And they are even silent and grey. At least in the city’s suburbs.
Sometimes.
Photographs from a small group of islands
For a fair few it would seem, far and away the most frustrating features of shopping with a partner are faffing about trying to find them, and finding something to do until they’ve finally finished.
For others, however, any frustrations often have a habit of only coming to the fore once they have actually found their favoured one.
Especially when it turns out that both may well have bagged more than they bargained for.
Dotted liberally all over the land, Jizo are arguably the most discernible of Japanese deities. And, at the same time, have maybe the most miserable of meanings:
Traditionally, he is seen as the guardian of children, particularly children who died before their parents. JizÅ statues are sometimes accompanied by a little pile of stones and pebbles, put there by people in the hope that it would shorten the time children have to suffer in the underworld. The statues can sometimes be seen wearing tiny children’s clothing or bibs, or with toys, put there by grieving parents to help their lost ones and hoping that JizÅ would specially protect them. Sometimes the offerings are put there by parents to thank JizÅ for saving their children from a serious illness.
However, as well as being sorrowful,
they can be strangely soothing.
Somehow.
Abandoned buildings (or haikyo) in Japan come in all shapes and sizes, although while some boast such prizes as pickled brains or colossal hotel complexes, others are rather more dull in their decay. Like this company retreat or conference centre not far from Yamanashi Prefecture’s Lake Yamanaka for example, a building that still offers breathtaking views from the bedrooms, but little in the way of how the boarders once busied themselves.
Apart that is from the odd telephone that now never rings.
Or indeed meetings that will never materialise.
However, that said, all haikyo are happily in the habit of managing to muster at least one mystery, and here it came in the shape of several cocoon-like seating set-ups, complete with a sort of speaker and microphone system.
A Device that if nothing else allows one to imaginatively ponder the possibilities of brainwashing, or at the very least some slightly dodgy doings of some description.
Otherwise, unfortunately, it was more sad than suspicious — the place at times almost giving off a sense of being abandoned only recently, with games still waiting to be played,
and the office feeling like it could still be in use.
Almost on a daily basis.
Until that is, one takes a look at the television.
And other technology.
Confirming that no-one has been here for quite some time, and while still looking ready and willing, reservations or requests will never again be relayed through reception.
Europe’s smaller and less affluent football teams arguably have good reason to feel frustration at being continually shafted by the mindbogglingly rich and marvellously marketed mega clubs that largely dominate the continent’s domestic leagues. And, with the ever-increasing popularity of the game in Japan, clubs like Manchester United may well be able to sneak in through the back door and gently ease their way into the country’s massively lucrative merchandise market, muscling out the major players that currently control most of the market.
A move that, considering the gains that the game has made among Japan’s younger generation, could well leave the current gods of such goods, Disney, up shit creek.
So to speak.
Despite Tokyo’s love of big television screens bolted onto buildings and even bigger billboards, a lot of promotion is still taken care of by the time-honoured practice of pestering passersby with the likes of tissues and tickets.
A form of work that takes some beating when it comes to boredom.
And indeed belittlement.
When burdened with a banner on one’s back.