Apologies if this ends up being quite nonsensical, as I’m attempting to write this after drinking for 4.5 hours.
As much as I’d promised to avoid drinking myself into a stupor, just about every night has involved some sort of drinking activity to some extent. Not to excess, but it really is the law of the land here – You socialize? You drink.
This country is like one of those people you know that has absolutely no self-awareness with regards to how amazing they are – not just with regards to one particular characteristic or skill – but a sum of parts that equal amazeballs.
And when you mention to this person/country, “Hey, you’re amazeballs.” It just kind of shrugs it off and says, “Really? I don’t think so, but thanks anyways.” And play it off all nonchalant-like and return to getting a perfect score in croquet. Wait, can anyone get a perfect score in croquet? Does anyone play croquet?
Holy shit, writing while drunk is a lot more effective in terms of getting words on screen. I’ve churned all this out in next to no time whatsoever. I’m also writing this on my own ASUS Eee PC that I bought several years ago, but never thought to take with me on travels that I intended to write about, the baka (idiot in Japanese) that I am. Tiny keyboard plus stubby fingers = potential homonym swaps galore plus very awkward corrections.
FIRST!
Arriving in Tokyo after a very long day, Kirsty and I made our way to Musashi-Kosigu, a small suburb just outside of Tokyo. We stayed the night with her friends Satoko and Daniel after getting a late dinner at 11pm, which also turned into a massive drinking session.
“WHY DID IT DO THAT?!” You ask. Well, you see, some places in Japan have this thing called “All You Can Drink”, which upon reflection, several reasons exist as to why this system should not be implemented in Australia.
Especially when it costs a grand total of 1,500Y ($20 AU) for a minimum of three hours, maximum of EIGHT hours worth of drinking time.
Food was obviously involved as well, but it was standard izakaya fare and nothing worth really wasting words on when there are so many other things to talk about, dear readers.
Studio Ghibli Museum
So, a rather hungover me eventually got out of bed and made my way towards the Studio Ghibli Museum.
I couldn’t take pictures inside, unfortunately, but here’s a very nice shot of the place from the outside.
All I can really say about this place is that it’s like somebody took happiness, scrunched it up into a ball, played football with it and then decided to inject some soul and make a building out of it in honour of the ball of happiness.
Studio Ghibli gets how it got to be where it is. By taking stories that combine personal investment in the characters and placing them in fantastical worlds where creativity is not an abstract addition in that “Ooh, isn’t that fancy?” kind of sense, but an essential part of the world that has been created for viewers to lose themselves in, it understands that the journey is just as important as the execution of the story.
The museum is no exception to this rule. If you’re a fan, you could spend DAYS poring over the minor details hidden amongst the museum. There were minor details in the stained-glass windows of the doors I would have completed missed if the attendant hadn’t pointed them out to kids who were too concerned about bouncing off the walls instead.
There was a short film shown, which is kind of like an addendum or closing chapter to My Neighbour Totoro. I won’t say anymore details about it, should it become available to the masses, but for a 15-minute short, it blew me away.
There was a nekobus (cat bus) room that had a gigantic (insert complete lack of surprise here) cat bus from My Neighbour Totoro that kids could muck around in for however long they wished. Unfortunately, adults are not allowed in. Boo.
I even got to sample Studio Ghibli beer! Admittedly, that may have been added somewhere along the line to help adults with kids going absolutely bananas around this place.
The store. Your god, the store. It’s rare that I go into a place, casually saunter up to the counter and say, “I want to buy all the things.” But I swear, I was considering it. “I’ll take one of your everything” would also be an acceptable phrase. Maybe not if you were trying to pick someone up, though.
Alternatively, saying “GIMME DAT SHIT!” may not work so well.
There was also an exhibition that was a recreation of Miyazaki’s workspace at home, including storyboards from films, book shelves and a variety of items and objects that gave him inspiration for a number of his films.
That’s right, I just wrote some 750 words about the Studio Ghibli Museum. But it’s that freakin’ awesome. Seriously.
I spent most of my time there talking to a fellow Melburnian (Well, she escaped WA) who just happened to be there for her last day in Tokyo, a nice graphic designer named Juliette.
I can’t remember whether I passed on this blog address or not, but these words are the litmus test, I guess!
After finishing up there, I headed back to the local JR station to pick up my bags, check in at Sakura Hostel Jimbocho, then head back to Shibuya Station (famous for the manic crossing and the statue of Hachiko, the famous dog who waited nine years for his owner to return) to meet Mamoru, Go and Kenji (Shingo) for dinner and drinks.
It was seriously awesome catching up with these guys after the one random night Greg and I spent with them in a rider house in Hakodate. I got to know them a bit more, and I hope that they will be lifelong friends.
Many drinks were had, many conversations were subject to translation, but the first two days were an amazing way to open this trip.
I’ve already managed to hit 1,000 words, so I’ll leave it there. To come – Ueno Park Exploration, a violent matsuri festival, and a district in Shinjuku that houses 200-ish bars in less than a city block.