Tokyo (June 18-21)

Tokyo is an overwhelming place.  For all of London's quiet splendor, Tokyo has a swaggering extravagance that constantly asserts its modernity.  Districts like Shinjuku and Akihabara in Central Tokyo feel like they were taken straight from a science fiction movie.  Video billboards dominate major streets, and architectural wonders of steel and glass are on every other corner.  Advertisements are bold, colorful, and huge; consumer culture dictates the aesthetics of public space.  In the trendier districts, masses of humanity flock from department store to department store in what Lonely Planet's Japan guidebook calls "contented consumer mode."  Wading down sidewalks every so often one's path leads by a ubiquitous pachinko parlor as someone emerges into the open air, leaving behind the roar of music and the tinkle of hundreds of thousands of yen converted into ball bearings.

And yet outside of the city center it couldn't be more apparent that futuristic Tokyo was built in the increasingly removed past.  The bulk of construction in Tokyo happened in the 1980s, during the country's most successful bubble.  In the 90s the bubble burst, and the rampant and widespread urban expansion slowed.  While the most popular districts in the heart of Tokyo showed no sign of halting construction, the surrounding business districts remain frozen in the speculative future of the '80s.  Science fiction author William Gibson says it best in Wired Magazine:

You can see more chronological strata of futuristic design in a Tokyo streetscape than anywhere else in the world. Like successive layers of Tomorrowlands, older ones showing through when the newer ones start to peel.

In his fantastic article Gibson captures teriffically the spirit of Tokyo's trendy center.  He draws a comparison to Blade Runner, and the analogy is an inevitable one.  Minus the the whole dystopian aspect, Tokyo really feels like a distant future dreamed up in the not-so-distant past.

One of the things I most enjoyed in Tokyo was going to the top of the the Mori Tower in Roppongi, Tokyo's hip and international-friendly cosmopolitan district.  On the 52nd floor of the tower is an  observation deck, from which one may look over Tokyo in 360 degrees.  I went at night, and it was incredible to see the lights of skyscrapers as far as the eye could see in every direction.  I was completely unable to see the end of Tokyo's urban sprawl.  It was an experience which really made me appreciate mankind's ability to change and dominate its environment, and in an incredibly short period of time.  Two centuries prior, Tokyo was a fishing village, and now as far as the eye can see its rooftops mingle with the clouds.  Of course, I forgot my camera, so its an image that will have to live in my memory, unless I manage to go back on my return to Tokyo.

The tower's top floor houses Mori Art Museum, a museum which focuses primarily on multimedia installations, and which was interesting to say the least.  My favorite installation was one in which a Japanese artist, Aikawa Masaru had intricately recreated the cover and packaging of 50 or so of his favorite British and American rock albums, and then recorded his own versions of each of the albums, singing unaccompanied and making up the lyrics where he didn't know them.  A poignant example:  "I once had a girl, / or should I say / shi sha la la."  I liked that the piece spoke about how manufacturing and distribution processes fundamentally alter how we view and consume art, but also that the artist didn't take himself too seriously.  Check out his website for artwork.

Despite all of the fantastic metropolitan scenery, another favorite experience of mine was dedicating a bright, warm Sunday to wandering through Yoyogi park, and seeing Tokyoites take advantage of such wonderful weather.  The park was packed, with musicians, dancers, revelers, and even jugglers, and it was refreshing to see people out enjoying nature and one another's company, especially coming from the expensive and at times seemingly shallow urban center.  In the park's sports facility I got to watch some street and pickup basketball--in my hiking boots, watch was all I did--and tried double dutch jump rope for the first time, thanks to the urgent insistence of some friendly kids. (Above:  Yoyogi park.  Below left: Street ballers showing off.  Below right: My new friends, for whose jump rope I was much too tall.)

Right next to Yoyogi Park is the Olympic stadium built when Tokyo hosted the 1964 Olympics.  I was lucky enough to get to watch Japan's World Cup match against the Netherlands there, and I was one of very few foreigners to do so, a slightly vain point of pride.  Unlike the performance at Trafalgar, this one went off without a hitch, and my buddy Yuma and I had a great time, despite Japan's unfortunate loss.  I learned some of Japan's fight songs, and was excited to get to experience some sports-induced nationalistic fervor.  I didn't realize how popular soccer is in Japan (the Japanese call it sakka, not football!), but kids everywhere seem to play it, and the country followed Japan's unfortunately shortlived run into the tournament with great excitement. (Below: Shinjuku skyline and a rapidly filling stadium)

When it came time to leave Tokyo I was a little disappointed.  I realize now that I could have easily spent seven weeks in Tokyo and never run out of things to see.  I've got a lot of stuff on my to-do list for when I return for a week in August.

Thanks for reading!  Follow my Twitter for more, ah, current updates.

Mitchell

More photos:

Tokyo