Ninjamura

The approach, through the thick woods.

Until 8 or some years ago, Ninjamura was a small local attraction situated atop a forested hill in Fukuoka. As children, some of Ken's friends used to visit the place, and recall a time when they went to the "Ninja House" for a thrill and got spooked by men dressed as ninjas, popping out of walls and trap doors. However, as the years passed, Ninjamura saw a decrease in profits, presumably, and shut its doors to the public. The site of the ninja-themed haunted house was never re-bought, and no one bothered to demolish it. Tonight, Ken and I and some local friends Tatsumi and Kento, have stepped through the gates to Ninjamura once more, for the sake of adventure and nostalgia both.

Notice the pile behind me.

Walking through the forest to reach the first abandoned house, I quickly realize how fast nature had retaken Ninjamura. The wooden bridges crossing through the crevasses and pits in the forested floor have long begun to rot, providing poor footing as we struggle to walk while holding onto our cheap LED flashlights.

 But as we are brought deeper into the forest, we begin to notice the ill-hidden mannequins littering the place. It isn't long before we start finding discarded limbs left and right. Some even hang above our head, pinned to trees for reasons we don't know. Soon, we even came upon a pile of the mannequins, many of them appearing to have blood painted on to them. Not too far up ahead, is our first actual stop - the abandoned haunted house itself. Does that make it twice haunted?

The maze beneath the house.

Of course, the place being long deserted, we found the elements that figure in every Haikyo, (abandoned places, as they call them in Japan,) these being graffiti, litter, and wreckage scattered around the ground.

 But soon, too, did we quickly discover (or in the case of my companions, rediscover) the intricacies of the place, once suited for scaring the shit out of children. Rooms that appear to be small, empty closets reveal themselves to be equipped with hidden doors - those famous, stereotypical reversing walls that flip around to reveal a way into a different room. My companions knew of several of these already, but each discovery brought to me a gleeful satisfaction as I kicked at walls that turned out to be doors.

 These aside, we also found a ladder with access to the attic, as well as an intentionally labyrinthine passageway beneath the house itself, forcing us to hunch over to find a way leading to the next room. We stuck around long enough to get a good look at all of the rooms, many as they were, before we headed back out and towards the next curiosity.

It was only on our way out of Ninjamura that we stumbled upon what once was an illusion-themed house with an inclined floor. The considerable angle of the ground, near 30 or so degrees, gave the impression that someone standing straight was slanted at a seemingly gravity-defying angle. Of course, this place being similarly abandoned, we allowed ourselves to experiment hanging from beams and jumping around as well.

And thus ended our brief visit of Ninjamura! Man, I've been doing quite a bit of Haikyo lately, huh.

Fukuoka: An Overview

After a 14-hour bus ride where I had the embarrassing misfortune of waking up using a fat man's arm as a pillow, I awoke in a new prefecture: that of Kyushu, the southernmost landmass in Japan. My destination is the city of Fukuoka, where I've come to join Ken (who, having left Tokyo a week prior, has been noticeably absent from my latest adventures.)
 Without going much into detail about specific attractions (I'll delve into that later) let's look at the city from a glance.

The local urban landmark; Fukuoka Tower

Fukuoka is defined as a coastal city with a population of 1.4 million; that's several times less than that of Tokyo, and falls just a little short of that of Montreal, my own home town. Whereas Tokyo is a massive metropolitan sprawl of a city, and Kyoto is identified by its remarkable preservation of yonder days of centuries past, Fukuoka has more of a friendly, livable feel to it, combining facets of the island culture of Kyushu with its modern tone and ample green spaces. The sky rises here don't intimidate, and yet the skyline has ample definition.

Canal City shopping center

Fukuoka being very coastal, a lot of the city's internal architecture plays on the presence of water, streams and rivers. The prevalence of these almost feel like a theme, while also playing a large role in the local diet. Ken's father himself is an avid fisherman, who I may or may not have a chance to go fishing with during my brief stay.

My first day in town had me dodging through the streets of the city's busiest districts, while taking brief looks at a shopping center here and the large local park there, interspersed with a temple and what's left of an ancient castle in the middle of the town.

What lies in wait for me in Fukuoka is a food culture that is different than that of Tokyo, and many (including Ken) would argue, a lot better, as well as a small plethora of discoveries. By the time I'm out of here I would have taken you through at least the local children's science museum, a haunted ninja-themed house (not to be mistaken for a ninja-themed haunted house), and New Year's at a local temple. If I can, I'll also try a special local dish that definitely isn't for the squeamish. If they'll tag along, maybe you'll meet one or both of Ken's sisters along the way, but this will determine that.
Discovery awaits!

Painting the Town Red

Happy holidays, folks! In comparison to last year, I've had a very busy Christmas Eve 2012. Christmas in Japan is kind of a couple's thing, as opposed to the family thing it is in America, and I have neither a significant other or family in this side of the world. So, lonely as I am, I wasn't expecting to be doing much on Christmas. But luckily enough, Aala had plans, and I soon found out that Lo and Neal were both in on it. It didn't take much convincing on his part to drag me out for an all-nighter in between two work days (alarmingly enough.)

Neal, Lo, and Aala

 So I join him in Shibuya's Hachiko Square and find him dressed as a panda/Santa Claus (which doesn't surprise me at all, for some reason.) Before him are gathered ten valiant soldiers, ready for a mission: that of placing a Santa Claus hat atop as many statues as possible in Tokyo. Joining these brave missionaries, I become the twelfth member, and at last the group is split in two halves of six: East Tokyo and West Tokyo. Our team, East Tokyo, is formed of Aala as a Panda, Lo, wearing a frankly terrifying black mask, Neal, who also joined me for the Nichitsu raid, the dastardly crazy haired Kenichi Kato, and a very random, quiet woman approaching her middle age, named Keiko.

 As the clock struck midnight, we set off for our first mark, Ueno Park. Aala and Kenichi, who had organized and taken part in the same event last year, respectively, remember the placement of the statues, and we made short work of the famous Takamori Saigo statue. "There's another one," said Aala, "a little deeper into the park. But this one's impossible. It's twice as tall." Pwah!
 Damn right I put a hat on the statue of Prince Akihito. And the thirty foot tall mural in the museum courtyard while I was at it. That Christmas eve, I became a climbing machine.

The mural, Saigo, and Akihito

As the night drew on, we progressed down Akihabara and towards the Imperial Palace, transforming a few statues along the way. I actually managed to climb (and hat) every statue I saw, with one exception. There was the one near Shin-Nihombashi where I accidentally stepped on top of a sleeping homeless guy inside a box I failed to notice. He woke up screaming and cursing at me, and I frankly felt terrible about the ordeal. We ran off before he called the cops.

Despite it being a good night for us, though, we later found out that West Tokyo Team pretty much covered only a miniscule area and didn't even want to meet us halfway at the break of dawn. It figured, though, since we had thrown a bunch of young women into that group who had joined in just so that they could be doing something during the eve of Christmas. Unfortunate!

And that, my friends, is how those Santa hats ended up there. Merry Christmas, and whatever!

Where They Pay to Hear You Rant

When you're a foreigner in Japan, some jobs pay rather well for what is arguably a very trivial task. I don't think of my own work to be particularly easy, taking into consideration the amount of energy that has to be put into it, but there are different ways around to making money in Japan.

Aala's chat table

For example, Aala runs a chat table at a lounge cafe called the Mickey House. His job is essentially to speak to people for a few hours in his own native language, which is, in this case, French. Although they sometimes are, the subjects of his discussions don't have to be particularly educative, and more often than not, we find ourselves talking about things we would've been discussing anyway.
For this, Aala makes 1000¥ an hour, which translates roughly to 13$. Hell, that's not bad, considering he doesn't necessarily seem to have to be nice to people he doesn't like!

The Mickey House has its loyal customers, who I frequently see attending Aala's table, and, quite contrary to what I would've thought at first, many of them aren't even Japanese, but are actually French themselves. Several reasons for this can be taken into account. For one, these people may not have a chance to make much conversation on a daily basis, if they don't have mastery over the Japanese language. Alternatively, they could be hoping to meet Japanese people who are interested in their own culture. And there are quite a number of those, from time to time. Surprising, considering they have to pay 2000¥ to get in (whereas foreigners get in for 500¥.)

The Darndest Things

I've now been working at My Gym for a full 50-week cycle. Most of the 900-some kids have seen my face at some point or another, since I've been moving from location to location, sometimes for extended periods of time. Of the current roster of 25 instructors, only 10 people have been working the job longer than I have, 5 of which are in charge of training newbies.
Throughout the last 50 weeks, I've heard my share of fantastic, awesome things from the kids, so I thought I'd share a few. Because kids always say the best...things.

Sean: "Here's a baton. It kind of looks like a magic wand, doesn't it?"
Hina (6yo):  "Abracadabra. You are a poop."

Sean: "Don't you want to do your forward roll, Mayu?"
Mayu (2yo): "No. I hate gymnastics, and I hate you, too."
Sean: "Ouch."
Ema (2yo): "I also hate you, sensei."
Sean: "But I really like you, Mayu."
Mayu: "I don't care. I can't do it, and I won't do it."
Sean: "That's too bad. Try hard on the next one, alright?"
Ema: "Do you like me, too?"
Sean: "Yes, Ema."

Sean: "Alright everyone. Here's how you do a backrocker. First you want to squat down like this. Good job, guys. Hey, Riku, why aren't you doing it?"
Riku (3yo): "You guys look like you're all taking a dump."

Sean: "What's your name?"
Sarah (2yo): "I'm two years old."
Sean: "But what's your name?"
Sarah: "I'm...four years old?"
Sarah's Grandma: "Her name is Sarah."
Sean: "Hi Sarah! Sarah, would you like to tell me your grandma's name?"
Sarah: "Grandma is one hundred and ten years old."

Sean: "Kento. Now's not the time to play. Let's go back to the red circle and listen to sensei."
Kento(2yo): (Furiously screams at the top of his lungs while punching and kicking me.)

Sean: "Nice swinging, Kento!"
Kento (While on a swing): (Furiously screams at the top of his lungs while attempting at punching and kicking me.)

Sean: "We're going to say bye bye to this beanbag, Kento. We're gonna play a different game, now."
Kento: (Furiously screams at the top of his lungs while punching and kicking me.)

Kyoko (My coworker): "Do you remember my name?"
Aruki (4yo): "No."
Kyoko: "It's Kyoko."
Aruki: "Your name should've been 'A Boobie.'"

Sean: "Hey, nice book! What's this animal?" I point at a horse.
Mion (2yo): "That's a horse."
Sean: "You sure that's not a dog?"
Mion: "That's a horse. You're kind of dumb, aren't you, sensei."

Sean: "Today's exercise worked on our strong arms."
Takehiro (7yo): "Triceps, but also our abdominal."
Sean: "Oh wow. You know your stuff."

Lisa (5yo): "Is this you in this picture?"
Sean: "Yeah! You could tell with the costume?"
Lisa: "You look like a strange old man."
Reina (5yo): "Strange old man!"
Lisa: "Strange old man."

Yusuke (6yo): "You kind of look like Snoop Dog."

Nichitsu by Day

We didn't get a good idea of the scope of the Ghost Town of Nichitsu until day broke, so deep was the darkness permeating the area. It was when the sun rose that we could see all the houses on the cliffs above and down the streets below, and so we wasted no time in delving deeper, exploring the town high and low. What we found didn't disappoint.

  Before going ghost, Nichitsu was fully operational as an independent town: it even had its own grocery store. Early that morning, we hit several points of interest. Nichitsu town was built up-cliff, with public buildings being located at the lower points, and residential ones located higher up. We didn't truly know about the lower point of the city until it was quite literally lit up to us, and the first construction we entered was the hospital.

  The hospital bore all the remnants of a full modern medical facility, including hardware and shelves full of medicine. Each room seemed to have served its own purpose: a first one was littered with nondescript black vinyl sheets, which, upon lifting for examination, we discovered to be x-rays. I beamed in delight as I realized I stood in a pile of such sheets big enough to be that of every bone ever broken in the town.
Other rooms included a sick persons' rest room, stained bed and all, a surgery room, complete with tools such as scalpels and an operating table, a chemists lab, with compounds such as hydrochloric acid still sitting on the shelves, and a dentists' room, with its floor completely smashed in. We delighted as every room brought us something completely new and seldom expected. One room even included organ tissue encapsulated in jars, but we could scarcely recognize the contents of the vials we lifted to the sun, but many of them were not human: several contained insects and other unrecognizable myriapods.
As we stumbled back out into the sunlight, we had little doubt that the next discovery could not be as interesting as the last. And we were wrong.

Surprisingly enough, the small town even had its own theater. Decades of wear weighed down upon the ceiling, planks of it littering the floor already. The place had a VIP room with windows looking straight at the stage, interior balconies, and a backstage room, the latter which decayed worst than any of the other parts of the building. It was easy to imagine the townsfolk gathering here every now and then for a show or a play.

Only after we were sure we had visited every single building there was to visit did we leave Nichitsu. We were satisfied. Our curiosity about the skeleton of the town, so desolate and remote, had finally met its answer, and after spending a massive twelve hours session of exploring, it was fatigue that finally claimed us, rather than any spirit or ghost.

I think I will, one day, return to Nichitsu, but for now, I leave the place to its eternal resting state for the next set of adventurers brave enough to climb up the mountain and face the village in its cold, deathlike trance.

PS: All photos on this post were taken courtesy of Lo. My camera died out the previous night.

Nichitsu by Night

I'm still tittering with excitement at what I had a chance to see and do in the last 24 hours. Just like Ashiomachi, the planning for Nichitsu has been a long time coming. Over the last month and a half, it's been a rush to gather an able crew, triangulate the location and arrange for the rental of a car to take us to one of the most desolate places in this part of Japan, and in some way I have this bizarre sense of pride in having accomplished it. Today, I've returned from a place long abandoned, that the country seems to want to have forgotten completely. I've lots to say about Nichitsu, so brace yourself for somewhat of a good read (at least comparatively to my regular posts.)

The Nichitsu Team

 There are some unfamiliar faces here I'd love to introduce before going into the whole adventure itself. The way the whole adventure played out, though, each member brought a little something to the table, so every one played an amazing role in our adventure.

Neal Pak and Nana Takeuchi.

 By the time the planning was starting to come together, Nana Takeuchi was the first person I had invited to the Ghost Town.
 At the time, she was my boss at My Gym. 
 Nana brought into the equation lock-picking, allowing our vehicle easy access through gates so that we could park the car within Nichitsu itself, away from the eyes of any potential security passing by.

Our driver, Lo.

Neal Pak is a Korean guy from Indianapolis, America, who I had met only a week before leaving. His taste for adventure instantly made me want to bring the guy along, and Neal turned out to be the best equipped one of any of us, owning all matters of rope, equipment and foodstuffs that he didn't hesitate to share during the journey.

Of course, we wouldn't have made it far without Jean-Paul Lo, who I have introduced a little while ago. Lo owns an international driving license, making it possible for him to bring us to our destination, which was otherwise unreachable. That aside, Lo stands quite tall and weighs a respectable 190lbs, which came quite handy in him kicking down doors.

Of course, the role I played was that of making sure we met our destination. Nichitsu does not show up on any GPS, nor does it have an address. Therefore I had to intersect different maps and bicycle paths existing on the internet and find an aerial photo of the place via satellite. Once I found Nichitsu, we manually input the coordinates into the GPS and the trick was done.

This town's as good as ours.

Unlike Ashiomachi, Nichitsu had no surveillance. Our adventure was a blur of jumping through windows, kicking down obstructing doors, and scaling walls. Don't be fooled by the flash-illuminated pictures: this place was pitch dark. Actual chances of getting lost were slim, since we could just as well yell to one another from either end of town, but there was always the risk of wild animals. On top of being dark, Nichitsu was also very cold, being located on a mountain. This also meant there was no cellphone signal. The four of us stuck together as a unit.

Armed with no light other than that of the stars above us and our own lamps, we took to the village with an efficient pace, and found it remarkably nonempty. The village was sizable, and, on that first night, we had managed to navigate through several apartment buildings and what seemed to be a town hall.
 A plethora of objects littered the floors, ranging from books to cutlery to game pieces and dolls, and the sheer number of things left behind was remarkable. Televisions were still connected to powerless walls.

Sweeping through the buildings.

What we knew of Nichitsu was the following: like Ashiomachi, its economy ran on mining. Predictably, the hollowing of the mines meant the collapse of the economy for the small town, forcing shops to close and people to evacuate.  Disturbingly enough, however, and this time unlike Ashiomachi, we did not find a consistent date for the collapse of Nichitsu as a town. Calendars on walls contradicted one another - some showing years as early as 1976. Others showed us 1984. Once calendar, found on the floor, showed us 1997, even. But it wasn't until we went into the last apartment building that we found any cause to feel disturbed by this.

The first thing to throw us off was the presence of recently discarded, new-looking shoes at the entrance. Soon, this was followed by the appearance of discarded calendars with dates going all the way through the first decade of the 2000's. Perplexed at the thought that some one might be using Nichitsu as a base, we pressed onwards, finding more and more signs of recent occupation in the crumbling rooms.
 The final room of the building took us by shock.
 New drapery adorned the beds, and fresh looking clothes hung by hooks. The room had clearly been arranged in a neat fashion, and by then we knew for sure: someone had been living in Nichitsu. However, unbeknownst to us whether it was the same resident who was responsible, clear knife marks adorned the walls, and words had been written into the same walls in red. Pornographic cut outs also hung from string contraptions reaching from one side of the room to the other.
 Who, in your opinion, would willingly choose to live secluded from society in such a place?
 We didn't linger too long.

Just outside, we found the perfect place to set up a campfire to drive away the cold. With a little tinkering, we managed to get quite a good one going, and, much to the amusement of the rest of us, Lo was quite efficient at breaking apart whole trees in order to feed the fire.
 Marshmallows were also brought out, courtesy of Nana, and we spent a few hours in the warmth of the flame, sharing a few jokes and stories. When morning came, we caught a little bit of sleep inside the car, before heading back out and exploring the second half of Nichitsu.

And trust me, we didn't even get to the good stuff quite yet!

Interesting Tidbits: Seasonal Flavors

The four seasons are felt differently here than they are in Montreal, from where I hail. People co-ordinate the colors they wear more closely to the seasons, I fill, and so, too, do the flavors change in accordance.
 Although big names in junk food such as the Coca Cola Company and Nestle are, obviously, American, the Japanese market sees a greater variety due to the local branches trying to appeal to the seasonal inclinations of the populace.
Pictured are White Pepsi and Watermelon Pepsi, for Winter and Summer respectively.

Anecdotely, I was told about White Pepsi before coming to Japan, and I remember it kind of perplexing me. It must be awfully chemical, I thought, to have that color. But then again, if regular Pepsi were white and they released a seasonal black one, I'd have probably had the same thought in reverse. Interestingly enough, White Pepsi is clementine flavored.
 Kit-Kat bars also change with the seasons here, also being available in Strawberry and Green Tea varieties depending on the time of the year. The more you know!

Brief Note: December in the Works

I'm very proud of the Nichitsu team I assembled.

I'm getting all giddy about December, let me tell you. Here's a few things coming up in the next month:

December 11th: Camping in the ghost town of Nichitsu.
 My Nichitsu team, appearing on the right, is composed of Neal, a Korean-American engineer from Indianapolis, Lo, my good pal who will be driving, and Nana, the young lady who I once worked with.

December 26th: Spending five days in Kyushu.
Complete with nation-renown hot baths, a haunted house, and possibly some holiday cheer.


It's gonna be a good month, ladies and gents.

Silly Inventions 2: Face Stretch

#2: Face Stretch

Oh shit, hide the kids. It's Face Stretch (marketed in Japanese as a portmanteau, like "Facetretch.")
 The tagline on the bottom reads "Everyday fun face exercise!" The picture on the packaging looks like a god damn blow up doll, and the product itself looks like something a deviant may put inside his butt.
 What's this even supposed to do? Stretch your maxilofacial muscles?
 Just chew on gum instead!

Silly Inventions is a segment describing abnormal Japanese products I stumble upon. See more by clicking here or on the Silly Inventions tag.