Casual Japanese Bystander

The Writing's on the Tofu

2012-01-21T23:49:00.002+09:00

Freshly-made tofu at Minokichi on the 48th floor of Shinjuku Sumitomo Building, overlooking Tokyo. Using ume (Japanese apricot) paste, a message has been rendered: "Thank you for coming today. From Hamada."

Jivin' at Karakan

2012-01-21T23:38:00.001+09:00

The lobby of Karakan (Karaoke-kan, a karaoke megachain with the cheapest prices) in Koenji. There was a wall-sized black-and-white photo of a black guy singing, half-heartedly styled to look retro, and on the counter, this horribly macabre-looking sculpture. Looks like something out of the "Thriller" video.

The Karakan had nice rooms, though.

Von Jour Caux in Ikebukuro, Part 2

2012-01-14T19:01:00.001+09:00

Literally across the street from the Von Jour Caux building in Ikebukuro is another one of the architect's creations. I write this quite skeptically because I couldn't find any concrete information on the internet to back this up (I'm basing this on a fan site), and because this building is so tame in design and careless in upkeep that I can hardly believe it's his.

The use of color and the use of tiling is there.

And there are just about enough odd decorations to convince me. But overall, it strikes me as a lesser work, and that there is a massage parlor on the second floor (not that this should be a surprise in Ikebukuro) doesn't add to my fairly low opinion. I almost wonder if this is an imitation.

Construction began in 1987, several years after the other building was completed.

While looking for information on this building, I came across a page that listed Tokyo buildings in danger of demolition. I was sad to see two of his building on the page. At the very least, I hope to visit them before they are demolished. I would not want to be the person who tears down a Von Jour Caux building, dreams and history being crushed so vividly in front of you.

Von Jour Caux in Ikebukuro, Part 1

2012-01-14T00:32:00.002+09:00

When I posted about architect Von Jour Caux's creation the Dorado Waseda a couple years ago, I learned for the first time that some of his other buildings were in the Tokyo area. Dorado Waseda is such a singularly unique building, it had never occurred to me that it wasn't a one-off.

It took me a while, but I finally made it to Le Bois Hiraki Minami-ikebukuro, about five minutes' walk from the JR Ikebukuro Station. The building gets its name from Hirakiya, the liquor/food/tobacco shop on the first floor. The "Le Bois" is a guess: read as it is written in Japanese, it would be something like "rubowa".

I actually see more of a moth motif than trees, but who knows?

Built in 1979, Le Bois Hiraki predates the Dorado Waseda by six years. Lest you think he was much tamer back then...

...one look at the entrance will make you think again.

The lobby. The mailboxes are in the brightly lit room on the left.

Taken from the elevator: the lobby and the entrance. The colored glass, the tiles, the eeriness -- it's all there, in his trademark mash of cultures and philosophies.

The elevator, with stairs to the left. I went up to the eighth floor for a peek, but once I got into the elevator, everything I saw was as plain as could be. This seems to be a common feature of his buildings.

Like the Dorado, Le Bois is surprisingly affordable. According to a 20-year-old article, he and his craftsmen used styrofoam molds and concrete instead of rock, use aluminum for fixtures rather than bronze, and use stained-glass pigments to color ceramic tiles.

I worry that the glass is too fragile for the door to be opened and closed too frequently.

A look at the lobby ceiling.

Another shot of the ceiling. For all I know, this photo could be upside down.

Some interesting info on the architect: Von was "the baby of an actress of the modern theater movement known as shingeki, adoptive son of a Kagurazaka geisha and a ne'er-do-well stockbroker, a child who witnessed the fire-bombing of Tokyo, an avid adolescent reader of Edo-period stories and French literature, a carefree Waseda student, an adventurer in America at the end of the beatnik era, a honeymooner with nisei painter Tamiko Yoshihara, a six-time visitor to Disneyland ('The representation is kitch, but the energy to make fantasy is tremendous') and winner of an art award in Chicago's McCormick Place on the day John F. Kennedy was killed."

In the same way you think "Gaudi" the second you set eyes on Dorado Waseda, the first thing I thought of when I saw the lamp-holding arms was Jean Cocteau's version of Beauty and the Beast, released in 1946. When someone first enters the Beast's lair, arms holding candelabras extend from the walls, flames mysteriously flickering. (Photo above.)

If you're interested, the address is 2-29-16, Minami Ikebukuro, Toshima-ku, Tokyo.

Next stop: his buildings in Suginami. But before that, a minor Von Jour Caux building.

Ferris Wheel of Lights

2012-01-12T23:24:00.001+09:00

On the most nondescript of streets in Tokyo, a nondescript shop with aluminum shutters. I take this street to get to and from the station for work, and I was shocked when I noticed this burst of color for the first time.

No, there is no Ferris Wheel behind me. It's merely the street signals and shop lights reflecting onto the shutters and creating this burst of color. The lights change whenever a car zooms by, creating a kaleidoscope effect. .

Man Candy at Papabubble

2012-01-10T01:21:00.000+09:00

Halfway between Yoyogikoen and Shibuya is Papabubble, a recently-opened artisanal candy store. Originating from Barcelona, the company has stores in nine other countries, including two in Japan: Shibuya and Nakano.

The minute you step inside, you get an incredible sugar rush. With brightly colored, beautifully made candies of all shapes and sizes all around you, you can see how it would be a hit with Japanese customers in particular.

The best thing about the store (aside from that they are very liberal with their candy samples) is their workspace, which has been made the focal point of the (fairly small) shop. The employees are engaged in a never-ending cycle of rolling warm sheets of candy, stretching it out to make sticks, and chopping them up to make individual candies.

The whole process had everyone in the shop and all the passers-by transfixed. (This photo was taken from the outside window.) It truly is a smart way of doing business: everyone likes candy, but few people today know how it's made. This way, they can not only draw attention to the traditional techniques of making candy, but also turn it into a performance, creating further interest for customers.

A bonus: the store is completely ok with photography and video. The employees seemed to be freely capitalizing on their attractiveness to entice even more people into the store. As my friend remarked, "What they're doing as a whole isn't amazingly remarkable, but they sure go about it in a savvy way."

The final result from that huge roll: a sweet strawberry-patterned candy.

New Year's Eve in Tsukiji, Part 2: Namiyoke Jinja Shrine

2012-01-09T22:37:00.000+09:00

Namiyoke Inari Shrine in Tsukiji, right next to the famous fish market. When the shrine was first established in the Edo era, in the 17th century, it stood on landfill at the edge of the water. In the centuries since, even more of the surrounding land has been reclaimed, but the shrine has remained significant. It is considered a guardian shrine to those who work in the Tsukiji fish market.

Since the shrine is a five-minute walk from Hongwanji Temple, it was easy to walk back and forth between the two on New Year's Eve.Visitors were not permitted to enter the shrine between 23:15 and 23:45 on New Year's Eve, as the staff were readying for hatsumode (the first shrine visit visit of the new year) goers.

Compared to the opulence of Hongwanji, Namiyoke Shrine was much more low-key, but there was a surprisingly long line of hatsumode visitors.

Past the new year, the line extended a couple of blocks.

New Year's Eve in Tsukiji, Part 1: Tsukiji Hongwanji Temple

2012-01-06T22:38:00.000+09:00

(Tsukiji Hongwanji Temple)

On New Year's Eve, major train lines operate throughout the night. Many people prefer to stay at home with their families and watch the annual Kohaku Uta Gassen (Japanese pop culture fixtures split up into boy-girl teams -- white and red, respectively -- and sing their hits) ; others head out to temples and shrines.

Two of the most popular temples and shrines to ring in the new year are Meiji Jingu Shrine, and Zojoji Temple, which is right next to the Tokyo Tower. (An added bonus: if you love your TV, even if you're outside, you'll be able to tell which team won on Kohaku because the tower will light up in the winning team's color.)

Since I abhor the crowds in Japan (they say three million people visit Meiji Jingu during the New Year period), but wanted to celebrate the new year in public, I opted for Hongwanji Temple in Tsukiji. (I've written about this temple before.)

The first impression many people have is that Hongwanji doesn't really fit in with their idea of what a temple should look like. Its structure is clearly influenced by Western architecture, and though it's a Jodo Shinshu temple, it almost looks like a Christian church. Standing outside, you could even hear organ music being played inside.

As you can see on the right, several stands were set up outside. One served fried food, another, the traditional soba you eat at the end of the year, and there was even a stand dispensing free cocoa and sweet warmed sake. Wood was burned in steel cans, and people were more than comfortably warm.

The candles lining the stairs were to commemorate the victims of the Tohoku Earthquake. By midnight, there were two rows on each side of the staircase, and also running down the center.

At 10 minutes to midnight, the priests went around passing party crackers to everyone in the room (close to 200, I'd say). This was in the room with the large Amida Buddha altar, so it felt a bit incongruous, but everyone was excited. After the clock struck midnight and the streamers popped out, the priests tossed these pink "lotus petals" up in the air. The crowd was then called in groups of 10 to line up to ring the bell. It was all over in a flash, but it was a lovely way to ring in the new year.

Doctoring My Marimo

2012-01-05T21:10:00.000+09:00

I bought a little marimo ball 10 years ago, on a school trip to Hokkaido. These balls of algae have long been a protected species in Japan, but you can buy tiny ones at gift shops. The one I bought was about half the size of a marble.

The woman at the store told me then, "It takes 15 years for them to grow six centimeters in diameter." I made the mistake of giving mine too much light (they live on the bottom of lakes in places like Hokkaido and Iceland, after all), and for several years now, it's been a brown-green mossy color.

Wanting to confirm whether it was still alive or not, I split my marimo into two. (It was deemed safe to do so on the internet.) The rich green color in the middle is the color of a healthy marimo. Hopefully it will revive in another 10 years.

Feeding the Birds at Ueno Park

2012-01-02T00:38:00.001+09:00

Shinobazu Pond in Ueno Park. The pond consists of three sections, this being the Lotus Pond. It goes without saying that the Lotus Pond isn't at its prettiest at this time of the year, but there's something oddly striking about seeing all the dead lotus leaves and pods. The pond is also notable for its size -- it's the biggest lotus field I can ever remember seeing in a Tokyo park.

Since this is bird migration season, there were several duck species that you can't usually spot.

The ducks were all swimming oddly, necks stretched out and beaks skimming the water. It made for quite a funny sight.

On one side of the pond, a group of old men were gathered, feeding rice and bread to the ducks and the dozens of sparrows blanketing the bushes.

It was clear that this was a daily routine for them. They had detailed tips on how to feed the ducks, such as rolling the bread into a ball so they could peck at it, or the prime spot to hold out your handful of rice for the sparrows.

They were also extremely generous with their food. The trick is to keep extremely still. As an old man said, "Once you get one, they'll all come."

A duck, mid-flight. Come June, I'll be back here to photograph the blooming lotuses and (hopefully!) duck babies.

All Good Things (2010)

2011-12-31T21:33:00.004+09:00

A light is shed on a missing persons story in All Good Things.

In All Good Things, the 1% literally get away with murder. Based on the true story of Robert Durst, the son of a New York real estate tycoon whose wife went missing, the film alleges that she was actually murdered -- perhaps by him. This is director Andrew Jarecki’s first attempt at a feature film (his previous work was the documentary Capturing the Friedmans, which focused on an even more uncomfortable topic). While it would seem somewhat facile to attribute the shortcomings of this film to his background as a documentary filmmaker, how else can we explain his interest in biographical detail and his refusal to tell the audience what to think?

The film begins in a courtroom, where David Marks (Ryan Gosling) is on trial for a murder perhaps connected to his wife Katie’s disappearance 20 years ago. (The film avoids using the true names of the people they are based on.) We then flash back to New York City, 1971, when Katie (Kirsten Dunst) and David first meet. He is running around town doing business in seedy buildings on orders from his dad (Frank Langella, as unpleasant as you would expect); she is an aspiring med student from a working-class family who has just moved into one of said buildings. Interspersed with the courtroom interrogation, we track their quickie wedding, their stint in Vermont as owners of a health-food store, and David’s summon back to New York, where he reluctantly joins the family business.

Dad (Frank Langella) is unhappy with their marriage. This is one of the few instances in the film where the two are in the same shot together.

Jarecki takes you step by step through the demise of David and Katie, but holds viewers at bay when it comes to presenting a clear point of view on her disappearance. We see how David’s background shaped her fate: haunted by his mother’s suicide, which he witnessed as a child, on rocky terms with his powerful, controlling dad (who is naturally opposed to their marriage), and with a history of mental illness. However, when it comes to Katie's disappearance, Jarecki drops hints and suggestions about her murder while leaving the full details somewhat vague. Instead of coalescing all the information he's presented so far into a clear explanation, he instead turns tentative, leaving the film feeling like a working theory rather than a dramatization.

Who are you kidding? David tries to pass himself off as a woman.

This causes problems for the actors, in particular Ryan Gosling. As the troubled David, Gosling is so remote that you can hardly believe that he is the central character. Dull and sluggish, David doesn't seem charming enough to be able to ensnare Katie in their first encounter, and we don't see how he would be invested in whether she divorced him or not, whether she lived or not. By the time David shows up in the last third of the film and living in Texas as a woman, you've understood so little about him that it's difficult to even be fazed.

A hard-eyed and disillusioned Katie.

Dunst fares better as the long-suffering Katie. Playing an average girl who marries up, way up, she goes for broke, subverting her initial blonde sunniness to gradually shift into a dead-eyed hollow of a girl. (No vain actress would let herself appear so haggard for so much of her screen time.) Forced to have an abortion, physically abused, and unable to escape from her marriage, it's the most uncompromisingly dark role she's had in her career so far, and she is compelling throughout the film. (Melancholia does not come out in Japan until February.) As the only penetrable character, her disappearance two-thirds into the film leaves you mourning.

A shot from the "happy times" montage, shot through the requisite golden glow.

The film’s last third is a limp to the end as it catches up to the present-day courtroom scene. It's then we see for certain that all the pieces Jarecki has been assembling so far aren't going to come together; the flashbacks merely build towards a whimper of a revelation. It fits with Jarecki's neutral stance: he isn't out to punish David, or provide him with a catharsis. This refusal to draw conclusions for the audience would have been a smart tactic if he didn't leave so much in the dark, leaving viewers at a loss as to how they should feel, or care. In the postscript, we learn the outcome of the trial, along with the information that David is now working as a real estate investor in Florida. You get chills, almost in spite of the film.

Todai's Hongo Campus

2011-12-29T22:17:00.000+09:00

A couple of weeks ago, I took a walk through the University of Tokyo's Hongo campus. (Here are the famous red gates.)

We were merely passing by on our way to a museum, but the foliage was so beautiful, we took a detour through the campus and ended up forgoing the museum visit. There were so many couples and families walking along the gingko trees, enjoying the fall sun.

How old must this tree be?

Since I attended Waseda University, I was extremely jealous of the beautiful Todai campus. Waseda buildings are either run-down and colorless, or brand-new and generic. Few buildings that are commonly used by students give a sense of the school's history, or what the school stands for. These buildings say, "We are Todai, the best university in Japan. We have the history, we have the prestige, and we are proud of it."

The fountain in front of the library.

A view from inside the library.

Deer heads and chandeliers could be seen from outside the library windows. I was surprised by the opulence of it all.

Sanshiro Pond, which dates back to 1615. It's not particularly known as a momiji-viewing (foliage viewing) spot, so we'll call it a well-kept secret.

An ibis kept pacing back and forth in the shallows, trying to catch fish.

Defying Gravity and Convention

2011-12-29T21:44:00.001+09:00

On the Tozai Line, the most excellently pompadoured man I have ever seen in person. His military-style coat and off-white leather boots were impeccable as well. A man like that, you just want to grab him and ask him where he's going.

Christmas in Tsukishima

2011-12-25T14:57:00.000+09:00

Tsukishima's Monja-dori, with its countless monja and okonomiyaki restaurants, and mom-and-pop shops selling everything from rice to old toys, may seem like one of the most staunchly traditional areas in Tokyo.

However, even they are unable to resist the opportunity for decoration that Christmas provides.

Tastefully placed old stuff seems to be the appeal of this store. (I have no idea what their wares actually are.)

I fell instantly in love with this rotary phone cover. (Sewed using leftover fabric for the cushion covers, perhaps?)

A highly concentrated amount of advertising for such a small space. Note the Santa on the right, the tree in the middle and on the left, and the wreath. The bulletin board also shows a hand-drawn Christmas menu.

"Please do not take these."

Oh please. We are looking at geraniums here, not even poinsettias.

Now if I were the owner, I would be worried about someone trying to steal this old-school stereo. (A classic Cicena.)

In the same way that Japan has created the tradition of couples going out on Christmas Eve, they have also made it a tradition to eat fried chicken for Christmas. Hence this man in a chicken suit, shilling Family Mart chicken on Christmas Eve. He clowned around with amazing commitment, but passers-by weren't impressed enough to actually buy anything.

Tokyo City Lights

2011-12-25T09:49:00.002+09:00

A view of Tokyo by night, viewed from my grandmother's place in Tsukishima. This is the River Sumida. The spot of orange near the center of the screen is Hongwanji Temple.

To he left is Tsukishima's famed Monja-dori.

Kachidoki Bridge, and, of course, Tokyo Tower as the sun sets.

A miraculously unblurry close-up.

Kingyozaka Cafe

2011-12-23T09:12:00.000+09:00

When you're done looking at the fish at Kingyozaka, you can step inside the cafe for a bite.

The history of the cafe is less storied -- it's been open for less than 10 years. It is, however, an impeccable construction that has been decorated lovingly. (The Kingyozaka website even has information on the company that built the cafe.)

There are three floors: the restaurant floor, the bar (technically a half-floor), and the attic floor. You can't see it in this photo, but the half-circle window has a goldfish design etched into it.

The attic gives off the vibe of a cozy chalet. Since the bar sells cigars, the scent (not as unbearable as cigarette smoke, and strangely suited to the vibe) wafts upward.

Goldfish are naturally part of the decor...

... as are goldfish motifs.

They even wind up in your plate! This is a carrot in the form of a goldfish. Regular fish is also on the menu, although I would feel slightly uncomfortable ordering it after looking at all the goldfish outside.

Cigar boxes and goldfish, an incongruous combination.

Kingyozaka

2011-12-23T08:54:00.000+09:00

One of my favorite Tokyo discoveries is Kingyozaka, literally "goldfish hill". It is a goldfish supplier/cafe in Hongo with a very long history. The business was established over 350 years ago, and the current okami (proprietress) is the seventh-generation manager.

The last time I was here, a group of kids were fishing for goldfish.

There are easily over a dozen types of goldfish, from your standard matsuri (festival) Japanese goldfish, to the fancy ones with puffy faces.

I'm sure it's cheaper to win fish at a festival, but it's said that such goldfish are more susceptible to diseases, and generally exhausted, having been dragged around from festival to festival. That said, I once got five goldfish (one red wakin, two salmon pink fish, and two bulgy-eyed demekin), and they lived over five years.

Visitors are always welcome at Kingyozaka. (I think the logic is that if you've gone out of your way to find the place, and you express a delight in the fish, they do not want to discourage you.) You're even allowed to walk on the planks to get a better view of the fish.

When it's warmer, it's nearly impossible to get a photo of the fish without it being horribly blurred, but the winter cold has calmed them down to the point of absolute stillness.

Christmasfitting Tokyo Opera City

2011-12-18T22:43:00.001+09:00

Tokyo Opera City, a cultural arts complex in Hatsudai, one station over from Shinjuku.

Completed in 1999, the complex still has the appearance of a new construction, perhaps even more so because vast spaces appeared unused.

If you can take a photo like this on a Tokyo weekend, a warning sign should go up.

Didn't expect this to happen at night.

If this man has to look up, it must be a mighty tall tree.

Does Anyone Want a Free Parakeet?

2011-12-13T12:15:00.000+09:00

Outside a drugstore right across the street from the University of Tokyo's Hongo campus, two parakeets in their cages. The one in the back has a sign that reads, "It is well-behaved. For 10,000 yen."

For the other bird, the card reads, "We will give you a bird. Please bring your own box." Apparently, this parakeet has less value.

The view from across the street: the University of Tokyo's famed red gate.

Walking through Kokubunji

2011-12-13T12:13:00.001+09:00

Kokubunji, a city right smack in the middle of Tokyo. It's an interesting residential area, with its mix of old, grand-looking homes, seemingly uninhabited houses in gorgeous disrepair, and concessions to area revitalization. It's a mix of the past and the present, attempting to become harmonious.

The river above has been covered up with a series of bars that continue down the whole length of it.

Rudimentary bridges lead to individual homes. It's a shame to see so many unpicked persimmons this time of the year.

A house wrapped in ivy. The moisture needed for the ivy to grow supposedly weakens the walls of houses, but it looks quite lovely.

After this, the leaves will turn brown, leaving the house looking like a stringy mess.

Across the street from the house, the saddest, tiniest park ever. There is absolutely nothing more to this park.

Part of the city's revitalization project: a pond that was covered up in the 1960s is undergoing a process to bring back the area's natural ecosystem. The pond looked refreshingly clean, a rarity in Tokyo.

A man was playing his flute, which inexplicably drew the ducks near him.

The sparrows on guardrails aren't a Kokubunji thing; it has been popularized in other areas of Japan as well.

It brightens up an otherwise gloomy building.

Cracking Gingko Nuts -- Ghetto Version

2011-12-13T12:13:00.000+09:00

The very same day my mom was cooking gingko nuts at home, my grandmother decided to feed me some as well. I expected her to commiserate about the arduous process of cracking and peeling and boiling, only to have her demonstrate an infinitely easier way.

Apparently she learned this on TV -- you put some gingko nuts (in their shells) into a bag, microwave them until they start popping, then take them out. In this case, she didn't have a bag readily available, so she emptied the paper bag containing her pills and used that.

Once the shells have been sufficiently warmed (and made more flexible) by the microwave, you take a nutcracker and crack open the shell. She used a wrench from the tool box my father used in school in the late 1950s.

After peeling off the skins, she put them back in the bag and back in the microwave, and heated them up until the bag started smoking. Hey presto, cooked gingko! But the nuts had an odd, bitter aftertaste, and didn't have the satisfying chewiness they do when properly cooked. The irony of being taught a lesser cooking technique by my grandmother while my mother adhered to the old-school process did not escape me.

Cracking Gingko Nuts

2011-12-02T22:08:00.001+09:00

Gingko trees are gorgeous in the summer, but you start to feel differently about them when autumn comes around. They still look beautiful, with their now-yellowing leaves, but nothing can prepare you for the rancid smell of gingko fruit. Walk down a gigko-lined street, and you wonder if someone forgot to clean up after their dog.

Gingko nuts are edible and are oft-utilized in Japanese meals. However, they are notoriously annoying to cook.

First, you have to dig up the gingko nut from inside the orange fruit. It's apparently best to wait until the fruit has the puffiniess of pruny fingers. (This is why you see older ladies in public picking up the ones that look the nastiest.)

Next, you need to use something hard to crack the outer shell. If you use too much force, you end up crushing the nut inside, so it's best to create cracks all around, and then use your hands to break the shell open.

A smushed nut reveals the beginnings of a sprout.

The inside of the shell is a nice gleaming brown. Someone should try and make furniture from this.

After, they are boiled in water until the skins come off completely. They should be a nice yellow by the end.

Tonogayato Gardens

2011-11-28T00:16:00.001+09:00

It's the time of the year for foliage viewing -- almost. According to Yahoo's red-leaf tracker, last week was still a bit to early to see the leaves in all their glory. But that didn't stop the crowds from coming out to the prime leaf-viewing spots. These photos were taken at Tonogayato Teien (Tonogayato Gardens) in Kokubunji.

Originally built in the early 1910s as a vacation home for the eventual vice president of the South Manchuria Railway Company, by 1929, the gardens had passed on to a family related to the Mitsubishi conglomerate. After being purchased by the Tokyo Metropolitan government in 1974, the parks were designated a cultural asset in 1998.

The use of the yukizuri technique, in which ropes are used to prevent delicate branches from being crushed by snow, has the effect of making the tree look like a Christmas tree.

This is actually a reflection of the tree seen in the pond. The photo is also upside down, which makes for an interesting "Whoa, gravity!" effect.

From the pond, you take a number of steps up to the Koyo-tei teahouse, seen slightly on the upper left corner. Koyo means "red leaves".

It's there that the leaves can be appreciated in all their glory (and you don't have to stand around to do it).

Storefront Dogs Get Ready for Christmas

2011-11-28T00:09:00.001+09:00

(In Hatchobori.)

I never noticed how many cafes and stores place dog statues in front until they started wearing Christmas capes.

(In Hatchobori.)

This was in front of a drugstore.

Notice how the dog in the upper corner is wearing a Santa hat.

In front of Han Nari, a dog accessories store in Shirokane Takanawa. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been surprised to see this here.

A sort-of art gallery in Kokubunji. Real dogs never really seem to get into the Christmas spirit.

But at least he is perfectly attired for the season.

On a Good Day

2011-11-22T16:32:00.001+09:00

Mejirodai Athletic Park on a 23 degree Celsius mid-November Sunday. The park has an area for softball or soccer, a footsal pitch, and tennis court. Reservations are needed to use these spaces, and those who reside or attend school in Bunkyo-ku get preferential treatment.

Here, some kids play with the fountain after a softball game.