Japan: Meiji Jinggu

While on holiday in Japan, I kept a detailed series of notes in honour of Nanowrimo.  All posts about Japan comprise excerpts from my journals. 

"4th November, 2013

Going from Harajuku to the shrine is an interesting experience.  The scenery goes from bright and overstimulating to calm and serene in minutes.  In fact, on the way in, an elaborately cosplaying couple crosses paths with a quietly refined woman in a kimono.  At the Shinto gates, we bow deeply.  My mum points out the chrysanthemum on the top beam - the family was royalty.  In fact, the shrine was built for a Meiji emperor.

The path in is wide and covered with tiny grey stones.  The buzz of the city fades away and under the canopy of trees, the air is cool and heavy and fresh.  A stream runs across the grounds, cutting under what looks like an ancient bridge.  We slow down too, taking in the lush air, the thick green.

I start noticing the children very early on, toddling carefully along the path in full kimonos and the robes and pants that little boys wear, some with make up on, hair fully coiffed.  They are such perfect, enamelled little jewels that I exclaim each time one passes, walking slowly so that she doesn't trip over her heavy clogs and hems.  

Some of the mothers are dressed up too, slender and shining with pride, slowly guiding their children across steps and cobbles.

(Later, I look up the significance of the day.  Turns out we are nearing a day when children aged 3, 5 and 7 visit shrines to ask for blessings in their finest gear.)

First, I gawk, then I go mad trying to capture all the beautiful children.  I'm torn between trying to snatch candid shots as they twist this way and that, or ask politely if I can get a picture, so I end up doing both.  Parents, it turns out, are mostly proud and happy to have their young ones photographed and even encourage them to smile.  One grandmother claps delightedly when I ask if I can shoot her granddaughter and tells me to wait before running and pulling her grandson out of the crowd as well.  They both stand there, adorable in their shell-shocked state, and I bow deep thanks.

One particular girl, I follow for ages, trying to surreptitiously sneak a shot of her looking back over her shoulder.  She quickly sees me and keeps glancing back at me, almost pleading with me with her eyes to take her picture. Eventually, I wave at her.  She grins and waves back.  I raise my camera and she stands up tall and proud, a consummate model.

I am loving the fact that I got to take pictures of such lovely children.  I would've liked to take one home in my suitcase with me, but I guess these photos are the next best thing, as are the ones I managed to get of three separate Japanese brides as they prepared for their wedding ceremony, gently and beautifully stoic in their starched white clothes.  

My mother and I watched the processions across the shrine yard in awe, then went to pray at the shrine itself.  The shrine is old and solid and graceful, all dark wood and jade green roof.  The sunlight starts breaking through the clouds, turning all the wood gold.

"Learn how to say a prayer," my mother says, pointing to a sign that gives instructions.  I toss a coin into a box, bow twice, clap my hands and close my eyes.  I'm essentially atheist but I love the Universe and everything in it and so when I start to wonder what to pray for, a part of me opens up and says, as if it is the most natural thing in the world, "Thank you.  Thank you for letting me come here.  Thank you for this chance.  I am so, so lucky and I want to thank the Universe for conspiring in this."

And I open my eyes, surprised by the sudden outpouring of true gratitude.

We finish the walk with a piping hot omelette rice drenched in beef stew and molten cheese in the tiny, neatly-appointed basement of a franchise called Apple Tree.  We spend the rest of the evening at Ropponggi Hills (move along folks, nothing to see here except toilets that allow you to play sounds to mask the tones of... your business) and Shibuya, incredibly cute, kitschy shops with multitudes of beautiful clothes and stationery and decor items I do not need.

So I sit on my hands in a cafe instead, and we share two scones with jam and cream, which feels even better.

I don't mean though, that I don't do any shopping at all.  In fact, the dressing and spirit of Harajuku and Shibuya are so inspiring and infectious that I decide that I just have to do it, to buy one thing that is in keeping with the spirit of the area, one thing that is fun and loud and a little crazy.  So, I do.

On the way back to the hotel, I watch locals bound in and out of the carriages with infectious grins.  An obachan sits and reads, following each line carefully with a bookmark.  A couple leans into each other.   What a glorious day it has been, I think, and my mind stretches back to the prayer I said in Meiji Jinggu.

Thank you.  Thank you for this chance."

A cup of kindness

Unlike Christmas, which I am rather ambivalent towards, I like New Year because it feels like a new beginning for me.  Sure, it's arbitrary and man-made but an artificial chance is still a chance. 

From the age of 12 I've been making resolutions (some absurd and most not kept) but this year I got to thinking about the resolutions early.  At lunch with Edie, Sindhu and Shirin the other day, Sindhu put forward the idea that if you cannot genuinely be happy for people, the Universe takes things away from you and I was greatly struck by it.

I felt like the principle extended to a kind of general niceness - if I couldn't genuinely try my best to be kind, then maybe there would be some kind of seriously negative energy generated. 

The more I thought about it in conjunction with my resolutions, the more I realised that all the mean, unkind, inappropriate things that I do, say or think have to do with temptation.  Anger and irritation tempt me to mean thoughts or unnecessarily sarcastic words.  Delight in gossip tempts me to see the worst in people.  

And while I don't really think people should eschew wicked humour and view each other with a sugary piousness, I do feel that I could try harder to understand where people are coming from or to walk a mile in their shoes rather than judging them in my head right off the bat. 

I happened to run out of pages in my old journal several days before 2014 and so, with the theme of fresh starts in mind, I put this C.S. Lewis quote on the first page of my new one.  

In the New Year, I plan to practice holding off the temptation to be nasty... for an hour each time, at least.

The Rise

I was lucky enough to have the chance to check out The Rise restaurant at the top of the Marina Bay Sands last night.  I was there for the chocolate and cheese buffet and since those are two of my favourite foods in the world, I was pretty damn chuffed.  

To get to the restaurant, you take the lift up to the Skypark on the 57th floor and walk across two of the towers, by the swimming pool.

On the roof, it's noticeably colder and the wind wrinkles the turquoise water of the infinity pool, makes the palm trees flutter.  You can see the super trees and the domes at Gardens By The Bay glowing through their ribs and on the other side, the Esplanade decked out in Christmas colours, sending rippling jets of light into the river.

It's pretty surreal.  And at this time of the year, with its spicy mulled wine and chlorine scented air, it's one of the most festive places I've visited yet.

I didn't know that the restaurant was in the Skypark so I foolishly left my wide angle lens at home.  Next time, I'll come prepared.

Because judging by the taste of the chocolate drenched Pear William and warm chocolate cream cheese tart, there'll definitely be a next time.

Happy Holidays!

Coffee with Rebecca, or, the most kick ass broccoli ever

When Rebecca and I first decided to start shooting together a couple of months ago, we bonded over our love for taking pictures of coffee.  It sounds insane but I love nothing more than photographing a lovingly-brewed cup of java and all the relaxation and "brunchiness" that it connotes.  I love the muted browns and beiges of a good latte and the way I can almost feel and smell the fragrance of the steam when I look at a picture.

It was fitting, then, that we chose to visit two coffee places for our maiden photo voyage.  Oddly enough though, the thing I remember best about the whole outing is the broccoli.  I know.  Never did I ever think that I would go to a restaurant or cafe and come out thinking, dayum, I need more broccoli in my life.  I love broccoli, but it's not something I ever think of as a starring dish.  

Anyroad, we started our day at Just Want Coffee and shared a latte and waffles with whipped cream and icecream.  When Rebecca suggested moving to a different table for better light and started kneeling on the chair to get her shot, I knew that she wouldn't mind all my nonsense and we spent a very happy half hour shooting and stuffing our faces.

The coffee was delicious, light and velvety with the crumbled biscotti.

We walked the waffles off on the way to Duxton to try the brew at the Department of Caffeine.  And after such a massive helping of sugar, we decided to share a savoury dish.  The lunch at Department of Caffeine is basically a plate that you can assemble yourself.  You choose either chicken or fish (or whatever the mains are that day, I imagine) and then side salads, which are dressed with various condiments.

We went for cold poached salmon with mustard sauce, chargrilled broccoli with a squeeze of lemon, macaroni salad and Mediterranean carrots with a dollop of Greek yoghurt.  And then we died and went to heaven.  The broccoli, with its slightly smoky florets and zingy, still-crunchy and firm stems, was lovely.

The coffee, though beautifully poured, felt a little too strong for us and instead, we licked our plate clean and then contemplated buying seconds.  When we finally dragged ourselves out of the cafe, we felt a little dazed.

"Was it me or was that broccoli really amazing?"  I asked Rebecca, as we stumbled through the afternoon sunshine.

"It was," she murmured, glazed and confused.  "It really, really was."

"People don't usually go to a cafe to eat broccoli."

"I know, Shus.  But I totally want some more."

It's been a couple of months now but we still fantasise about that broccoli regularly, to the point that I'm not sure if I've just dreamed it all and it wasn't actually that tasty.  Or if it even existed, like some overgrown green unicorn. 

Surely it's not normal to think about what is essentially a flowering cabbage this often.  But we definitely have plans to go back eventually.

My partner-in-crime demands it. 

Too much monkey business

I spent my Saturday on a five kilometre hike at MacRitchie Reservoir and I didn't shoot as many pictures as I would've liked, but I thought I'd share my favourite one anyway.  

The monkeys there are so freakin' cute and they make adorable mewling noises as they gather round, but the moment one bared its fangs at me, I turned tail and fled shrieking "Rabies!  Rabies!" in my head.  

Thank goodness for long lenses!