Oshima

Is it Ohshima or Oshima? Big Island is what the Japanese call it. The Chinese characters are 大島. The first is pronounced as a long "o" sound. Sometimes this is translated as "oh-shima" and other times "o-shima".

This picture is from the pier of Oshima in Tokyo bay. This pink rocket took me from an urban port in Tokyo (Takeshiba) straight to the island in about an hour.

The island has a year round population of less than ten thousand. And thanks to liberal spending by the Japanese government, there is always an airport large enough to handle jet aeroplanes. Ridiculous.

At the center is an expired volcano, so all the beaches are black sands. Sitting on the beach was hell because the sun felt twice as hot. Fortunately, the water was clear and beautiful. Coves around the edge of the island gave ample opportunity for snorkeling and scuba diving. Groups of Japanese divers dotted the black beaches with their shiny air tanks.

Monkey Island Fireworks II

My friend took this picture. I am in the foreground.

Monkey Island Fireworks I

Summer fireworks are a tradition in Japan. Districts in and around Tokyo schedule their performances so that residents can see fireworks each weekend for six to eight weeks in the summer.

I went to a few shows this summer. Sarushima (猿島 - Monkey Island) was the most impressive. A private company sold a limited number of boat tickets -- less than 500 -- to a tiny island in the center of Yokosuka bay (横須賀港), the site of a major US military base south of Tokyo.

Barges in front of the island lit an incredible display of fireworks. The night was breezy and cool, and there was plenty of space on the beach. This is a true rarity at Japanese fireworks. Usually, cities cordon off a viewing area too small for the number of visitors. Crammed together in the sweltering humidity of a Tokyo summer can be torturous!

Shinjuku at Night VII

And then walking away, arm-in-arm.

Shinjuku at Night VI

At the other end of Golden Gai, I caught this couple, embracing.

Shinjuku at Night V

One Coin Champion Bar sits on the edge of Golden Gai, one of Tokyo's most famous post-war bar districts. It dates from the 1950s. Tiny buildings house bars with less than ten seats. And to discourage anyone but regulars, seating charges are prominently displayed. According to some guidebooks, locals don't pay the surcharge.

Champion Bar is quite the opposite. Run by a Fillipino lady well-known inside the Tokyo Fillipino community, she runs a open-air karaoke bar. All drinks are one price: 500 yen. This is very cheap given its location in Shinjuku. Inside you will find an eclectic mix of backpackers, English tutors, and curious open-minded Japanese.

Karaoke takes place in front of twenty of your "closest" friends. Price of embarrassment: 100 yen. Fortunately, there are two microphones. A friend can bail you out of the high notes in Mariah Carey's Dreamlover.

Shinjuku at Night IV

A slight turn to the right gives a great shot of Tokyo's incredible night time scenery. The silhouette of a man waiting at the huge crosswalk, while a taxi approaches, contrasted with the wall of buildings lit with neon signs. Welcome to Kabukicho.

In my previous experiences in New York and San Francisco, I came to love the ground floor shops that dominate shopping districts. The street-level floor in any building in Manhattan or central San Francisco is prime territory. Unless inside a multi-floor store, often a flagship, stores rarely have their entrances off street-level. Restaurants and bars are also similar.

In Japan, many buildings in red-light districts dedicate their street-level space to an array of elevators used to lift customers to restaurants, bars, and clubs high above the streets. Shinjuku has the tallest all-restarutant/bar/club buildings I have seen anywhere in Japan.

This photograph gives an incredible view of these buildings, sometimes ten or twelve stories high. A single neon sign normally runs the height of the building advertising each business and their floor number.

Shinjuku at Night III

This is the main entrance to Kabukicho, Japan's most famous red-light district. When I first arrived in Japan, I couldn't understand how such a outwardly conservative country could have so many seedy districts. After having lived here for more than two years, I now realise this phenomenon is more complex first impressions might imply.

Firstly, neon, unlike many parts of the United States, does not immediately indicate the neighborhood is sleazy. Somewhere between old downtown Las Vegas (think Golden Nugget) and Times Square, neon came to signify red-light districts. Having seen a few different East Asians cities -- Tokyo, Taipei, Seoul, and Hongkong -- there is neon everywhere in business districts. Even innocent family restaurants are often peppers with neon signs. It is no more than an advertisment.

Secondly, a red-light district in the West immediately implies prostitution. This is not necessarily the case in Tokyo. While prostitution exists, it is a tiny part of these neighborhoods. Streetwalkers are rare. Most of the activity centers around eating with a small group of friends -- a pair of mixed pairs is the best from my experiences, and then continuing to karaoke (カラオケ) or a bar.

Shinjuku at Night II

To walk to Memory Lane from Shinjuku station east exit, you need to walk under the JR tracks. I was lucky this night, as a young man was playing an acoustic guitar and singing. This underpass feels like the transfer passages of the New York City subway. The overhead steel I-beams rumble and shake as each train passes. The walls have been painted, layer over layer, year after year, probably for more than fifty years. The caged florescent lighting casts a jaundiced glow over the walkers and players.

This is the major pedestrian passage to the other side of the train tracks, so an endless variety of people pass through. At one point, when I was taking photographs, a salaryman stopped to have a chat with the musician. From what I can gather, they discussed his repertoire of tunes. The man made a request, then waited and listened, impressed.

Most street musicians create CDs to sell when they play in public. Most are very good on the street, so I try buy the CD. I used to do the same in New York City. Unfortunately, musicians are not allowed to play in the Tokyo subway stations, so they play outside. Some neighborhoods have a regular stream of musicians stopping to play their instruments -- Yurakucho, Ikebukuro, and Shinjuku are three good ones. And I have yet to see the same player twice.

Shinjuku at Night I

I bought a tripod recently so I can take better pictures in low light. A previous post talked about how cheap you can get a full tripod for just 3,000 yen. I got mine at BIC Camera, one of the mega-electronics chains in Tokyo.

Last Monday was a holiday in Japan, so I went out to Shinjuku thinking it would be calmer than usual. I was wrong; it was packed. Young people were out like it was a Friday night. Restaurants and bars were brimming with packs of twenty- and thirty-somethings. Many were even wearing suits. Who wears a suit on a Sunday? Even in Japan, I am unsure. Sometimes salespeople wear suits on a Saturday. You can see them when riding the subway, but Sunday is quite rare.

If you exit from higashi guchi at Shinjuku station (新宿駅の東口 -- east side exit), you end up on the border of a famous red-light district called Kabukicho. The massive display of neon lights and the mixture of people provides many good photo opportunities.

On the other side of the train tracks is a pair of narrow alleys. One of which was pictured at the very beginning of my blog. It is called Omoide Yokochō (思い出横丁) or "Memory Lane". Many guidebooks feature it as a slice of Old Japan. Its sister alley is less well known, but is still brimming with restaurants and activity.

The featured photo above is from the sister alley, and the wall on the right holds back the roaring JR trains.