Haikyo

This small set of photos was taken several years ago, but despite going back to the images on quite a few occasions, I really didn’t think they were good enough. I’m still not sure they are to be honest, but that’s a fairly standard concern, so sometimes it’s best to cast aside such insecurities and just go for it. That said, much more of a push to post them was the current climate, and how the photos may now posses a little bit of added poignancy.

The house itself was a mystery. No idea who lived there, or even when they left, as unusually for Japan, there wasn’t a calendar in the property. The only genuine giveaway is the music that was once played there, although clearly it’s the real sound of silence the rooms are now familiar with.

Most haikyo (abandoned buildings) have a unique atmosphere all their own. The faded remains of this old hot spring resort, for example, harked back to a different era, and as such, possessed a sort of melancholic nostalgia. The empty homes and structures of a deserted mountain village, on the other hand, were far more emotive, containing, as they did, personal effects such as photos, clothing etc. Plus completely differently, the mutilated animatronic figures of Western Village theme park made for a vibe that was nothing short of disturbing.

With this aspect in mind then, the building below was similarly special, even though in many ways it’s just another abandoned hotel — something Japan has absolutely no shortage of. Shuttered up and left to slowly decay almost exactly a decade ago, it’s presumably not a very well known spot, as there’s little in the way of damage, and footmarks in the dust were fairly minimal. But due to the bright sun and closed curtains, a couple of the rooms were lit in such a beautiful way that the general quietness was elevated to something almost akin to serenity.

On a completely unrelated note, and one I mentioned in the previous post, the current climate has made work — not to mention life — very uncertain, so if you are a bit flush, or particularly enjoy my photos, then I’ve taken the similarly uncertain step of setting up one of those buy-me-a-coffee/beer pages: https://ko-fi.com/tokyotimes

The light was fading and the building is slowly falling apart, but almost a quarter of a century after closing its doors, this hotel has a silence and atmosphere all its own.

Japan’s mass tourism boom of the 1950s and 1960s, followed by the economic bubble a few decades later, were in many ways the making of the country’s numerous hot spring resorts.

They also turned out to be their downfall.

During the bubble years in particular, ever more, and ever bigger hotels changed the look and feel of such places, and worse, when the bubble finally burst, the inevitable drop in visitors meant there simply weren’t enough people to fill all those many-roomed monstrosities. Add to that the subsequent recession, not to mention changing trends, and it’s no wonder so many of these towns are now rundown, partly abandoned reminders of their once prosperous pasts.

Below then are photographs from such a place. A town like so many others. One that was built in an optimistic past, but now remains forever stuck in a very different, and also indifferent, future.

The buildings of this Japanese theme park have long since been demolished, but the beautifully faded relics that still remain make it a fascinating place to explore — especially so considering how much nature has taken the area back. There are also few hints of human interference over the years, meaning it now feels more like a nature reserve than any kind of entertainment venue. A peaceful spot where birdsong is abundant, and the decayed scenery is much more serene than sombre.