An Introduction to Nowhere…

Tokyo was easy to write about, it basically wrote itself. Tokyo was exciting, colourful. Electricity, literally and figuratively, ran though the city, the people; tourists and locals, alike. No one day was like another and every sound was different, new.

Poland or more precisely Bydgoszcz, on the other hand, seems on the surface level at the very least, to be polar opposite of this. Bydgoszcz is grey, ordinary, boring. Weekends are for drinking cheap beer and milling around shopping centres. The town square looks run down and empty, shops close early and the weather’s crap. Like every other post war town, post industrial town, it could be placed anywhere in the North West of England and it wouldn’t look out of place. Nothing really happens in Bydgoszcz. Well that’s what I first thought anyway.

Underneath its grey exterior, Bydgoszcz is brimming with beautiful buildings, 10 foot murals, festivals, weekend events and things to do. Peelings pinks, off-yellows, and pale greens adorn 4-storey buildings, in a look I like it call dilapidated chic brighten the otherwise dreary days. But don’t misunderstand me, this doesn’t mean by any stretch of the imagination that Bydgoszcz is an ugly place because it isn’t. The buildings and the dusty paint add character. Pretty pastels neighbouring timber adding a personality that only age can create, they bring the city alive.

Curious statues and plaques, honouring military and culture alike, grace street corners and house fronts. A well-used, enjoyed and much-loved river flows through the city like a vein. Life spilling out of it on both sides; a boating club, bars, restaurants, museums, independent ice cream parlours and parks. A quaint combination of cobble stones and fresh tarmac, little old women selling woven baskets and high-end jewellery. Bydgoszcz is an interesting mix of new(ish), old(ish) or somewhere in the middle of that.

Sure, it’s still a small town and there are limits to what you can do but with a little bit of imagination and a tram pass (or a decent set of shoes), Bydgoszcz is your oyster (or pierogi, we are in Poland after all).

Where’ve you gone?

Hey guys,

I’m sorry for dropping off the end of the world the past half a year. I moved back home and started a masters… Crazy I know.

I still found time for travelling though, so keep tuned for Bali, Germany, the Lake District, Dublin and much more.

Much love ❤

 

Cruising for a Boozing

 

Nomihodai is present in every Japanese night out. It’s a time and tested tradition where, surrounded by salaryman in ill fitting suits, you knock back as many namabiirus (draft beers) and coca highs (whisky highball) before they ring the bell on your indulgence. With the average price of a 2 hour nomihodai about the same as 3 beers it can either be a cheap start or a dangerous end. Chuck in a bumpy cruise along the Tokyo Bay and it’s looking more like the latter.

Once on the water, the rocking seems to speed up the intoxication process. Bars on every level of the boat each one lines with plastic cups of cheap Japanese beer, being replaced as quickly as their emptied. And there’s no need to smuggle snacks aboard, because tucked conveniently next the dance floor is all the fried chicken and corndogs you could wish for.

Hundreds and hundreds of people; old, young, families, couples ricochet off each other as the boat twists along the bay. You won’t catch a glimpse of the stars, Tokyo lost that ability a long time ago but that doesn’t really matter not when the sky is lit with skyscrapers, beautiful red airplane emergency lights, LED  advertisments and national landmarks. Like sailing through Willy Wonka’s magical tunnel,the lights flicker against the black backdrop the only difference being how our captain wasn’t perpetrating an acid trip.

But it’s not just the outside, the inside of the boat is as weird and wonderful as you’d expect from Tokyo. In the middle of the middle dock is a dance floor. More of a 90’s school disco than a rave men wore their ties around their heads and chaperones made sure we didn’t get too out of control.

Despite all this, it’s the scheduled ‘yukata dances’ that make the cruise what it is. Girls dressed in beautiful yukatas shimmey to P Diddy (Puff Daddy era) and a bit of Ja Rule for good measure. It’s a very peculiar feeling, watching girls in traditional dress body roll and twerk into the hearts and ‘banks’ of the men fangirling at the stage end to the sound of old school MTV.

Tea for Twelve

Tea is quintessentially British. Fell down? Have a brew. Feeling poorly or have a cold? Brew. Been dumped? Brew. Got people round? Brew. The cup of tea is literally the go to for any situation you may come across. There hasn’t been a moment in my very Northern life that hasn’t been made better by having a good brew. Tea is also quintessentially Japanese. Koucha and Ocha, AKA black tea and green are probably the most popular and easiest to come across especially when the choice of green tea is larger than the choice of chocolate. Tea here is a way of life

Making a cup of tea in the UK is a routine. Mug, kettle, teabag (or leaves and a strainer if you’re that way inclined.) Making a cup of tea in Japan is an art. A performance that been taught for hundreds of years. The art of the Tea Ceremony is a  bewitching experience and one that, as a foreigner, can come with a hefty(ish) pricetag; that is unless you happen to stumble across a group of Buddhists outside Osaka castle who take you back to their temple and give you one for free. Women in beautiful kimonos take extremely precise and measured movements in order to create the perfect cup of green tea. Every twist of the shoulders and every flick of the wrist is a pre-determined gesture leaving nothing to chance. The kimonos, as well as being beautiful to look at, double as a uniform, the secrets pockets tucked in the breast provide holding spaces for fans and handkerchiefs. Under the pressure of an audience and a history of other women doing the exact same sign of movements, they show no sign of stress, a completely unflappable performance.

After you watch the demonstration, you get a chance to make your own cup. Closely watched by the eagle-eyed mentors you froth your tea to the perfect level of solidity and stir to the correct amount in the correct direction. Despite how easy they make it look, it’s actually quite difficult, not a time to mess around the concentration is intense.

Surprisingly or not, a tea ceremony isn’t just about the tea. Just as important as the drink itself is the crockery used to drink it from. Taking in  the craftsmanship of the bowl is a big part of accepting the tea. The drinker must twist the bowl around before taking a sip so they can  honour the aesthetics of the piece and appreciate the time and effort that was spent creating it.

The long list of rules and the importance of routine may seem synonymous with the typical Japanese culture, however it creates a sense of calm. Watching the repetition and the ease of the movements seems to slow down the fast-paced life that’s rushing away on the other side of the walls.

A place for everything and everything in its place.

Honeymoon Hiatus

Hello!

Just a quick one to say sorry for the inconsistent blogs. We’re currently taking a honeymoon break so stay tuned for stories of tropical islands and pet monkeys!

Here’s a picture to tide you over…

Happy adventuring

A Tale of Two Titles

Being the walking, talking Northern stereotype that I am, there’s nothing I love more than a cup of tea, a bowl of hash and freezing my insides by standing on the street on a very cold November night watching the fireworks. Christmas coke advert aside, Bonfire night is the real beginning of Christmas. The markets are up, people are happy and chunky knit makes it annual rounds. Japan have a bonfire night (of sorts) only it’s in summer, people wear yukatas and everyone gets drunk on a riverside. Sure there’s no actual bonfire but there are fireworks. Good fireworks. Very good fireworks. Let me introduce you to Hanabi.

The fireworks are usually held over the space of about 2/3 weeks in late July. All local councils will have small displays but it’s the biggies that are really impressive. This is where making the right decision can make or break your experience.

Hanabi Heaven

Not far from Kita Senju is Arakawa river, a huge river with an even huger bank, perfect for the entire population of Saitama to cram onto. Lasting for about an hour, you grab yourself some road/grass/hill, really just any ground available, crack open a few beers and watch the amazing fireworks lighting up the sky. An array of colours and even patterns make it an unforgettable evening. Watch as pink love hearts explode over you; flowers, cutesy cats and perfectly arranged circles seem to break open the starless sky. Without even realising you’re clapping along with the Japanese and you’re doing your best Cheshire Cat impression to anyone to looks your way. You’ll even foolishly attempt to take a million poorly exposed pictures and make a 30 minute video that you’ll watch on the way home and then never again. The smells of yakitori sauce and takoyaki mingle in with the faint smell of smoke and together they create an amazing atmosphere.

 

And beautiful women adorn beautiful yukatas and their most proudest smiles. Heaven.

Hanabi Hell

Having had such an amazing time at the Kita Senju fireworks you might find yourself being convinced to attend the immensely popular Sumida river display. DON’T FALL FOR IT. It’s an amazing experience, thousands upon thousands of people flock from all over Japan to attend the display, both a blessing and a curse. People reserve viewing spots days before, marking their territory with the typical blue tarp every Japanese family seem to own. If you didn’t save yourself a space because, well frankly, you’re not German and this isn’t a Spanish holiday resort you can join the parade. To be more accurate it resembles a school of any number of terrified, generic fish more than that it does a fun parade but you’re not a party pooper so on you struggle.

Cordoned off into sections by the police with bright yellow tape, you’re sheepdogged for what feels like hours down the road at an incredibly slow speed.

This is probably the one time where the Tokyo love for skyscrapers doesn’t come in handy, as they’re all so tall they hide the fireworks. You can hear them, but you can’t see them. Finally you get to the bridge and you’re surrounded by lights as both sides of the bridge have fireworks being lit. As one finishes another begins and it just about starts to make up for the previous hour and then it’s over. You’re back over the bridge and those pesky skyscrapers are back in play. Hell

It’s the Monster Mash

Monsters are big and dangerous, spiky and scaly. They’re not covered in flourescent shades of maribu fur and they don’t have perfectly groomed tails. There are a fair few adjectives you could use to describe monsters yet cute isn’t one. Well it wasn’t until the Kawaii Monster cafe opened up in the forever confusing Harajuku.

A set of huge pink doors face you as you step out of the lift and a ‘monster’ takes your name and party number. And then you’re asked to decide which bizarrely decorated area you want to sit in. 

Not to be outdone by its bubblegum entrance, the inside is just as trippy as Alice’s fall down the hole. A giant, colourful (obviously) carousel stands centre stage surrounded by the different areas.

You’ve got the magic mushroom room; where you sit surrounded by contortioned plastic mushrooms shadowing your table, the spaceage bar; with one side a smokey, ice bar and the other side a row of teacup booths with ants trailing the ceiling, the tea party room; where the delicate afternoon tea tables and chairs are surrounded by fluffy walls and giant lips, and lastly the milkbottle room; a row of uncomfortable looking chairs with giant milk bottles swinging from the ceiling.

Don’t be expecting any ordinary food either because the menu is just as weird as the decor. Fancy a burger? Sure; go ahead but it’s blue, with a face. Want any mayo? Of course, but what colour? Luckily for the indecisive you can always opt for a paint pallate on the side. Red, green, blue, yellow. 

Talk about tasting the rainbow…

So you’ve gone through all this, you just about settled your senses backdown, you’ve bigged yourself up to eat whatever Heston Blumenthal- strange invention you’ve ordered and then the dancing starts. Girls decked in the aforementioned maribu fur, tails, ears, the works bust out their best cutesy thriller moves and jump onto the now moving carousel. 

Although slightly disorientating at first, you’ll soon get right involved… and don’t forget to get yourself some monster chopsticks from the giftshop on the way out! 

Peace in the Park

War memorials have an expected and understandable sombre aura around them, the shadows of what they’re honouring hang like veils. Heads are low, voices are quiet and children are kept to heel. Yet the Hiroshima Peace Park is as far removed from the above as possible. Forgiveness and renewal replace the awkward silences. 

The A-Bomb dome stands, half stone half structure and guarded by fencing, just by the entrance of the park. Its main job, to slow passers-by down just enough that they take the time to read the mass of information, history and facts provided. Folders in all different languages are ready for the curious and they all end with the same heart-breaking letter.

The history of ‘that day’ is written onto statues, more specifically a row of square, metal archs which line the bottom of the park. The word, peace, is artfully carved into every visible surface, over and over again in over 50 different languages. From English to Afrikans to Hebrew, the plea for peace is thundering.

And as you walk through them, tracing the steps of the thousands of people who came before you, you do so quietly and slowly, trying to read every last word. Even though your brain doesn’t understand the words your body understands the meaning. 

What’s is maybe the most surprising are the colours; the reds, blues, oranges and greens. Bright colours, articial and natural, liven the paths and the monuments, and the river that flows through brings calm and tranquility. In particular, the 1000 paper crane memorial, a group of 6-feet glass boxes, is filled with hand-folded origami cranes of all colours and prints, donated by the children and parents from around Hiroshima. They surround a bell, suspended by a statue of two primary school aged children. A beautiful and incredibly colourful display that makes it unable to feel sad.

Hiroshima’s desire for rebirth is evident in the festivals, carnivals and flowers shows it holds for the communities and tourists alike. Competing dance troups and 30ft high flower floats, live music and craft stalls. It’s difficult not to enjoy a trip to the Peace park and as much as you think you shouldn’t, it isn’t a place for sadness and regret it’s a place for reflection and love. 

Of course what happened there will never be forgotten and nor should it be.  The impacts of the bombs, the emotions of the victims and their families can still be felt but the people of Hiroshima should be applauded for their humility and grace and their refusal to let it define their future.

Little ‘Murica

Everyone knows that America, the global police have galliantly defended the rest of world against terrorism, tradition, vegetables and a healthy lifestyle, with Japan being a prime example. Post ww2, Japan hosted America and all its BBQ wing, hamburger, TV and theme park glory with Universal studios, the pinnacle of American amusement, being carbon copied and plonked right in the middle of Osaka.

The giant rotating globe, welcomes you as you stroll past groups of Japanese Minions and young couples styling matching everything from headwear to jeans to shoes. And you step into every one of your favourite childhood films.

 

The rides are cool, undoubtedly, especially when they use real fire and backwards rollercoasters but it’s the place itself; the New York cityscape, the San Fransisco harbour and the Jurassic park island that give the place it’s incredibly addictive atmosphere. With King Kong swinging from walls and Spiderman dangling upside down it’s like everything has jumped straight out of a kids colouring book.

And that’s not even mentioning Harry Potter, an identical replication of Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and Hogwarts castle itself. You get your little ticket and you wait with a mixture of excitment and nerves, exactly like Harry did may I add. After a quick walk through the Forbidden Forest, which by the way consists of thousands of imported conifer trees, if you’re lucky, you’ll bump into Train conducters as the meander around Hogsmeade and chat casually about this week’s Daily Prophet and last night’s Quidditch match results. Florence and Blotts sells notebooks and quills, Honeydukes sells magic sweets, Zonko’s sells toys and Ollivanders is where you buy your wands.

As difficult as is, with the ground being so unbelievably cool,  don’t forget to look up at the sky every once in a while because Hedwig still lives. Owl trainers have snowy owls and fly them around the castle grounds and occasionally they’ll perch themselves on top of the perfectly decorated, snow covered roofs. Like the chapter in Prisoner of Azkaban where Harry isn’t allowed to go Hogsmeade so being the badass he is, he sneaks out. An eternal November.

The best piece of advice you’ll receive though, is to not fill up on Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans or Honeydukes cupcakes because the Shepards Pie at The Three Broomsticks is the best Shepards pie you’ll have outside of England. And there’s always the house ale or Butterbeer, take you pick. I mean what’s more Northern than eating pie under the glassy stare of a wall-mounted hog, next to a brick, coal fireplace, on uncomfortable benches watching parents struggle to control their unruly offspring. Home away from home.

And then you end the day with a 20 minute trippy as hell ‘Magical Lights’ parade.

As a out and proud Disney fan, it’s hurts me to say that in this instance (and this instance only!) Universal takes the crown.

Angry Bambi and Too Many Crackers

The Japanese have an uncanny knack for making the undesirable desirable; fashions, tweeny pop bands and near-rabid animals to name a few. The typical cute animal is small, fluffy, usually white and docile enough to fit inside a seasonal costume but Japan have found a way to make a few hundred wild deers into loveable real-life bambis.

Everyone has heard of Kyoto and all its historical significance but what everyone  hasn’t heard about is Nara, a town about an hour from Kyoto where deers rule the roads. Huge signs line the streets, paths, duel carriageways and bypasses highlighting the likely possibility of a stray deer holding up traffic. It’s a far(ish) walk from the station but bear with it because it’s definitely worth it. Make sure you don’t fall for the first pools of over-fed, under-exercised, lethargic deer you come across though , they’re reserved for the eager children and tired salarymen dads.

That is until you weave your way through the masses and find your way to the holy grail that is the Todaiji Shrine. A huge orphanage for scraggily deers, it sits surrounded by a  park that stretches for miles. And Bambi and the rest of his crew have free reign. A Daibutsu, giant Budda, is enclosed in a hand built, beautiful, black and white, wooden building, the largest wooden building in the world.

Everything in it from the trees in the parks to the little wooden boat drifting on the lake to the deers themselves, are sacred. The deers are treated with more respect than most people give to their parents. The legend goes if you bow to them, they bow back in return of a cracker. Except this legend really is true, whether it really is because they are religious deities or just very clever animals who’ve realised a little nod here and them there gets them more food, they do bow and not just a flick of the neck. It’s a full Japanese bow, a full lowered neck and a bend at the knee.

Like extremely obedient children, they flaunt their way around the park bowing and eating, bowing and eating. If you’re lucky, or unlucky depending on how you feel about wild deers, you’ll get a relatively strong head butt to the back as they peer pressure you into feeding them. Feed one and they flock around you, usually lead by a matted haired, alpha deer.

It’s a surreal feeling being surrounded by animals that were once thought to be the extra-terrestrial messengers of God, especially when they’re begging for food like very terrestrail ill-cared for animals. But don’t despair, if it comes to it you can always throw your crackers in the opposite direction and run. We did…