October 30 Kamikaze
Yushukan Museum, Harajuka and Shibuya
After Toko Hotel checkout, I rode up to Shibuya
station since the evening's hotel was near there.
While stowing my gear in a coin locker I
sensed my trip unraveling as my trousers
split, a seam near the crotch giving
way as I bent over. Nothing to do but
retreat into a smelly public toilet stall
with my sewing kit and effect a repair,
leaning against the wall while working
with thread and needle over the trough-like
Japanese toilet. Not bad though, didn't
take long; and it held for the duration.
From there my destination was the Yasukuni Shrine and
adjacent Yushukan Museum at the northern edge of
the park surrounding the Imperial Compound (what
used to be the castle, the moat's still there). It's
hard to find information about this museum in the
conventional literature, the shrine is to the War
Dead and it's somewhat controversial because it's
one of the things critics point to when they claim
the Japanese don't have requisite remorse, like
the Germans display about World War II. So
naturally I've been curious; the shrine was just a
shrine (like most of those big ones I saw, there
was a display of chrysanthemums, since it was that
season) but the museum had some really interesting
stuff. It's been there for a while; one room had
photos and paintings of state visits by the four
modern emperors. The main draw (for me) was the
Jinrai Butai or "Divine Thunderbolt" material.
There's a kamikaze plane in the main hall:
Launched from under a bigger plane's wing like
the X-15, its little rocket providing just enough
thrust to get it to the enemy ship-target. Although
this specimen is made of metal I remembered the
Captain's tale - he was the officer
who taught the Naval ROTC class I took in my Sophomore
year of high school. In the closing months
of the war he was a naval airman, and described
how he neutralized kamikaze planes - said he'd just
maneuver around and fly right at 'em broadside,
and use his propeller to cut off their tails - said
they were just made of wood and fabric by then.
Exhibits for other suicide attack methods were also
on display, these were new to me: the human torpedo,
or one-man submarine bomb - they had a large example,
on loan from a U.S. Army museum in Hawaii, and some
smaller models of similar vessels; a big
painting of a related idea developed in surface boats
and the weirdest of all, a mannequin in a deep-sea
diver suit (wearing a square helmet) brandishing a
long bamboo pole with an explosive canister
at the end. Fukuryu (crouching dragons) of
the Special Attack Corps were expected to wade out
into harbors and sink enemy ships floating in shallow
waters by sticking 'em with their pole-bombs. This
method didn't prove to be successful; big losses
incurred during testing caused that particular
program's cancellation.
After inspecting all the museum had to offer
I left the park and had a late lunch during which I
finished reading the Memoirs of a Geisha
book - this was at a curry restaurant called
B&S (part of chain, like the nearby Pot &
Pot, across the street from the Freshness Burger).
Afterwards, strolled over to the Ichigaya station
to catch a Chou line train over to Harajuka.
(The Chuo line traverses and goes
beyond the great circle covered by the
Yamanote.)
Harajuka is one of, perhaps the
center of Tokyo youth culture - it's
always a struggle getting down Takeshita
Street, jammed with young people there for
the clothes shopping, restaurants and crepe
stands. A block over the more sedate,
tree-lined Omoté-sando extends
east - near the end of this I found Spiral,
one of the city's "fashion buildings." (Not
sure why they're called that; others I've been
to include Wave and Axis - they contain trendy
shops, offices and restaurants.)
This one has a semi-circular ramp connecting
the first and second floors, and a small art
exhibition was happening in the adjacent lobby.
Its centerpiece was an installation called the
Water Dome Project and this was really neat - a
fountain of high-speed spray was fanned out
into a dome with a narrow break you could walk
through and then stand within the Water Dome,
with light projectors around its perimeter
shining various ever-changing designs onto the
dynamic watery surface.
It was getting dark when I got back to
Shibuya - before retrieving my luggage I
had some sushi at my favorite
mechanical
sushi bar. Always a little difficult to
locate, I like it because the conveyer
belt doesn't travel in the usual
rectangle, but rather a convoluted "L"
shape. It's usually so crowded that to
meet demand the sushi guys are adding so
many of the little dishes that they feather
them into what's there, and sometimes
these fall off with a clatter as the
belt moves around its corners. The
white-tile walls add to the atmosphere
I characterize as proletarian; or used
to - guess business has been good for
them because the ambience has gotten a
little upscale - a lot more wood has been
added to the decor, the counters are now
marble and one of those additional
sub-belts have been added, which
carry empty tea-mugs at a much slower
speed under the main conveyor. The customer
fills these from the recently-added spigots
which issue boiling water (placed at regular
intervals like the square tubs full of sliced,
pickled gari ginger and green
tea-bags on the counter).
Afterwards, outside, I rode a bus up the
hill to locate my hotel for the night. This was
the Fukudaya, a place I got a reservation
and map for at the TIC.
Family run like a minshuku and quite
reasonable, quiet even though it's just off
a major boulevard (the multi-level National
Road), I was compelled to remove my shoes at the
door - unusual for a business hotel. Since this
one features more Japanese-style room than
the two Western-style ones I occupied on the
third (top) floor, that's understandable.
Back outside I walked down the hill, eventually
discovering that I'd gotten turned around
and was heading away from Shibuya;
walked back up the hill and then down it
the right way, at one point passing a homeless
person setting up camp with his cardboard boxes
in an underground passageway, and when I
surfaced, marveling at the beautiful animated
blue neon signage mounted on the surrounding
office building rooftops. Eventually I found
myself in the throngs surging around the noisy
bustle of the heart of Shibuya night action
around the station. Adding to the "Blade
Runner" ambiance was the anachronistic
presence of this '61 Chevy Impala convertible,
snapped
while waiting for the lights to change. Nearby, I
watched a guy with a little stand selling Rolex
copy-watches, marked up a $100 or so from the
price he probably paid for them on the streets
of Hong Kong; and a branch of Baskin-Robbins
where I had a very tasty Musk Melon ice cream
cone.
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