the night" check-in time of 11pm.

Easily deciphering the disappointment from her face as I told her, I decided to try the next on our list, and yet, it was the same old song and dance, again and again and again, with each of the chosen; except that the song drew more moody with each candidate crossed off and the dance got more and more frantic; as we approached the state of panic from not being to be able to find a room to stay in for the night with our insanely heavy baggages and to shelter us from the bitter cold.

She grew increasingly visibly distressed as we moved from door to door, while I tried to keep up a brave and optimistic front as we were turned down with each entry. Little did we know and expect that the locals would be so eager to get some lovin' on a Saturday night, and taking up almost every single one of the better rooms - must have been a holiday season thing.

We came to the top of the hill with only the last 3 possibilities left; none of which were on our initial list of consideration. By then, we were very much fatigued, a little frustrated, but much more so flustered.

Hearing her deep pants as we dragged the suitcases up the steep incline, I turned to her and told her to stay put with the luggages while I took a run up to try to grab on to our last glimmer of hope. After what was probably the longest 20-minutes for her over the course of the day, I came back with the results, hearing a sigh of relief from under her breath as I delivered the news to her.

Sonic-Boom Bed at R-25

Grabbing 1 of the last 2 rooms at R-25, the second-last Love Hotel up on the hill. It was hardly our ideal choice in terms of design based on our initial recee. But with a decent price and more importantly, considering the state of our broken bodies and weary souls; the saying "Beggars can't be Choosers" never rang more true, and we sure felt knew which side of that statement we were on. 

- Photo Album @ 19th Dec 09 -

108

31st December 2009

She took quaint little steps up the stairs as all eyes were on her. Holding the handrail, taking one step at the time, she was unable to go any faster due to the dark blue robe that hung till her knees. The crowd waited patiently in silence as she reached the top of the staircase and took a bow. Making a right turn, she grabbed the wooden log that hung overhead and with all might, reclined her arms and held that position.

Her face white as snow and her expression deeply concealed behind that thick white mask, but a moment of anguish resonated through the crowd, as we looked on while one of her size held her position just beyond a second.

A sudden force and a forceful release saw the log flying forward with an immense velocity, as it struck the huge chunk of metal an unexpectedly loud gong rang throughout the still night air, filling the entire vicinity with the soothing sound of the bell, as the crowd cheered on while she took modest little steps down the stairs.

The Japanese believe that ringing the temple bell 108 times helps to quell the 108 Earthly Desires as defined in Buddhist doctrine. While hardly a believer of the intent, it was hard to deny that there was something oddly Zen and soothing about listening to the sound of the bell ringing through the cold winter air, inducing a slightly hypnotizing effect on me, as my mind started to wander.

I could hear some Japanese being spoken in the background, announcing the name and bell number, as a man dressed in a business-suit took brisk steps up the staircase and took a bow just as the lady before. The only words processed by my wandering mind and subpar Japanese was the number "24".

A gong as loud as the previous was heard shortly after that, and as the sound of the ringing bell was carried across the temple grounds, so did my mind wander further and further into the cold, winter night...

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24...

A small light flickered away, and slowly, it grew stronger and brighter. A sudden sensation ran along my cheeks as I felt something warm and slightly moist making contact.

I burped as I felt a familiar taste of cream and beef running through my insides before being emitted from my nostrils. I raised my hand to my mouth, and uttered a quick "Excuse me."

She just looked at me and smiled, as she ran her thumb along my index finger.

"Happy 2 Year Anniversary Darling," she said to me, with a look of bliss and happiness.

Indeed, it was the 24th month, and a rightful celebration over some of the finest pasta that I've had at Garibaldi. And it was definitely a cause for celebration, as we had indeed came a long way, from an experimental relationship of exploration, to one that is an unexpected balance of bliss, excitement and comfort - and indeed, there was no better way to celebrate "us" then the activity that defined us most.

"Happy Anniversary Darling," I said to her, looking deep into her eyes and stared right through her into the future.

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I felt a weight on my shoulder as I turned my head to see her head leaning on my shoulder.

"Tired Darling?" I asked her, and was met with an expected nod.

I looked at my watch. "12.45 a.m."

Quite expected for her to be tired at this time, considering the pattern that we've developed over the trip.

"62" was the number that I could pick up with my level of Japanese, as a grey-haired man in a business-suit made his way up the stairs and rang a rather weak gong with the bell.

I stared into the flames of the bonfire before me as my mind started to drift off with the dying sound of the bell again.

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62...

Still slightly groggy from just waking up from a deep sleep not too long ago, I stared at the top panel of the lift as I saw the numbers flash.

"5...6...7", the lift jerked and the doors open.

I stepped out of the lift and walked down the familiar hallway, the monotony of the white-washed walls broken up by the occasional glass window made up the perimeter of the building; in fact, the entire campus had that consistent look.

It was hard to imagine the comfort of which I have slipped into my thrice-a-week routine, doing the same thing almost mechanically.

In Bon Jovi's words, "It's all the same, only the names will change." But the "names" in this case definitely give the "same" a lot more meaning, as the human touch adds a lot more to a task that could otherwise be mechanical and monotonous.

Surprisingly nonetheless, as looking back to the time of graduation, I remember telling myself (and those around me) that, "I want to stray the furthest away from teaching as possible" when it came to career choices, and yet, life's irony always has a way of getting back at you.

But more ironic than the circumstance however, is perhaps the consequence - which oddly has its own gratification and fulfilment in and of itself.

I took a deep breath as I reached for the door handle and opened the door the last time before the term break.

"Good morning", I said, for the 62nd time.

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"You want to go, darling? If you're tired, we can just leave now," I said to her, looking at the obvious signs of fatigue on her countenance.

She shook her head in a semi-autistic manner. She always displayed such queer signs when she was tired and still trying to be obstinate. Her eyelids blinked heavily as she tried to watch on.

Number 72 was another lady that had her face painted white, but this time clad in a dark red Kimono. From her posture and her movements, one could tell that she was older than the first, perhaps in her 60s or 70s.

She swung the wooden log back as far as she could, and thrust it forward with almost all her body weight.

The log didn't hit the bell squarely, and as a result, the gong was hardly as loud as it should have been.

I looked up at the full moon hanging in the cloudless sky as the sound of the bell rang off into the distance.

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72...

I looked at the moon on screen, as I tried to move my mouse to shift the man a little to the right, to align it closer to the centre.

My eyelids were extremely heavy as I felt the bodily fatigue sinking deeply into my body and perhaps my soul as well. It had been too long since I last had a proper sleep, 72 hours in fact, since I had slept anything more than 4-hours.

All physical indicators were steering me towards getting into a horizontal position on the bed just a few steps away, but my mind kept reminding itself of the necessity of staying awake and finishing the job. The weight and the responsibility suddenly felt so heavy, too heavy for one man to bear, and yet, that was the feeling that I experienced almost once every 2 months, every time that we were rushing for something or meeting some deadline.

The "Crazy-24" as I've come to call it, happened a bit too often, where the 24-hours before the submission would have me glued to my seat at a frantic multi-tasking pace and clearing and coordinating tasks one after another.

"5:22 a.m." read the bottom right of my screen, as I placed my chin on my hand, willing myself to persevere.

"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts" has never resounded more untruly, as the act of juggling between 2 part-time jobs definitely weighed more than that of 1 whole one.

It has been too long since I last slept, and even longer since I had a proper weekend.

My sight grew blurrier and blurrier as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. I sat upright and shook myself out of it, etching a single word in my mind.

"Passion."

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I was quite amazed at her determination and that she managed to persevere for so long as the 99th person made his way down the stairs.

The 100th saw another suit-clad business man taking to the stairs, and repeating the procedure like the 99 before him.

One at the time, we had reached the 3-digit mark and almost set out what we said to do before we came for the trip, to survive all 108.

The 100th bell tolled as its familiar sound filled the temple grounds once more.

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100...

We stood outside the restaurant, flipping away at the menu, looking at the tantalising pictures of the gastronomical possibilities that awaited us within.

I glanced to the right column, noticing the little numbers and totalling them at the back of my head.

My hand subconsciously reached the tip of my back-pocket as I thought about the amount that I had. Yet, there was no real need, with only a budget of 100 bucks to spare a week; it's not hard to figure out where every single cent went to.

And yet, this was the life that I had gotten used to over the last 4 months, one of frugality and conscientiousness, one that was calculative and projected.

The human heart and mind are extremely malleable things, and it's funny how when you are in abundance, wants becomes needs; but when you are stripped to the bone, you learn to see wants for what they are and form justifications to dispel them.

I was tired of feeling this way, and too often over the past few months, did I question if it was all really worth it? Can one really live on passion? Or is it time to give up on the dreams and ideals and "grow up"?

We walked away from the restaurant towards the direction of the familiar yellow "M" further down the mall, as I uttered under my breath, "just a little while longer."

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108

The last one for the night, and naturally, year, stepped up to the podium to the sounds of loud cheers, louder than most before him except the exceptional one of two extremely popular ones. Like the others, he made his way up the stairs, took a bow and grabbed the log with both hands.

As he swung the log back, I took a moment to think - to think about the desires; not so much as to quell them, as with the meaning behind the ringing of the bells, but more as to the desires I might have for the year ahead.

Instinctively, thoughts came rushing into my mind, decisions to be made, goals to be achieved, places to be visited, things to be bought - all came flooding in during that split-second.

But as much as the New Year is a time for resolutions, I believe than more so, it is a time for memories and remembrance.

And as the last bell sounded, images of the year flashed by in my mind - laughing with the students, crying on the floor, anger at the table, opening that door; aromatic smells that lingered, and spices on the tongue, singing to the music, counting meteors one-by-one.

As the sound of the final bell died down, I turned to her and smiled gently.

"Let's go." I said, as I grabbed her hand and we walked off into the new decade.