Kawagoe or "Little Edo"

Inspired by a Sept NYT article, I trekked to Kawagoe this morning to check out the town nicknamed "Little Edo," in reference to the ancient name for Tokyo. Here, you will be transported to the Tokyo of yore, via the town's well-preserved kura, or late 19th century warehouses. Ironically, the preservation of the buildings is due to the resistance of the town's landlords to railways during the Meiji Era. Consequently, many of the town's buildings survived the bombing of WW2.

These days, the kura are used not as warehouses but as retail spaces. Peeking my head under the half-curtains, there were shops for candies, crackers, kimonos, pickles, and more.

Best of all, many of the shops offered samples. And though I don't generally snack between meals, I suddenly felt the compulsion to buy every cracker product under the Kawagoe sun.

In case seaweed rice crackers or green tea candy alone doesn't appeal to you, you can opt to buy super cute panda-wrapped crackers.

Kawagoe's most prominent agricultural crop is sweet potatoes, and you can find all sorts of products made out of sweet potato here, from crackers to sake. This food stall was selling triangular sweet potato cakes, fresh off the griddle. I quickly snapped up three of them.

Three or four varieties of sweet potatoes were also on sale.

The centerpiece of Kawagoe is its bell tower, with a chime that rings four times a day.

Suddenly, a guy began yelling with a megaphone to the street. A parade with drummers and men with conical straw hats followed. I wish I had understood what the announcer was saying, and whether I just witnessed some sort of protest or a historical memorial or a funeral or what.

Just behind the kura district is Kashiya Yokocho, or Penny Candy Lane. This narrow alley is packed with vendors selling candies, crackers (slightly cheaper than on the previous street), and gift items.

One of the local products here is fu, which comes either in large loafs the size of a French baguette, or cut in smaller chunks about 3" long. From the signage, it is made of wheat and sugar, and is a bit lighter than bread. I haven't tried it, but I was convinced by a shopkeeper to buy a bag and bring it home for sampling.

The Kita-in Temple was on my walk back. The original building was destroyed after a fire in 1638, but shogun Tokugawa Iemitsu ordered buildings moved from Edo Castle to the temple.
The grounds also include Hie Shrine. It's funny how many Bhuddist temples and Shinto shrines share the same grounds. When's the last time you ever saw a combined Catholic cathedral and Jewish synagogue?

I am not sure what god this statue is supposed to commemorate, but it seems to be a protector of children based on the offerings: pinwheels, Care Bears, pacifiers, juice boxes, a persimmon, candies...

Finally, the courtyard contains Gohyaku Rakan, or the 500 disciples of Bhudda. Amusingly enough, the monks are depicted in all manner of expression: laughing, drinking, and even picking their noses.

Onsen

When I set out on this trip to Tokyo, I wanted to embrace my fellow Asians and truly explore what it was like to live in Japan. I wanted to bathe in a pool of the unknown, luxuriate in the warm waters cultural learning, and plunge headlong into uncomfortable situations.

And so, dear readers, that is how I found myself at an onsen.

An onsen is a public bathhouse heated naturally by hot springs. A sento is similar, only the water is heated rather than sourced from a hot spring. The public baths are all over Tokyo and are generously subsidized by the the local government, which means bathing at an average sento will generally only set you back ¥500 or so. In return, you will be soaking in the neighborhood chatter, with people from all ages and all walks of life. Suffice it to say, English is not spoken here.

Reading through the Lonely Planet listings, the onsen in Ginza seemed the most conveniently located/priced. The description, however, was a bit daunting: "The fact that this straightforward Meiji-era bath manages to keep its wits about it, even as real estates continue to climb in the ritzy Ginza that surrounds it, must be one of Tokyo's best jokes. The bath mistress is a daunting battle-axe - no kidding, this gal chews tacks. With this in mind, make sure you scrub extra hard behind your ears." All righty then!

I circled around the block several times as I set off to find the onsen, which (as expected) was marked by a tiny sign and a half curtain leading down a narrow flight of stairs into a humid basement with a bunch of lockers. What next?

As I sat scratching my head, a man emerged from one of the doors and pulled an umbrella out of a small locker. Aha, I hadn't noticed the umbrella icon on the keys.

Then, he put a wooden block into a larger locker and pulled out his shoes. The wood blocks were a rudimentary key system with lines carved to match the key hole.

At this point, I'd stared long enough at the signage to figure out the onsen was ¥450 for admission, and for another ¥100, you could get a towel set with a towel, soap and shampoo. So I stored my umbrella and shoes and resolutely marched inside the door marked for women.

Immediately to my right, there was a counter with the bathhouse attendant. I explained that I was American and heads immediately swiveled. After handing over my money, I stripped off my clothing and put it in a locker. Next, you are supposed to thoroughly scrub yourself clean with a bucket and washcloth. I spotted a few buckets in a corner and grabbed one. Hmm, looks sort of dirty, I thought. As I headed into the scrubbing area, I heard shouts behind me. Oops, I'd mistakenly grabbed a regular bucket. There was another stack of buckets inside that I was supposed to use. Bathhouse faux pas #1, check.

Another woman was cleaning herself inside, so I figured I should scrub at least until she finished. Though I usually shower in 2 minutes or less, Lonely Planet suggested that 10 minutes or so was a solid amount. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and the woman was still there. At this point, I decided that I'd sufficiently scrubbed myself red, and headed toward the bath. Wait, she said, and motioned towards my hair. Oh, should it be tied up? I gestured. She took a hair pin out of her hair and stuck it in mine. I was now cleared to enter the bath. Bathhouse faux pas #2, check.

Now, when they say "hot," they aren't effing around. I slowly dipped a foot inside, and almost yelped from shock. Gradually, I submerged my whole body into the bath, which had a whirlpool of hot water circulating from the bottom and seating on the sides. First time? asked the other woman. I nodded yes, and explained that I was American, from Chicago. With some additional charades, I told her that I was Chinese, and then gave her my American and Chinese names.

At this point, the water was really, really hot, and my skin was wrinkling like a Sharpei dog. Also, I really needed to pee, and being submerged in warm water wasn't helping. I eyed the clock. It had been about 5 minutes, maybe ten. I forced myself to stay in for a few more minutes, then decided to call it quits. I rinsed myself off with cooler water and tried to stop my head from spinning.

The small hand towel that I'd bought was completely soaked, which left me with a dilemma: how to dry myself. In the end, I simply wrung out the towel and dried myself off as much as possible, then changed back into my street clothing slightly damp. I returned the hairpin back to the woman, who looked me up and down and asked, You okay? Yes, I smiled.

Lessons learned: bring your own towel and hairpins to the onsen, pee beforehand, be prepared for uncomfortably hot temperatures. I don't think I would do it again (I really prefer lukewarm showers) but after a long day of walking around the city, the hot water did wonders for curing sore muscles and I slept like a baby afterwards.

Yasukuni Shrine

Yasukuni Shrine is the controversial one that makes all the worldwide headlines every year when the Japanese Prime Minister visits on August 15 (the anniversary of Japan's defeat in WW2). The shrine is dedicated to the souls of Japan's war dead, particularly those who died after the Meiji restoration, which was a series of events that lead to the modernization of Japan and its emergence as a world power.

Thus, the shrine commemorates the deaths of soldiers who died as Japan began dealing with the West (Russian, US, UK) and other powers in East Asia (China, Korea). Most importantly, this includes the Greater East Asian War, aka World War 2 to the rest of us. The conservative right wing in Japan stand by its duty to honor war dead, and the Yakusuni shrine is the physical representation of Japanese jingoism from the perspective of neighboring Asian countries who suffered under Japanese imperialism. It was suggested by one of my fellow Chinese compatriots that I spit all over the memorial when I get there. So you could say that feelings are still running high.

At any rate, the shrine itself is beautiful, with two elegant, soaring gates (torii) as you approach. In warmer months, the courtyard is filled with displays of ikebana and a flock of doves (ironically in the midst of war hawks?). But that's not what I was really here to see. I headed for the Yasukuni Memorial Museum where I paid ¥500 (for a student ticket) to learn something about Japanese war history.

The museum is laid out in a very clear fashion, with lots of English signage for your edification, though perhaps a quarter of the displays were only in Japanese. But the translations that were present were sufficient for me to get the gist. Samurai swords and artillery equipment decorated the floors. Phrases like "the encroachment of Western powers" and "expel the barbarians" were bandied about.

Things that I learned at the Yasukuni Museum:

1. "The purpose of the Nanking Campaign was to surround and occupy the capital, thus discouraging the Chinese from continuing their resistance against the Japanese."
2. The preemptive strike on Pearl Harbor and declaration of war on the US was to "insure [sic] the stability of East Asia and to contribute to world peace."
3. Japan inspired other oppressed peoples to achieve independence. "Once the desire for independence was kindled under Japanese occupation, it did not fade away, even though Japan was ultimately defeated." This display was accompanied by the flags of newly independent Asian countries (Vietnam, Myanmar, etc).

There was also a display on Japan's paltry natural resources, with a bar graph showing the months supply of raw materials that Japan had stocked before World War 2. Military events aside, I would say that economic pressures were a strong impetus in Japan's decision to declare war on the US. The country had only 24 months of oil and 3 months of raw rubber in the lead-up period. To get rubber and other resources, Japan began invading SE Asia. In response, the US declared an oil embargo on Japan, which was treated as an act of military hostility.

Truly, history is written by the victors.

A cool barrel display on the way to the temple that probably has some deeper significance unknown to me

Engrish Signage of the Day, Part 2

Tokyo Tower

Tokyo has a little bit of an infatuation with all things Parisian, and it is most prominently manifest in the Tokyo Tower, opened in 1958. Yes, they copied the Eiffel Tower. But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, is it not?

Fittingly, the tower is located in Roppongi, the expat center of Tokyo, filled with American military men, Nigerian bouncers, and Chinese hookers. It is loud, active, and a "bit dodgy." Here, you would be hard-pressed to find any self-respecting Japanese over the age of 30. The area is well known for its boisterous bars and night clubs. If you are out after the trains stop running at midnight, you can opt to cab it home...or party all night in Roppongi until train service begins again at 5 am.

Back to Tokyo Tower. The Eiffel is an elegant black, but here in Japan, that would not be nearly enough to hold people's attention spans. So, Tokyo Tower is painted orange and white, and is lit by 176 flood lights. The tower serves as the Tokyo metro area's primary radio and TV broadcasting wave transmitter. Oh and, the tower is 13 m taller than the Eiffel, making it the world's largest self-supporting steel structure. Snap!

To further Japanify the tower, it does not merely have an observation deck. No no, there is an aquarium inside. And a wax museum and Nipponland amusement park and a slew of restaurants and shops. My eyes were glazing over at this shameless tourist trap, but then, I saw that on the fourth floor there is an exhibit on statistics! Zomg.

Unfortunately, the statistics exhibit was closed for the day, so I was denied the chance to learn whether the Japanese use "rogarithms."

The observation deck at 150m is closed, and while this protects you from the elements, it makes taking photos much more difficult since you are photographing through glass. In that respect, the Eiffel definitely wins.

Yebisu Beer Museum

Yebisu Brewery is now part of Sapporo, however the name lives on in museum adjacent to Sapporo headquarters. The first thing I did here was to give away the flowers from ikebana class to the girl at the Yebisu gift shop. After some charades, I managed to convey that she should take the flowers home with her if she liked them. Judging from the smile on her face, I'd like to think they didn't end up in the trash.

Having toured a decent number of breweries, I'd say this museum's display were lackluster (some timelines on the history of beer, old advertisements, a giant brewing vat), but the tasting room at the end lets you try four beers for ¥500. Overall, Japanese beers tend towards the light, crisp, one might even say, bland, side of the spectrum, but then again, we're not in Germany so I won't complain.

The more interesting part of this excursion was when I plopped my tasting tray down on a table and took my camera out. A voice emanated from behind: "Say, would you like a photo of yourself with the beer?" I acquiesced and the gentleman introduced himself. "Hey, I'm John, would you like to come sit over here? Because I hate drinking alone." We were both clutching copies of Lonely Planet Tokyo (my bible for this week). John, as it turned out, was a seasoned traveler who was in town for a few days while his wife was on business. He was Canadian, currently living in Munich, and heading to Sydney and then somewhere in SE Asia in the next week. Among other stories, he regaled me with this anecdote from Egypt (amounts are approximate):

"I was in Cairo talking to a cab driver, and he mentioned that he needed to save money. I asked, for what? He said, well, to buy a woman. I said, wait, what? He replied, well if I have $750, I can get a woman who is widowed with two kids. If I have maybe $1000, I can get a woman who is widowed with one kid. And if I have $1500, I can get a woman who is single without children. So, I asked him, what would you do with $2000? He looked at me and said, well, then I would buy a camel."

Meguro Parasite Museum

Normally, this wouldn't have been high up on my list of things to see, but since I was already in the neighborhood, why not check out the world's only parasite museum?

Besides, word on the street was that the Meguro Parasite Museum is a hot date spot. No, really. From the NYT:

But in the last several years the museum has also turned into an urban version of Blueberry Hill, where eager couples come to bond and test their mutual mettle. And while two floors filled with graphic pictures of goiters, a world map of infectious diseases and bottle after bottle of hookworms would seem unlikely to put one in a romantic mood, there appears to be no shortage of young lovers willing to play Gomez and Morticia Addams for a day.

Ah, the culture that is Japan. In their defense, maybe seeing gross things is kind of like going to a haunted house or a scary movie; you have opportunities to clutch each other in fear.

Too bad there were no sparks flying and nary a sign of hand-holding during my visit. (This may have been due to my midday Tuesday timing.) Instead, there were a couple of suited guys in their 40s and a younger guy wearing ripped jeans and a flowery hoodie. Slim pickings indeed. Still, the museum's focal piece, an 8.8 m long tapeworm was pretty neat. Apparently, this was taken from the small intestine of a man who'd eaten marinated trout. Let's hope all the sushi I've been eating has been parasite-free.