The Osaka aquarium is basically a functional concrete structure build around a pool big enough to hold two whale sharks.
Ground Zero
I arrive at Hiroshima. There is an elephant in the room. I walk on ground that has been scorched by a nuclear attack. After Tokyo, Hiroshima feels like a vacation camp. Green. Space. The name of the local baseball team says a lot.
Riding the Bullet
The Metro has become background, like breathing. I use it every day. All it takes is a chip card. The lines are colour coded, the stations numbered.
Heart of Gold
I share the Metro with a host of men who uniformly wear white shirts, black suit trousers and a leather suitcase. I change my plans. I get off the train with them.
Nihombashi. Glass and concrete. Business Central.
Tranquility base
Tokyo bristles with activity. Everybody moves. They don’t stop. They can’t stop. Tokyo seems to tell me: If you want to sit take the Metro, or eat at a restaurant. Or do this:
Lifeline
I am sitting in a room, the blinds are drawn. I can’t look outside. I know what is outside: 37° Celsius, a glaring sun, high humidity. Like a vampire I wait for the sun to set.
I am a two-hour commuter train ride outside of Tokyo. A collection of houses arranged around a grid of streets, a station in the center. A small town.
Where to go? The Internet, of course. A small device connects me. The Internet tells me that outside it “feels” like 47° Celsius. Did someone vote on this? Apparently not. An algorithm condenses various parameters into a single number.
A good day to sit in the cool stream of air-conditioned comfort, read emails, roam train schedules and check on the world. Occasionally I check on the fridge too.
Helter-Swelter
I guess the weather is at the very soul of any country. People have to adapt to it. It does not work the other way around. … Not yet, at least. One of the first things in Tokyo that strike me as odd is the abundance of umbrellas.
Space, the final frontier
Tokyo is not crowded. My slight claustrophobia has different reasons: Tokyo seems to never end. Every square meter feels to serve a common purpose or feels to belong to someone. Nothing seems to feel … I guess the word is: unobserved.
Wave and smile
After three weeks drifting from one Inner Tokyo Neighbourhood to the next I move to the outskirts. A different Tokyo surfaces. Less polished. Less dense. (more…)
Thank’s for all the Fish
Fish seems to be the japanese staple, second only to rice. On its way from the ocean to the supermarkets and sushi restaurants of Tokyo, a lot of it passes through Tsukiji Fish Market.
The Third Planet 