April 2nd-Shantytowns to Towers
So today, since Hiromi had to work at her restaurant (well, it’s not really HER restaurant, she’s a hostess and she takes orders etc) until 5pm, I had to do some things on my own. I was supposed to hang out with my other friend in Osaka, but when I called, we couldn’t meet for some reason that was lost over the static of the phone. The day started out slowly. I spent about an hour in the Internet café sending e-mails and chatting it up with some friends back home. After I while, I decided that these are things that I really could be doing in good ole’ New Jersey, and that I really should be out doing something Japanese instead. I really didn’t know what to do. Then I realized that I could do something practical with my time. I decided to make a dry run of Saturday morning. So, I went from my hotel, timing with my stop-watch, to Shinsaibashi station, then got the subway to Shin-Osaka station. The entire trip took my 22 minutes. While at the station, I bought my tickets to Miyazaki for Saturday so I wouldn’t have to waste time buying them that morning and so I could ensure that I would have a seat on the train. After that I got back on the subway and headed to Tennoji. Why Tennoji? That’s where Hiromi’s restaurant (and Italian place called Kihachi) is located. I figured that if we wanted to meet and have dinner together or something afterwards, then it’d be easy if I were already there. When I got there, I didn’t know exactly what to do. It was kind of a crumby day—chilly, clouded, and it looked like it might rain. Nevertheless, I just started walking. I had no idea where I was going, but I figured that if I kept a good sense of direction and didn’t get lost, I might just happen upon something unexpected or interesting. I spent a little while walking around the back streets around the train station and I found some gloomy little alleyways tucked away behind the building lined with tiny shops long-since frequented by tourists or travelers. Then I got back on the main street and walked by a shrine. It was a small, but quaint shrine, and there were a couple of cherry blossom trees and a stone lion in front of it, so I looked around and took a couple of pictures. By this time I was hungry, but I refused to stop at just ANY restaurant for some food. I finally decided on a small, traditional, looking place and I ordered some katsudon (rice bowl dish covered in breaded pork, some kind of onion, and partially cooked eggs…it’s really tasty). I went to a phone booth and left a message for Hiromi.
Then I started walking again. I found myself going by a park. It looked kind of nice in the park and I could clearly see statues, fountains, and cherry trees through the gates. For the life of me though, I couldn’t figure out how to get in. So I kept walking around the periphery of the park and past a number of odd make-shift tents and huts that were filled with elderly people belting out old Japanese song on karaoke machines. It was really quite odd. Every few minutes you would hear clapping for someone who just sang. At the bottom of the hill I got into kind of a cheap sketchy area. Right next to the Osaka Tennoji Zoo, were dozens of little shacks. I didn’t stop, but as I walked by, I could see they were rather expertly constructed. All of them had plastic tarps to cover them from the rain, doors, windows, etc. Some even had tiny yards (a few square feet). I realized, from the grubby inhabitants that sat in the doorways, and the rancid smell, that these were homes that homeless people had made. So, I learned something new. Even the homeless people in Japan have a high standard of living. This country is incredible. Once I got past that area, I found myself in a maze of streets filled with cheap clothing outlets, arcades, outdoor noodle bards, and Pachinko (Japanese game like gambling in which metal balls are won and can be exchanged for prizes), parlors. And inn the middle of all of this was a large tower that resembled an airport control tower. As soon as I saw the eyesore, I wanted to go up in it. So I walked around and again, for the life of me, I couldn’t find the way in! Around the back I finally found a small spiral staircase. As I reached a small, unmarked, metal door, at the top of the stairs about a ¼ of the way up the structure, I knew this didn’t seem right. I had clearly seen tourists milling around up in the tower. I didn’t know what else to do, so I opened the door. Within seconds I heard a voice, saying in VERY broken English from the stairs above, “No..no…entrance…go..no..entrance…out.” I guy in a suit came down the stairs inside and he seemed very distressed and agitated. So I turned around to go out the way I came when he turned me around, and ushered me up the stairs to a lobby of sorts where one could buy tickets for the observatory. I apologized, but figured they deserved it if they made it so hard to get into the place. I went up in the tower and was able to get a commanding view of the area. As far as the eye could see there were buildings, houses, and structures of all kinds. Unless you looked directly down, the buildings were so dense that you couldn’t even see the streets. It was quite impressive. It was already 5pm though, so I went down and headed back to the station. On my way back, I saw a couple dozen more shacks and shantytowns. These were more elaborate and as I walked by I could see some people living there had dogs tied up outside, magazines and heaters inside, and little tables set up with all their worldly belongings outside. If the people there hadn’t been raving like crazy people (cuz they were), or smelled like urine, I might have hung around longer to try and get a closer look at these little houses of ingenious construction—given the limited and crude materials available to build them. I did a little more walking around and ended up having dinner with Hiromi at a cozy Italian restaurant called Monochrome. The interior was dimly lit and by 8pm it was almost full. Through the window, now covered with rain droplets, we had a view of the steely, cold rail yard and watched the packed commuter trains rumble by every few minutes—warm embers of light and life in the urban darkness.
I don’t know about you people, but I find an odd sort of dense and mysterious beauty to urban Japan. Everywhere you look there are buildings (many of which look like they date from the late 40s or early 50s because they probably do—built after the war I imagine). Power lines hang from poles and the apartments like spider webs and everywhere you look is the hum of life and the heartbeat of the city. Somehow it’s very different from city life in a place like New York. New York seems spacious and full of wide-open spaces compared to places like Tokyo or Osaka (Japans two largest cities). Well, I don’t really know how else to describe it…it’s kind of one of those things that you just have to see to understand. I guess you can try and see in my pictures though what this place is like.
-Maikeru