Final Reflection

These towers are actually larger than the two behind me in this photograph. The wall of towers featured in the previous blog post cannot compare to the bulk of this pair. Each side contains enough windows and balconies for at least seven apartments, and the buildings are about fifty stories high.

The only comparison I can draw is the Pan Am building in Midtown Manhattan. This may be Brutalist architecture's greatest example in Tokyo. Why they elected to build these two monstrosities so close is beyond me.

Fortunately, they make for a beautiful reflection in this tidal pond. The bridge in the center leads to a tea house (off the picture, to the right).

Towering Gardens

This photograph and next are two of the best I have taken during my stay in Asia. The modern apartment towers reflect perfectly upon the tidal pond on a crystal clear autumn day.

The center of the pond is a tea house. Bridges from either side of the pond connect to the house. To grasp the scale of the buildings, take note of the tiny Japanese pine trees in the center of the photograph. One of these is featured in an earlier blog post. (They alone are twice my height.)

Man and Mountain

A truly serene picture: A man on the mountain in the gardens. (Seriously, these hills had names throughout the gardens that used the character yama for mountain.) The park had so few people that nearly each could have their own bench, lawn, or hill to sit upon, undisturbed.

He was enjoying the surroundings when I snapped this picture. His lap carried a bento box for lunch.

The buildings prominently featured in this photograph and ones that follow are part of the redevelopment that occurred when Japan Railways was privatized. In the Nineteen Eighties, this area was covered with rail tracks for storing freight trains. I'm not sure when these trains are stored today, but the entire area was rebuilt.

Weathering A Winter

The sign next to this pine tree explained that trees were once wrapped in winters to protect their branches during heavy snowfall. From a distance, it appears to be strings of Christmas tree lights. I'm surprised they don't keep the parks open during the holiday season with lights. This might attract more visitors during the winter months.

Tokyo rarely receives snow these days, so I don't think the tree is actually wrapped with a protective cloth. This process is more for decoration today. (If I see one wrapped later this winter, I will post a picture.)

When Japanese pine trees (matsu) mature, they often grow into twisted shapes. Unable to support the weight of their own branches, special supports are built that look like giant crutches. I'm not sure if Japanese pines grow this way unadulterated or due to damage from lightening strikes and fires that follow.

A Bridge Runs To It

Welcome to Tokyo's Hama-rikyu Teien. My Google Maps entry says it best: "Finally: A Tokyo park that you actually want to visit!" This is the park system that I have missed in Tokyo for the last year and a half. Ueno Park is pathetic compared to this wonder.

Ueno Park has nearly every inch dedicated to paved walkways, national art museums, and a dreadful zoo. These gardens are old, well kept, and nearly empty. People sat alone enjoying the view with a bento box. Walking on the grass is permitted in certain areas, so it is perfect for picnics.

Buffeted on all sides by water (a canal and Tokyo bay), it captures what Seoul, Korea's urban temples do so well: traditional versus modern. Glimmering towers grace the edge of the gardens, providing magical reflections in the duck hunting brackish, tidal pond. (No joke about the duck hunting part, although maybe no longer.)

Accessing the entrance proved difficult, even on a bicycle. A garish six lane elevated highway over a six lane urban throughway makes for a uninviting start. Fortunately, carefully planted trees at the park's edge help to block out the noise. And, the gardens are large enough to nearly lose the city.

Gotenyama Falls

Riding my bicycle home from Hara Museum in Shinagawa, I found this incredible garden next to Gotenyama Hills. Like Shiroyama Hills, it has an accompanying garden for office workers. In a city as overbuilt (and paved-over) as Tokyo, where did they (Mori Trust) find this land after the 1980s land bubble? The building feels 1990s'ish, so perhaps they tore down an Old Town area to plant this garden.

Part of it is a set of man-made waterfalls. Photographed at night provides the enchanting effect of water in motion. Professionals with better equipment probably need to slow down their lens to replicate this effect. Fortunately, my simple point-and-shoot accomplishes the same without effort.

To the left, over a tiny one lane road lies one of the largest (and loudest) train stations in Tokyo. Fortunately, the roar of the falls easily overwhelms the noise of the nearby tracks. There is a walkway at the top of the falls with benches, and a path at the base also with benches. When the weather improves, I will certainly return with a bento box for some peace and noise.

Your Phone Looks Different

For all of Japan and Tokyo's modernity, there are still fragments of the Old State. NTT -- Nippon Telegraph and Telephone -- is the prime example. How they possibly found buyers for this recently privitised government monopoly amazes me. (How can it grow?) They still maintain a wealth of bizarre old public telephones throughout the country, including a set on each shinkansen (bullet train). In my one and half years in Japan, I have only seen their public phones in use on a handful of occasions. And they are everywhere in central Tokyo. In New York, they have simply become conduits for advertising. The city tightly regulates and taxes this revenue accordingly.

This pink one here is a particular gem. Its color instantly signifies to any Japanese person that it is only for domestic telephone calls. The greens ones have handsets that look military-issued, accept cards, and can dial internationally.

This telephone appears outside the Hara Museum. Perhaps it is an ironic joke to have this beautiful, but nearly useless telephone, stationed outside the museum entrance.

Hara Museum II

For its proximity to Shinagawa station (akin in size to Tokyo and Shinjuku), the gardens are beautiful and expansive. The lawn is some odd breed of grass that might be found on a golf course. I overexposed these photographs to the sunlight to emphasize the day. It was a crystal clear fall day when I made these photographs. In Japanese, one might say aozora which means blue sky.

Finding it from Shinagawa station can be a little tricky. Try this map.

Hara Museum I

I found this tiny modern art museum in Tokyo recently. Surprisingly, it is walking distance from the mega-train station Shinagawa. At the far southern end is an office park development, Gotenyama Hills, that mirrors my current one, Shiroyama Hills. (Scarily, the logo is written the same font on the outside of the complex.)

Hidden behind this development -- you can see it in the background -- is a private modern museum of art called the Hara Museum. Housed in a former private home designed by the same architect who later developed the National Art Museum in Ueno, Tokyo.

The work was thrillingly abstract, but limited. The space only allows for about eight full installations. (Everything featured was installation art.) Much of the lower floor is dedicated to a museum cafe and shop. Take note: Where many other museums lack in Tokyo, this one takes the cake for quality of goods in the shop. Compared to the organised efforts of museums in the West to pawn off hipster goods to patrons, most Tokyo museums miss the mark. Why are they missing everything you really wanted to buy? Finally, a private one gets it right.

Behind the building is a small park that features golf course-like grass and a spacious sculpture garden. Nothing out of this world, but the grounds are impressively sized for central Tokyo. Also, because this museum is off the beaten track, the crowds are kept to a minimum.

Isle of Dogs

I caught this sunset from Isle of Dogs in London from the 45th floor of One Canary Wharf building. My company has their London offices here.

I had not returned to London for twenty years until this year. I was surprised to see that very little has been built. Buildings have been continuously restored, but there are very few skyscrapers in the City of London.

One recent exception: Just to the right of the setting sun is The Gherkin.

(Reviewing this entry today made me realise there is some strange ghosting in this photograph. I had to take the picture by placing my camera against the office building window, so you can see the fluorescent lights and computer screen reflections.)

Bansky at Chalk Farm

I recognized this graffiti outside the Chalk Farm tube station as being from Bansky. Hunting for an explanation, I found other photographs of this graffiti in various states of disrepair. Other taggers had written their names over it.

Does he return to repair his own work?

Chalcot Square

This is a picture of the small park, Chalcot Square, near my childhood home in London. Searching the Internet, I discovered that Sylvia Plath was once a resident on this square. The hulking chestnut trees used to drop spiky green balls. They looked like miniature water mines from World War II.

When I went to visit on this day, the park was locked. Perhaps it is private now, or is only open certain hours. The fence was low enough to serve as a mild deterrent; I was tempted to jump it.

The painted Victorian townhouses instantly reminded me of San Francisco. The brilliant colors were a refreshing change from the relentless, dull red brick in London.

Seven Fitzroy Road

This is one of my childhood homes in the Primrose Hill section of London. Call it my inspiration for living overseas again, now in Japan. My parents lived in the middle floor with giant windows. I remember summer afternoons when the windows were wide open, yellow light painting their white carpeted floor.

My brother still remembers our telephone number.

We had a nice backyard with a large tree. According to my father there were a many regulations for this tree. Trimming, for example, was tightly controlled by City of London. Apparently, trees this size in private backyards were rare.

Behind the gates you can see the edge of another window. This was the fourth floor and our TV room. Oddly, I don't remember anything about the first floor and very little about the top floor. But, I do remember watching LiveAID and donating a few pounds to the cause.

British Museum II

Upon entering The British Museum's main hallway, you are greeted with an amazing ceiling. Slightly hypnotic, it attempts to blend two hundred years of architecture in one fell swoop.

British Museum I: Stolen Goods Available for Touching

One thing the British and Taiwanese got right: They knew what to steal! I visited The British Museum for the first time as an adult recently on a business trip. The Egyptian section is incredible. Statues appear to have been carved just a few years ago. I never believed my father when he said this about the Rosetta Stona. The stone used in carvings from ancient Egypt must be very hard because there is little sign of wear.

This statue is massive and fortunately far from the crowds below. I would guess this section is about two meters tall. Many large carvings are available for the general public to touch. Only some are encased in glass. Even though signs announce touching is not allowed, it is a common sight. The guards hardly seemed to care. I imagine the stones are cleaned regularly. Still, many of the bases were stained with oil from peoples hands.

Hatsujima III

Given that some may view this blog with teeny screens, I apologize in advance for the camouflage. Forcing my auto-zoom camera to focus correctly on these giant spiders was difficult. You could walk down a path and nearly march into the large web woven on an adjacent bush.

The spiders on Hatsujima were at least one inch (two inches in some cases), and ferocious observing their leftovers spun into the web. Having grown up in relatively developed suburbs, we didn't have snakes or scary insects. This is the closest I have been to a spider in the wild this size.

No joke: Just looking at them too long made me short of breath.

Hatsujima II

The island is fully developed with two large resorts. Most Japanese today opt for the resort experience rather than their parents' choice: the minshuku. Both are garish, featuring a helicopter landing pad -- (a) it isn't that far from the mainland and (b) it isn't that big an island -- and a go-cart track. My friend traveling with me explained the go-cart track with: "Well, if you were designing a resort, you want to include activities that your potential guests might enjoy." New Jersey, anyone?

It wasn't that bad, but there were a few guys on the boat with bleach blond mullets that were at least fifteen years older than their girlfriends. And people fed potato chips to the seagulls chasing the boat on the way back to the mainland. You catch my drift.

At least one of the resorts featured "camping" as an alternative to the megaplex hotel. This is a picture of the campsite, complete with air conditioning units in each tent; albeit, tent is stretching it here, and, frankly, so is camping.

The surroundings were beautiful, if a little dangerous. (See next post.) I was there at the peak of the summer in August, and many trees, flowers, and shrubs were in bloom.

Hatsujima I

This summer I traveled to a tiny island off the coast of Izu Hanto (peninsula). It was small enough to walk around the perimeter in little more than an hour. See the Google map here. (It is amazing what they will map in Japan.)

The name of the island is Hatsujima. I haven't the faintest clue of its meaning, other than jima means island. My Linux laptop doesn't allow me to type Japanese after many efforts to do so. *Sigh* When I discover, I shall update this post.

The entire island probably has less than 1,000 year-round residents and less than 2,000 in the summer. I never saw a supermarket. Where do they buy food? Maybe the locals take the forty-five minute ferry to the mainland nearby to shop. The fish is certainly local.

We stayed at a tiny Japanese home that is built as a hotel. They are called minshuku. It is like a pension, but the style is Japanese. Think: tatami (straw mats) and shoji (sliding rice-paper doors). The food was delicious. Seating, of course, was on the floor. This photograph features the main village. Many of the homes here are minshuku, where the owners live within, offering lodging services.

I traveled with a Japanese friend. Never once did the owner (a woman in her eighties!) make eye contact with me. Was it easier to imagine I was not present? Even during an extended conversation between the owner and my friend, she never acknowledged my presence. I wonder if she has had foreigner visitors before? Hatsujima, while small, is relatively close to the mainland, so it has a regular stream of summer travelers. Surely, foreigners must have visited at some point.