The A Button

I finished work and met up with Millo in Akihabara, not knowing where exactly we intended to go. Guided by nothing but the GPS on his smartphone, we made our way down backstreets and alleys to a place where we would meet a friend of his. Every street we walked into looked a little more run-down and unoccupied by the last. As often as I had frequented Akiba back when I lived in the area, it wasn't long until I had no idea where we were.
 When we finally arrived before the place marked on the map, we found ourselves standing in front of the one place that was lit up in an otherwise dead street. We found the A Button. And all it took was one look at the place for me to be captured by its dated, dorky charm. We walked in.
 A Button is pretty much a regular bar - you'll find people there for drinks, and you can order simple food items too - but it's the ambiance that defines the place. For one, set aside the pre-millennium rock tracks. Here, it's bit music all night long. I'm talking about that kind of machine-generated music that hear when you turn on a game dating before the mid 90's. Second, well, all it takes is a good look around the place to know that you're in deep, deep geek territory here.

 Lining the walls, fighting for every square inch of space, are old video game consoles, controllers, and related paraphernalia. Figurines and collectors' items stand combatant atop the bar too, in such a way that it would look rather difficult to serve drinks or food without knocking a few over. Some of the stuff on display is hardly even identifiable - limited edition consoles given to developers and the like. One can only imagine the trouble you'd have to go through to get that kind of thing. Or the money you'd have to spend for it.

 But what this bar once was, it really no longer is. When we asked if we could play any of the consoles hooked up to the large screen at the back of the room, it was plain to see that it pained the owner of the bar to say that that was no longer possible. You see, he explained, Japan cracked down on that kind of thing, for reasons that are a little obscure to me still. But apparently, it's illegal to run a business based off allowing people to play video games at any given establishment. And when law enforcement came around, A Button got mashed pretty hard.
 More's the pity, because the staff itself was actually really friendly, and the bar seemed to have a really nice set of regulars, many of which were foreigners too. We didn't let it ruin our night though, and overall, just basking in our eclectic surroundings was good fun. If you ever want to find a drinking hole that seems like the kind of place you'd find in a sitcom about dorks (and I mean that in the most appreciative way possible) then head over to A Button!

Everything Is Paper

Ken's origami Yoda.

Today was a day off. I woke up late, played video games until I was satisfied, and only then
thought to myself, wait, dammit, something has to happen today. It's been a pretty slow month, but even having been here three years already, I still hate not being able to make the best out of me being in Tokyo. After an hour and a half of clicking through pages of things to do around town before finally being pleased, I hauled ass to Ochanomizu's Origami Kaikan.
 Origami's kind of normal pass-time here. A whole bunch of Japanese people I know can at least fold paper cranes. Ken can fold paper Yoda even.
 I've never had much of a knack or even that much interest for origami, if truth be told, but as soon as I stepped into the building, I was immediately glad I made the trip, even if I was reluctant at first. The Origami Kaikan, despite being free to enter, is a veritable little museum. Folks, if you think you know origami, this place is a bit of an eye opener.

It's all paper!

The shop floor.

The Origami Kaikan has three functions - the 1st and 2nd floor are exhibition halls, displaying a wide range of works of all sizes from amateurs and professionals alike. The showcases on the second floor seemed to fit a seasonal theme, with the one I witnessed being very much in-line with the Hinamatsuri theme, which is the doll festival held on every 3rd of March. As such, most of the origami on that floor was folded to represent the emperor and the empress, very much like the doll sets which are dedicated to girls across the country on Hinamatsuri.
The 3rd floor is a shop, selling everything you'd ever need to make your own origami - be it paper, guidebooks, or even tools for the particularly difficult and advanced creations. Lastly, the 4th and 5th floor are where classes take place. Yes, you can attend paper folding classes.

 As it so happened, not ten minutes after I entered, a demonstration took place on the 3rd floor, and all visitors were invited to attend it. I gladly partook, and joined the small crowd of middle-aged to elderly people gathered around a small table, Japanese all. Behind the table sat another older man, who later revealed his age to be 80. The man made pleasant conversation with his small crowd throughout the whole demonstration, but his hands moved with deft, calculated precision that could only exist through muscle memory. I was more than a little bit mesmerized, as the man produced creation after creation and even took requests. "I'd like a sheep!" an old woman said to him. "Nothing easier than sheep," he replied. He folded three of them in a minute or so, without even looking at his hands, speaking throughout. He then invited people to take whatever they liked from what he had made during the demonstration. I obliged.
 Well, I don't think I'll be getting into origami any time soon, but I did learn a thing or two from today, and the Origami Kaikan was definitely worth the short visit.