Nikko - Sunlight City

Before my former roommate Julien "Shank" Einschenk left Japan, he went on a pilgrimage of sorts to hit all the most beautiful historical sites that the country had to offer. It was then that I had first heard of the city of Nikko. Shank, he wasn't really the talkative type, but you could almost see the glimmer in his eye when he spoke of the city in the mountains.
 And now I know for myself that Shank was right.

 

It had been a while that I had discussed going to the city with Mori, who has been working hard to save the money needed to travel the world once more. Ken, always willing to set out for new places, was quick to join along, and our waltz was complete, our destination, set. We headed north to the mountainous prefecture of Tochigi and arrived two hours later in the much colder, and quieter, city of Nikko.

I have to tell you right off the bat that if you expect to eat anything in Nikko other than yuba (that's ゆば in Japanese) then you're fucked. The tourism overlords of Nikko seem to take great pride in the local speciality dish that is yuba and will stop at nothing to cover the city in restaurants and billboards with yuba upon every corner. "The hell's yuba?" you might ask. Well, according to wikipedia, it's tofu skin. Pretty simple, I think, but local restaurants seem to take delight in preparing it in many different ways. Yuba's okay, I guess. It's not a particularly rich taste. But for such a statement I may get a stone thrown at me by the very people who use it for the preparation of lavish dishes, dessert, and even ice cream in Nikko.

 But it's not the nature (nor the food culture) that makes Nikko's beauty, although it certainly does contribute into it. In the religion of Shinto, Nikko is effectively the birthplace of a God. A Shogun, one of the de-facto rulers of Japan, died in this place, and was there after deified and given a grave fitting for that of a God. If Nikko was any holier than it it is, then surely I would've burst into ashes on the spot. And in no place is this more apparent than that very grave: the Nikko Tosho-gu.
It would take a real philistine to not appreciate the sheer enormity of the mausoleum of Tokugawa Ieyasu, from the mere path leading towards it to the detail in every relief, every idol and statue. A tremendous amount of gold was used here not only in reverence of the shogun-turned-God, but to show the whole world a demonstration of the wealth and power of Japan. 2 million sheets of gold leaf were expended in the creation of this mausoleum - that's 2.4 hectares of god damn gold leaf. On top of that, it took 15000 artists and craftsmen from all over Japan to bring the mausoleum to its completion in the 17th century. I hope they fed them more than just yuba.
 It's in Nikko Tosho-gu that one can fully appreciate icons famous in Japan's mythology - take for instance the fresco depicting the Three Wise Monkeys, Mizaru who sees no evil, Kikazaru, who hears no evil, and Iwazaru who speaks no evil. Yeah, this is the origin of that.
 Five of Japan's national treasures are located within the territory occupied by the Nikko Tosho-gu.
 Without exaggeration, I feel like one could easily spend half of a whole day to appreciate all there is to see within the grounds of the mausoleum, but it took Ken and Mori and I the better part of an hour and a half or so. In all frankness, though, it takes more than mere pictures and words to convey the majesty of Nikko Tosho-gu. It's world class beauty, maybe even more so than anything else I've seen in Japan.





Frankly, there's a lot more to see in Nikko than we managed to get ourselves to do. From what I hear, a number of beautiful gardens and other temples and shrines adorn the city, including that of the shogun's grandson, even, but what are those when compared to the birthplace of a Shinto God? Although we did visit the imperial villa, it turned out to be a little underwhelming, I felt (but it is a big-ass house.) And so, our journey to Nikko ended with the three of us going into one of Nikko's hot springs, after which we took the train back to Tokyo. (And then we sang karaoke!)

 Here's a photo-roll, because there was no way I could fit all the pretty sights into this one blog post!

Still at it

Here's a video of me practicing my tricking at work during the after-hours. I haven't lost any of it! Go figure, huh.
 As it turns out, I'm pretty sure I'm in better shape now than I've ever been, so it sure makes it easier to succeed at new techniques I haven't been able to do before. I'll resolve to learn one new trick every month.

Kawagoe - A Discovery Impromptu

What wonders and horrors could await us here?

It was Eri who left me a message one day, as I got home from work. "Have you been to Kawagoe before?" it read. "I just saw a pic and thought you might like it, maybe."
"Let's do that this Saturday," I told her the next time I saw her. And we did.
 And, man, yes. I like Kawagoe after all. It's not a place I would've found out about or chosen to go to on my own, and for that I count my blessings that Eri showed me the way and came along.
 Located less than an hour out of Tokyo, Kawagoe's a reminder of what the city used to be in a time long gone. Of course, a lot of Kawagoe's been modernized. But all it takes is a few steps out of the concrete curtain to find a little bit of treasure here. It helps to know where to start, though, unlike Eri and I who ran from station to station and in circles looking for each other. But when I did find her, she had several maps (and a sense of direction twelve times better than mine), and with those in hand, we plowed onwards.

 The bulk of what's interesting to see in Kawagoe is located on one particular street named karazukuri no machinami, which is lined with very rustic looking shops and restaurants, most of which specialize selling equally traditional wares or foods. The street offers a window into what Tokyo was before it was even named Tokyo, with many of the store owners out in the streets in front of their own shops despite the relative cold of early February.


And it's from this main street that many of Kawagoe's most interesting features stem from or branch out of, one of which being the Confectionery Row, where rows of shops lay in wait that specialize in...candy.
 All of a sudden, I'm six years old again. I have a sweet tooth. So does Eri. We waste no time in buying one piece of every candy we dare try, sitting down, and eating them on the spot, where I was urged to try strange and marvelous things and others that in some cultures may be seen as only suitable for cruel and unusual punishment.

  Candy aside, Kawagoe also holds a few other vestiges of the past, one of which is the Bell of Time, which still chimes four times a day (although we didn't get to hear it out for ourselves.) The structure itself has a presence to it, and stands relatively taller than its neighbors. Behind it were a shrine and, oddly enough, a set of children's swings. "Shut up and go play, mommy and daddy are praying."
 

Behold what remains of my kingdom!

Our journey across Kawagoe also set us with another destination in mind: the Honmaru Goten, the sole remaining building of the former Kawagoe castle.
 The picture on the right...Well, that isn't it. It's a ditch. Apparently this particular ditch served to protect the outskirts of the castle. Nearby was a panel set up for touristic purposes explaining all the great things about the ditch which I couldn't care to remember. Luckily, though, we found there was more to the castle just a little further down the street.


The Honmaru Goten, while not as majestic as any of the famous bigger castles you'll find throughout Japan, is still a dignified and legitimate cultural heritage, and, crossing out the Imperial Palace in the dead center of Tokyo, which is inaccessible to visitors, is the closest castle to the capital city. A quick visit of the building costs nothing but 200¥, a price you truly can't go wrong with despite the time it takes to circumnavigate the place being brief. But a true buff of Japanese history wouldn't want to pass the chance up. As for ourselves, the major part of our pleasure in visiting the 500 year-old castle went a little something like this:

"Oh, Eri! Go stand over there!"

"Dum-dee-dum"

"Okay."

"Now take a picture of my king-like pose!"

Not that it wasn't fun. It was. As an alternative to what I did, though, you could go in and actually learn something. The place is a well-arranged exhibition that goes through the details of the castle's layout and its history concerning the Hojo Clan and the battle for the Kanto region and so forth. If I write about Japanese history, it'll be for another time, though.

  There is, actually, more to see of Kawagoe, but our day trip, for all intents and purposes, ended here. We unfortunately only made it to the Kita-In Buddhist temple upon its closing, and were unable to get in and take a good look at the 500-some statues of Buddha. But if I ever make a return trip, that'll be for then.

Wait, seriously?

 After a muddled and confused walk to the train station and a brief ride, I bid Eri farewell until the day after the next, where she made me change one of our flyers at work, like, a billion times.

As if you couldn't guess, many of these photos were taken by Eri. Notably, the good ones. Credit where it's due.

Phone and Keyboard

Meet Eri! That's "Ellie" if you romanize her name, but we don't do that much.
 She's the receptionist at my current branch in My Gym, my workplace. Even back when I was working at the Yokohama branch, Eri was there too, before we were pulled out into the Tokyo-Hiroo branch together. Sometimes I'll put her on the spot if she steps into one of my classes. Sometimes she'll hand me a bundle of documents to file if I'm out of class. She may even be my manager some day.
 Having lived ten years of her life in Boston, she's as bilingual as they get, but moreover, she's a kind soul and a good heart who has recommended to me places to visit and things to eat. Our schedules be willing, Eri may even jump in from time to time, but in the meanwhile, she's the girl with the phone, the keyboard, and the smile.

It's Valentine's

My likeness on the bottom left!

...And nothing really exciting happened over the course of the day! Mostly I've been receiving gifts from students though, notably chocolate, a few cards, and in one case a T-shirt, even.
  Of course, the big problem is I can't read a card received from a Japanese child. It's hard enough to read the language regularly, but add on top of that the whole 4-year-old's handwriting aspect and I'm done. I tried passing the card along to one of my coworkers who couldn't do it either.
 Sorry, Rino-chan, I tried. I really did. But I'm no cryptographer. Your gift was heart-warming and I appreciate it no less.


 "Sean, you fart-head," says you. "Why didn't you confess your undying love to some girl?" Well, it doesn't work like that in this country. I promise I'll explain that on the second Valentine's day thing that happens on March 14th. I'm not even kidding. Japan kind of took this whole commercial holiday to a whole other level.

So what did I end up doing?
 Well I got together with Millo and Ken and Kazue and we played Monopoly.
How unromantic.
I actually lost first, which goes to show that my skill at Monopoly hasn't increased in the last fifteen years. If you have to know, Kazue won. Fitting, because she sees herself getting into the business of renting out houses and such.

Yurei

We're only mildly startling the first time!

Continuing my recent trend in horror-themed...things, I invited Nana and a fellow coworker, Nobuaki, to a ghost-themed restaurant in Kichijoji I knew little about. Located in a basement floor a short walk away from the train station is the place in question; named Yurei, or simply "Ghost."
 Frankly, it would take quite a ridiculously low tolerance to scare to be even mildly disturbed by this place, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun. Yurei's interior is lined with campy Halloween props that are better suited for laughs, the best of which being spider toys fastened to the ceiling, rigged to drop at the sound of hands clapping.

Shortly after being seated, we were instructed by the waitress, dressed in traditional religious garb while simultaneously wearing a ghost's headband, to ring a funerary bell and raise a disembodied hand when we wanted to place an order. With great difficulty, she explained to us, in English, that we were in the world of the dead, and that we would never be able to return to the terrestrial plane if we stayed in the restaurant for more than two hours. She then introduced herself, and pointed out that, if we so desired, she would make us a delicious mystery cocktail using her blood (not for real, of course). Actually, all the waitresses in Yurei can serve a special cocktail named after themselves, which is pretty neat.

Other than that, the food itself isn't particularly amazing in any way. Like all the mainstream themed restaurants, the items have a gimmicky name, but are pretty much all standardized izakaya items. They do do the "ghostfire" flaming ribs though.
 In good company, Yurei can be lots of fun, but do bring a Japanese-speaking person - the place isn't exactly equipped to provide foreigners the same level of service as locals.

Uptown Girl?

In the Japanese language, moving to Tokyo has its own word, a verb which, broken apart, literally translates to "to up-city."
 Today, Kazue up-citied, and I've helped her move her mattresses from the neighbor region of Saitama to her new apartment in Tokyo.
 I've known Kazue for the better part of...five months, now, I believe. She's a hard-working career-oriented girl who likes beer and doesn't do very well with horror movies. Maybe now that she's in Tokyo, you'll see a bit more of her.

2013 Banners!

Wow, I actually got four submissions this year! A big thanks to all of you who sent in a banner!
 You know, I could've made one myself, but like this I'm glad to be able to keep in touch with you guys. I'll be rotating these banners weekly!

 A big thank you to:

Marie Grob!

 Owen Gregory!

Ken Tanaka!

Eri Karasawa!

I Made My Own Noodles and You Can Too

I look like a troll doll!

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you Shut The Fucup Noodles With Beef, my very own brand of instant noodles. More than just a cheap pre-existing brand of noodles with modified packaging, Shut The Fucup contains its own original flavor, haphazardly chosen by myself, Sean Nakagawa, whose likeness figures on the package.
 You, too, can make your very own cup noodles at the Cup Noodle Museum at Minatomirai, a place I didn't think would be as interesting as it turned out to be. Located near the Red Brick Warehouse I had mentioned in the previous post about the Minatomirai bay-side area, the museum has several floors of trivia about cup noodles and its creator, as well as some extra-fun floors with interactive noodle-making and tasting areas. It's a fun place to spend a few hours, and, interestingly enough, a good place to take a date, as was made apparent by the number of couples on site.
But enough of that. I bet you want to know how I made my Shut The Fucup noodles.

You want to make Shut The Fucup noodles? Well you can't. Only I can. But I can tell you how you can make your own damn noodles. Once you design your package as masterfully as I have, bring it to the counter. A designated noodle slave fills your cup and then you get to select a number of toppings and one of four flavors. Shut The Fucup Noodles With Beef doesn't actually contain beef, because, unfortunately, beef wasn't among the choices available. I wish I had known that before I wrote that on the package. Your toppings inserted, your cup noodles are then sealed and pressed and plastic-wrapped on spot, so that you can take them home and show your friends and enjoy your own flavor noodles.

The Magna Carta of Noodles

Speaking of original flavor noodles, the Cup Noodle Museum also contains a floor dedicated to a "Cup Noodle Bazaar" where different types of noodles from different countries are showcased, including but not limited to the obligatory Italian pasta, Thailand's tom yun, Vietnam's pho and Indonesian mie goreng.
The bazaar simulates the locations where these noodle stands are typically found, and offers small cups of each kind for 300¥ (4$) so that one can sample each different type. International soda drinks are even available here.

Of course, the museum also showcases actual factual education as well, with exhibits containing information on how cup noodles have evolved throughout time, with particular emphasis on how it all started in Japan with a certain individual named Momofuku Ando, who lived to the ripe old age of 97, and created Cup Noodles as we know them. To give you an idea of the range of influence the man had, Momofuku Ando Day is now an actual thing occurring every January 19th in Dallas Texas, celebrating the accessibility of affordable food for the poor.