Tokyo: Day 2

Strangely, this day has turned out to be more of a learning experience than I could have imagined.

Waking up to a lazy morning, I misplaced my room key and spent ten or so minutes flipping through my things frantically. I went downstairs for a cup of coffee and realized that my booking for a room was mishandled and lo and behold, I might not be able to stay the night at the same place. Frustrated, I booked a space at a nearby hostel and went to clean up my things. With my things packed up, I go downstairs to be told that there *indeed* is a space, since there was a cancellation. I thankfully put my things into the new room assigned to me. It being 10:30, I head outside into the cloudy drizzle and grab a bento, have an early lunch, then head out to catch a train to Ueno.

After a long trek through the park, I finally discover the National Museum, a building that seems to effortlessly fuse Western and Eastern architectural styles. The exhibits are astounding, ranging from dachi (太刀) and katana (刀, but typical samurai style) all the way to kibuki and kimono. The exhibit is conveniently organized in a circular fashion, where one literally travels along a chronologically sequenced "tour" of Japanese artifacts... most of them are kokuhou or 国宝.

After coming out from the National Museum of Japan, I found myself in a fantastically lit afternoon, post-rain-shower in the morning, with glowing sakura （櫻花）and botan (牡丹）swaying with a light breeze. Underneath the sakura were several homeless residents of Tokyo, looking as relaxed as homeless residents can be. Some were reading magazines and biting into bread, others were sitting and staring into space glumly. Or lying down on the benches, when that's possible. Mind you, this is Tokyo, where nobody ever talks on trains, and slouching is almost absent!

It's funny to have the biggest lesson of my day occur coming from what I imagined was a culturally "enlightening" experience. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that every anthropologist and photographer has some degree of arrogance. It seems that there is a "pride" in being more culturally sensitive and observant, but I has made the mistake of forgetting that this pride often contradicts the sensitivity it flaunts.

With my camera, I tried to catch a photograph of the sakura but, being aware that there were homeless underneath, I surreptitiously tried to snap the photographs without being seen. Noticing the contrast of homeless to the flowers, I wanted to take a larger framed photo, and tried zooming out a bit. Hanging out a little longer, I snapped some pictures of the park in general, then walked away. I didn't notice the homeless man following behind me, suddenly breaking into a flurry of Japanese in an uncharacteristically loud voice. Not being able to listen to Japanese at such a fast rate, I started at him blankly.

My skin color here is a clear disadvantage. He instantly burst into another spurt of harsh words, to my embarrassment and continued cluelessness. By the time I managed to explain that I was gaigakujin and couldn't understand, "wagarimasen!" he had really just chewed me off in the middle of the park. He ended up using sign language to (I think) explain that he was watching me take a photograph of him. I pointed at myself, then made a camera movement, then pointed to him, then shook my head vehemently and said "いいえ！” Clearly he wasn't in a trustworthy mood, and continued to fume at me while he stomped back to his bench. I walked away as quickly as a could, not wanting to see what other people were saying or seeing. Quite harrowing.

I spent the rest of this gorgeous afternoon walking through the park with half a mind, trying to forget this experience. In a shrine in the middle of the park, I was tempted to snap a few photos... then, struck with the thought that a monk might come out and bash my head in, I decided to stand and observe instead. More homeless stood at the side of the shrine feeding a whole bunch of birds ranging from gulls to pigeons to ducks.

Sitting here were several men in their old age, chuckling and talking to the birds as they threw them crumbs. The ojisan complained to each other about the ridiculous raucousness of the birds as they vied with each other for the crumbs. Clearly relishing in their control and the acrobatics of the birds as they fluttered crazily around pushing each other to get the food. The scene was idyllic in its beauty and simplicity, but it seemed to me a reflection of homelessness. Most of the homeless are still looking for ways to hang onto their sense of control, whether in rightfully exercising rights to accost those they want to complain to (as in this case) or in feeding the stray cats (yes, lots of feeding of cats in the park) and birds. Or perhaps, as one reads in the news, taking shoes off before entering their makeshift houses or trying to hide the fact that they really have no work to go to for the day (for the most park, homeless and unemployed are synonymous in Japan if you are male).

Speaking of gender, I am surprised that there are so few female homeless in visible sight. While I am sure there are many, I wonder if the Japanese sensibilities dictate homes be found for these women... or worse, that they push themselves to extremes to stay hidden.

When I arrived back at the hostel, I found a wonderful noodle shop that really turned my day around. Japanese noodles are really something else. They aren't too salty or spicy, but have just the right balance of flavor, subtlety, texture, and firmness to make the experience glorious in and of itself.

On a final note, I am shocked at how quickly time passes... and just starting to get used to walking down Japanese streets on the left side... and understanding how to blend right in. We'll see how things go, huh?