Lines and Lights

Truth be told, tonight I felt somewhat under the weather. However, Friday was my last day in Japan, so I forced myself to leave the hotel and engage in a bit of nighttime city photography.

In the case of urban architecture, especially, my goal is to present things from an unusual perspective, with the greatest image depth, emphasizing the lines and colors of electric lighting. 

These samples are, of course, merely iPad photos, but I think they reflect the above quite well. For this purpose, I normally use a a Pentax fish-eye lens, which is a blessing and a curse in one package: it covers around 180 degrees, i.e., more than the eye could see, for widtpanoramas, but, at the same time, warps the perspective inward. The key is to find the balance between the two. 

And so I ran around, in between coffees to keep warm (it rained and snowed because Tokyo is sad to see me go! ;)) shooting the streets and the people inhabiting them, in Shinjuku. In the end, I think I lost all shame and photographed things without worrying about what people might think of me! 

Japanese Whirlwind

There is only one more day left for me in Tokyo, and then I'm off across the Pacific on Saturday afternoon. 

This trip has been a whirlwind. I feel like I've passed through a different life every day that I've been in Japan, despite the brevity.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, when I didn't update this blog, my focus was street photography. Naturally, there are no smartphone or iPad versions of those captures, since I shoot with a telephoto lens--somewhat covertly--and change locations often. After all, I never know whether I might anger someone, even though it is obviously permissible to photograph in public places.
 
Living in a small town, I've also forgotten how quickly a seated woman could attract all the creepy people of the neighborhood: I was in Shibuya, so there were one too many! 
 
On top of this, I've managed to sneak in a few images of my "Japanese mother's" adorable grandson, whom I visited as well. It was quite interesting to experience a normal--wonderful and generous--Japanese family even if for a day.

Oh, and I attended MORRIE's concert, which was...

Well, this blog is strictly about my images, but I already wrote the live report, which should be posted shortly elsewhere.

Rain

Today was meant to be the day of shooting a model. We gradually made our way to Shinjuku Gyoen, where I somehow seem to end up every time I come to Tokyo. I wanted to create a visual contrast between a sharp urban punk aesthetic and the natural surroundings.

As the weather changed from drizzling to unexpectedly bone-chilling rain, I first stopped taking mobile proofs, like the ones below, ultimately cutting our exercise short and running--two girls in high-platform shoes--inside somewhere, anywhere that served what seemed like life-saving coffee at that time. 

I flew in from -20 degrees in the Rockies, but I wasn't dressed to this!

Nonetheless, I think I've managed to create some worthwhile images to justify extreme modeling par excellence for this poor girl! And, I've even snuck in a few photographs of Japan's amazing ravens to which I'm always drawn--all to be worked on when I have access to a computer.

Also, the park looked as striking as always, only this was a subtler kind of beauty.

Hopefully, the weather improves in the next few days, because I'd like to engage in some photographic people-watching around Shinjuku before leaving next weekend. 

Nara? Narnia

As I've mentioned before, I've been visiting Japan "backward": from lesser-known places like Morioka during my very first trip working up to major tourist attractions like Narnia...err...Nara today.

One of the biggest deterrents? The other "Western" tourists. Why, yes, I realize that, to a certain extent, this sounds hypocritical, though I'd like to convince myself that the kind of photography I do is a little more serious. (All photos here were shot merely by an iPad.)

Today, however, I found out that even a place brimming with the non-Japanese can be wonderful. It's all about the company you keep.

That is, this is the case if you're sufficiently sleep-deprived, which makes everything a bit more funny, and your unofficial tour guide is your very own former Japanese teacher, to whom you normally refer as Mister Middlemountain. 

The latter and I went on many adventures in Narnia. We fought off some overly dependent and permanently hungry deer, which are the perfect metaphor for the welfare-state citizens; got soaked in the rain; did not climb through Buddha's nostril; passed by the Girl Who Was Death; got soaked some more; listened to hooting owls; unsuccessfully looked for predatory mammals (who ate all that deer before the welfare state?); more rain; saw many predatory birds; found X-rated bamboo; almost bought a pregnancy-wish charm at a shrine by accident (okay, this was my accidental almost-doing, I ended up buying a generic good-luck one to cover all the bases!); got lost in the woods slightly fearing the local ghosts and the second appearance by the Girl Who Was Death, this time, perhaps, with a scythe; and, exhausted, barely made it to my Shinkansen back to Tokyo, where I write this now.

Doesn't this sound exactly like something one would expect from a magical place like Narnia? 

Oh, and this:

Dazaifu

Moscow, beloved though it is, is not Russia, and Tokyo is not Japan, particularly at the era of near-complete globalization. Perhaps, it sounds contrived, but my idea of "real" Japan lies in smaller towns. 

One of them is Dazaifu.

As with yesterday's impromptu visit to the coast of Fukuoka, today's stroll through Dazaifu's gardens and temples was a decision graciously made for me by a friend, and I'm glad it was this place that got chosen.

Normally, I briefly research what I visit, so this time around I was more than pleasantly surprised to be standing in a town not only quaint and surrounded by beautiful scenery, but also one with certain key buildings as old as the 8th century. Indeed, it was an international hub with foreign embassies even earlier. 

To top that off, we really lucked out with the warm and sunny weather and all the plum trees already exploding into every blooming shade in the red part of the color spectrum, making the experience into a well-balanced mix of nature and culture.

Tomorrow promises to be a long journey back to Tokyo--where I should spend almost a week--with a daytime stopover in Osaka and Nara, if all goes as planned. In the meantime, I leave you with these mobile remnants of today.

The Sea

My plans to play a predictable tourist and visit the castle ruins in Fukuoka were thwarted when I stopped by an area map at the train station only to realize that there is a seaside park that I absolutely must visit! 

This park, Umi no naka michi, did not come up in my Google search. Blasphemy!

I admit I am not a spontaneous person: I really don't like changing plans last minute (especially if I'm not the culprit!). That said, I can be spontaneous within a designated time frame. Let me explain: if I know that I'm going to take a day off, then flexibility within that day is not only permitted, but sometimes welcome. 

This was one of those cases.

Of course, I knew this was a solitary day, too, so I hopped onto two local trains (beaming with pride that I didn't get lost even without the English-language announcements) and walked into the drizzling glory that is essentially the Fukuoka shoreline of the Sea of Japan.

I met two funny cats, several very large winged predators (one has to have been a golden eagle), my favorite ravens in countless numbers, and a multitude of tiny and colorful birds chirping about.  I wandered down the cool, winding paths, empty on a weekday so early in the season, and even turned off the music to better tune into the sounds of the forest.

When the rain slowed down, I was able to change my lenses and photograph both the wildlife with a telephoto and the plants with a macro. 

And the brooding sea that wasn't in the best of moods? I had to use the fish-eye...then the macro...then the telephoto. You get the idea. 

I can't wait to work on the images. In the meantime, here are some mobile proofs and candids.

Privet, Yaponiya

Don't judge my first travelogue out of Japan too harshly: I'm still getting over the delirium that is jet lag caused by a 16-hour time difference, not to mention the climate change.

Was I really skiing through the extra-grim and frostbitten mountains last weekend?

When I first moved to the Rocky Mountains, I naively assumed that being closer to the west coast would make trans-Pacific travel simpler (and trans-Atlantic trips harder). Instead, infrequent flights to the Middle of Nowhere's Ski Country and tedious layovers made everything more complex. On average, a one-way trip for me takes 24 hours. (If peak-oilers are correct, then the latter, considering the still-relatively easy access, is certainly no reason for whining.)

Catching a late-arriving flight to Haneda, where I've only been once domestically, had the unexpected benefit of a nearly empty plane (the typical "shaky-shaky" over Alaska and the Kurils notwithstanding). And now, as I write this, only a few hours later, separated by broken sleep, monorail, Yamanote JR, and Tokyo station which I always try to avoid due to its sheer magnitude, I'm already on a Shinkansen on my way to Fukuoka by the way of Osaka, listening to the default feel-good band of choice, Buck-Tick.

The Japan Rail pass has always made travel for us, curious gaijin, incredibly affordable and convenient. Now, thanks to the so-called Abenomics, the Yen inflation had made it significantly cheaper. I'm almost afraid to tell my Japanese friends just how cheap riding in business class (green car) has become, if the genuine dropped jaw, literally, of the clerk at the JR office is of any indication. 

Unlike my previous trips, when I often saw a city per day, I've decided to take it easy and, after visiting southern Japan for the first time since 2009, spend most of my time in and around Tokyo. In other words, I'm doing everything backwards as compared to a regular tourist. As a Japan newbie, I started with less expected Morioka and Kumamoto and now, years later, I'm working my way to popular locations like Nara and exploring more of Tokyo. One of these days I will get into anime.

Just kidding!

A smaller list of towns is the only slow aspect of this trip, however. As I always say, and obvious criticisms of urban "black holes" notwithstanding, you can take the girl out of the City, but you can't take the City out of the girl. I naturally default to the fast pace of Japan's metropolitan areas, skillfully maneuvering with my roller bag, surprisingly easily readjusting to the British-style traffic and pedestrian rules, backward for North Americans. 

In fact, the only place where I feel outdone in this department is Moscow. An average Muscovite woman in stilettos could triumph in Olympic walking!

So far, I've only bothered to speak Japanese when English wasn't understood. A few years ago, I felt shy but still eager to practice what little I knew, only to realize that the Japanese would rather turn the tables and practice their English on you (or they are gently trying to spare you the embarrassment!). 

So now I just feel shy, though I understand more than I let on. Of course, reading has always been easier for me, because the intonation feels so foreign. Worst of all, I have a Russian, not an English accent (as well as in what's left of my French and German.) Don't take this as an invitation to get me to speak, just so you could get some "LOLz" at my expense, because I'll figure out a way to get some "LOLz" back. Russians always have the last laugh, after all.

For now, however, it suffices to say: privet, Yaponiya!

P.S. All photos are mobile. Some were shot on a moving train.