This Hina's Ningyo

It's been almost four years since I started making hand-sewn plushies.  They show up in my blog every once in a while, but I haven't dedicated an entire post to them since 2016, back in my tender youth when I hadn't even won a plush prize yet.  Well, a lot's changed since then, and since yesterday was Hina Matsuri whether it's celebrated here or not, I decided it was time to do an update.

I thought the other day about all of the ideas I've had over the years, and the tricks I tried to make them work.  They range from giving Aizawa hair that flips up when he uses his quirk to accessories (shoes, hats, goggles, swords, etc) to different kinds of ears and facial features.  I wrote about the Cricut that a friend gave me last year, but it wasn't until my sister-in-law suggested it that I decided to try using iron-on vinyl for my plushies' clothes.  I happened to be in the middle of Tsukishima at the time, which was perfect.  Originally I was only going to paint on his number, but when I realized I could get every element of his uniform cut out perfectly and ironed on together, I went all in.  It was so easy I realized I could make up the uniforms of all the Karasuno boys, and if I ever get to the point where I sell at a con, it would make stocking that much easier....instead of bringing x-number of each design, I could just bring the number of bodies I hoped to sell, and assemble the uniforms and hairpieces as they sold.

AnimeIowa gets a shout-out every year around July, so you six faithful readers probably know that I've won prizes the last three years, for Sesshoumaru, Kuriyama Mirai, and last year Sugimoto and Asirpa.  But last year while I was waiting for news about AI 2019 I discovered a "craftalong" for Desert Bus for Hope (a fundraiser for Child's Play - a charity that improves the lives of kids undergoing medical treatment or living in domestic violence shelters).  I decided I wanted to participate, and ended up donating Link and Zelda plushies I'd made.  I thought they would be auctioned off and might raise a couple hundred dollars at most, but instead, they were used for a "raffle" kind of prize.  During one hour of the fundraiser, each donation of a certain amount (and multiples thereof) resulted in an entry, and at the end of the hour a winner was drawn.  I couldn't believe that Link and Zelda raised just over $2200, but I was really happy that my hobby - which, let's face it, is kind of silly - was able to contribute in a pretty tangible way.

Giving might as well be my theme for this year in plush.  Back at Christmas I decided to surprise The Evil One by showing up in California during her home leave, in spite of telling her I just wouldn't be able to make it.  My dastardly scheme involved a phantom package with gifts that I was supposedly sending to her parents' house, one of which was a plushie for her spawn, who loves Darth Vader.  I haven't made that many of these guys specifically to give away, but there's just something about this kid who loves Lord Vader that warmed the cockleburrs of my heart, so I spent the first week or so of vacation posting pictures of the progress on Instagram and apologizing that the package wouldn't be there when they first got there (part of my deception, you see).  And then I showed up at their layover in Denver and went on to celebrate with them in sunny California.  Which was all the better, because it meant I got to see her reaction to Little Lord Vader - she kept turning to me in the car and talking about his features, and saying, "I like him.  I love him!"  And when Evil sent me this photo of her daughter snuggled up with the Sith lord, I swear my heart grew three sizes.

One of the ironic things about the fact that I'm pretty much stuck at home with nothing to do while Covid-19 rages on is that there have been times when I wished for nothing but time to watch anime and sew.  As the weeks have dragged on, it's kind of gotten old.  However, it has given me the ability to focus long enough to solve some design issues I'd been grappling with.  About a year ago I decided to try making a sitting plush, but gave up when I couldn't figure out how to make Kitaro's shorts fit.  Since I threw away the body when I left Japan, I had to re-engineer his pattern before getting to the shorts, but during our Tsagaan Sar (but-not-really-because-the-government-said-No) break, I worked most of it out.  It's a design I want to play with a little more, because he doesn't quite sit up on his own, but at this point I'm more concerned with finishing his hair and drilling the holes for his geta, because he may become an entry for this year's Mini-Festival.

So what's next?  Well, first I have to finish my waifu, Hinawa (the other contender for this year's Mini-Festival entry), and then we'll see.  I have an outfit for a plush that I've been tinkering with for at least two years, but when I lost interest in the character my motivation also waned.  However, now I'm thinking that he might end up being my first ever art abandonment project - I could leave him in Ikebukuro somewhere and I'm sure someone would find him and appreciate him.  Like I said, this year's plushie theme is apparently giving.

The Otaku Report: Rules for Collecting

We're three and a half weeks into the government mandated school shut-down, and just found out that we've got another month after this.  I'm struggling.  I miss my kids, I miss my routine - I have nothing to do!  For some reason when I have all the time in the world I just don't feel like I need to do anything.  All the sewing and sketching and (ahem) cleaning that I'd want to do while I was at work on a normal day just doesn't feel that urgent.  Besides that, all public gatherings up to and including church have been cancelled - they've even called off one of Mongolia's two big celebrations, Tsagaan Sar.  So don't blame me for a bit of a puff piece, because I don't really have anything else to write about.  As you'll learn in my next post, I recently went through the looking-not-touching-glass (because, you know.  Quarantine.) on a magical shopping adventure.  But here's the thing: coming back to Mongolia may have brought me a return to disposable income, but I am WAAAY too happy funneling it into the figure industry.  The claustrophobic aisles leading between tightly packed shelves are an easy place to lose your way, and a girl needs guideposts to keep from getting lost in the mists of darkness.  These are mine.

Rule #1:  One character, one figure
This is my most important rule, and some people might disagree strongly with it.  It started as a rule of necessity - back when I was leaving Japan I asked myself if I needed BOTH the Roy Mustangs I had, and that made packing easier, if not the actual deciding.  Even if I wasn't nomadic, I think I'd stick with this one - the collections I've seen of endless Hatsune Mikus and Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blades are a little creepy.  Of course the otome perspective makes this a little easier to live by: rarely do we get more than one or two versions of the male characters we love (if that).  I’ve stuck pretty well with this rule, and currently only have two duplicates: my Eraserheads (there was no way I was giving up the Pop my little brother gave me when I got his prize figure.  Hell, do Pops even count???) and Levis, but I'm planning on selling his nendoroid when I get the chance.  Still, the temptation does come up from time to time, and I've had to make some tough decisions.

Kamado Tanjiro, Deluxe Version.  By Aniplex

Rule #2:  It's okay to splash out on male figures...
I don't want to talk to you about how much I spent ordering the yet-to-be-released deluxe version of Aniplex's Tanjirou figure.  Suffice it to say it didn't come cheap (and it hasn't gotten any cheaper, thank fuck).  However, I've seen male figures go for absolutely ridiculous sums of money in the aftermarket - the only reason I was able to find my Yato figure for less than $300 was because he has damage to one of his swords.  So I say that if you're buying new, go for it.  For used figures, I try to use my best judgement.  Sometimes figures get rereleased - GoodSmile does this a lot with their nendoroids - but that seems to depend a lot on how hot the anime is.  If it's been several years and there's no whisper of a new season, it might not happen.

Rule #3: ...But don't buy characters you don't know
If I've never read the manga, watched the anime, or played the game, do I really need a figure of that character?  That's another question I ask myself.  This meant that when I got back from Kyoto last fall and finally did watch Psychopass that I was kicking myself a little for not buying Ko-chan's nendoroid, but it's also helped me to resist buying Ootengu from Onmyoji and Kaworu from Evangelion because I can't be bothered to play/watch their franchises.  Both figures are really cool, but in the end they're just a pretty piece of plastic unless I'm invested in their characters.

Ootengu, China exclusive. By Hobby Max

Rule #4:  Don't pay more than $70 for a nendoroid.
Half of my collection is these little bastards.  I love them, they're hellacute.  But their original prices range around 4500-6000 yen.  For me, when the price climbs above $70, they just become too expensive.  This is one rule that I haven't been tempted to break, although I've owned nendos that were worth more - Hoozuki, who I ended up selling, can go for around $110, and Dazai even more than that, although since he got a rerelease I'm pretty sure his worth has plummeted...and that's why you don't want to sink too much into them.  As mentioned above, they do get rereleased pretty often, so their value can be fairly volatile.

Ranma Q-Posket, for old times' sake.  Bought, not won.

Rule #5:  Don't win your prizes - Buy them
I'm ashamed of how long this rule took me to figure out.  Prize figures are among the hardest goods to get out of UFO catchers.  Don't be surprised if after plugging the machine full of 100 yen coins you still don't have that damn Rimuru.  If you're in it for the thrill of victory and you actually want to waste a small fortune, well, by all means - dozo.  But if you're more interested in the figure, do yourself a favor and see if you can buy it instead.  If you're not in Akiba, just find your nearest Bookoff+ and see if they have it.  The one in Kawasaki was a great source for prizes, but even my small neighborhood Bookoff had a decent range of figures.

Mika and Yuu, by Mens Hdge.

Rule #6:  (almost) Never Order In
I've only learned this rule this fall.  Once I had disposable income again I didn’t care if shipping was expensive, especially since that Kogami Shinya DX nendoroid I passed on in Kyoto was only 3500 yen online.  But I've come to realize that any deals you might be getting are countered by that shipping cost, so I no longer let myself order old figures for delivery.  This also helps to ensure the joy of the hunt for the next time I'm in Japan.  There is an exception to this one:  rare figures.  I wholeheartedly believe if you can get a great deal on the Owari no Seraph boys you should 10 million percent go for it.

Straight Outta Wuhan

Unless you've been living under a rock, you may have heard that we're having a pandemic this year, the coronavirus now known as Covid-19.  This has been an interesting experience for me.  In past years, I've somehow missed the exciting new flavors of panic, having been in the wrong place each time - and that was just fine with me.  However, when I first read about the new plague in China before I came back from winter vacation, I did find myself thinking, "Oh.  China.  That's, like, next door, eh?"

Funnily enough, my flight back on January 17 went through Beijing.  At the time, that didn't seem as risky as it does now.  I didn't wear a mask, and simply went about life as usual - eating at Pizza Hut (the only good restaurant in the international terminal) and trying to kill time while waiting for my flight.  I was irritated when I got back to Mongolia because they made us wait on the plane for health inspectors to come collect the health declaration, but although I've never been in the epicenter of an outbreak before, I've traveled in the time of everything from mad cow to swine flu, so I really didn't think much about it.

Now dinner comes with a moist towelette AND hand sanitizer...

It was about a week later that I realized this was going to be a biohazard of a completely different color.  After dinner with Engrish and Blondie, I got into a taxi and asked the driver to take me to the school.  Immediately he started trying to tell me something, but I wasn't exactly sure what.  The next morning one of my colleagues enlightened me: the government had ordered schools to close UNTIL MARCH 3.  In school terms, that's approximately forever.  I didn't believe it - I had to message Engrish and ask her about it in order to consider that this was happening.  And that was three weeks ago.  Now fortunately for us and our students, we live in the digital era, and this means that learning can still take place.  Sort of.  It's kind of hard to teach art online - I've had to do a lot with art journaling and reviewing fundamentals, but I'm hoping that when they get started for real that their work will benefit from what we're discussing.  But apart from that, the quarantine order has basically made it impossible for me to establish any sort of routine in my life.  We teachers go into work three hours a day, and while the first week I thought, "Hey, I could get used to this!" I quickly got bored.  I should probably be using that time to do all sorts of wild and crazy things, but...well...I'm just not feeling it.  I think I need the stress from the 5.5 hours of work I don't have to do each day to feel motivated to do things like work on my art, or do my homework.

There is one wild and crazy thing that I've done, though, enabled by the short work days.  A certain event takes place twice a year in Chiba, which for some inexplicable reason I missed every time during the two years I lived in Japan.  Now on a normal weekend there's no way you could make it to Japan and back, but I managed to convince the school to let me off my leash in exchange for working a couple of long days, and off I went.  Three weeks had made a helluva lot of difference in travel.  Pretty much everyone wore a mask on the plane, and even in the airport.  I also noticed a LOT of hand sanitizer dispensers.  They might have been there before and I only noticed them because the fact that Incheon was still running flights to China sketched me out a little, but still.  The flight back to Mongolia was only about 1/3 full, and in addition to having our health declarations collected before we left the flight, the inspectors came on the plane in full hazmat suits and scanned our foreheads to check for fever.

It was kind of crazy.  In two weeks we are supposed to be back at school on a normal schedule.  Since Mongolia has yet to report a single confirmed case of Covid-19, it seems reasonable to think this isn't just a pipe dream, that we'll actually be teaching again.  However, in the last week the government officially cancelled Tsagaan Sar, one of Mongolia's two big holidays - no wrestling matches, no big formal celebrations - so who knows how it will actually play out.  Although it annoys the heck out of me, I kind of get where the government is coming from - Mongolia doesn't exactly have the medical facilities to deal with the Big Nasty.  Still, I'll definitely have a celebratory coke when things get back to normal.

The Water's Fine

So let me hit you with an Absolute Truth: I am lazy as fuck.  Returning to Mongolia was a strategic move that I needed to make in order to have both the time and money to finish grad school...but it came with the added benefit of enabling my laziness.  I live at school.  I can afford to take taxis again.  I can order in food again, because I can afford both to eat out and to order delivery.  When the weather was still what counts as "nice" here, I made at least a token attempt to fight my laziness, but those days are gone, along with any sort of sensation in my thighs if I walk outside more than 5 minutes.

That said, I'm self-aware enough that I know these are not sustainable life choices.  Coming home from school each day to order Songo and watch anime in the dark for several hours...

...speaking of which, yeah, instead of my usual photography you're getting (mostly) anime swimming gifs today instead.  You're welcome...

...before falling asleep way too early is pretty much guaranteed to wreck both my body and my mind.  So as my November payday crept closer, I resolved that I would join a nearby health club that had a pool.  The pool is important because we're coming up on the 10 year anniversary of my feet being shit, and even though I spend less time on them on any given day here than I did at any point in Japan, they can still be a bitch.

via GIPHY

Back to being lazy as fuck, one of the ways in which Mongolia beats Japan most days is that things are relatively simple.  For example, rather than a long winded bureaucratical nightmare if you need a phone in Mongolia, you just drop in on Mobicom with your passport and you can walk away with a SIM card.  However, I knew from previous experience that joining a gym - or at least, one with a pool - involved a doctor's clearance...less for my own sake than for the fact that I might bring something communicable into the water.  However, this damn doctor's clearance was what kept me from joining a pool in the five years I was here before, because it required a pap smear, and on general principle I refused to do it.  Since you can't get an STD from a swimming pool, I failed to see how the state of my vagina was any of their business. 

Well, I still object, but since I haven't had a proper checkup since I lived in Shanghai I wrote it off as killing two birds with one stone, and went and got it done.  And then waited around for two weeks for payday so that I could afford the membership fee.  And then promptly got sick, so it was almost three weeks before I finally got into the pool.  I’ve never really thought of swimming as hard work, so it said a lot to me that in my first lap I could already tell that my muscles, such as they are, were getting beat up.  I kind of thought I was going to be swimming for like an hour every day, but after that first excruciating lap, I knew I’d struggle to finish 30 minutes.  The upshot to this is that I slept like the dead those first two nights.

via GIPHY

There are other challenges beyond the shape I’m in (ie, round).  A big one is the fact that I live by Songo delivery, and I often skip lunch.  It was tough waiting til I got home to eat, and involved a balancing act of ordering in advance and hoping that the driver shows up when they’re supposed to.  If they get there too early, I’m not home yet.  If they arrive late, I’m so hungry that I actually want to bite the driver, I’m that angry as well as that hungry.  I've been better about cooking since winter break, though, especially since the quarantine...which is a topic for another blog.  A logistical nightmare of a different stripe is getting home with wet hair.  Before I started actually going this was my biggest fear; that on the 5 minute walk home my hair would freeze and break off (I may need to get it cut, but not like that!).  This has been a ridiculously warm winter, so I've gotten away with just bundling it up, which is good because I didn't particularly want to torture my hair with a blow dryer, only to turn around and shower as soon as I get home.

via GIPHY

However, after my first night swimming I had to upgrade my biggest fear.  About halfway through my swim two middle school boys got in.  They were speaking English, and though I was trying to pretend they didn’t exist, I made eye contact long enough that I’m pretty sure I recognized one of them as an eighth grader from my school.  I was kind of prepared for the fact that I’d run into students there at some point, but when I got out of the pool fifteen minutes later I realized someone had left the doors of the women’s locker room open.  I obviously closed them, but I’ve been terrified ever since that some dumbass will leave them open when I’m changing.  I don’t know who would be more traumatized, but considering how awkward it was when a female former student came in while I was getting dressed, I’m going to say everyone.

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So my (more or less) nightly swim's not perfect.  But the water is warm and with my earplugs in I can't hear the shrieks of the little monsters whose parents send them there without any supervision.  As I glide through the water, I do feel a little more peaceful, like my worries are floating away in my wake.  Walking back to the apartment, the moon greets me in a light, night sky, limning the hills in white and transporting me to a different place.  And I have to admit that this has at least been one new experience for me in Mongolia.

Art Nomad: S. Shurentsetseg and G. Gerelkhuu

It's been three weeks since I got back from Japan.  I mentioned last time that I made at least a passing attempt at resisting its pull, and it's possible that I should have tried harder, shouldn't have given in.  It's not that I didn't enjoy every second; in fact, it's exactly that.  Going back showed me what I was missing, and it's been a hard adjustment going back into the daily grind.  After all, back in August I was overwhelmed with the homecoming vibe, but now we're over it. 

And that's leaving aside the fact that I had just gotten used to saying Mongolian things, and now I'm stuck on "sumimasen" again.  Had gotten used to putting toilet paper in the bin and now I keep forgetting and flushing it.  I'd kind of accepted Mongolia's lawless laissez-faire and now I want people to follow the damn rules.  I never had Mongolian Days when I lived here before, but then, China was my last watermark.  After a refresher course in Japanese etiquette, my temper is short, and I don't really like acting like a pain-in-the-ass foreigner.  That said, I'm sure I'll get over it, if I give myself time.

Mongol Queens series, by S. Shurentsetseg

The art I'm writing about today has actually been off the walls for a long, long time; I just couldn't get around to finishing this post.  The day I went I was trying to make it to Naran Tuul to find some supplies before going to Blondie's for dinner, and my brain wasn't as into art analysis as it probably should have been when I made my first stop, at Altan Khaan gallery.  Their current show was S. Shurentsetseg's "In Search of Origin," a body of work focusing on the female perspective on Mongolian cultural and social life.  Like a lot of Mongolian artists Shuren uses the image of Mongolian women in traditional clothing and hairstyles, but rather than the icy perfection that you often see portrayed her figures seem to have more going on beneath the surface.  Troubled expressions mar their faces, inviting the viewer to contemplate the causes of their discontent.  As I stared at her "Mongol Queens" series, the gallery owner came over and suggested to me that these women may have been queens, but it was not entirely by choice, and often involved leaving behind their own families and cultures.

Mother and Daughter, by S. Shurentsetseg

Her compositions are, by and large, relatively simple; the figures are positioned in the middle of the canvas against a simple or abstract background.  Shuren's color palette brings a certain amount of life to these figures, but also helps to set the tone of each piece.  Some are much more somber, while others have an undeniable warmth.

Daughter-in-Law Coming From Afar, by S. Shurentsetseg

What struck me more than anything else about her paintings was her use of pattern.  Lines freely twine over clothing and background, helping to establish a sense of visual cohesiveness regardless of Shuren's color scheme or use of space.  This also reinforces the "Mongolian-ness" of the women, referencing the patterns often found on the silk used for deel (the Mongolian national dress).  Overall I think she made a good start of subverting the idealized female in Mongolian art, and I'd be interested to see the direction Shuren goes in from here.

Eternal Tale III (left) and I (right), G. Gerelkhuu

That said, "In Search of the Origin" isn't the art I've been hoping to find since that trip back in March, 2018, but it was just down the street.  The 976 Gallery was my second stop, where the current exhibition was "The Demon's Egg," by G. Gerelkhuu.  THIS was exactly what I'd been looking for in Mongolian art ever since beginning my master's with that painting course.  Here was mixed media, pattern, life, motion, cultural references that are both accessible and yet, somehow not overplayed.  At first glance, they appear to be monumental abstractions.  Each piece is several feet long, stretching up toward the ceiling.  As you look closer, you realize that these are not abstract pieces, not canvases, but rather works on paper, using collage, printmaking, and other processes to recreate chaotic scenes of Mongolia.

Eternal Tale I, detail, G. Gerelkhuu

These reminded me, to a great extent, of the Mongol zurag paintings of Naadam and other daily scenes, but there was a sense of historic importance given to these pieces.  Hordes of mounted warriors in traditional armor swarm across the paper, attacking everything from faceless foes to colossal dragons, gunmen to monks.  In some cases the cavalry swirls their way through the composition, but more often it's absolute chaos, a battle royale between anyone unwise enough to stand against the Mongols.

Over There, detail, G. Gerelkhuu

Gerelkhuu's work feels almost monochromatic in nature, so that when he uses more color it really draws in your eye.  But possibly what I loved most about these works is the way he uses printmaking to create repetition.  Although I'm a long way from my bachelor's degree, back then the media I loved most was printmaking - intaglio, woodcut, anything really.  While I haven't done as much of it personally since then, that passion haunts me, and my biggest teaching regret is that somehow I've never managed to pass it on to any of my students - the way each printing matrix holds infinite possibilities, and can make as many pieces as you want.  Gerelkhuu's art struck a chord in me, made me feel challenged to try it myself, see if I can develop an image I can work into my studies of Japanese art and experiment with making something that would fill the height of a wall.   It hasn't happened yet, because, you know, grad school.  Taking two courses is even harder than I thought it would be, especially when they both involve a lot of reading, but I've only got about a month yet, so I suppose I'll manage somehow.  Most likely with a lot of coke.

Beyond the Bucket List

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.

Money Can’t Buy Me Love...

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.