Photopost: Tokyo, October 16-17
The long time between actual journal entries is, rather than any deliberate snubbing of LiveJournal on my part, actually evidence that my life is for the most part predictable and mundane. The most exciting parts are when I have my camera; you are free to judge me either way based on that information.
This past weekend M and I went up to the Tokyo area to see some of her college friends and spend the night. Tokyo, or The Big T as I tend to call it, is usually a place I equate with work. This means nonstop trudging around on crowded trains with heavy bags in a suit and tie, not taking a moment to stop and look around at the scenery. But for one fleeting weekend we could spend some time in one of the most gigantic giga-cities on Earth without any stigma attached.
The significant thing about this particular trip was the fact that we hadn't seen any of these three friends of M's for over four years. In the meantime... let's just say that several social and reproductive events had transpired: All three girls now had husbands, and all three couples had babies.
So what resulted was an afternoon beer-and-delivery-food extravaganza on Saturday outside of Yokohama with four couples, three with infants, and one without. I spent the entire afternoon, between chugs of dark brew and mouthfuls of paella, trying not to trip over the tiny humans while photographing them.
Natsuho and her papa.
Yuma and his parents.
Rui and his parents.
Happy Yuma is happy!
Playtime.
And then on Sunday one couple -- whose house we'd stayed at the night before -- joined us for an excursion into the Really Big City. M's target was the food floor at Mitsukoshi, the gigantic department store in Ginza (the ultra-glitzy shopping district that everyone on travel blogs has multiple orgasms about). If Heaven has a cafeteria, this is what it would look like: two floors of exquisitely arranged and ridiculously expensive yet delicious-looking comestibles of all kinds.
My target was the Nikon Plaza Ginza.
This is where Nikon had a customer service counter, a set of offices for NPS (Nikon Professional Services; an invite-only club for working pros), and a showroom where they had all their current camera models and some lenses on display. The first floor was decorated somewhat like a Lexus showroom, except there were cameras instead of uppity snot vehicles. All the cameras were powered and leashed to the tabletop so you could walk right up and take one for a test drive. I was there looking for possible accessories like flash cables and spare batteries, but alas, they didn't sell small goods. As it turned out, it didn't matter, because what happened next made the entire trip worth it.
I had entered the establishment with my camera (the recently purhased D3s, with the 14-24mm wide-angle attached) strapped to my side, because I'd spent the last hour wandering around the area shooting architecture (more on that later). After spending about a half hour in the showroom, I went back outside and spent a few minutes grabbing shots of the entrance (see above). Some guy who had already been in the shop had come out after me, and was standing around near the street watching me shoot.
I was engrossed in shooting, so I didn't hear what happened next, but M told me later that the anonymous gentlemen was standing there staring in obvious awe at my camera -- she said that if this were a manga cartoon, he'd have rivulets of drool dribbling from one side of his mouth. Then she heard him express his appreciation to himself, quietly whispering the Japanese equivalent of ".... OMG."
It feels kind of neat to be, for once in my life, on the other side of the envy.
After that, we left and walked back to the main drag where, by now, they had closed off the street like they do every Sunday, forming a "pedestrian's paradise" where people could stroll freely around the shops. On the way there, something in a narrow alley caught my eye. There, amongst all the symbols of high-class wealth and excess, was an idea of what's going on behind the curtain: A long-closed yakiniku (Korean-style barbecue) joint, weathered and tumbledown.
There were more dead shops next to this one, just as filthy, but some of them had drying laundry and children's toys lying about: somebody was obviously home. Now, this is not to say I was unaware that underneath any city there lies forgotten poverty. I understand that completely, as 15 or 16 years ago I lived in conditions not entirely unlike this for a while. But I didn't really expect it to be literally one block away from this:
After our shopping and photography was completed, we were driven across the Sumida River to where M's friend Azusa and her husband Fumio lived with their 11-month-old son Rui. The three of them live in a 50-story apartment block right smack-dab in the middle of Tokyo proper. While they own a rather modest-looking compact car, the fact that they own a car at all -- and the location of their home, a two-bedroom flat on the 43rd floor of a residential tower with a city view -- is evidence that Azusa, Fumio, and little Rui are... well, loaded.
After passing monitored double doors, a 24-hour guard, and a cavernous entrance hall big enough to play baseball in, we took a brisk elevator ride to their floor. Going in the front door, I couldn't help but notice that the entire building was completely open space at its core, and you could look down over a modest railing 43 stories to your instant death. This is the only photo of this post I will link to full size; you can find all these and other shots on my Flickr page, but this one warrants magnification.
Seriously, folks: Don't look at this photo if you suffer vertigo.
The view out their balcony, being far above the city below, was more picturesque and much less likely to cause inadvertent pooing.
With this view as the backdrop, we drank tea and coffee and ate sweets (from the Mitsukoshi food floor, natch) while soft jazz played on the stereo. It was like having an afternoon tea at an upscale café, except this particular establishment was populated by the happiest baby in existence: Rui-kun.
Rui and his papa were playing constantly.
Happy Rui is HAPPY. (Their apartment was perfect for bounce flash: white ceilings and wallpaper.)
HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY
The little get-together continued for two or three hours...
...until the sun fled below the horizon on the Big T, and we had to bid our farewells and head back to the sticks where we belong.
We got home at half-past nine. Not a bad weekend away from home.
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