A Bit of Yen

You might already know that Japan is a cash-based society, but what do you know about Japan’s cash?

The Japanese yen is only about 145 years old. That’s surprising, isn’t it? It was to me. For a country with a history stretching back so far the origins blend into legend I expected the currency to be at least 150. Unlike the locals, the currency of Japan looks a lot older than it actually is. Until 1871, each province had its own currency, but then the Meiji government introduced the yen. The name was a cognate of the Chinese yuan, and it followed the decimalization of European currencies. Incidentally, the yuan was also a decimal currency that far predated the Western currencies, but there you have it. Each province printing the same currency was a good first step, but the Bank of Japan was formed in 1882 to regulate production and value. So, without any further ado, let’s see what they’ve given us to play with!

Shrapnel. The one- and five-yen coins are great for taking up space in your pockets or coin purse and preventing you from feeding an automated vending machine any denomination it will accept. Use these as quickly as you can to pay with exact change at restaurants or stores because they will add up quickly and when you have too many nobody will talk to you anymore. A self-serving yet altruistic option is to donate any and all of these monetary outcasts at collection boxes near the till in most convenience stores. Causes range from domestic earthquake recovery to food and school supplies for the underprivileged around the world. The staff even say thank you when you unload your bluff money. No, thank you.

It has been scientifically proven that holding a one-yen coin in your hand feels like nothing at all. This dime-sized coin reaches its 1g weight on a diet of aluminum and lies. The obverse has a small tree, while the rear has a large number one above the date of its minting. The dating system used is not Gregorian, but domestic Imperial. Emperor Hirohito’s reign translates to the Shōwa denotation.  This period, ranging from 1926-1989 is represented by Shōwa 1 – 64. The present period is Heisei, which began in 1989. At first, it might seem confusing that Shōwa 64 and Heisei 1 occupy the same year, but the Shōwa era ended seven days into January, so in actuality 1989 is mostly Heisei 1. Onward!

The five-yen coin is the only unit of currency devoid of any Arabic numerals, which might lead you to believe rather correctly that it should be given back to whoever handed it to you in the first place. Nearly four times the weight of the single yen, this brass coin is one of only two to have a hole bored through its center. The face has an ear of rice emerging from water, with a gear around the hole, representing agriculture, fisheries, and industry, staples of the Japanese economy from past through present. The reverse simply tells you the year and country it was minted in, separated by adorable little tree sprouts to rekindle any feelings you had towards the one-yen coin.

With a ten-yen coin in your hand, you can walk with confidence, knowing that any debt or fee just got 10 yen cheaper. Welcome to the world of universally accepted coinage. Bronze is the flavor of this minidisc, and although its only slightly more massive than the fiver, it’s in a different league entirely. The front side depicts the Phoenix Hall of Byōdōin in Uji, one of the most beautiful temples in Japan. So beautiful in fact, that a replica was built in Hawaii’s Valley of the Temples. Pretty cool. The other side has bay laurel leaves embracing the number ten above the year of issue.

This is where things start to get shiny. 50 yen. The only other coin to have a hole in the middle, but in no way should it be confused with its lesser sibling. For one thing, it’s money-colored. Another differentiating feature is the big 5-0 on the back, above the mintage date. The face has chrysanthemums, the flower on the Coat of Arms and Imperial Seal, which is all well and fine, just make sure they’re not in the bouquet you hand the gracious hosts who invited you over for dinner. Speaking of flowers, there’s one perhaps even more inextricably linked to the country. Cherry blossoms! These are found on the 100-yen coin, which is comprised of a copper-nickel alloy, as is the 50-yen. The rear has a simple date and value, short and sweet.

Bringing pecuniary metallurgy to a close we have the world’s most valuable coin in circulation, weighing in at 7g with a nickel-brass compound, the 500-yen granddaddy. The stuff of pirate booty. The reason I want a satchel and how I’d prefer to pay when I purchase my next car. Excuse me, you’ve got paulownia on your face. How many times do you hear that? The 500-yen coin hears that daily. Just as the chrysanthemum is used for the Imperial Seal, the paulownia is used for the Government Seal of Japan. This “princess tree” got its colloquial name because it was planted when a girl was born and used to make a chest on her wedding day. It’s also used in many quintessential Japanese goods such as instruments, clogs, visiting cards, etc. Somewhat peculiar for a coin, the reverse utilizes an anti-counterfeiting latent image in the zeros, as well as micro printing and a unique electric conductivity that vending machines check to make sure you’re not feeding them the similar yet inferior 500-won coin from Korea. Also on the reverse are the date of issue, of course, and a symmetrical motif of bamboo and auspicious citrus. Anyway, a fine, fine coin.

They say you can tell where a country places its values by what images they put on their currency. You will find no superhero eagles, levitating pyramids, politicians, or royalty on Japan’s notes. What you will find, however, are authors and a bacteriologist. The 1,000-yen note celebrates Hideyo Noguchi, whose hair is indisputably awesome. Dr. Noguchi was nominated for the Nobel Prize no less than nine times, and his tireless work most notably furthered the understanding of syphilis. The opposite side of the bill has one of the classic views of Mount Fuji from across Lake Motosu, with cherry blossoms, naturally.

The elusive 2,000-yen note was made for the 26th G8 summit held in Okinawa. The only way you’re likely to set eyes upon one of these is if you exchange your money for yen in your own country. It can be a good conversation starter though, and you’ll find no problems unloading them over here. One distinction is the absence of a bust on the front of this note. Instead, we see Shureimon, a gate to Shuri Castle, a UNESCO site in Okinawa. Perhaps it should be noted that Mount Fuji is a UNESCO site, too. The back of the bill portrays a scene from The Tale of Genji overlaid with an excerpt from the same work beside a portrait of the author, Murasaki Shikibu.

The 5,000-yen note also pays homage to a female author, best known by her pen name, Ichiyō Higuchi. Whereas Lady Murasaki writes from and about the Imperial Court of the Heian Period, Ichiyō Higuchi writes of and amongst destitution and misfortune in a notorious red-light district of Meiji Era Tokyo. Sadly, she passed before she could reach a quarter-century in age. The opposite side shows us a painting of irises, titled just that, by distinguished Rinpa painter Ogata Kōrin.

Last and opposite of least, who is displayed on the 10,000-yen note? Saying Fukuzawa Yukichi was also an author is akin to saying Einstein was also a breather. His list of deeds is truly mindboggling, and I honestly wouldn’t know where to start or how to sum them up appropriately, so I’ll just say one of his many illustrious accomplishments was founding Keio University, one of Japan’s best. The flip side returns us to Heian Uji with a close-up of a phoenix adorning the eponymous hall of Byōdōin, which you may not be surprised to learn is also a UNESCO site.

Well, hopefully that sheds a little light onto what’s being exchanged for goods and services over here. Speaking of, now is a good time to visit, as the yen is currently weak. That said, with an export-driven economy, it’s often a good time to visit because the BOJ does what they can to keep the yen less burly than it might be.

I wanted to share more photographs I’d taken of Japanese cash for illustrative purposes, but Photoshop wouldn’t let me open the files at all. Since they’ve ironically denied me the ability to easily write “sample” on the images in an effort to curb counterfeiting, I’ll share this link to pictures on the Bank of Japan’s website:

https://www.boj.or.jp/en/note_tfjgs/note/valid/issue.htm/#p03

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Positively Stupefied

I clambered up the steep steps of a nearly thousand-year-old temple at sunset to take in the sweeping vistas of thousands more, each unique, together a chorus harkening back to the Pagan Kingdom. This dynasty was created by the Bamar, who emigrated from the Kingdom of Nanzhao in China’s Yunnan Province. They were the first to form an empire resembling modern-day Burma, which takes its name from them, though this is one of the most ethnically diverse regions in the world. Their bygone capital, now called Bagan, held my gaze until all light was wrung from the sky.

We had arrived by boat on the Irrawaddy earlier that afternoon, countless stupas piercing the horizon to announce our approach to grandeur. Excited children with a business acumen dwarfing my own welcomed us onto land. They left me with plenty for dinner and more postcards than people I knew. We got in our car and the kids waved us off as we drove towards the resort. To our delight, each room had a veranda with typically exquisite views of the ancient city. I’d instantly decided coffee would be enjoyed here at sunrise.

Most of the country’s fledgling tourism descends upon this special site, but it is large enough that with either a good guide or initiative you can experience it in near solitude. Riding e-bikes down dirt paths less traveled is a highlight. These shouldn’t be confused with electrically assisted pushbikes since they are essentially electric motorbikes. They have two gear settings, the lower of which needn’t raise anyone’s blood pressure. The appeal, aside from the obvious whee factor, is the absence of smog and noise. You are silently whisked through fresh air past seemingly secret temples, stopping off wherever you fancy. Bliss.

At some point, you’ll likely make your way to the highly revered Ananda Temple. Our guide, a prodigiously well-read local with invaluable insights, explains a clever trick the sculptor pulled in designing one of the Buddha statues within. It’s a symbolic optical illusion in which the face appears to scowl at the traditionally privileged seating area of nobility in the foreground but begins to smile as you move further back, from where it would be observed by those of lower social status. According to legend, the architects were put to death to ensure no other temple could rival its perfect glory. Yikes.

The middle of the day is for lazing poolside or having a long lunch and cold drinks. You must pace yourself, and less is definitely more in the land of temples. In the afternoon, you could take a horse cart, which will either aid your digestion or make you ill. It’s novel and fun for almost five minutes, but I’m partial to inflatable tires and animal-free transport. They look great in pictures though, so I hope someone keeps employing them. At this time, the sun will give your bones a nice tan unless you explore the cavernous depths of some of the larger temples, which are as free from ultraviolet rays as an oven, so bringing a fan is the best idea in town. Totally worth it though, to see the frescoes depicting all stages of life, and young monks dashing hither and thither like fairies.

Why so many children monks? For most families, it’s the only or best way to ensure their child gets food and education. It’s surprising that a country rich in gems and natural resources, enviably situated betwixt the enormous empires of India and China would have one of the widest income gaps on earth, but most of the wealth is hoarded by an elite few with ties to the former military government. Their absolute rule ended less than a decade ago, but the effects are still widespread, with their grip remaining firm around the nation’s purse strings. Academic pursuits were not easily sought under their stewardship, presumably because an ignorant populace was easier to subject. What was once perhaps the most highly educated societies in Southeast Asia was more or less dismantled. There is hope, however, and I see it in my guide, who grew up during these dark times and didn’t let anything hold him back. Just as a plant breaks rock, the driven audacity of youth is hard to suppress.

It’s shocking to think so majestic a spectacle as the myriad temples in Bagan being absent from UNESCO’s list, but this is ostensibly because some of the crude repairs carried out by the former government were deemed to render the site ‘inauthentic’. For a multitude of reasons, you’ll want to visit sooner rather than later and relish in the transient splendor of life.

You’ll likely leave Bagan by plane, and in case you’re wondering, the left side offers the best views.

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Ginza Galleries

With some of the most precious land on the planet, it may come as a surprise that Ginza also enjoys the highest concentration of art galleries in Tokyo—a couple hundred actually—residing in an area less than a square kilometer in size. This shopping mecca is also a veritable treasure trove of cutting-edge architecture, which should enrichen your gallery-hopping nicely.  Some locations are the very embodiment of the Ginza trifecta, such as Maison Hermès and Chanel, with impressive galleries on the 8th and 4th floors, respectively. Others are less bold, but no less significant, hidden in the space between buildings, underground, or several stories above. You likely won’t stumble into many by accident, but finding them is half the fun.

The present photography exhibit at the Chanel Nexus Hall is particularly moving, displaying work by a Venezuelan and French duo who made repeat visits to the no man’s land around the nuclear power plant in Fukushima. The masterful combination of presentation and subject matter is striking.

Akio Nagasawa Gallery currently has an exhibition of drawings and photos by world-renowned and self-taught architect Tadao Ando, illustrating his creative process and inspiration. They also publish special and limited-edition art books, which can be purchased from their online shop.

The BTAP (Beijing Tokyo Art Projects) Gallery claims to have started out as Japan’s first contemporary art space, launching the careers of several prominent Asian artists to global fame, among them Lee Ufan, whose museum on Naoshima, incidentally, was designed by Ando.

Megumi Ogita has two locations, the basement gallery is fairly well advertised with a sandwich board, but the showcase will only be discovered by the truly devout. Either of these compliment BTAP quite well actually, as they represent an amalgamation of Japanese and foreign artists.

Shiseido Gallery states it is the oldest in Tokyo, dating back to 1919, but with the changes of venue and focus, it does not directly contest BTAP’s primary assertion. Located in the basement of Shiseido Parlour, it is one of Ginza’s most cavernous exhibition spaces.

Pola, the cosmetics and fashion behemoth, has the Museum Annex on the third floor of their itchōme building. The revolving exhibitions of extant artists’ work here contrasts with the massive collection of French Impressionists at the Pola Art Museum in Hakone.

A personal favorite is the Okuno building, which dates back to the 30’s and used to be upscale apartments, but is now home to several small galleries showcasing the work of up-and-coming artists. The antique, manually operated lift adds to the whole experience, as does the occasion to meet and chat with the artists themselves.

While technically not in Ginza, the Lixil Showcase and Zeit-Foto Salon are nearby each other and well worth a visit in the adjacent neighborhood of Kyōbashi, just north of the pillar and only remnant of the eponymous bridge.

This is by no means a comprehensive list, just a few prominent choices from the wealth Ginza has to offer. For more information on gallery hours and locations, be sure to check out the gallery guide at: http://www.guide-gallery.jp/

An updated version of this post was featured in Forbes Japan: https://forbesjapan.com/articles/detail/30667/1/1/1

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Second City, First Class

Like Michelin, you relegate Yokohama solely to tires to your own detriment. It’s true that Yokohama Station isn’t trying to win you over—evidently designed by a misanthrope with a soft spot for medieval battle scenes from bad movies—it challenges commuters’ will to live on a daily basis. Do not be fooled by the name of this station, this is not your destination. I’d recommend staying on the train a few more minutes until you reach Sakuragicho or Minatomirai, depending on the line you’ve taken. Once there, get a bike: http://docomo-cycle.jp/yokohama/en/

There are over 40 locations dotted around the city where you can rent and return bay bikes, and Minato Mirai has several of these electric-assist bicycles, which are a fun way of exploring the spacious waterfront. I like zipping over to the Yokohama Museum of Art, designed by the legendary Kenzo Tange and checking out their latest exhibition. I saw Takashi Murakami’s private collection on display there earlier this year and it made my mind explode a little inside my head: http://yokohama.art.museum/eng/

Riding along the Ōoka River is particularly beautiful in spring since it’s lined with cherry trees, but worth doing any time of year if for no other reason than to visit Koganecho, the “Golden Town” with a checkered past. In a way, it’s fitting that famed Akira Kurosawa chose it as a filming location for its ignoble reputation because it is the arts that are largely responsible for cleaning the place up. Now, it’s got a more wholesome, yet distinctly bohemian vibe with many artists in residence, galleries, bookstores, and cafés. Definitely check out the Koganecho Bazaar if you’re around in autumn: http://www.koganecho.net/info/english.html

From there, you can pedal to and park at the Isezaki Mall for a stroll down the 1km-long pedestrian shopping street with restaurants and boutique shops. The area has a unique and authentic atmosphere about it and harkens back to the city’s port town origins. The numerous back alleys come alive in the evenings when you can start to believe that after Tokyo, this is Japan’s most populous city.

If we still have some hours in the day, however, we can return our Bay Bike at Kannai Station and hop on the train for 6 minutes to Negishi, from there a short bus ride will take us to the exquisite Sankei-en, which is populated with national treasures from all over the country. This garden is among the best in the Kanto region, if not all of Japan: http://www.sankeien.or.jp/en-about/

Another 6 minutes on the train from Negishi, is the transfer point for the Seaside Line at Shin-Sugita Station. This will bring you to the island of Hakkei, also known as Sea Paradise. Ordinarily, I’m as much a fan of aquariums as I am of square dancing in Yokohama Station during rush hour, but this is a decent one, with an aquatic tunnel and an impressive viewing area. In fact, it’s one of the largest in Japan. Even so, my main reason for going to this island of “eight views” is not to celebrate the many manifestations of life in the world’s oceans, but to court death in its heavens. Curiously-named “Pleasure Land” has two attractions that are awesome. Surf Coaster LEVIATHAN is good old-fashioned amusement park fun, taking you out over the sea and giving you a couple of yelps and giggles. Recommended. The name Blue Fall is one of life’s great understatements. It is psychologically damaging. When I first saw it I thought it wasn’t real, a joke perhaps. People traveling towards the earth’s surface at speeds that don’t make sense. Like a moth to flame my fascination snuffed out my fear of doom and I was elevated slowly, deliberately towards other planets as my feet dangled in the breeze, completely exposed to an environment that called for wings. The views were spectacular, Fuji at eye level. Yet, this is not maniacal enough, your little beach chair dangling in space, a heartbeat is amplified behind your head for what feels like an eternity before a sinister laugh accompanies the release of your fragile existence, followed by tears and screams as your feet compete with Fuji for facetime and you are certain you shan’t be home for Christmas this year. If you’re still with us, congratulations, you’re heart-attack free for at least another decade. I probably rode it 10 times in rapid succession that first day. It is the best. http://www.seaparadise.co.jp/english/pleasureland.html

At this point, you’ll probably want to head back towards Sakuragicho Station and Minato Mirai, where all the fun began. On weekends, you can take to the skies aboard a whirlybird for sunset or twilight views of the harbor. Having experienced helicopter rides in Aso and Tokyo, I’d say it’s a fair value, starting at ¥9,000 for a 5-minute ride, and going up to ¥15,000 for a 10-minute ride, per person. http://www.skycruise.jp/index.html

Another great way to get around is by hopping on the Sea Bass, which connects Minato Mirai with the Red Brick Warehouses and their chic shops and cafes, or Yamashita Park for romantic walks, or Japan’s largest Chinatown. Departures are roughly every 20 minutes between 10am and 6pm, and it’s about 10 minutes between these destinations, or 30 minutes from Yamashita Park directly back to the starting point of Bay Quarter, near Yokohama Station. https://www.yokohama-cruising.jp/about/seabass/index.html

Nogecho has blocks and blocks of izakaya, and is probably the single best place to start, sustain, or conclude a night out on the town.

So, there you have it, Yokohama, only a half-hour beachwards from Tokyo and well worth a visit!

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Hokkaido Highlights

Most people would be pining for the equator come February, but those brave enough to head further north will find the rewards grossly outweigh any chill factor in Japan’s island of Hokkaido. The sheer novelty of the scenery nearly brings a tear—or icicle—to the eye. For me, the highlights of this winter destination are without question the natural. Red-crowned cranes, Ural owls, ice floes, Steller’s sea eagles, White-tailed eagles, Blackiston’s fish owls, and the odd fox playing peek-a-boo amidst fields swathed in fresh, unadulterated snow. Add to that list some excellent food, innumerous hot springs, some of Japan’s most famous festivals, and you have one fine trip to write home about.

I initially faced my visit to Tsurui with great trepidation. Spending an hour on a bridge spanning a miraculously unfrozen river, from predawn, in minus twenty-degree weather sounded like special recompense for a terrible crime I forgot I committed. I planned to buy every twill and tweed sold on this planet in preparation, perhaps wrap myself in a mattress and set it ablaze. Unfortunately for those who would have benefited from my collateral warmth, I instead decided to get some HEATTECH from Uniqlo, which possesses magical properties, like elven fabric. I slapped a few hokkairo (adhesive heating pads) on the inside of my down jacket and I was plenty warm. Despite value-oriented tech coming to my aid, the internal thermostat is a moot point when the eyes bear witness to the sunrise from this well-chosen spot. The gradual, but visible traverse of night to day perfectly parallels the emotional crossover from fear to awe; I never knew beauty to produce heat as it did in this instance. It was as if a curtain were being pulled back to reveal an exquisitely set opera or kabuki, or as if some greater-dimensional being, perhaps the Sun, were playing with the luminosity and saturation sliders on our moving image. Everyone is dumbstruck, the only audible sounds apart from camera shutters and the squeaky-crunchy compression of snow and ice under the weight of people’s steps as they jockey for new positions is the flapping of wings, from which this bridge gets its name: Otowa-bashi. No one beside me shot less than a thousand pictures that morning. The sun ignites the trees, turning the frost every color of warmth in the visible spectrum, you might think for a moment you’re looking at cherry blossoms, but it’s just refracted starlight, negotiating with the trees on its way to the steaming river teeming with a flock of endangered species dancing around inside it as if they were aware just how awesome they look at that very moment.

Further up the eastern coast of Hokkaido, Rausu is where truly enormous birds reside. Some of the largest presently in existence actually. These are big birds; I can’t stress that enough. The fish they catch are about the size of a man’s arm. A boat takes you a short distance out to sea, frozen fish are flung from the deck, and you try your best to snap a prized picture of these regal raptors as they circle and swoop down to our world. Both Steller’s sea eagles and white-tailed eagles make for a majestic show, but you aren’t yet aware you’re amongst the feathered equivalent of a 747 until the boat makes a slight detour on its return to port and gives you an up-close and personal experience by taking you within a couple of meters of these legendary creatures. Then you realize. Then you realize they could eat you. Luckily, you don’t look like a fish. One could easily cause you grief, a couple could probably take you for a joy ride. What fantastic specimens. In the evening you can hail the town’s single taxi to take you to see the Blakiston’s fish owls at Washi-no-Yado, provided you’ve made a reservation beforehand. http://fishowl-observatory.org/reserve.html

All that wonderful wildlife and nature aside, there are some truly magical festivals taking place in early February, such as the Lake Shikotsu Ice Festival and the Otaru Snow Light Path Festival. The largest, of course, is the Sapporo Snow Festival, with millions coming from around the nation and globe every year to see the best artisans intricately sculpting snow and ice into splendid works of varying size, some the height of multistory buildings. It is one of Japan’s most famous festivals, but it’s not the only thing we think of when we hear of Sapporo, the eponymous beer is the oldest in the land and can be enjoyed at outdoor beer gardens and ice bars. It washes down grilled mutton a treat, which is the other local specialty. In fact, an all-you-care-to-eat mutton barbecue is included at the Sapporo Beer Garden, inside the beautifully reconstituted brick brewery, where merriment is as bottomless as the food and drink. Yep, Hokkaido is a spectacular destination and well worth spending a week or two on your next holiday.

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Murakami at the Mori

Meeting Takashi Murakami at the opening reception of his “Inochi” exhibition at the Blum & Poe gallery in Los Angeles in 2004 was a special experience for me. He was a newly minted art superstar, just two years into his 13-year collaboration with Marc Jacobs on Louis Vuitton’s best-selling line ever. Many were likening him to Andy Warhol for successfully blurring the lines between art and commerce whilst liberally referencing pop culture; he would say he simply moved the lines. Four years prior, he curated the “Superflat” exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles, which would come to be the moniker for the postmodern art movement he spearheaded and included globally acclaimed artists such as Yoshitomo Nara (also represented by Blum & Poe). It’s ironic (and fortunate) that what prompted him to move his sights abroad was his dissatisfaction with the art market in his native Japan because his work, and that of his compatriots is what whet many Westerners’ insatiable appetite for Japanese art. When I met him, I was starstruck, and had no idea that I would one day be calling his home mine.

When I visited Tokyo for the first time the following year, it was my interest in another artist that brought me to the Mori Tower. The scale and skill with which Mariko Mori created her photographic composites was impressive. When I learned that her father was a real estate tycoon whom she had convinced to place a world-class art museum atop the centerpiece of his innovatively designed new urban centre, Roppongi Hills, I had to go. I remember there was an exhibition on urban planning at the time, comparing the population growth and forecast for the world’s largest cities. That was when I learned what an amalgamated population was. It’s also when I came across some striking postcards with stylized illustrations of the Mori Tower’s construction by Akira Yamaguchi in the gift shop (you may not remember him as the bellboy in “Lost in Translation”). The flat, yet intricately detailed work reminded me of Murakami’s own, I bought one of everything, and wished to someday see a Murakami exhibit at this venue. I love it when wishes are granted and nothing bad happens as a result of making them (that I know of anyway). The show has been up since Halloween, but tour leading around this time often takes me away from Tokyo in favor of the fiery autumn foliage. The exhibition is titled “The 500 Arhats” and features one of the largest paintings in history (300 m2), which Murakami originally made for Qatar as a token of gratitude for their prompt support after the tragedy of the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. After more than a decade of wild success, I am happy to see he has continued to astound, bringing us more visually awesome conceptual feasts, and conflating complex and seemingly disparate tropes onto a deceptively accessible and attractive two-dimensional plane.

Murakami’s exhibition will be at the Mori until March 6th, 2016. Tickets are ¥1,600/adult, hours are 10am-10pm every day, except Tuesday, when they close to the general public at 5pm; admission stops half an hour before closing. On a clear day or night, a trip up to the open sky deck is a must, it only costs an additional ¥200, and is one of the finest views in the city.

https://www.mori.art.museum/en/

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You Don’t Go for the Food

You don’t have to read katakana (ロボットレストラン) to know you’ve found the Robot Restaurant. Although it’s nestled in the bright lights of Shinjuku’s frenzied Kabukichō entertainment district, it doesn’t exactly blend in, and actually makes the surrounding area seem pretty calm by comparison.

There are four shows a day, the earliest starting at 4:20PM, and the last starting at 9:20PM. Reservations can be made online or by phone, and are recommended. You’ll be asked to arrive at least half an hour before showtime, and there’s a gaudy lounge where you can relax and enjoy drinks while you wait to be led to your seat in the basement. The staff at the entrance is friendly and speaks English, so there shouldn’t be any problems getting to the right place.

Children are not prohibited, but I could see the dress code of the female staff being deemed a bit too racy for some parents, although it’s nothing you wouldn’t see on a beach…well, a beach with pole dancing.

You are asked to cover any tattoos because of the association with mafia in the Japanese psyche, and not to wear sunglasses for the same reason. Interestingly enough, some of the dancers have tattoos, and Kabukichō itself is known as a hotbed of mafia activity, not that this should be of any concern to anyone not looking for trouble. The price per person is ¥6,000 for the show, and another ¥1,000 for the meal, should you opt for it.

As for the main event, the human mind can only take so much, and I think the length of the shows was capped at one hour more out of concern for customers’ long-term mental health than for either profit maximization or the seemingly limitless endurance of the staff.

There are many different acts to the show, comprehending an overall storyline should be considered a medical emergency, or at least disqualify you from operating heavy machinery. Classifying the whole affair as “cabaret with robots” is taking only a couple steps up Honesty Mountain. There are operatic ballads with robot musicians, some kind of recurring and elaborate festival procession, furry creatures fighting evil…things (?!) from the future, robot dances, robots wars, and a couple lucky customers can even battle a robot (safe and rigged in your favor). It’s sort of like every kind of spectacle wrapped into one.

I find “restaurant” a curious choice of words to use in the name of this place. I had to check the definition in a dictionary for the first time in my adult life to make sure the word meant what I thought it did. From what I found, I guess it is technically okay to use, as you can buy food and drinks here. However, this may be the only restaurant I would recommend visiting and not eating the food. Not only is the meal mediocrity perfected, but, and this was a new experience for me, it’s quite difficult to eat when you’re in a state of shock. And shock is what happens when relentless sensory bombardment makes your ears explode while your eyes try not to give your brain epilepsy.

I was speechless and confused as I rehabilitated myself up the stairs towards street level. My ears ringing and my mind a complete void, I asked myself a fair question, “What did I just witness?” I still don’t know, but you should see it too.

I would recommend a light meal beforehand, as all digestive function will be arrested for the duration of the show, at one of the small atmospheric restaurants in Omoide Yokochō (Memory Lane). It’s just to your left after you walk under the train tracks from Kabukichō. Afterwards, you might like to calm the nerves and reevaluate everything you think you knew about the universe at one of the 200 tiny bars of nearby Golden Gai.

https://www.shinjuku-robot.com/pc/

Tel: 03-3200-5500

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Superlatives and Contrasts

Tokyo was already one of the world’s most populated cities way back when it was known as Edo—a few centuries ago. At present, the greater metropolitan area is the most densely populated area on the planet with over 37 million last count. It could also be considered the largest city…ever. The distance between the urban center and its most distant satellite is over 1,000km (660mi), but there’s a lot of ocean in between. I refer of course to the tiny and remote extremity of the megalopolis, the Ogasawara Islands (administratively part of Tokyo). In 2013 the island chain enjoyed UNESCO World Heritage designation, as a place of “outstanding universal value”, one of four such locations in Japan.

The only way to reach the “Galapagos of Asia” is by one boat, the Ogasawara Maru, which makes the voyage roughly once a week (http://www.ogasawarakaiun.co.jp/english/). It takes a little over 25 hours in fair weather (each way) and considerably longer on rougher seas. If you are unaccustomed to traveling great distances by midsized boat at speed, it’s kind of like being in a state of perpetual turbulence. However, the silver lining is two-fold; the constant rocking puts you to sleep like a baby in mother’s arms, which makes the time pass much more quickly than you might imagine, and when you do get up for a stroll to the toilet or restaurant, you get to walk like an inebriate. Win! Both the toilets and restaurant are adequate, but I’d recommend the numerous vending machines over the café. You can of course also bring pre-purchased food and drink onboard, which is not a bad idea, but not essential. For those who are susceptible to seasickness, two types of medicine are sold onboard to counter the effects, one for before, the other for after the onset of symptoms.

This is certainly one of those trips where the journey is every bit as important as the destination. I guess it should come as no surprise that your fellow travelers are pretty interesting themselves. For this distance, few opt for the old ways of travel. No airport? Pass. This is like going from Paris to Berlin by horse. Okay, it’s not a junk…that would truly be hardcore, but it’s no cruise ship either. A middle-aged gentleman (oyaji) I chatted with travels extensively and exclusively in Japan. He had completed the Shikoku Pilgrimage (88 temples) three times, and he reckons he’s been to over 100 islands. A lady I met had been to as many countries. There’s a palpable sense of adventure here, not just relaxing on a tropical beach, though (fortunately) there’s that too.

If you’re interested in diving, fishing, whale watching, swimming with dolphins, kayaking, going on night hikes to see bats (with red lights) and luminous mushrooms, or going on day hikes through anywhere not clearly marked on the map, you’ll need to arrange a guide. To ensure you’re doing what you want, when you want, at the best price, it’s obviously best to book what you can beforehand: http://www.ogasawaramura.com/en/. There is also information available on the boat and at the B-Ship tourist information center on the island (about 1000ft/300m to your left after disembarking).

The islands are (likely soon to be were) known in English as the Bonin Islands, from the Japanese word bunin, which is an old way of reading the Chinese characters for “uninhabited”. Though some evidence suggests a prehistoric human presence on the island, they were aptly named by the time a small group of Polynesian and European settlers arrived from the Kingdom of Hawaii and set up a small colony. They, along with their descendants, were allowed to remain on the island after Japan sent its own group of settlers from Hachijōjima to formally claim the chain towards the end of the Edo Period. However, all inhabitants were relocated during the Second World War and the main island of Chichi-jima (Father Island) was used as a military base. Some interesting remnants to that effect can still be seen throughout the island, such as military tunnels, air raid shelters, artillery, and even a torpedoed ship.

For those who have either a Japanese or international driver license, renting a motorbike is a fun and easy way to get around the island. Otherwise, both electric and regular bicycles are available to rent at roughly double the going rate of more conveniently reached locations, but still well worth it. There’s also a community bus that departs once every 60-90 minutes and connects the main village of Ōmura and Futami Port (where the Ogasawara Maru docks) in the north with Kominato Beach in the south, passing by a couple great beaches and viewpoints along the way. The entire journey takes a mere twenty minutes and is good fun, as all drivers seem to think they’re in a Formula One car racing for pole position. Fares are ¥200, and it’s probably best to forgo the unlimited use tickets as you’d have to try really hard to get value out of them.

As previously mentioned, there are quite a few beautiful small beaches on the island, great for a swim or snorkel, but take care not to drift too far from shore or you’ll be whisked away by the rapid currents and find yourself in deep ocean and trouble quickly. Remember, you’re basically on a space station. Most beaches can easily be reached by bus and a short walk; a few on the east side of the island will require more stamina and a guide. The most remote beach you can visit without a guide is John Beach, a five-hour round trip hike from the last bus stop, Kominato Kaigan. If you are up for this, make sure you thoroughly clean your clothes and the soles of your shoes at the trailhead (equipment and instructions provided) to keep the fragile and unique ecosystem of the island free of contamination.

There are plenty of restaurants to choose from in Ōmura, with a surprising variety of cuisine. Heart Rock Café has shark burgers; you can eat local sushi at Marujō, and if you’re planning to be out for the day, pick up a delicious and hearty bentō at Island Deli. Ogasawara is also one of the few places in the world where you can try sea turtle, either stewed or raw. A number of izakaya such as Radford, Fuku Chan, Jinbe-an, Charlie Brown, and Bar Creyon serve up the evening entertainment with homemade sides until midnight, or a little after, and are good places to mingle with the locals and hear their stories. Shopping for original handicrafts and clothing is another fun and nice way of supporting the local economy, but beware of truly envious hours of operation.

The best coffee is served take-away out of a cute trailer and can only be found off-island at Fuji Rock. It’s called 30’s because the proprietor opened the place when he was 30 years of age. Fair enough. He said it might change to 40’s in 6 years. I hope it’s called Hundies one day.

The only other inhabited island is the even smaller and quieter Haha-jima (Mother Island) further to the south. The Hahajima Maru departs almost daily, and connects Mother with Father in about two hours. The attractions are much the same, albeit with less people, and prior reservations more of a necessity. Do also be aware that boat schedules are subject to delays and cancellations depending upon the weather, so give yourself a little buffer when planning your holiday.

When the time comes for your departure, it seems like the whole island shows up to wave goodbye and quite a few ships will even follow you out to sea for a moving farewell. But you’re just going to another part of the city. Ah…Tokyo, truly a city of superlatives and contrasts.

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Next Door and a World Away

Don’t let the fact that few have heard of Nokogiriyama—and even fewer visited—fool you into thinking “Saw Blade Mountain” isn’t an excellent option for a day trip from the Tokyo area.

Located across Tokyo Bay on the Bōsō Peninsula (Chiba Prefecture), a little over an hour from Yokohama and closer to two from Tokyo, this mountain derives its name from its resemblance to a Japanese woodworking saw, or nokogiri. It used to be a stone quarry during the Edo period, and the excavation of rock is partly responsible for giving the mountain its unique appearance.

The main attraction is Nihon-ji, a Buddhist temple that traces its history back to the Nara period, about 1,300 years ago. This is where you’ll find Japan’s largest stone Buddha, which used to be the largest figure of Buddha anywhere in Japan until the completion of Aomori’s bronze statue in 1984. Entrance is ¥600, and you’ll also receive an English map and description of the sprawling temple grounds.

The Hyakushaku Kannon is an impressive relief of Kannon, a bodhisattva and goddess of mercy, carved directly into a quarry wall. Hyaku means one-hundred, and shaku is a traditional unit of measure in Japan (and East Asia, although not uniform), the average length between nodes on bamboo, or approximately one foot.

The 1,500 Arhats are smaller statues of spirits or beings that have attained nirvana. They were chiseled from special stones sent by sea from Izu. The enormous task took master artisan Jingorō Eirei Ōno and his 27 apprentices 19 years to complete. Unfortunately, many of the masterpieces were destroyed in the anti-Buddhist movement of the Meiji period, but there are current efforts to restore them to their former glory. Still, among Buddhists, Mt. Nokogiri is widely regarded as one of the holiest mountains in the Kantō area; some even say the world, though I suspect they have a Bōsō bias.

The views from the cliff face out over the bay are breathtaking, and you could easily spend a couple of hours visiting the different sights of Nihon-ji.

Standard footwear is adequate, but do be aware that there are many steps and you may be a little short of breath if you’re not used to hiking or climbing many stairs. There are toilets and refreshments available at both ends of the ropeway, as well as at the big Buddha. The ropeway runs every ten minutes and is located about a ten-minute walk from either Kanaya ferry port or Hamakanaya JR Station.

If you’ve made an early start and have a few extra hours after your visit to Nokogiriyama, you might want to take a trip a little further down the peninsula to the beach town of Tateyama, which has a claim to fame as the primary filming location of a popular TV show called “Beach Boys”. From Hamakanaya Station, take the JR Uchibo Line 25 minutes south to Tateyama Station (¥410 each way, departures roughly every half hour).

From Tokyo, there are two ways to Nokogiriyama. One is by train, with a transfer at either Chiba or Soga stations to the JR Uchibo line, disembark at Hamakanaya Station (2 hours, ¥1,940 each way). The other is by a train and ferry combo. Take the Keikyu line to Keikyu Kurihama station (72 min, ¥960 each way), board a bus at stop number 2 for the Tokyo Wan Ferry port (10 minutes, ¥200), and board the ferry to Kanaya (40 minutes, 720 one-way, ¥1,320 return).

If you like variety, you might like to do the trip to Nokogiriyama in a big circle, taking the ferry one-way and train the other. If you’re planning a visit from Yokohama or Kamakura, it takes even less time, but the ferry is really the best option. The ferry leaves roughly once an hour, and the schedule can be found here (departures from Kurihama port are on the left, and from Kanaya port on the right):

For those arriving at JR Kurihama Station (instead of Keikyu Kurihama station mentioned above), take the bus from stop number 5 (12 minutes, ¥200). For groups of 4, a taxi is the same fare as a bus and leaves on your schedule.

From either Kanaya ferry port or JR Hamakanaya station, it is about a ten-minute walk to the ropeway (¥500 one-way, ¥930 return), which will take you to the entrance of Nihon-ji and departs every ten minutes.

Again, for those who appreciate history or nature, this makes for a great day trip from the main conurbation of Tokyo. With its unique atmosphere and spectacle, and a remoteness that belies its proximity to the city, it will likely leave you feeling as if you’ve just had a dream, as it did me.

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Tokyo Architecture

Few places in the world have such a wealth of cutting-edge architecture as Tokyo. Partly due to necessity—being at once one of the planet’s most seismically active zones and densely populated regions—mandating technological innovation and thoughtful use of space. And also partly because of a belief that if something is worth doing, it’s worth doing right…and beautifully, regardless of the cost; an idea seemingly discarded in many other cities around the globe.

Where to begin? A valid question indeed. Why not start with the precious real estate of Ginza and its luxury brand stores? Maison Hermès by Renzo Piano supposedly started the architectural wave that would return the neighborhood to its former glory in 2001.  Armani, Dior, Gucci, Chanel and others would soon follow, each with eye-catching facades, redefining their building as an artistic gift to passersby. De Beers Jewelers plays more with its silhouette than its surface, resembling a chic melted steel and glass structure.

For a departure from the ultra-modern, visit the Kabuki-za (Tokyo’s premier kabuki theater), recently renovated by acclaimed Japanese architect, Kengo Kuma. Fortunately for us, Kuma was inspired to pursue architecture after seeing Pritzker Prize winner, Kenzō Tange’s work for the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Tange was influential in the development of the Metabolist Movement in Japan, one of his students, and proponent of that movement, Kisho Kurokuwa, designed the nearby Nakagin Capsule Tower. Metabolism in Japan believed in the fusion of architectural science with organic growth, and according to Kurokawa, his unmistakable capsule tower was envisioned as a living organism that could adapt and mutate to fit with the times or circumstances. Each cube could be detached, shipped whole, and reattached to another structure. Quite literally moving house.

Hop on the Ginza line to its terminus at Shibuya Station to witness the world’s busiest crossing before planning your foray into Omotesando by way of Harajuku, or either Meiji or Aoyama Boulevard. Adjacent to Yoyogi Park, you can see Tange’s stadium, the precursor to the propagation of impressive projects by domestic talent. You would be forgiven for taking a short break to visit the Blum & Poe or to immerse yourself in the world of teen fashion on Takeshita Street before returning to the gloss and gleam of high society on Omotesando. Though not widely known outside of Japan, Hiroshi Nakamura’s Tokyu Plaza, with its kaleidoscopic entry and rooftop oasis, is a fresh take on a department store at the intersection of Meiji and Omotesando Boulevards. Self-taught architect and Pritzker Prize winner Tadao Ando has Omotesando Hills nearby, an upscale shopping mall. Like much of Ando’s work, its unassuming exterior belies great depth within, in every sense of the word.

The number of award-winning architects showcased on Omotesando Boulevard and its immediate environs is nearly overwhelming, many of them Pritzker Prize recipients, architecture’s highest honor. As you walk gently uphill in the direction of Roppongi Hills, you come across one eye-popping three-dimensional statement after another. TOD’s by Toyo Ito, the Prada building by Herzog & de Meuron, The Jewels of Aoyama by Jun Mitsui & Associates, who also designed the De Beers building in Ginza, and The Ice Cubes in Shibuya. Sunny Hills and the Nezu Museum by the aforementioned Kengo Kuma complement each other well. One wows you with its chaos, the other with its calm.

Commune 246 makes for a great place to grab a quick, healthy and delicious lunch, with its many international food stands and Bohemian atmosphere. Afterward, if you feel like some retail therapy in the form of traditional Japanese tableware, Aoyama Square is a great one-stop-shop. Or, if you’re interested in a more contemporary take on tradition, WA SPACE, tucked down backstreets in Akasaka, is well worth a visit.

To round out the day, you can continue on to Roppongi, where you’ll find The National Art Center, Tokyo designed by Kurokawa. The Mori Tower in Roppongi Hills was probably beckoning you as you looked down Omotesando Boulevard from Harajuku; the sprawling city views from its rooftop observatory are as impressive as its forward-looking design, supposedly inspired by samurai armor. Tokyo Midtown, less than a kilometer away, is where you’ll find Ando’s 21_21 Design Sight.

It’s difficult to appreciate just how vast an urban sprawl Tokyo really is. While there are many gems sprinkled about, you could easily spend a week hopping around from place to place and feel like you’d barely scratched the surface. However, the areas detailed above tilt the scales of time and treasure in your favor.

Bring a good pair of walking shoes and enjoy!

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