INTRODUCTION
I am in Tokyo. And since I live over 7,500 kilometers from Tokyo, being here pretty much qualifies as "traveling" no matter how you define it.
As a man who dabbles in both photography and writing, tradition suggests that a travelogue is in order. But I am not a traditionalist. So this is not a traditional travel blog. It doesn’t really contain my impressions of Tokyo, nor is it necessarily my record of its places, customs or culture. That would be ethnocentrism at its worst. My ego is far more finely honed than that. Instead, this is an exercise in egorcentrism. It is a journey within — a record of a mind under the influence. Granted, I could probably achieve a similar effect with LSD. But that would mean forgoing all the pleasant side effects that accompany a dose of Tokyo — like the food, the photo opportunities, and the oddly delightful experience of being utterly alone in a city of 14 million.
Day 1
How is it that I spend approximately 90 minutes per day searching for my glasses — glasses that were just on my face a minute ago; glasses that must be sitting somewhere within my tiny 650 sq ft condo — and yet I can return to Tokyo after an abscence of 3 years, and without expending a single brain cell, navigate miles of labyrinthian streets to instantly locate any store or restaurant anywhere in Shinjuku, Shibuya or Harajuku?
It’s a feat nearly as impressive as the fact I managed to write the previous paragraph using only one sentence.
Day 2
One thing’s certain: it doesn’t matter which country, continent or hemisphere you’re in — the meteorologists are all tossing the same set of dice. When I was an engineering student back in a previous century, any exam that was completed to 99% perfection was grounds for failure. Every professor had the same stock rationale: “if it was a bridge it would have fallen down.” I heard this a lot in my youth. It really made me resent the slack given to less disciplined professions like, say, meteorology.
In fact, I still resent the slack given to meteorology. It results directly in situations such as today’s. With a light morning mist belying the day’s rainless forecast, I mistakenly believed the experts over my own eyes. So I grabbed the Leica Monochrom, left the jacket at home, and hopped the Yamanote Line up to Ikebukuro. By the time my business was concluded, the drizzle had become a deluge, exiling the camera to its bag until I slogged back to Shibuya to swap it (and my attire) for something more deluge-ready.
According to the forecast, it’ll be 8 days ‘til I next see rain. Somewhere a bridge is falling down.
Day 3
Fate is a funny thing. And while it frequently exists to annoy, agitate and obfuscate, now and then it’ll throw you a bone.
Today, I snagged one of those bones at lunch time. Precisely at lunch time. Because the very second I began today’s normally arduous and gruelling hunt for the perfect lunch, I spotted a place with a display case full of anmitsu. Not that anmitsu is my idea of the perfect lunch, but it’s absolutely my idea of the perfect dessert. A forty-five degree turn of my head to the left revealed a savoury case with choices so old fashioned, they must have traveled through a wormhole from the Edo period. I swiveled my head twenty degrees back to the right and poked it through the noren to peer into the establishment. Inside sat four or five octogenarian women, each at their own table, but all engaged in a highly animated group conversation. The waitress and the cook looked even older, perhaps (like their menu) remnants from the Edo period.
“Perfect!” I mumbled to myself.
I entered to the deafening thud of a sudden silence. It’s not the sort of place a westerner ventures into, much less one under the age of 80, and I felt the weight of every eye as I quickly and deftly ordered without bothering to consult a menu. The atmosphere lightened as the ladies watched me quickly consume my meal with the savoir-faire of an 18th century daimyō, before I called to the waitress for an anmitsu.
That did it. Charmed by my 10 word vocabulary, politeness and taste for anmitsu, the deal was sealed. I was soon engaged in an animated group conversation of my own — me with my 10 words of Japanese, and them with their 10 words of English. But it was enough to establish that I’m from Vancouver, am not married, and that no, it rarely snows in Vancouver even though it is in Canada.
Not to brag or anything, but I’ve always had a way with octogenarian widows. Curiously, my “way” tends not to translate to their daughters. It’s a bit annoying and definitely agitating, but that’s fate.
Day 4
I’ll try just about anything. Why not? Best case, I like it. Worst case, I get something new to complain about. Win-win. Heck, I’m not even afraid to randomly push indecipherable buttons on the washlet, just to see what new sensations await... and where.
Japan, of course, is a fabulous place for gung-ho Westerners to try new things. But there is, to date, one ritual from which I’ve voluntarily abstained — the temizuya. Yes, this means I’m in a rather putrid state every time I enter a shrine, but I’ve pretty much come to grips with my general state of impurity. My hesitation to engage in the purification ritual stems from what I perceive to be a flaw in temizuya logic. Specifically, how is a pool of standing water, into which thousands of people dip their hishaku to cleanse their hands and mouths supposed to purify the body? All I can think about is the possible pathogens just waiting to sink their teeth into my pathetically wimpy immune system.
Granted, if the ritual is performed properly then, by design, the risk of contamination diminishes. But this is standing water we’re talking about. Still, it’s a beautiful observance, and one day, maybe, I’ll suck it up and give it a go.
I did witness another ritual at Meiji Jingu today — marriage. Lots of marriages. Alas, this is the ritual I probably should have been avoiding all this time, and not the temizuya.
Day 5
In order to accumulate even more content so as to serve you, my faithful readers, I sacrificed today’s precious writing and photo processing time by zigging to and zagging fro on the Tokyo rail system.
This means that not all of today’s published photos are today’s photos — not that it matters, since my usual modus operadi is to let photos gestate for many months prior to uploading. Obviously, I’ve had to temporarily forgo such discipline, since it would be rather pointless to document a Tokyo travel blog with six month old snapshots of Vancouver life.
Although the purpose of today’s journey was, indeed, to accumulate new photo content, I might have gotten a wee bit sidetracked and accumulated a different sort of photo-related content...
... meaning this might be the ideal time to remind folks that the ULTRAsomething site has a DONATE link, accessible from the bottom of every post.
Day 6
I am a paragon of efficiency. Whether one considers this a virtue or a compulsion depends, I suppose, on how much one wants to accomplish before they’re boxed up and slid into the incinerator. My daily ‘to do’ list usually numbers in the hundreds — the price I pay for an obsessive need to leave something more than a Ziploc bag of ashes to this world.
Every nuance and motion has been honed to perfection so as to accomplish more; quicker, and with less effort. Case in point: walking. Each step forward sees the bare minimum of vertical lift — thus quickening my step while simultaneously preserving muscle so as to extend the possible distance I traverse in a day. The height of each step is measured not in number of inches, but in number of atoms.
I did a bit of Google mapping after one of my daily Tokyo strolls, and realized I was logging over 15km per day. Which is a lot — even for an efficiency expert. Which explains why today, my sixth straight day of relentless walking, I began to develop a failure which would, on occasion, cause me to trip over nothing but bare sidewalk. A quick diagnosis confirms that my thigh muscles are beginning to strain slightly from the relentless pace, resulting in the occasional negation of my leg’s vertical lift mechanism.
Maybe I’ll dial it back to 10km for a day or two...
Day 7
Tokyo is both hustle and bustle. Which is exactly the way I like it... at least for 99.9% of the time. The other 0.1% correlates perfectly with the amount of my life I spend testing new camera gear. It’s an act that requires a certain quiet contemplation as I familiarize myself with the various knobs, levers, switches, dials, and doo-dads.
But to evaluate my “new” early 1970’s Leitz Minolta CL in such a rural setting seemed rather the antithesis of the camera’s intended purpose — urban, people photography. So how does one come to grips with using a “people” camera when the presence of people is counter to learning to handle it?
Where can I find a highly dense population in the middle of Tokyo, and yet still have that contemplative environment I need?
Bingo!
Obviously, since I have no scanning equipment with me, these are not shots from the Leitz Minolta CL, but from the Leica Monochrom.
But to answer the question I suspect one or two of you are dying to know: yes, I had the film developed, and the prints confirm that the CL works flawlessly — save for a rangefinder patch that, like me, has grown a bit dim with age.
Day 8
In spite of my plans to cut back on the excessive walking, I’ve actually increased it. There are a few reasons for this: one, I’m eating way too much, and I feel compelled to do something to counter the caloric intake; and two, travelling by foot is the best way to see the quiet side of Tokyo, and not just the major neighborhoods (of which there are hundreds). Which is good for us connoisseurs of the mundane.
Then there’s the pecuniary aspect: wandering around Tokyo on foot is simply cheaper than doing the same by train. Not that the trains are even remotely expensive... but a penny saved is a penny less over-budget I am due to the CL camera purchase.
Cheaping out on trains isn’t the only way to save money, either. There’s always the allure of free museums. On my last trip to Tokyo, I went to a free sewerage museum, and learned all about the Tokyo sewer system. This time, I went to the free parasite museum, and learned all about critters that invade the human body. Not that I’m squeamish about such things, but it did alter my sashimi lunch plans.
Curiously, this isn’t the oddest museum I’ve been to. That distinction belongs to the Icelandic Phallological Museum in Reykjavik. Come on Tokyo! I know it’s in you to do better.
Day 9
One of my favourite Tokyo pastimes is something I call “railway roulette.” With so many intertwined rail lines offering so many destination options, who has time to research them all? I find it’s just as fast to spin the wheel, hop a train, and see what awaits me upon my arrival.
It‘s a technique uncannily similar to the way I order food in places without English language menus — which is most places I choose.
It may surprise you to read this, but photography isn’t really the point of all these excursions. I spend the bulk of my time simply looking around, absorbing, and exploring (and eating). Frankly, there are so many potential photo subjects, that it would take me a week just to work a single block. Garry Winogrand once stated that “all things are photographable.” And while I agree entirely, I don’t believe that everything needs to be photographed by me... although some things just beg to be.
Day 10
Today saw the first shift in my daily routine, as I attended Day 1 of the Tokyo Festival of Modular — an early reminder that I must soon return to the reality of (almost) gainful employment, which for me involves developing, testing, and writing manuals for modular synthesizers.
As the Tokyo vacation progressed, I grew so accustom to daily blogging that I began to think it was my actual job. Sadly, blogging and photography pay even less than modular synth development, which I guarantee you is no small feat!
Speaking of routine, I’ve now been in Tokyo so long that I’ve started to think of my Airbnb apartment as my apartment — something I wasn’t really aware had occurred until I found myself cleaning the kitchen sink and mopping the floors.
I’m going to go out on a limb here, and assume most readers aren’t interested in photos of modular synthesizers. So, instead, I thought I’d include a couple “woulda shoulda” pictures. These are photos that I later found while perusing my Tokyo photo stash, only to discover I like them better than what I originally chose to publish. For example, I think this is a more interesting photo of the wedding procession from Day 4...
... and I like this peek-a-boo shot of Tokyo Skytree better than the one I published on Day 5. Although I’d be shocked if at least a million others haven’t taken this exact same photo before me.
Such is the consequence of having to make snap decisions to create a daily blog. Rest assured, I’ll be back to my languid monthly-ish schedule soon enough.
Day 11
I never bought into the whole multitasking doctrine. I’ve known many people claiming to be great multitaskers, only to then exhibit an exhausting ability to spin in circles while failing to complete a single one of them adequately.
I’m a monotasker. One task at a time — rigorously and relentlessly, until it’s finished. Then the next. And the next. Because of my intense concentration, I guarantee it takes me no longer to complete my tasks serially than it takes the mutitasker to complete theirs in parallel... only without the mistakes they make by constantly shifting in and out of different thought patterns.
Which is why these past two days in Tokyo have been somewhat counterproductive. I’m hanging out at the Tokyo Festival of Modular — a synthesizer show. So am I working? Or am I on vacation? Should I be concentrating on what I hear or on what I see? Am I back to thinking like a technical writer, or am I still a blogger? The answer is “yes”... to everything. Which means I’m attempting to multitask. So when I look at Tokyo, it starts to look a lot like this:
Or this:
It’s only when I pause, take a deep breath and step away from the work mindset, that Tokyo (and its reflections) return to looking like this:
So today, I left the show for a couple hours just to take a stroll around Harajuku. I felt as light as a spool of cotton candy.
I need to enjoy my Tokyo monotasking while I still can, because very soon my monotasking will, again, become all about work. Which means another Tokyo trip will be a memory, and this daily travel blog will mercifully end.
Day 12
Given the title of this particular travel blog, I thought it might be a good idea if I finally got around to some of that introspection I promised myself.
Introspection often means quiet contemplation. So if you’ve been paying attention, you probably know where I spent a couple of hours today.
Yes. Another cemetery. But in my defense, it is a completely different cemetery than all the others I whistled through on this trip.
Curiously, introspection and film photography are also inexplicably linked in my mind. I’m not sure exactly why that is. Maybe it’s because I’m a more introspective photographer with film in hand, meaning one mood feeds off the other. But with no access to tanks, reels, chemicals, computer or scanner, film photography doesn’t particularly lend itself to a daily travel blog. So I did slip the old blog-o-matic in the messenger bag — pulling it out occasionally, if only to be of service to those who stuck with me for the past couple of weeks.
And in spite of ample evidence to suggest the contrary today, I don’t think food and introspection necessarily go hand-in-hand... though I did eat enough to sate myself and several of my clones. I’m calling it an anomaly — likely just a side effect of all the quaint old neighbourhoods I strolled through today. Quaint old neighbourhoods mean quaint old merchant districts.
And quaint old merchant districts mean quaint old-fashioned Japanese food — the sort that melds with my body so completely, I can feel it nourishishing my toes... even when it’s deep fried.
There we go — just like the lifestyle blogger I purport to have become! I think I’m finally getting the hang of this! Too bad tomorrow’s the last day...
Day 13
This is going to be an extremely brief post. It’s my final day in Tokyo, and I’m eying the mountain of treasures that will accompany me back to Vancouver while I attempt to reconcile its size with the lilliputian dimensions of the carry-on bags into which it must fit. In other words, instead of blogging and photo editing, tonight is dedicated to packing...
Tomorrow, when I awake, it’ll be 32 straight hours until I sleep again. The first of those hours will, no doubt, be spent constructively plotting my next trip to Japan. Later hours will mostly be spent struggling with lucidity.
Thanks for everything, Tokyo. See you soon.
Credits:
(c) grEGORy simpson | ULTRAsomething.com