In the age of the shinkansen, it's easy to forget how isolated parts of Japan once were. While it's not a big country in terms of landmass, mountains are an obstacle in traveling from one area to another. You can get an idea of this even today if you travel between Arashiyama and Kameoka. Mind you, this is something I'd never done before, because it's kind of a pain in the ass. It sounds cool to take the "romantic" train to Kameoka and come back via boat along the river, and that's exactly what makes it a pain in the ass. If you love tourists like I love tourists (ie, not at all, except in the old adage that the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference), this little experience is a nightmare.
You can't just walk up to the station, buy a ticket, and board a train...I tried that once years ago with zero success (although I did find this cool little doll workshop that gave me Ideas, and Arashiyama is never a waste of time in my mind). You have to get a ticket for THIS particular train in advance, and we're talking like well in advance. No chance of, "Hmm, maybe tomorrow I'll take the sightseeing train to Kameoka." On the other hand, the boat back doesn't really have a reliable advance booking. I mean, they had something, because some people had some kind of voucher they were exchanging for a ticket, but on the websites that I read everything said you just showed up at the dock with your fingers crossed. Given all this and the overabundance of capital-t Tourists, you may wonder if it's even worth it?
Well, maybe it's because something tells me it's going to be many moons before I make it back to Kyoto, but this time around I finally did it. When I hadn't heard back from Ando about their doll-dressing experience, my mind turned to other things I could do, and realized that this would be an excellent chance to try something new. Now that was a couple of weeks before I'd gotten sunburnt wandering around the flea market in the harsh morning sunlight, but when I got to Arashiyama and realized it was going to be a bright, bright sunshiny day on the Hozugawa, I scrounged around through my memory long enough to come up with the words for sun and protect...even if I got the order wrong, saying "mamoru no hi" and pointing to my arm got the message across at the Lawson's I stopped in, and I continued on my way to the train station.
The train ride really was beautiful. When you're not going through a tunnel - and there were a lot, but their eerie beauty doesn't really lend itself well to photos - you're skirting the edge of the hills above the river. Gold was beginning to tinge the green of the trees, and although it's supposed to be even more beautiful in November I can't really do anything about when my vacation is. Instead, I watched the river rush by outside the windows, trying to take shots when the trees weren't whipping by in front of me.
Oh, one more thing to add...those seats are about as comfy as the dinner table chairs at your great-great grandmother's house...and don't have a lot of room for extra padding, just FYI. Still, it does help you to get a feel for the historic nature of the train. I guess.
I hadn't given a lot of thought to getting from Torokko Kameoka station to the dock where you embark on the river cruise - I had it marked on Google maps, so if all else failed, I figured I could walk it. Fortunately for my already abused feet, it didn't come to that - as you exit the station, there are signs pointing to a bus that will take you straight to the dock. One of the things that struck me the hardest from my first trip to Japan back in 2005 was how easy it is to get around, in spite of not knowing the language, and it holds true to this day. The Japanese really know how to make systems that move people smoothly and efficiently, and this is a saving grace when it comes to shit tons of tourists being around. So I got on the bus, got off at the dock, got a numbered ticket, and within probably half an hour was being called down to board a boat.
These boats are the old fashioned kind that used to ply the river - shallow bottomed and steered by long bamboo poles. There were three guides in each boat that rotated between the three positions over the course of the two-hour trip - it was clearly really hard work, and I felt kind of bad about just sitting there enjoying the afternoon while they were rowing.
Okay, I wasn't just sitting there. There was a lot to look at. We saw ducks, turtles, herons, cormorants - even a snake on a rock at the side of the river just a foot away from my face. The mountains we passed between were tall and imposing. It was also interesting to me to see how the forest changes from area to area - some packed densely with shorter trees, others filled with tall ones. There was at least one slope that had numerous trees toppled and sitting as logs on the hillside...evidence of a recent typhoon, if my experience hiking up to Kuuya-no-taki back in 2018 is any indication.
I do wonder, sometimes, what non-artists do on long trips like this by themselves. I was busy watching the water - especially the way it flowed over rocks, thinking about how I would paint that - and enjoying the fresh air, occasionally listening to my seatmates who would interpret some tidbit the guide shared. But I'm kind of used to being alone in my own head, finding interest for myself in what's going on around me. Maybe that's why I can travel alone. Good thing I wasn't an extrovert from birth.
That is not to say that the trip was serene, smooth...er...sailing, all the way. There were rapids. Not bad ones, necessarily, but there was a splash guard along the sides of the boat that we lifted up from time to time to keep the water from dousing us. The lead guide used his pole to push us along and away from some of the bigger rocks, especially in narrower passages. It reminded me of float trips with my Dad and Shaggy when I was a kid, and with other family members when I was a bit older. Except that after capsizing our canoe three times on one memorable trip with my sister and cousin, I'm not allowed to guide anymore.
It was also fun to see the trains pass us by. The romantic train isn't the only one that goes between Arashiyama and Kameoka...if you really want to take the boat but can't get tickets, it IS possible just to take a normal train. It just isn't as pretty. There are apparently also buses - I didn't look too deeply into this possibility, because I didn't care. But I love trains and I enjoyed seeing them flash by us as we got nearer and nearer to Arashiyama.
When we were just about there, a floating "food truck" puttered over next to us, providing snacks and lightening our wallets (literally...in Mongolia you kind of forget how heavy coins can be, and Japan's change goes all the way up to 500 yen). After two hours I was ready to kill for a coke, and they had icy cold cans of it. I don't even remember how much I paid. It might have been 300 yen, but it might have been 1000. I was thirsty enough that I didn't actually care.
The river had other boats on it by that point, people out for a paddle, so it was easy to know that we were almost there. My back at least was glad it was over. This trip made me realize that I'm not the same age I was when I first came to Kyoto - I can't abuse my feet all day, or sit two hours with back support, and not pay the consequences. It's kind of sad, but I guess it was inevitable that eventually my body would remind me I'm no longer in my 20s. But with a cold can of coke in hand, I was ready to abuse myself at least a little more. If I hadn't had a rendezvous that afternoon with the Kawaii Kingpin, there were still so many things I would have liked to do in Arashiyama...mossy shrines and haunted tunnels. But I guess they'll probably still be there when I finally do make it back again.
Back in April, when I used the power of the pass for Evil, I realized I had miscalculated: a few hours in Kyoto wasn't really enough. As I was on my way back to Toyama, I couldn't help thinking about all the places I didn't get to revisit, all the art experiences I still hadn't tried. So it was probably inevitable that - six months later, I'd find myself boarding a plane to Kansai airport.
Even though this is the fifth trip I've made to Kyoto in October, there are STILL things I haven't done, or seen (or eaten...because, ya know...as soon as I get back to Japan all I can think about eating is yakiniku, Coco curry, and Denny's French toast). Not because I turn into a lazy bum on vacation (although I have been more than I'd like to admit lately), but because Kyoto just has a disproportionate number of things to do in October. No sooner had the sun risen on my first morning back in my otaku homeland than I was out the door of my hotel to get breakfast at McDonald's down the street from my first temple of the day, Chion-Ji.
I've written about shopping Kyoto's flea markets before, so I won't waste too many words on this one. Hyakumanben Tendukuri-Ichi is a handicraft market that takes place on the 15th of every market, and is filled with all sorts of beautiful and/or kawaii things. In the hour and a half that I wandered the grounds I think I only spent around 1000 yen, on a pastry, plum juice, and a cute little cat clip made with kimono fabric. Even though I tried to keep to the shadows I still managed to get a sunburn, so I guess an argument could be made that it was a waste of my time...except that it wasn't. It's kind of hard to explain, but there's something about browsing all the various creations of my fellow artisans that feeds my soul, like smiling at them and complimenting their work can lift a layer of the cynicism I've been accumulating for a while.
Plus I'm pretty sure I can use that cat clip to hold the accupressure point in my hand the next time I get a migraine, so completely not a waste of time.
That said, it wasn't the main event of the day for me. The last three times I found myself in Kyoto on fall break, I passed up going to a certain Buddhist procession at Sokujo-in. It was a matter of prioritizing, and in the past, the other options were more interesting - it's hard to compete with horseback archery, namsayin'? Also, maybe I got my fill of Buddhism that summer in Tibet, but since I'd been working my way through a webnovel about a dragon and a monk leading up to my departure, it seemed like an ideal time.
(It was not an ideal time...the dragon calls the monk a "bald donkey" throughout the story, and it's possible that my brain very disrespectfully reminded me of this during the ceremony.)
The Nijugo Bosatsu Oneri Kuyo was one of the least crowded events I'd ever been to in Japan. I found non-reserved seating on a bench in the shade, and the Japanese man I sat next to explained that this ceremony was at least partially intended to bless the children that participated - he had two grandchildren that were involved. Wearing elaborate costumes, the procession moved between the main hall and Jizo's hall of the temple across an elevated wooden bridge. They crossed back and forth three times, traveling from the Pure Land and back.
Or they did eventually. When the clouds first condensed over the temple, I was really happy, since I wouldn't have to worry about sunburn whilst getting snap happy. My relief was short lived, though, as a few sprinkles came down, followed by more, until everyone was either under an umbrella, or huddling under one of the tents or shelters. The costumes and masks are actual works of art which can't get wet, so the temple made an announcement that they would postpone til 1:30. After waiting for most of an hour already, my feet weren't thrilled, but the rain lightened up, the crew covered the bridge with plastic, and at 1:30 the show went on.
First came the monks of the temple, followed by yamabushi, mountain priests. I found myself thinking that they seemed to be wearing the clothes that tengu are often depicted wearing, and when my new friend explained that they were Shinto priests, I felt a little justified for making that connection. I realize I've said this before, but it bears repeating that the way that Buddhism and Shinto coexist in Japan is something that I really love.
Following the monks and priests were all sorts of kawaii kodomo.* It's a big honor for them to be in the ceremony, but also a big responsibility. The littlest boy's hat kept sliding around on his head, and he seemed to be DONE WITH IT, in spite of his father's attempt to fix it every two steps. On their second journey, they scattered paper petals from the bridge to the people below. These are supposed to be lucky, and we all scrambled to catch them or pick them up off the ground.
This went on for a while. The entire procession travels three times, and the third time there are extra people. Temple patrons maybe...some kind of VIP. They threw paper petals as well, so if I ever figure out what to do with them I'm going to have lots of good art material. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a masked Jizo led out the bodhisattvas.
If you didn't formerly spend 8 days temple crawling in Tibet, you may not know what a bodhisattva is.
Teach Us, Becky-sensei!
So basically, in Buddhism, there are people who have basically reached enlightenment, and are able to attain Nirvana. However, they put it off in order to help others on their journey. These are the bodhisattvas. In the procession, there are 25 of them. Immediately after Jizo there are two bodhisattvas that slowly dance their way along the bridge, followed by another carrying a censer (at least I think that's what it was), and then the rest carrying musical instruments (and accompanied by a parent, because those masks make it pretty hard to see, and it would put a real damper on things if they fell off the bridge).
Eventually they made it back to the main hall, and I decided that it was time for me to head back to my usual haunts. It was a neat experience and I'm glad I went, but my feet were killing me by that point, comfy new shoes or not.
*All children are cute, though...until you have to teach them.
It was spring break, and after so long I finally took that trip to Japan that I booked three years ago. I made one more attempt to see the hotaruika - and failed. I stayed at a campground at the beach, and all the conditions were there...but the squid were not. So I give up. I'll stick to bioluminescent insects from here on out. On the other hand, I got to do something I couldn't when I lived here before - jet all over the damn place using the Japan Rail Pass. See, when I was here before, foreign residents weren’t allowed to use it, so all my train travel had previously been done the hard way…with lots and LOTS of money. Not that the pass is cheap, but by day 4 it had already paid for itself (maybe…art teachers don’t do math on vacation, bitches).
So I wasn't stingy when it came to getting around. Whether it was riding the rails up to Niigata to see the yaoi temple or hopping a train down to Kyoto for the afternoon to celebrate my best boy’s promotion to manager, the country was my oyster. It only took me a couple of hours to make it to Kyoto…and ALL its tourists. The Kawaii Kingpin admitted that he missed the pandemic a very tiny bit on that account, and I had to sympathize…the days when people didn’t bring their screaming children to restaurants truly were glorious, in at least that respect.
Of course, as I told him, it’s different when the children in question are your blood relatives. My niblings are perfect, of course. To demonstrate (and totally not because I have a lot of odds and ends blogs to catch up on), let me take you back to last summer. I was planning to take Princess and Dirt Devil to the anime con, but a poorly timed water leak at the hotel I booked caused me to reconsider. Instead, I took them and Monkey out for a day o’ fun with their favorite aunt.
We started at Barnes and Noble. This is part of what makes these kids awesome; I can tell them I’m taking them to a bookstore and they’re excited about it. After picking up some manga volumes, a movie, and some games, it was time for lunch. Dirt Devil suggested sushi, so I found a place in West Omaha that had sushi, ramen, and a few other things, and ordered a bunch of food. Monkey wasn’t sure about it, so we ordered a sweet and sour chicken to be sure he wouldn’t starve. Guess what was the only thing left at the end? They were especially huge fans of ramune.
After a quick stop at home for the bathroom we went to play mini-golf and waste money at the arcade. Was there, perhaps, a bit of a Japanese theme going? Whether or not I intended there to be, yes, there was. I wish I could take credit for helping them to become the baby otaku that they are today, but in all honesty they have come to it on their own. I mean, I DID show them Totoro, Kiki's Delivery Service, and Howl's Moving Castle, as well as a few episodes of Naruto and My Hero Academia. But while Princess' tastes in anime and mine are nearly identical (Hanako-kun and Bungou Stray Dogs? Yes, this is a girl after my own heart!), Dirt Devil likes One Piece. ONE PIECE?!? Also known as, the anime that I never even started - I read one chapter of the manga and decided this was not for me. But he likes it. And while Monkey hasn't gotten into anime much, he's definitely a gamer...his favorite character is Link, and when I asked him what I could bring him from Japan, he just asked for Pokemon everything.
After the arcade we went to my favorite ice cream place, Coldstone, and ate a shit ton of ice cream (Okay, I ate a shit ton...I think each of them took theirs home and stuck it in the freezer). While this might be considered bad "mom" behavior - spoiling your kids by buying them whatever they want and loading them up on sugar - it seems like excellent aunt behavior. Fortunately, my brother and sister-in-law are tolerant...if I want to take them out for the day, they're not too picky about where we are going. They behave and we get along pretty well, and their parents get a day to do whatever they need to do, as responsible-type adults.
Hopefully they'll still feel that way in a few years when they graduate and I take them on Le Grand Tour. I'm pretty sure I already know what country they'll want to visit.
Once upon a time I went to the Louvre, and in the Louvre, there are all these paintings by Rubens commissioned by Catherine de Medici. Apparently (I say, because apparently I did not post a blog of my thoughts from the Louvre) these were intended to be a kind of visual biography, but I remember thinking at the time that if I was a hot blooded Italian woman who was also queen, I would have been appalled at the lack of good looking nekkid dudes. Not a single eggplant in the whole cornucopia, if you catch my drift, and that just seemed wrong. I would have called Peter-Paul into the palace and said, “Lovely work as usual, Ruby, but could you add a few naked men? Why are they naked? Has anyone ever asked why the women in paintings are nude…there are literally tits out all over the place, JUST GO AND PAINT THEM!”
Well, now I have a theory about that. Apparently, the problem was that she just wasn’t a fujoshi. At some point during the pandemic, I read an article about a temple near Niigata, Kugamiyama Kokujou-ji. Now, if you’ve read any of my Japan posts at all you may find yourself thinking, “Oh. Goody. Another temple she just HAD to visit. #sarcasm.” My retort would be that in this quirky country called Japan there’s ALWAYS something new to discover, even when it comes to something as seemingly redundant as Buddhist temples.
So here’s the story. Kugamiyama Kokujou-Ji came up with the brilliant plan that they could get more visitors by adding some art to the temple. Enter my new favorite nihonga artist, KIMURA Ryoko. The panels cover the external walls of the main temple, and feature - among others - the original Minamoto-kun (aka Minamoto no Yoshitsune) and a demon (oni) named Shuten-Doji.
There is, however, one slight, tiiiiny little difference between Kimura Sensei’s work and how these figures are normally portrayed. Namely, a LOT less clothing. Okay, so just in case you’re new around here, there’s a subculture of women (originally Asian ones, but it has become a global phenomenon) that enjoy stories and artwork depicting relationships between men. Of course, there is a whole range of what kind of relationships those are, with a whole lot of ambiguity, particularly at the more innocent end of the spectrum. There’s probably a lot to be analyzed here about the patriarchy, the female gaze, etc, but my master’s degree is a distant memory, with two years’ worth of dust on the ol’APA-style handbook, so - if this is news to you - suffice it to say that two beautiful men are ALWAYS better than one.
Ok, and if you’re into history and lore, you might realize - for example - that it was an older member of the famous military clan (Minamoto-senpai, if you will), Minamoto no Yorimitsu, who dealt with Shuten-doji. But if you’re like me, that’s not what y’all are here for.
I mean, if it was, I guess Minamoto Raiko with Shuten-Doji would make a helluva enemies-to-lovers trope, but I digress.
Anywho. All of the figures in the the murals have some kind of connection to the temple (according to Sora News, anyways - I’m having a hard enough time typing this on my broken keyboard as the Shinkansen darts in and out of mountains to be very thorough in my research). Apparently Kimura’s vision was to depict all of them living in harmony, even though they were from different times and different backgrounds. Kinda cheesy, I know, but it’s a good excuse to paint dudes chilling in a hot tub, and nobody hates an onsen episode. I mean, not unless you also hate fun.
The link that originally introduced me to this cultural wonder also reported that the murals were slated to be removed about a year ago. Apparently not everyone appreciates the nude male form, or thinks it’s appropriate decor for a temple. Japan was still closed to tourism back then, and there may have been some gnashing of teeth when I thought that I’d miss it…at least until I discovered Kimura’s Instagram, which features even more work with similar style and content. Still, there’s something to be said for viewing art in specific contexts, so when I realized I was going to be chilling my heels in Toyama once again, I looked up Kokujou-Ji and was delighted to see that recent photos on Google Maps included the paintings.
One of the things about seeing these in person was I could tell that they were not painted with nihonga’s hand-mixed pigment paints. This makes sense, as binder for the pigments is water-soluble, and thus susceptible to the weather. Unless I’m mistaken, Kimura used acrylic, which is much more durable. If you’re familiar with the anime Hoozuki no Reitetsu, there’s an episode in which Hoozuki gets one of his lackeys to repaint a mural in hell which has weathered over the years. At the end, it’s revealed that the original painting was by Hokusai. That is the last thing we’d want happening to these masterpieces, so even though I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to see the way the pigments sparkled in the sunlight, I have to admit that this is for the best.
All that said, Kokujou-Ji is a pain in the ass to get to. Google Maps clocked it at no less than 3 hours in either direction. By the time I got to Yoshida station, I decided that time is money, and hailed a cab to take me up the mountain (the bus that would get me “close” would have taken an hour, and I would have had to hike 40 minutes after that!). When I went to Zao to see the foxes and I was frustrated by the lack of a bus, I told myself that someday I’d be back in Japan and I wouldn’t have to worry about taking a taxi all by myself, no matter how much it cost.
Well, that day finally came…and we’re not going to talk about how much that round trip taxi cost, because it now holds the record for my most expensive taxi ride in Japan. Possibly of all time, but I’m still on vacation for 48 more hours, so I can’t account for inflation and conversion rates. Besides which, I honestly don’t care. It was 100% worth it to me to get to see the paintings, and you can factor in the lack of sweat from climbing a mountain as inflation, and the helpful tip that I return via a different station in order to catch the Shinkansen as the conversion rate.
I assume you've heard the term bucket list before. It's a phrase that implies there are things you HAVE to see, generally before you kick the bucket, but people also use it for singular trips. The bucket list of things you have to do when you visit Japan, for example. The thing is, I don't actually like this term. Maybe I'm too old for it - in a way similar to the fact that I'm too old to really understand bullet journals (they happened after my time, yo) - but I think the bigger problem is that they deny the reality that there are layers and layers of possibilities in every trip.
I'd been resisting the pull of Japan since leaving, telling myself that I needed to buckle down and save up before I went back, because when I went back I was going to DO ALL THE THINGS! I'd like to say that this was very practical of me, and applaud myself for not giving in to temptation...but I'm not really a very practical person. As you know by now if you read my last post, my resolve broke about a month ago, and I started thinking about what else I could do in my favorite city in Japan.
See, my first go-round was all about geisha, shrines, and castles. My focus shifted before I came back three years ago, when I went to about a bajillion festivals and art workshops. Last fall I planned my trip around art exhibits and yokai hunting. But the thing is there is ALWAYS something else to do there. For example, the Ningyo Kuyo at Hokyo-Ji. I've been wanting to come to this ceremony since I first learned that doll memorials were a thing in Japan, and this time the dates finally lined up. I went to the Ningyou Kanshasai at Meiji Jingu, but this was completely different - more intimate and ceremonial. Hokyo-Ji is a Buddhist nunnery temple where the head priestess was traditionally an imperial princess. Normally they hold the ceremony outside, but since it was kind of rainy, we were gathered on the porch of the garden. I ended up with front row "seats" - before it started they ushered all the foreigners to sit on tatami mats on the left side of the ceremony - and although it was a struggle to stay awake after about five minutes of chanting while different VIPs made their presentations, I was rewarded in the end with a musical performance (how much do I miss taiko? SO much) and maiko dances. Sadly I still haven't gotten to see the funeral pyre, but I guess that's just another reason to go back - I hear Tokorozawa holds one in June...
Another temple I neglected on past trips was Kosan-Ji. This is where the Choujuu-Giga - a series of scrolls depicting animals doing wild and crazy things - were created. They're often considered the earliest manga, and although I'd wanted to see where they came from the last time I was in Kyoto, there's never enough time to do everything.
From a subway station near my hotel I could take one bus all the way to the temple parking lot, so it seemed like the time was right to finally make it. Actually finding the bus was the hardest part - it was one of those pesky JR buses that doesn't have a number, and as much as I love Google maps, they still haven't figured out bus stops. The temple was beautiful, and walking across its wooden floors in my sock feet as I soaked up the sun was relaxing. But its best feature was probably how it demonstrates one of the things I love the most about this place. Kyoto is definitely a city, but all along its fringes are these beautiful bits of nature - mountains, forests, a lake. I've said it so many times that it hardly bears repeating: I'm a city girl through and through. But I grew up in the country, and I've lived in Mongolia so many years that I also enjoy leaving civilization behind every once in a while. Kyoto gives you both.
I steered clear of art museums this time but found more than enough art along my way. I stumbled across yet another Zen Buddhist temple as I was cycling around Gion on my fifth day, Kennin-Ji. I decided to go in on a whim - I needed to park my bike somewhere, since I was thinking about getting some ties cut that morning and Yasui Konpiragu doesn't have bike parking - but it turned out to be a serendipitous whim. I was struck immediately by the beauty of the gardens, most likely because I've been building one in which to display my sacred relics. If anything, I guess that was the driving force behind a lot of the sightseeing I did during this trip - later the same day I went to Eikan-Do specifically to see their gardens.
But Kennin-Ji also had some great art. They had screens of Fuujin and Raijin - gods of wind and lightning - possibly the originals, since they seemed to be selling an awful lot of swag featuring them. But they also had an incredibly beautiful contemporary sumi-e painting of twin dragons in the main prayer hall, done to commemorate the 800th anniversary of their founding. When I left the temple, I felt like I'd done my professional development for the week, and felt just that much less guilty about wasting time on shopping.
I did not, though, end up going to Yasui Konpiragu afterwards. See, in addition to a shit ton of shopping and hanging out with my padawan, I was looking forward to some quality time with Sensei, who turned out to be on vacation the same week as me, and announced that she'd be coming through Kyoto on her way back from Shikoku after I booked my ticket. I realized that she was the perfect person to go with to get my ties cut. See, Yasui Konpiragu's kamisama is famous for cutting ties with prejudice, and after getting yet another email from our favorite cyberstalker, I figured I could use a good tie-cutting. Afterwards we wandered up to Yasaka Jinja, and then back toward Sanjo where her hotel was, stopping at Red Rock for lunch. I hadn't realized til I saw her how much I missed her.
After a full day of shopping in Osaka on Saturday, trying to scurry back to the hotel through the rain while protecting my treasures, I kind of just wanted to eat yakiniku and stay in for the rest of the night. But there was one, last thing I had to do; after flopping on the bed for about a half hour, I realized I'd be pissed at myself if I missed it, so I blow-dried my clothes, trudged down to the bus stop, and embarked on my way to Taishogun Street. I went there last fall to hunt yokai, but I missed the main event - the Hyakki Yagyu, or Night Parade of 100 Demons. Given my own particular idiom, this was totally unacceptable, and since it was happening while I was there this time, I really had to make it. The Japanese do cosplay like nobody else in the world, with the end result being that you really felt like you were mingling with myths on the street. Eventually musicians joined us and began to play - oh my taiko! - and the ayakashi danced off into the night.
I continued down the street past the stalls of the Mononoke Ichi - a market selling yokai goods - just narrowly resisting the temptation to buy a paper kitsune lantern (it was 3,000 yen and I was already bringing back both kitsune AND a lantern, or else I might have succumbed). Further on Daishogun Hachiman Jinja was lit up with lanterns and stalls selling food, and I couldn't resist the lure of one more kakigori before I left. Everyone should be so lucky as to both start and end a week in Kyoto with a matsuri.
Or that’s what they say at any rate. After a week’s worth of shopping in Kyoto and Osaka, I have my reservations regarding the veracity of that statement. Maybe money can’t buy love, but it can buy me new toys, and that’s close enough for me.
When we last left off, I was singing the praises of Nendoroids. Until about a year ago, these were the anime figures for me. This is largely due to the fact that the industry isn’t exactly known for catering to its female fans, and I didn’t exactly try to find out otherwise...it was just too depressing. But everything changed when I won my first scale figure, Roy Mustang from Fullmetal Alchemist, who I snatched with the claw of doom. Unlike a nendo he was frozen in place, but he was bigger, and had a really cool pose, and maybe he broke something in me, because I started watching for prize figures when I went to the arcade. This isn’t the cheapest way to build a collection, but through it I was able to add a nice Rimuru to my hoard.
Meanwhile, back in April I refuted the supposition that wickedness never was happiness in my post about AnimeJapan. I mentioned going out for yakiniku afterwards and buying something I’d been eyeing at Book-Off...an Ichiban Kuji prize of Natsume Takashi. This was kind of where the dam broke and my money started flooding out. In quick succession I ordered MegaHouse’s new Kitaro, as well as Kusuriuri, who I’d found at Lashinbang in Akiba (which was convenient, since I sold off a couple of touken danshi nendoroids to pay for him). And that was about the time I left Japan, and - you might think - stopped “wasting” money on toys.
Foxes and torii from Fushimi-Inari-Taisha
You would be wrong in SO many ways. Imma put aside the argument right now that these are not mere toys but works of art and investment pieces (or at least, they are when I’m not being self-deprecatory), and I’m not going to go into too much depth about purchasing figures online, because this is a travel blog (sorta. Sometimes). Instead, suffice it to say that between teaching and my two courses I’ve been eagerly curating my collection of sacred relics, finally joined by my own personal holy grail, the Yato I was, at long last, able to buy on Yahoo Auctions. This has been equal parts delightful and frustrating, though, because I keep thinking of cool crap I could use if only I was in Japan, or had access to a real Daiso. Someday I'll probably write more specifically about my displays. As far as the shopping part goes, though...well...three weeks ago I decided to throw financialcaution to the wind and make my triumphant comeback. Convenient, huh?
Gacha? They gotcha.
Before I could even make it to Daiso, though, I came across another source of treasure - gachapon machines. I can’t believe I wasted two years in Japan without truly appreciating the genius of their capsule toys. Before I looked at them as a none-too-reliable source for anime swag. As a curator, though, I now see the potential they have as accessories for nendoroids. Mostly I just let myself discover them as I went, but I did have an eye out for two specific things - tiny gachapon machines and a drink vending machine. The first I found in Kyoto’s Shinkyogoku arcade. The second I never did manage to track down, although the Yellow Submarine in Denden Town had just about every other gacha I could hope for, and - among other wonderful things - a model kit for a coke machine that made me realize I could DIY myself one, which in the end sits better with my artistic tendencies.
I was supposed to make that trip with the Kawaii Kingpin, but an ill-timed bout of indigestion meant that I had to go it alone. In some ways that sucked, but it also worked to my advantage, since it meant I could leave super early and indulge in my Saturday morning Denny’s routine, not to mention that I didn’t have to worry about him judging my choices. Sometimes a girl needs her own bunny figure, okay??? I also didn’t have to fight him for the Goblin Slayer nendoroid I found for 3500 yen, so in the end I was able to forgive him for going and getting sick.*
The natsukashii was thick on the ground, even if I have only been gone three months. I was kind of looking forward to playing some UFO catchers, but I’ve gotten wiser in my old age, and instead of fighting to get the damn machine to spit out what I want, I hit up the local Book-Off+ and was able to get the most recent Sasuke. I’ve done a pretty decent job of adhering to my one character/one figure rule, with the upshot being that I resisted the temptation to get scaled versions of my Haikyuu best boys and had both the money to buy Sasuke and space in my treasure chest (carry-on suitcase).
Anyways, the moral of the story is that the Beatles didn’t know what they were talking about. Money can buy you love, especially if the thing you love is adorable chibi figures of cute boys. Because at the end of the day, although I love scale figures and have worked hard to diversify my collection, sometimes a girl needs a nendoroid. Or two. Or five.
*Also he gave me the drawing he did of Tomioka-san. And spent Friday waiting to receive Mitsuha and Taki for me, because after we saw Weathering With You, I had to rewatch Kimi no Na Wa, which made me realize I needed their nendoroids. There’s a reason he’s still my favorite - my disciple is saiko.
Mention anime figures to a certified normie, and you might get a look of disgust. Everyone knows what that person is thinking of: attractive, big-busted (possibly underage) women, scantily clad and in anatomically unlikely positions. Well, there’s a reason why that’s a stereotype. There are an awful lot of bishoujo figures out there.
That is not, however, all there is out there. Figures come in a variety of formats, and at different sizes. But the best, in my humble opinion, are the nendoroids I mentioned in my last post. These are figures with exaggerated, “chibi” proportions - huge heads with small bodies. They have interchangeable parts, allowing you to do more with them. They’re smaller than a lot of figures, which means they'll be easier to pack up to your next port of call. Of course, some people think they’re expensive, but those people probably collect Funko Pops (which there’s nothing wrong with, even if the quality of the two can’t even be compared). Plus you can pose them and change their expressions, and even (if you’re tech-savvy and don’t have other things to do with your time) create stop-motion animation using them, as seen in the video below by Dan Von Carr.
However, my favorite thing about nendos (as we hip kids call them) is the fact that they demonstrate greater gender equality. I’m much more likely to find a nendo of a character I like than I am a scale figure. Hell, I think they may actually be planning to make every damn Touken Ranbu character there is, and that’s saying a lot. GoodSmile, the company that makes them, has a tendency to make whole series of characters from given shows.
For example, every one of the Generation of Miracles, from Kuroko no Basuke. One Saturday morning in May, I missed my planned Saturday outing because SOME idiot (ie, the one who writes this blog) volunteered herself to chaperone a 5th grade sleepover. As I sat in the Denny’s near Omori Station, fighting unsuccessfully to get to Asakusa for the annual Edo Firefighter’s Memorial, I checked Goodsmile’s Twitter feed to see whether or not they had FINALLY released any news on the upcoming Hyakkimaru nendoroid (pictured at the top). What I found instead was that there was an event happening in Akiba - WonHobby Gallery 2019. Since I had serious doubts that I was, in fact, going to make it to Asakusa in time, I decided to just stop when I got to Akiba. I’d kinda been meaning to go there soon, anyways...although it perhaps would’ve been better to wait til payday.
The event was like a smaller, less crowded, free version of the Goodsmile booth at AnimeJapan, offering a glimpse into what was coming up from the company. I was a little disappointed that they didn't have any life-size nendos or Nendoroid plushies, until I figured out that their previous announcement was an April Fool’s Day joke. Still, they had a pretty impressive range of upcoming releases to show off. If it weren't for the fact that I don't think I can handle sewing that small, I might even be interested in one of their Nendoroid doll bodies. Since I'm kind of burnt out on sewing at the moment, it wasn't a hard temptation to resist.
But Akiba being what it is, there's always temptation to be found, especially since I got sucked into a new blackhole: nendoroid customizing. See, here’s the thing. Although GoodSmile often releases a bunch of characters from the same show, this is not always the case. Sometimes they’re so busy making new versions of Hatsune Miku that they forget to make the other characters in your favorite show, which is why I’m still waiting for a Sugimoto nendoroid. Although I guess I should be grateful they at least made Asirpa...they’ve never made any of Noragami's characters. Over the course of my second year in Japan, I've been thinking about this more and more. Seeing the expansion pieces - Nendoroid More, as they're called - which allow you to dress up your characters differently, or give them different expressions, got me wondering if it might be possible to frankenstein some characters (cobble together a new creation from spare parts - get it?). It didn't really click, though, until I remembered how cheap I've found some nendoroids in my rambles about town. I realized that if you could find them for a decent price, it might not be so terrible to take a figure apart, make some color changes, and reconstruct it to create a new character.
Well, as it turns out, that's totally a thing. When I started trying to figure out whose hair would work for a Shinra nendoroid I stumbled across the community of nendoroid customizers online. One enterprising couple even created an online shop - the aptly named ChibiChopShop - where they buy and sell parts from nendoroids that have been split up. I'm looking for such specific things that I've only used them once, but when I discovered them, they had the only things I wanted - the hair and faceplates from nendoroid 151, Moritaka Mashiro. With the Nendoroid More doctor body I'd already found on eBay, all I needed was a pair of glasses and probably a little paint to make my first nendoroid, Celty, her own Shinra. He needs a lot of work - the hair’s the wrong color, and the face isn’t right - but once I’m reunited with my supplies in Mongolia, we’ll get there.
And that, of course, opened the floodgates. I had so many ideas that it was tough to decide which to pursue first...but since the pieces basically fell into my lap I started working on my first anime love, Yato.
I found Takagi Akito from Bakuman (#152, from Lashinbang in Kamata)for his body, and Kuroko no Basuke’s Kise Ryota (#1032, again at Lashinbang, this time the big one in Akiba Culture Zone) for his hair, and was able to sell the rest right away through the facebook group for splits. Then I hit up the Volks near Yokohama station on my way home from work one night and spent a good half hour deliberating over paints (ie, the ones that are waiting for me in Mongolia now - this post is kind of back and forth all over the place). Since I really had zero clue what the heck I was doing, I based my educated guess on the name of the paint. Very scientific, I know. Then I got to work, in a painstakingly (or paints-takingly) slow manner. Only to quickly realize the paint was much glossier than I wanted. Back I went for cleaner and advice. There’s still work to do on it, but for now, I’m pretty happy with how he’s looking.
In the midst of all this I made what may be the greatest discovery of all: Goodsmile's facemaker site. This is basically a website that lets you design your own faceplates and have them printed by Goodsmile and shipped to you. The options it gives you are unbelievable. I was a little skeptical at first, but a half an hour later I had designed two expressions for Yato that I had to get printed. The next day I went back to the site, just planning on messing around with it, and ended up ordering two more, I was so impressed with what I’d come up with. The site is in Japanese but with Google chrome that’s almost a non-issue. What might be an issue, though, if you’re not here in Japan is the fact that they only ship to Japan. Both of those issues, however, are covered in this post on Blog DeJapan.
So that’s how I found myself another expensive hobby. Wotakoi’s Nifuji Hirotaka was my third project, and although I still want to repaint his hair, I’m pretty pleased with what I’ve accomplished thus far. I haven’t been forced to do any drastic modifications, but maybe I never will. This past weekend was summer Wonder Festival and GoodSmile announced even more upcoming products - Kaguya-sama, for example, and a painted prototype of both Tanjiro and Nezuko from Kimetsu no Yaiba. What I was really excited about, though, was that they announced a nendoroid of Natsume from Natsume Yuujinchou. I’m not sure that I’ll actually order him - one of the rules I had to impose on myself to get out of Japan was that I was only allowed one figure of any character, and I’ve already got a figure of Natsume.* No, the real value of that announcement to me was, in fact, that there was still hope. That anime from several seasons back might still have nendos coming...sometimes there are copyright issues, after all. Sometimes they have to wait and see if it’ll be lucrative enough to justify making those figures (although I would think the fujoshi fan base of Golden Kamuy would make that a yes). Although it’s nice to rise to an artistic challenge, I’d much rather hold out hope for an official Sugimoto nendoroid, especially with a new season coming up.
If not, I’d settle for a scale figure. I left Japan with more of them than I was expecting, and when I get my apartment put back together, don’t be surprised when the inevitable nesting post highlights my carefully curated collection. I get an extra room this go-round and I know just what to do with it.
*As I mentioned before, nendoroids are small enough that it’s relatively easy to pack them up, especially if you’re willing - as I was, in the end - to get rid of the boxes. So - on the other hand - I might.
It hasn't quite been two weeks, but I already miss Japan. Maybe it was the Time Out Tokyo article about TeamLab's installation at Shimogamo Jinja. Maybe it was scrolling through my Pinterest feed, which is always littered with Japanese places, clothing, and words. Or maybe it was preparing for AnimeIowa last weekend.
For the fourth year running, I made the trek past cornfields to Iowa's one and only anime convention, AnimeIowa. Last year I questioned whether or not there was a point to American anime cons after living in Japan, but ultimately concluded that I enjoy being a part of the English-speaking side of the fandom.* So this year I contributed to it, presenting three panels (the magic number that gets you in for free): a pub-night style quiz, a panel on Japanese art, and one about Japanese religion and spirits. It was a lot of work to get ready for, and at least a little stressful, but actually really rewarding.
Volks' Hobby Center, a block from the station
At the end of the day, though, nothing can compare to the real thing, particularly the heart of Otaku-hood itself: Akihabara. I've been promising you a post about Akiba for the better part of two years now, and although I intended to do it the week before I left, I was so demoralized by trashing my carefully built Yokohama life that I just couldn't do it.
Instead, here I sit in my parents' living room trying to remember everything I was going to tell you, and I'm probably doomed to fail, but ganbatte-masu. The first thing you need to know about Akiba is that it's a teeming horde of anime, manga, and gaming stuff (as well as the electronics that it was originally named for and - perhaps somewhat inevitably - a sex toy superstore). You need to know what you're going for before you get off the train. If you want to just browse, that works, but knowing what you want to get out of your trip to anime's Mecca will keep your bank account from being bullied like the protagonist of a shoujo series.
So - for example - for Nendoroid parts, I liked Volks'. Most places have plenty of whole figures, and some even have parts, but as far as selection goes, Volks' was the best. They also have Goodsmile's playsets, diorama mansions, and pretty much everything you could possibly need to recreate scenes from your favorite anime. They sell model sets and paints and figures and other anime swag, not to mention ball-jointed dolls (or at least the one in Yokohama did...I didn't explore all the floors in Akiba because it's fricking huge) - and if it seems like they offer a lot in the way of making stuff, that's because it's sort of their specialty. Mulan, on the other hand, (pictured above) was a place where I was able to find tapestries I wanted - the first time I went in there, I came across exactly what I wanted, a B3 sized tapestry of Hoozuki.
If you decide to check them out, you should know that Google Maps is lying about the location - they're actually located next to one of the four Sega game centers, on the main strip of Akiba.
And while I'm on the subject, it's worth a trip just for the UFO catchers. Before I left I sort of got my addiction under control (mostly because I realized I could find most of the new prizes at Kawasaki's Book-Off for less than I'd spend trying to win them). For legit otaku prizes, though, it's hard to beat Akiba. I saw prizes there that I didn't find anywhere else (and sadly, I kept pretty close tabs on the game centers, particularly in Shibuya and at Yokohama station). These Kaguya-sama mascots are just one example. You'll still find more Disney crap than you might care to, and Ikebukuro still caters better to the otome population, but playing crane games - or at least looking to see what the current prizes are - was definitely one of my highlights of a trip to Akiba.
Turn the corner at the next intersection and about a block later you'll come to the Akiba Culture Zone. This is a huge building filled with smaller shops buying and selling swag, if you can make it past the first two floors: a ginormous Lashinbang. This was my first stop when I was looking for a nendoroid, as they seemed to have nearly every figure I was looking for.
There is some sort of logic to the way many stores are arranged, which is important to realize if you are, in fact, looking for something specific. Gunpla models pretty much always get their own section - sometimes even their own floor. Nendoroids and Figmas also tend to be grouped together, although this isn't always the case. Merch for major series is usually displayed together - One Piece and Dragonball, in particular, but Touken Ranbu, the Fate/Stay series, and Kantai Collection often have sections as well. The Nendoroids for these characters are sometimes found in these sections, as well, so if you don't find your favorite touken danshi with the other nendoroids, it may be on a shelf next to its scale figure. American media - Disney and various superheroes - are usually together. Beyond that? You may just have to be patient and sharp-eyed to find what you're looking for.
Surugaya Specialty was where I opened my wallet the first time in Akiba. I hadn't actually planned to spend any money that trip, since I hadn't gotten my first paycheck yet, but when I found Levi's nendoroid - pre-re-release - for only 3500 yen (the 3D maneuvering gear was damaged, but I didn't care), I knew they'd got me. They have a pretty good selection and I've found other good deals there, although most of the time I managed to keep from succumbing to temptation.
Closer to the station were a couple of other shops I liked to stop at...and I'm not actually sure what they were called anymore. Probably it doesn't matter. Just because I found Dazai there for only 7000 yen doesn't mean it will ever happen again.
And at the end of the day, you never know where you'll find the treasure you're seeking. For two years I was low-key hoping to find the one and only Yato figure ever released - by Megahouse in 2015. On my very last day in Akiba I randomly wandered into an alley off the main street, a kind of covered arcade that I pretty much walked past every time, and when I recovered from the discovery that Naruto and Sasuke figures based on the kabuki play had been released, I looked down and found my stray god. For 59800 yen. This isn't the most expensive I've seen him online, but it was, nonetheless, too rich for my blood, so I walked...or rather, limped...away in defeat.
Still, even without spending a single yenny, I always found trips to Akiba to be an excellent use of my weekends (or occasionally, weeknights). You'll see banners for new anime, or stumble across events you weren't expecting. Basically it's like an anime convention with a marketplace beyond your wildest imagination, with events randomly happening from time to time, one of which will be the subject of my next post.
*And, of course, winning prizes for my plushies. Asirpa and Sugimoto took first place in the plush category.
That is not to say that the trip was serene, smooth...er...sailing, all the way. There were rapids. Not bad ones, necessarily, but there was a splash guard along the sides of the boat that we lifted up from time to time to keep the water from dousing us. The lead guide used his pole to push us along and away from some of the bigger rocks, especially in narrower passages. It reminded me of float trips with my Dad and Shaggy when I was a kid, and with other family members when I was a bit older. Except that after capsizing our canoe three times on one memorable trip with my sister and cousin, I'm not allowed to guide anymore.
