More summer things

The rattle of cicadas in the morning like jostling coins on a bellydancer's belt.
The lazy purr of the fan.
Blue-tiled roofs, glinting like polished china in the sun.
From above, parasols honeycomb the street.

Rockmelon. Watermelon. Pink rivulets trickling down sticky chins.
A shard of ice in plum wine.
The coolness of cold soba noodles. The bite of wasabi afterwards.

Fans paddle the heavy air. Children slurp flasks of cold tea.
The sweet smoke of the evening's last fireworks.

A frog, wet and black, on a lilypad at night. Tailed, it is so young.
Its throat bubbles cautiously among steadier choristers.

Another night, the windchimes are still.
When will the breeze come?

Summer fancies

As remarked upon often in my blog, the distinct Japanese seasons give me much pleasure, as well as rekindling nostalgia for my English childhood, where the seasons had the same rhythms and I think influenced my fanciful nature significantly. Here in Japan there are also an array of festivals that are tied in with each season, such as Obon in sultry August. This is the festival for dead ancestors and many people visit their family graves to offer prayers to loved ones. They decorate the grave with a colourful paper lantern that is festooned with foil streamers and is lit at dusk during the gathering.

Things I like about summer in Japan:

> glass ornamental bowls: as pictured here, one can purchase glass bowls to fill with coloured marbles and a floating leaf. In the water one can float glass fish, frogs or turtles. I have espied a Totoro version of the same - featuring a great fat Totoro lying on his back, with a frog happily sitting on his immense tummy; as well as little Totoros sunning themselves on lilypads & c.

> windchimes (furin): one knows summer has begun when the unrelenting peal of chimes is heard upon the morning air. Popular windchimes are miniature versions of shrine bells: mossy green and of aged, weathered appearance. Often a strip of paper is tied to the string, which catches the breeze and sounds the chime. Other popular chimes are that of glass bells (the bells themselves often shaped like maids' bonnets) in which hangs a pendulum of glass. These bells tinkle with sweet but fragile sounds; while the shrine-style bells give a strong, metallic keen like a bird call. The chimes are frequently hung in twos or threes around the eaves of the house and it is delightful to hear them sound and see the accompanied flutter of coloured paper as one cycles by.

>fireworks: summer is the season for fireworks festivals (hanabi) that are held across Japan, peaking in August. Thousands of people flock to towns to watch over an hour and a half of spectacular pyrotechnics. The prime hanabi evening in Ol' Hirosh is the 14 August, when over 200,000 people head to the sacred island Miyajima to watch fireworks blossom over the Floating Red Torii in the bay. Many people hire a boat and bobble out upon the water for a perfect view of the sparkling sky above. Sadly, due to work, I cannot attend Miyajima, so today I will head out to Onomichi for a long shrine walk this afternoon, then a fireworks festival in the evening.
Fireworks and sparklers can be bought at supermarkets and department stores anywhere. It is usual for friends to splurge on a big bag of crackers and go to a nearby park or river to joyfully detonate them. During Sgt M's tour, he and I obtained a packet of sparklers (branded as "The King of Sparklers") and a Hello Kitty sparkler. We traversed to the Peace Park and, across the river from the A-Bomb Dome, we flourished our sparklers about - with a slight burn here or there - as a busker wailed from under the bridge and the frogs burbled around the Peace Bell. The Hello Kitty sparkler was most spiff: a paper Kitty hung from a rod, and beneath her was a little wheel of sparklers that blazed in a circle of fizzy fire when lit. Sugoi ne!

>soba: I adore cold soba noodles in summer! Being too humid to cook, there's nothing better than a plate of cold soba with sweet sauce and wasabi, washed down with plum wine or cold tea, and a slice of watermelon afterwards! I also like the black-speckled texture of green soba noodles. The red parasols in the gardens of soba restaurants are very charming too.

>obon lanterns: in supermarkets everywhere at the moment, obon lanterns stand like a colourful, be-tinselled forest near the escalators, or next to the daily specials. About the height of the average flapper in heels, the lantern has an open-top and due to the perils of paper and fire, is usually lit under close supervision by relatives. It is made from colourful paper and is sometimes trailed with gaudy foil streamers. Illuminated by the family graves, the light is said to guide the dead back home. Then, at the close of the festival, white paper lanterns are set afloat down rivers and on the sea to lead the dead back to their own world again (see my August 2005 Archives for an account of the Lantern Festival for Obon in Arashiyama, Kyoto). It is most curious to see this spiritual ornament next to the oranges at the local Jusco!

>insects: so many glorious, and intimidating, varieties of insect! This morning I was awoken by the railing of cicadas from the vegetable garden. Their squeal and scrape and trill is reminiscent of the machine-gun rattle of sprinklers in an Aussie backyard. Dragonflies flit about, twirling on the air in curious couplings of curled tails and hunched backs. Beetles of regal hue can be found wandering about, perfect jewels of the pavement with their gold armour or glistening emerald green wings. One can see many of the influences of art nouveau and art deco jewellery in the exoticism of Japanese insects!

In the past few days, I have seen many a child racing about with a butterfly net and plastic collection box in which to deposit the captured, transient beauty. How often I see the nostalgic imagery of bygone days here in Japan. It is scenes like this that I treasure most dearly!

From Across the Miles

Many thanks, far-flung friands, for sending me much-appreciated precious things while I was away! It is a delight to come home to a litter of brown paper packages and postcards on my doormat. Thanks Edenic Maj for the goodies and the spiff 20s card - also sent by Penny Dreadful ... great minds think alike! - and Notts, for the marvellous Proustian read, and also to Miss Gremily for what promises to be an arresting read, "A Woman in Berlin". Strangely, I had cravings yesterday for Antony Beevor's "Stalingrad", and lo - this morn I received the aforementioned book on a topic of great interest to me *and* with an introduction by the great war correspondent, Sir Beevor! Huzzah for thoughtful friends!

Also tar muchly to Sgt M for Haighs rations and the essential Haighs Drinking Chocolate - I hope you landed safely in the bright lights of New York!

Treasure Trove

And here are the various purchases I acquired in Tokyo: a 20s-style skirt; musical score and vintage style knee socks; a pair of skirt-like wraparound trancepants; dragonfly hair-pins; Lolita-bowtie shoes; and the marvellous Kiki's Delivery Service windchimes. I also bought a silver belly-chain with tear-drop gems!

Harajuku Gals & Boys

Day Three and our company marched forward to Harajuku, famed for eccentric fashions and Fruits* children. On the bridge near the station, the kids gather in groups and sit on the pavement with their bento lunchboxes and kitsch Hello Kitty or Disney wheelie-suitcases.** Many an interesting outfit was observed: goth yukatas with skull patterns, red parasols, pvc-glamour goths with glamrock dyed hair, Lolita maids and orange mohicans. I especially approve of the traditional Japanese costume with a gothic twist. It is a classic look and also bears testament to the Oriental influence on Western gothic fashion - think parasols, fans, ornate hairpins, and long kimono-style sleeves. On the bridge, the Fruits children were beseiged by crowds of photo-snapping tourists, which by the end of the hot afternoon proved vexing for many of the subjects. I asked permission to take photos, but was guilty of a discreet back-snap or two.

The Fruits Bridge is located near a lush, forest-like park, the entrance of which is marked by a looming stone torii gate. I enjoyed the contrast of the torii - to me a symbol of ancient and Shinto Japan - with the parade of skull yukatas, snapping fans and garish colours of the dressed-up kiddies. This is the sort of old-modern fusion that I like to savour most.

Once amid the shops of Harajuku, one can enjoy a village-like atmos. There are many winding streets and leafy alleys, the shopfronts slung low, with a bank of taller buildings behind, and as many of the shops are opened out onto the street with small al-fresco-like patios and open-louver windows, the place had a European atmos that was delightful. The main street of Harajuku was hectic with harried shoppers and lined with many goth outlets selling somewhat formulaic Supre-style goth, as well as surprisingly cheaper Lolita clothes, punk and vintage wares. I met Miss S and Miss B for an iced-kohi in a cute, conservatory-like cafe where we exchanged goss on our old and new work situations. Yay for Shibuya Betty and Tasmania-bound Miss S - it is most funsome to hear about other friends' travels, schemes and misadventures!

I *must* return to Harajuku again and explore every inch of shoppe over a longer period of time. I require three days at least!

__________

* A photobook featuring full colour snaps and bio's of Harajuku kiddies dressed up in a pastiche of fashions, accessories and hair-colours. A dog-eared, thumbed-through copy is easily found at fave Sydney reading nooks, Better Read Than Dead and Kinokuniya.
** It has been noted by Fruits-spotters that these costumed types often carry their clothes around in suitcases and change in the train station lavs rather than get ready at home ... perhaps due to their parents' disapproval? This seems a little strange, as whenever I've been in a Lolita or goth clothing shop in old Hirosh, young customers are oft accompanied by their mothers who whack the petticoats & c on the family credit card.

Dark Dance Halls

On Saturday eve, the company had a rostered night off. As Sir S had supervised the Tottori leg of the tour, and yours truly had arranged the Hiroshima reconnaissance, it was Sgt M who devised the Grand Plan for the evening's entertainments. And so it was that after a near-disastrous PrintStation* adventure, we headed back to the neon wilderness to attend the dancehall, Midnight Mess.

On arrival, all was quiet on the local front except for a conglomeration of gaijin (which I confess was rather disheartening, me being eager to admire the Nipponese Gothic and all). The venue was spacious by Japanese standards and comprised of two floors, the top floor overlooking the dancefloor and stage, whereupon was stretched a screen of gauze onto which inky, arty pictures were projected. For the first hour or so, the company consisted of two blonde, curly-haired gaijin in white ruffly shirts, two fat skinheads and a perky Swedish girl & others. Things became more colourful (or er, monochrome?) as local dancers filled the hall: a Lolita girl dressed in black and white maidy garb with her long-haired, eyeliner-besmirched beau; a tall, slender, ruffly-haired man in a Victorian frock; a nerdy businessman who kicked of his work shoes for a comfy pair of white high-heels, a dress and wig; Morticia goth girls with hair flailing to their waspish waists and their long dresses ragged with tattered lace, their tresses occassionally whipping across my face as they skipped to the music (as I've said before, bobs are certainly less perilous); a burlesque lassie in candy-cane striped corset, ample of bust, with a pink ostrich feather pinned in her hair. Also spotted was a cute girl in a black sailor outfit - knee-shorts, trad sailor shirt with white piping and a black sailor hat with white ribbon - very snazzy!

After a few turns on the dancefloor with the Sergeant, the music stopped and the DJ made way for the band - a chap wearing a gas mask bleeping on his new-fangled computer thingie, and a guitartist with spiky hair and eye-liner who was reminisicent of a gothy Prince - rather a dish actually. As the band music subsided and the chaps and I readied ourselves for another shoe-shuffle, the stage was cleared for an unexpected performance of erotic pantomime. Two ladies were dragged onto the stage. One of them, with bandages tied around her head, was fastened to a chair whilst the other was suspended in the middle of the stage by ropes, chains & c that hung from the ceiling. And so the fetish theatrics commenced. Needless to say there was much nipple-tweaking, whipping and spanking, and this progressed in a downward spiral of violent candle-wax exploits and plastic bag suffocation. All rather squeamish and disturbing for some: Sir S slinked off into the shadows and Sgt M escaped upstairs, probably for another martini and cigar, to get his breath back. I however remained transfixed, as there was that aspect of paying 3000 yen ($35 in the old currency) doorcharge niggling at the back of one's mind, as well as that morbid fascination of just how far they would actually go, that left me rooted to the spot. But it seemed a line was drawn at plastic bags and nipples, and the panto went on far too long, picking out "members" of the audience to "have a go", and the Masters and Mistresses took an awfully long time to tie people up in the arachnid ropes, swing them about for a full 15 minutes and then give someone else a go. Rather dull really. It became a bit like watching children queue for the shuggy-boats at Blackpool in the summer of '84.

By this stage, the chaps and I had flagged somewhat, and as there was no hope of the music reviving and every hope of the fetish shenanigans hogging the spotlight for the rest of the wee hours, we decided to head back to our inn. So we left Midnight Mess and its fleshpots, and we meandered home at dawn through Tokyo streets in the mist of neon rain, our eyeliner crushed, hobbling somewhat upon aching feet.



* Small photographic studios where one can manipulate the snaps taken by adding an array of backgrounds and dinky icons, e.g. stars, lovehearts, cats & c, and write amusing messages with a magic pen onto the said prints. "White Lines", "sugoi des ka?" and "It's a pretzel" were the choice selections for our photo montage. These prints are actually tiny stickers, and can decorate one's diary, passport, portable telephone and so forth.

Emma the Maid

Day Two, with Shibuya taken, the company encircled electronics and maid district Akihabara in a sharp pincer movement. As you can see from this file photo, foes abounded in various anime and Victorian disguises of pure cunning, reminiscent of Professor Fox* himself.

Many a maid handed out coffeehouse advertisements to the throng, where one could sup the devil’s bean whilst being waited upon in an embarrassingly fawning manner by young women in prim and proper scullery garb (complete with aforementioned musical-score-embroidered knee socks). A maid of pink hue directed us to a lady-friendly maid café, so the chaps and I headed to Cute M Maid Cafe for a pot of tea and tiffin. Peruse their website, as it features photos of the maids who work there. Usually a hang-out for manga geeks, this maid café was also abuzz with couples and ladies, as well as the young lads. The maids were sweetly polite, and awkwardly subservient in their bowings and ministrations (or rather, *we* felt awkward watching this performance, which caused much blushing, nervous tittering and regarding each other with goofy expressions, as if we uncovered naughty piccies pinned to the door of our grandmother’s lav. Or some such). I had Lady Grey tea, whilst the Sgt supped English Breakfast, and Sir S made merry with the devil's nectar. The tea was fine and the cake was delish. It was noted that this maid cafe did not greet the clientele with "Welcome home, Master" and used the normal shop-talk lingo when waiting on us, the exception being a choreography of bowing when delivering beverages and nibblies to our table.

Interestingly, here in Nippon a popular manga and anime is "Emma", the story of a bespectacled, Victorian maid who is, may I point out, employed by an esteemed household, not by a Maid Cafe. Her readers tend to be school-aged girls and boys, not the avid Maid Café tea drinkers, or as they are known down my way, “Earl Greys”.



* Who recently has been appointed Dean of Cunning University, Oxford.

The Tokyo Campaign: Shopping

With ammunition, fluffy uniforms and chocolate rations accounted for, Sgt M, Sir S and myself shinked into Tokyo Thursday last by express steamer, and were quick off the draw to fix bayonets, twiddle knobs and memorise coordinates for the big scrum-down in the finest shoppes of the capital.

Day One saw us invade the Oione mansion in Shinjuku and cover the top four floors in quick succession, blocking all means of escape as we foraged amid the dark sartorial selection. There we encountered curiously-named foes MaM, Sex Pot Revenge, Miho Matsuda, Milk, Black Peace Now and Sexy Dynamite London (nothing a grenade and a vindaloo ration can’t fix, right lads?).

There the company separated to undertake daring solo missions: I stalked the sock aisles in search of whimsical white socks embroidered with musical scores; Sir S took a turn in grey, wispy garments and contemplated the ethereal cave-like nook that indeed was one of the shoppes (complete with an intimidating door adorned with Labyrinth-style ring-of-iron-stuffed-in-a-trollish-mouth knockers, and wailing Dead Can Dance soundtrack), whilst Sgt M was on the prowl for a ring belt (big with the Ruskis back in ’04 when stocks of bottle-openers had been snaffled by the Germans in an overnight raid) and another twenty pairs of jeans. In the end I acquired an alluring pair of Lolita shoes, complete with bows and tiny love-heart detail, for 3500 yen (about $40 in the old currency).

Day Two, and the advance to Shibuya went unimpeded, despite hordes of locals swarming the famous pedestrian crossing with shopping bags in tow. I accompanied the chaps on an assignment to the palatial men’s shoppes of the city, and as we corkscrewed up the floors, I was bedazzled by the whirl of style, suits, ornate gadgets* and beautiful men. High of cheekbone, smooth of skin and pixie-ish of hair, there were fops and dandies a-plenty to entertain the ladies as both the Sir and the Sgt ploughed on in their quest for the perfect shirt/cufflink/Ruski ring belt. Along the way, Sgt M and I popped into a cigar shoppe and picked up a whizzbang of a cracker for the evening’s entertainment.

In the file piccies you can see a gaudy geisha who, with her sax player, advertised a local pachinko parlour (in homeland parlance, "the pokies") and a shot of Sir S and yours truly poised to strike the Shibuya precinct with our vast amounts of monies a-bulge in our pockets.

On Friday night, we holed up in a local cocktail salon and sprawled on the comfy sofas in our civvies. Sgt M guzzled down the martinis, Sir S drank gins like a fish and I slugged back a Singapore Sling then proceeded to get a little dizzy and slightly strange as I inexpertly puffed on my cigar, dragging in most of the smoke into my pink, squeaky-clean lungs. Cough, cough! Rather a turn up for the plus-fours, I admit, but after thorough tutelage from the Sgt, I was puffing away like the Kingston Flyer in full chug. Huzzah!

Holiday reading: “The Rik Mayall: Bigger Than Hitler, Better Than Christ” by The Rik Mayall.

• Cufflinks, snuff-boxes, pipes, fob watches, fans & c, oft wreathed with dragons or adorned with exotic insects.

I am ethereal goth!

What subcategory of Goth best fits you?
created with QuizFarm.com

"You are an ethereal goth... you favor Projekt and Dead Can Dance and have very refined tastes. You like the fine arts and probably prefer red wine to snake bite."

Snaffled from Miss Violet!

Biff! Boff!

Here is a piccie of Yours Truly during my birthday frolics at Round One last month. The aim of this game was to punch the numbered parts of the bag according to the Japanese instructions. A loudspeaker delivered a litany of random numbers in a fuzzy voice: "ichi - go- ichi - nana - hachi!!!!!". It was most perplexing trying to hit each number in time! Please peruse Sir S's Illustrations for a silent film of Miss E doing the boxtrot in the Round One ring. What larks!

Hot & Flashy!

A whopping big arigato gonzaimasu to Penny Dreadful and Miss L for my birthday gift of Hot & Flashy beauty creams and potions! Stunningly designed in art deco style, these tubes of supplements and the sweet tin pill box are just what a gal needs to keep looking fab. With Lemongrass and Cedar Revitalizing Body Wash and Hand Cream, plus Pear Lip Balm, I can refresh myself in a jiffy after a hard day in the schoolhouse. As the packaging cheerfully proclaims, "Go from Frazzled to Fabulous!". Cheers, gals!