In Bloom

In the night, a giant catfish rolled around beneath me, pulsing a delightful flutter across Tokyo.

A painfully expensive taxi journey at 04:30 from Ueno brought me to Tsukiji, the Tokyo fish market, a must see destination for all sushi lovers. However, unbeknownst to the taxi driver and several other tourists (both Tokyo residents and the further flung visitors), this would be one of the few days in the year it is closed. Closed, cold and dark. I will return.

Another expensive taxi journey back, a bit of sleep and a train ride later, I decide to visit Ginza, one of the many shopping intensive zones. But, as with most areas of Tokyo, nothing really opens until 10am and I arrive at 8.30. Already a bit underwhelmed by the concrete giants stuffed full of gadgets, fashions, rich urbanites and such and such, I can't be bothered to wait around and so go for a walk.

I do a lot of walking in Tokyo, 6 to 10 hours a day. Apart from the temples, shrines, gardens and food, the other luxury I have is space and time to think and observe. The former activity I'll keep to myself, the latter: The Japanese almost never raise their voice; I never heard one police siren (and only 3 ambulances); Even if the road is clear from here to infinity in both directions, most Japanese won't cross unless the man is green; I will never be accepted here; There is a wall behind the eye that won't allow you to look inside, a polite distrust; quiet, unquestionable order (but order without communication, like a hive, each bee never talking but always knowing what must be done); the tramps are invisible to the Japanese, the street cats are fat, hungry and pissed off; police presence mostly consists of pedestrian traffic wardens, uselessly gesturing with luminescent batons so that you don't inexplicably walk into clearly sectioned off areas; they read they read they read: whenever there is a spare moment, softback books slide out and grip the attention until action tears them away again; cleaning; bin emptying; snow shoveling; where do people eat? There are places to buy food, but no one eats outside.

Ceremony pervades and perhaps even oppresses. The Soup Stock employees automatically utter a stream of pleasantries as you enter, choose and pay, completely aware that you will probably understand none of it, but this is the protocol. There is a way to do it, and there is no other way. Nod."Hai". bow. pay. "arigato gozaimasu". you'll fit right in. correct behaviour trumps full understanding.

Flat sun pushes in, not hot but quietly, delicately burning. crossings twirp, first one pitch then another, robotic guardians of safety. almost no talk, just unreturned greetings. the shine from one long silvery back of tarmac which stretches out, along and then over water: a dragon deity of transport. Old and new knock together, respectful. blinding towers patiently absorb their tiny, sweating, immaculate masters.

I find a park just to the West of Tsukiji where a shogun used to hunt ducks.

It's early March, the sakuna are just starting to flower, I'm lucky to catch it at all so early.

A stone lantern. I love these things. The stone lanterns are used as garden enhancements and were originally used to light tea ceremonies. Before that, metal lanterns lit temples, a practice copied from China. I want one I want one I want one.


And then my camera runs out of batteries.

I've misjudged when to be here a little. I desperately want to see wildlife (particularly a praying mantis) and there is none, I'm too early. If I look close, if I scour the yellow grass and dry soil, if I sit and work under stones, sometimes I find a springtail, or a small fly or louse. Not that I'm starved of things to see, there's an infinite amount to be found everywhere with the right eyes.