If one is looking for old Tokyo, one must visit Asakusa given that it is seen to be the centre of Tokyo’s shitamachi (low city) districts. Whilst this post focuses on showing examples of old Tokyo, I should say that my visits to Asakusa were not strictly for this reason and I will post photographs offering other glimpses of Asakusa at a later time.
If I had to select one image that says “old Tokyo” from this and previous posts in this series, I would select the delightful old house shown at pic 1. Coming across this old place was as if one had stepped back in time and one hopes that buildings such as this will survive for many years to come, thus giving us a glimpse and a sense of what old Tokyo was like. However, when one considers that the house is within a fifteen to twenty minutes walk of Tokyo Skytree, perhaps all we can do is hope.
One may imagine that in times past the residents of the house would have patronised nearby shops such as those featured in pics 2 to 6, whose quintessential charm continues to be relevant today. Each of these stores has a story to tell that is, in turn, woven into Asakusa’s story.
Other examples of old Tokyo can be found (pics 7 to 12) by walking the streets, where the old and new exist side by side such as in pics 11 and 12. For the most part I found the blending of old and new to be quite aesthetically pleasing, perhaps due (as in pic 12) to the design similarities carried over into the new buildings.
Memories too are created among the old buildings as in pic 8, where a teacher can be seen setting up his camera before rushing back to join his students for a photographic memory of their trip to Asakusa. Who knows what will become of these buildings, especially when the average life of buildings in Japan is said to be in the order of twenty years. Nevertheless, whatever they become, these students have a memory of how it once appeared.
It would be remiss not to include a photograph of Senso-ji (pic 13), Asakusa’s major attraction and Tokyo’s oldest temple, which dates back to the seventh century and will be the subject of a future post.
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Kagurazaka is located close to Tokyo Central and given its past as a prominent entertainment district, I had hoped a visit would yield further examples of old Tokyo. This was not to be the case. Whilst I’m sure that with more time one could find some interesting links to old Tokyo, including a number of surviving geisha houses, the Kagurazaka I found was that of a rather fashionable and western-friendly district.
The beauty of travelling is that even when one does not find what one expects, the unexpected is nevertheless interesting. Kagurazaka seems to pivot around its shopping street, which is closed to vehicles around lunchtime each day, thus creating a relaxed pedestrian mall. However, apart from enjoying the relaxed environment, this street held little interest for me.
The interest lay in the side streets and alleys that lead away from the main street and then meander in the manner one comes to expect when walking in Japanese districts where the urban layout seems reminiscent of times past. Indeed, venturing into the side streets is a tad similar to Kyoto’s Gion district where, although the modern world has shouldered its way in, the street layouts allow one to imagine life in the glory days.
For this blog I have selected photographs consistent with my two main impressions of Kagurazaka. My first and strongest memory was that of the cobblestoned streets and alleys, a street surface that may be cursed by cyclists, yet is invariably appealing in the aesthetic sense and immediately creates atmosphere. Although today’s cobblestones are unlikely to be original, they succeed in slowing the pace of life a little and at the same time hint at the district’s interesting past.
My second main impression was that the district felt western-friendly, predominantly due to the variety of restaurants tucked away in side streets. I later learned that Kagurazaka has a reputation for being Tokyo’s French Quarter and is home to two French schools. The accompanying photographs show a small selection of the eating and drinking establishments in the area.
Visitors to Japan will certainly have noticed the very popular pachinko parlours and may have also noticed the smaller and more discreet TUC shops included in pic 7. As the title “Cashing in” implies, these venues allow players to exchange their pachinko tokens for cash, thereby getting around Japan’s gambling regulations. At the other end of the cultural spectrum, pic 8 shows a small street shrine allowing people to worship or seek some respite from a busy day.
The most unusual of the restaurants shown was “Hajimeno Ippo” – Tokyo’s first garlic restaurant. Whilst I doubt I would be paying a visit, it seems well placed in the French Quarter and I believe it can often take some time to get a booking.
Revisiting Kagurazaka for this blog post has made me realize that I will revisit in person when next in Tokyo to look for those old Tokyo remnants I sense are there to be found.
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Mukojima adjoins Kyojima and was, therefore, a logical area to look for examples of old Tokyo. Located on the east side of the Sumida River, Mukojima was fortunate during the 1945 bombings to avoid the extent of devastation experienced elsewhere. Whilst this has resulted in well-preserved shitamachi (low town) zones, there is also much evidence of an area in transition as new developments have followed the opening of the nearby Tokyo Skytree in 2012.
There was a second agenda to my walk through Kiyojima and that was to find geisha, given that Mukojima is one of the few areas in Tokyo where real geisha train and work. I could have joined an organised tour and been guaranteed success, but I much preferred to simply wander and trust in luck and instinct. As can be seen from pics 11 to 14, the mission was accomplished.
After wandering the streets for some time I came across an area that just felt right and decided to wait on a corner and play “paparazzi”. Well, after a short time I heard the familiar clip clopping sound of footsteps and the jangling associated with the hair ornamentation worn by trainee geisha on their way to engagements. A short while later an older woman came by (pic 14) carrying her shamisen, a stringed instrument used to accompany geisha during performances.
This post marks my 50th post and although it has taken longer than I had expected, I would like to thank those people who follow, read and comment on my blog. Your participation is most appreciated and I hope you will continue to find the blog interesting.
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I concluded my previous post by describing Kyojima as a place with a “village feel” and this is most evident by spending time in Kyojima’s shopping street. I’m unsure as to the street’s name, but I think it is Tachibana Ginza, though my advice is to just wander around Kyojima and you will find it, as I suspect all streets lead to the shopping street (shotengai).
Despite enjoying my base in Harajuku during my stay, I wished Harajuku had such a place to shop for fresh foods and it is a reminder that streets like these are under threat in all developed societies. It is such a shame that future generations may never experience the sense of community from buying their everyday needs from merchants who rely more on friendly relationships than slick marketing programs. At a personal level, I recall my Father’s butcher shop being a social hub where people would share local news (and gossip of course), not to mention his knowledge of customers’ favourite cuts ensuring their ongoing patronage. The shrink-wrapped equivalent from the supermarket is …. well it’s not an equivalent at all is it?
Kyojima’s shotengai is old Tokyo, yet it fits new Tokyo if one listens to Kyojima’s newer residents. Urban planning is always a difficult and challenging process, yet one hopes a way can be found to retain these old shotengai within the inevitable urban renewal process. Given Japan’s reverence for maintaining old traditions, it is perhaps more likely to succeed than other nations.
Today’s photos start with MuuMuu Coffee (pics 1 and 2), which also features in an earlier post (Cafes on January 6, 2014), followed by a selection of shots showing shopkeepers and customers. I was quite taken by the wheelchair bound woman (pic 3) enjoying a relaxing shopping expedition accompanied, one assumes, by her son. Can one be this relaxed in a food hall?
Much as the wares on display in Ginza’s food halls impress me, is not the timeless appeal of Toshi’s greengrocery (pic 4) just as impressive? The personalised service and sense of community is aptly conveyed by pics 7 and 8, where Yumiko can be seen attending to an elderly customer (pic 7) and enjoying a chat with a local resident (pic 8). Yumiko’s café serves a range of popular snacks including takoyaki (octopus balls) and taiyaki, which are fish shaped cakes served with hot fillings such as red bean paste.
Perhaps pic 9 is most reminiscent of old Tokyo through the photographic memories on display. I would like to be able to tell you more about this shop, but it was untended each time I passed. Pics 10 and 11 are shots of students visiting from Kanazawa to promote their city. I remember them well. My presence became an opportunity for English practice and it was fortunate I had visited Kanazawa a few days earlier.
I suspect most visitors to Tokyo would not visit this shotengai and I hope this post may encourage more visitors. Visiting the Ginza and Kyojima’s shopping street may be at opposite ends of the shopping spectrum, but each is a “wow” experience.
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How well do you really know your city? Perhaps the answer depends on the size and population as much as any other factor and for those who live in large cities, I suspect there are many areas that are rarely visited. I know this applies to my life in a city of approximately 4.4 million people. Extrapolating this to a sprawling metropolis such as Tokyo suggests that vey few Tokyoites would have an intimate and comprehensive knowledge of their city. For tourists and short-term residents, the challenge of seeing the range of cities within a city is even greater.
One of the things I was keen to do when visiting Tokyo was to visit areas where “old Tokyo” could still be seen and experienced, though I freely admit that I was barely able to scratch the surface. The plan was simple: catch a train to areas of interest and wander around.
This will be the first in a series of “Looking for Old Tokyo” posts, starting with Kyojima, originally designated as a farming area according to old shogunate law. This heritage is most visibly experienced, quite delightfully, by strolling through Kyojima’s narrow winding streets that follow the pathways through long gone paddy fields and irrigation channels. This was aptly described as Kyojima epitomising Tokyo in the sense that Tokyo is a city that has never had a plan, a city centre or any visible order.
Kyojima is also described as an accident waiting to happen. It sits at sea level; has many older style wooden houses; and is susceptible to earthquakes given its alluvial soil. Add to these a lack of firebreaks and its narrow streets and one gets the picture that it would not be the place to be during a major earthquake. Despite all this Kyojima has survived not only earthquakes, but also escaped the firebombing of Tokyo during the Second World War; hence its appeal to those looking for glimpses of old Tokyo.
Kyojima is nevertheless showing signs of change, as will be seen from several of the photographs, yet maintains strong elements of the earthiness of a shitamachi (low town) where the buildings show the inventiveness of residents’ use of available materials to make repairs.
I had expected to find an older demographic and was not surprised to come across the three people waiting for the bus (pic 1) – one of my favourite shots. However, a short while later when wandering through the streets I met an English woman who now resides in the area. She explained that the area is becoming increasingly attractive to younger people due to lower rents and property prices compared to other parts of Tokyo.
People are also being drawn to Kiyojima through the proximity of the Tokyo Skytree, which towers over the area (pic 2). Skytree is Tokyo’s tallest building and a popular destination for local and international tourists, with many venturing further afield to explore the adjoining areas.
Kyojima lacks green open spaces, yet there is no lack of greenery on view through pot plants on or outside almost every building. Readers may also notice the presence of bicycles in most shots and there is no doubt that cycling and walking are the preferred forms of local transport.
I will let the photographs tell the rest of the story and will end by saying that I left Kyojima feeling happy. I found it to be an engaging place with a friendly atmosphere and what I would term a “village feel” where people know and care for their neighbours. Progress is already encroaching as it inevitably must, but I hope the spirit of old Tokyo continues to live on here.
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Sanjusangendo is, at 120 metres), Japan’s longest wooden structure, with the name literally translating to “33 intervals” to denote the number of intervals between the building’s support columns. The temple’s other major claim to fame is for the 1001 statues of Kannon (the goddess of mercy), which are housed within the temple hall. Originally built in 1164 and destroyed by fire in 1249, the current structure dates from 1266.
Unfortunately my photographs are restricted to external views given that photography is banned inside the temple hall. This is always disappointing, particularly when it seems to be motivated by a desire to increase souvenir sales and when a blind eye is turned to those taking “selfies” on phone cameras.
Nevertheless, there is a “silver lining” and by focusing on exterior shots, one has the opportunity to highlight the quiet beauty and strength of traditional wooden structures, not to mention the wonderful hues that result as wood ages. My personal favourite is the final shot, simply because it is a timeless view that may have been shared by many over the centuries.
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Kyoto has an embarrassment of riches in the form of its impressive temples and shrines representing several Buddhist disciplines. Tourists, local and international, flock to enjoy the history and ambience of the better-known and grander temples, especially during the peak Autumn and Spring periods when nature’s allure is magnetic.
Other temples exist more quietly and this is where one finds Bukko-ji. I was fortunate to be staying near Bukko-ji, which I passed most days on my way to and from my apartment and one day I acted on my daily reminder that “I must visit here before I leave”. Since visiting, it remains as a most memorable visit and serves as an example of the jewels one often finds by simply wandering away from the main thoroughfares.
Bukko-ji has a long history of teaching Shin Buddhism and promoting its message to: “Become a real human under the guiding light of the original power of Amida.” Founded in 1212 by Shinran Shonin, Bukko-ji moved to its present site in central Kyoto in 1586 and today sits comfortably within a neighbourhood of apartment buildings, hotels and other businesses. We talk today of community hubs, but I wonder how many can claim to have served the role for over 400 years.
Two halls joined by a connecting bridge dominate the temple complex. To the left is the Amida Hall or Hondo (main hall), where the statue of Amida Buddha is enshrined and to the right is Daishl-do (Great Priest’s Hall), where the seated statue of Shinran Shonin is enshrined. Typical of Japanese temples, the wide eaves provide protection from the elements and allow worshippers and visitors to move freely between the halls. Indeed, I would go as far as claiming that walking on the smooth boards, polished over time by many feet, as one of life’s simple pleasures.
The selected photographs aim to emphasise two aspects of Bukko-ji and arguably similar Japanese temples. The external shots remind one of strong beauty. Built from solid native timbers, these wooden structures are built to last and stand with an unspoken invitation as safe havens. The internal shots show a quiet, serene environment that invites contemplation. Softly filtered light, expansive tatami floors, classic scenes depicted on painted wall panels, statues of revered deities and splendidly adorned altars combine to make time spent in either hall a memorable experience.
I hope the photographs give readers some insight into Bukko-ji and serve as a reminder that Kyoto has many more hidden jewels. My memories from the visit include the friendliness of administrators and other staff I met during my visit; the absolute joy of being the only visitor there and having the halls to myself; the feel of the tatami; and most of all the feeling of calm and of life slowing down, if only for a while.
May Bukko-ji still be there for another 400 years.
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Once experienced never forgotten is but one way to describe Japan’s cherry blossom (Sakura) season. These delicate pink/white flowers that visit fleetingly, yet around which so much goodwill is generated stay in one’s memory.
I will not pretend to understand the phenomenon of Sakura and the celebrations (Hanami) that will be taking place in Japan as this post is written. Nevertheless, around this time of year, no matter where I am, I find my thoughts drawn to and remembering the Sakura. For Japanese people the bond to the Sakura grows season by season and perhaps the same applies to non-Japanese who have lived in Japan for some years.
As concern grows over our environment and as modern life separates us more and more from nature, I must admit to some envy at Japan’s annual celebration of the Sakura and the nation’s more general appreciation of the seasons. Whilst Japan has its own environmental challenges, I cannot help but think that such widespread appreciation of nature is a positive force for the future.
In March/April 2014 I posted a series of images and thoughts on the cherry blossom season and with this post I have included some additional shots taken at various locations around Kyoto. Once experienced never forgotten.
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Located in Kyoto’s foothills, the ideal way to visit Ginkakuji is on foot via the Philosopher’s Path. Turning right at the end of the path, the final leg is uphill between rows of souvenir shops and food outlets, well placed to cater for hungry visitors on the way in or out or both.
Ginkakuji dates back to around 1480 and is a most significant temple. Originally built as a retirement villa for Ashikaga Yoshimasu, a shogun dedicated to the arts, Ginkakuji became a centre for contemporary culture that was to become known as Higashiyama Culture. Arts that developed and flourished during this time include arts that are seen today as synonymous not just with Japanese art, but with Japan. Imagine being at the centre of a culture developing the tea ceremony, flower arrangement, poetry, Noh theatre, garden design and architecture and one gets an idea of life around Ginkakuji at that time. Of even more significance is that the culture extended beyond the enjoyment of the aristocratic circles and filtered through to impact more broadly on the whole of Japan.
Ginkakuji is visually impressive in a rather uncomplicated way in that it relies on relatively few elements to deliver a serene environment for those who have lived there and for those of us able to visit only fleetingly. In this post I wish to draw attention to three key elements.
The best-known building is the Silver Pavilion (pics 1 and 2), named after an intention to cover the building in silver to both imitate and contrast with Kinkakuji (Golden Pavilion) built by Yoshimasu’s grandfather. Despite the original plan never being carried out, the building has aged gracefully and its survival through many fires and earthquakes since is a tribute to its architects and builders.
Also dating back to the temple’s foundation, Togo-du (pics 3 to 5) is the oldest example of Shoin architecture in Japan, the architectural style still governing how most contemporary tatami rooms are designed today. Within the building was the Dojinsai tearoom where Yoshimasu would often take tea and which many scholars consider to be the predecessor of the Tea Pavilion.
The Sea of Silver Sand (pics 6 to 9 and 11 to 13) is impossible to miss upon entering the grounds and when viewed from the higher reaches of the garden. It is, of course, a lovingly cared for dry sand garden that commands the eye, drawing one’s gaze towards the Silver Pavilion and the large sand cone named “Moon Viewing Platform” reminiscent of Mount Fuji.
A key element featured here only incidentally, is Ginkakuji’s magnificent gardens – an absolute must see in autumn. One of the many features is the moss garden, glimpses of which can be seen in pics 2 and 5. From there, one follows a path that meanders around the hillside overlooking the temple buildings and where even the fencing (pic 10) is impressive. The meandering path invites one to stop frequently to enjoy the views over the temple grounds and beyond to Kyoto (pics 11 to 13), a view that I always found delightful.
Ginkakuji is one of those places that make one relax and slow down. It is serene; it is tranquil; it invites contemplation and meditation; and this is largely due to the vision of a Shogun interested in arts and culture who, despite reigning in bloody war torn times, set in place the foundation for arts that came to be defining elements of Japan.
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Concrete must surely have a claim to being the most important and indispensable building material of modern times. Its ubiquity is, however, not met with universal acclaim, with opinions varying along the spectrum of beautiful to ugly in relation to its contribution to our streetscapes and urban environments.
I will leave individuals to decide where they stand on this subject and perhaps, like me; you find examples of each within your local environments.
Concrete is, however, the common factor between the photos chosen for this post, which grew from my desire to share a few photographs of a rather interesting house in Harajuku (Tokyo). The shots are by no means an attempt to document the range of concrete structures one finds in Japan – they are simply shots of buildings that appealed to me.
The Harajuku Wedge is my name for the building shown by pics 1 to 4. It was a few minutes walk from where I was living and I remember my first view being the angle shown at pic 1, where it looked more like a freestanding wall. As one moves around to behold the view shown at pic 2, the shape changes from a sliver to a wedge and clearly becomes a residence cleverly utilising a small footprint. The dominant use of concrete is further seen from the detail pics (3 and 4), where the use of other materials and plantings soften the raw harshness of the concrete. I never tired of looking at this building on my walks and for me; it serves as a good example of innovative architecture.
The Nagano Cube (pic 5) may lack the visual impact of the Harajuku Wedge, but it begs the question of whether it represents an emerging style in a country where space is always in short supply. Cubes tend to be divisive in architectural terms and are another of those “love or hate” design options. Nevertheless, the style maximises space; would appear to be energy efficient judging from the array of solar panels on the roof; and seemed to blend reasonably well with its neighbours.
A different look altogether is what I called Asakusa Chic (pic 6) where the use of industrial materials, including concrete, have been used to create a residence that integrated nicely with its residential/industrial neighbourhood. I wish I could have seen inside, as I distinctly remember wondering if this may have been the Tokyo equivalent of warehouse conversions. My final Tokyo inclusion is a Ryotei (high class restaurant often involving entertainment by Geisha) in Mukojima (pic 7), an area of Tokyo where older style buildings can be found due to the area being less heavily bombed during World War 2. Whilst the building presents as rather conventional, its style is nevertheless distinctly Japanese and consistent with the generally discreet external appearance of such establishments.
Downtown Osaka (pic 8) was shot from my apartment window and perhaps most clearly shows the ubiquity of concrete, as well as the boxy, space efficient styling. Despite this, I still find the view interesting and to borrow a friend’s observation, the colourful billboards and street advertising found in Asian countries brings life to otherwise bland scenes. The second Osaka image (pic 9) is a building in the Dotonbori area, where the more fluid shapes within the external steel staircase adds an (almost) art deco feel to an otherwise plain concrete structure.
To conclude this little sojourn into the world of concrete, pic 11 was shot at Kyoto’s Garden of Fine Arts. In reality the name is somewhat misleading in that the garden has no plant life, nor does one find works of fine art. Instead one enters an imaginative space where popular works of art have been reproduced within an open-air gallery of concrete, steel and glass, which perhaps will become the subject of a future post.
Is there a moral to this post? Well, to be honest, it started as a simple desire to share shots of a building that caught my eye and held my interest, but morphed into something a little more. As a material, concrete can rightly be described as dull, boring, bland, plain and any other number of similarly uncomplimentary terms. It has, however, become our building block and when used imaginatively has the potential to add interest and beauty to our lives. It reminds me of an old saying that: “a good tradesman never blames his tools”.
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