Now that the hectic pace of life has settled – or should I just say, I’ve gotten used to it? – I’ve been able to do some touristy things over the past week and a half. It’s difficult, as I’m sure some of my fellow bloggers are finding, to be caught between wanting to explore and yet not wanting to come off as a total greenhorn who can be drawn into a shop with promises of geishas and samurai swords. I think it’s even harder in Japan to to straddle the line; I’m already set apart as an outsider, but as of late I’ve found people don’t immediately assume I’m a tourist, and I’m wary to take away that preconception. When I first arrived, I couldn’t as much as pull out my atlas or a train map without having a station attendant or shop assistant come over, looking very put upon, and asking me in varying degrees of English and Japanese if they could help me. But now, I can wander around, maps hanging from every limb, and not be accosted. Speaking purely from pride, it’s nice that on some unspoken level, somehow, people understand I’m not just someone passing through. As you can probably tell, this dissuades me from whipping out my camera without discretion. But, having been here for a month and a half and having very few good pictures to show for it has forced me into carrying my camera around more and more lately.
On Tuesday, a friend needed to buy an electronic dictionary, which is pretty much the most important weapon of anyone studying an Asian language, so we headed to Akihabara (秋葉原). The district has been known for its electronics since the eighties, and more recently, for its tendency to attract otaku (オタク) to its brightly lit streets. For those of who haven’t heard the term otaku before, it can mean a lot of things, but for the most part, it pretty much refers to super-fans of anime, who are unrivaled in their ability to collect every action figure, poster and limited-edition gummy-bear of their beloved genre. The term “otaku,” like a few other choice Japanese words, has started to flourish in American sub-culture thanks to recent booms in Japanese-centric media outlets like gaming, but it’s actually really derogatory, and for the most part, these guys in Japan can be really scary. In fact, recently Akihabara has been getting a really bad wrap because of some murder cases with otaku at the center. But, as long as you stay on the main streets, Akihabara is your basic tourist destination with a dash of creeptastic big-busted cartoon girls on billboards kind of place.
As you may be able to tell from the last picture, once you get off the main street, Akihabara can turn into this weird fantasy world. Maid cafes (where the servers are all young, attractive girls dressed in Victorian Maid costumes), manga shops that stock any and every book, and stuff I don’t even want to know about line the side streets. And for some reason, all the tourist books tell foreigners the two places in Tokyo to go are Tokyo Disneyland and Akihabara. Right. Why go to the Imperial Palace or Kamakura when you can have stuff you’ve exported imported right back in your face and freaky encounters with probably under-aged girls that giggle and call you “master?” From my tone, you can probably deduce I was really wary about going to Akihabara. Can say I did it, bought a few ninja keychains from a tourist shop, but I was really happy I went with 4 other girls. Power in numbers, my friends. There was just kind of this feeling of “this is another world~” once you stepped off the train that got to me. Of course, all the girls in gothic-lolita maid outfits outside Akihabara station trying to solicit you don’t exactly help that feeling of anxiety.
My next few expeditions were far more high class. A friend’s family invited me out to a classical concert conducted by one of Japan’s most renowned conductors, Masato Usuki, who was a spitfire. He was maybe five feet tall, and going on 80 years old, but after doing Mozart’s Serenade No. 12, Vivaldi’s Spring and Summer violin pieces and Mozart’s Symphony No.35, he informed us the orchestra only had 3 days to prepare, berated Japan for not helping their own people with the arts, lauded Mozart for writing the last symphony as he was forced to do so by his own poverty, and then had the orchestra do the whole thing again. Sitting the front row, I was able to see the first and second violinists exchange a look of fond annoyance when Masato informed the audience they would be hearing Mozart’s Symphony No.35 twice; I have a feeling it’s not the first time he’s pulled something like that. After the concert, my friend’s father told me he wore his best tie because the last time he saw Masato and sat in the front row, the man told him off in front of the entire theater for not wearing a nice enough tie. I kind of want to be this man when I grow up.
This brings me to yesterday, when a woman who studied post-graduate at Georgetown organized for some of the exchange students to see a Kabuki show at the famous Kabuki-za (歌舞伎座). Being a Saturday, we had to get there early in order to get the special cheap seats called “makumi” that are only about $10 for 2 hours worth of performance. Do this if you have a chance; it’s worth every yen. For some reason, both the play and following dance had the theme of drunkenness, with the play focusing on class inequality in the Edo period. The story goes like this: A man’s sister, who the family had to pretty much sell to be a concubine in order to repay all their debts, is killed by her lord in a drunken rage. A friend brings sake as a gift to the grieving family, and the man, even though he’s sworn off drinking because it changes him into a lunatic, drinks the entire keg and decides to storm the palace half-naked with only the sake-keg for his weapon. So for the dramatic pose, where usually the main character is brandishing his sword or his family’s emblem, this guy was standing there with his kimono falling off and a keg of sake upside-down over his head. It was overall very amusing, and the man’s wife was surprising a strong female character, where in kabuki you usually see wilting, uber-feminine-type women.
After the kabuki, attempted to go to one of the largest and most famous parks in Tokyo, Hama-Rikyuu, which is mainly known for its size and being traditionally Japanese, but it was closing, and so we went to nearby Roppongi instead. While Akihabara is touristy for the whole anime schtick, in Roppongi you find just as many foreigners, but these are all the bar-hopping, younger crowd. We weren’t really up for fighting the masses to get into a trendy bar with overpriced drinks, so instead spotted Tokyo Tower and made our way to it. (In Japan, where the lack of road signs means you have to navigate using landmarks, the only times I’ve ever been able to get somewhere without a hitch were the times I wanted to get to Tokyo Tower. I mean, it’s bright red and 330m (1083feet) tall. Hard to miss.) Sadly, it has a habit of being destroyed in any mainstream movie or anime by whatever baddie is ravaging Tokyo, but it’s eventual removal in the coming year doesn’t have anything to do with attracting Godzilla to downtown Tokyo; the tower is a radio and TV relay, and since everything’s switching to satellite, it has no use anymore. Pity: it’s really pretty at night, and gives great view of the city, allowing you to see just how big of a metropolis you’re really ensconced in. Only bad thing is the metropolitan government’s choice of mascot for the Tower. As you can see, not exactly the type of character I want getting close to my small child.
