Photographs from a small group of islands
Fishing for many, myself included, appears to involve lots of hanging around with hardly anything to do; however, in a city as crowded and covered in concrete as Tokyo, its positives are possibly more apparent.
As, not only is simply hanging about far better than the usual hustle and bustle,
but it also allows practitioners to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet away from other people,
and at the same time spend some much needed ‘me time’ with mother nature.
Maybe.
This time singing.
On a Saturday.
Sat in the sun.
Sort of.
Despite Tokyo’s tremendous number of convenience stores that by and large now tend to have a toilet, many Japanese men of a certain age still have a puzzling predilection for peeing in public, with their desperate discharges often done with a total disregard to people passing by.
A propensity that quite possibly prompted the owner of this ideal-for-a-quick-wee wall to try and persuade them to at least piddle on somebody else’s property.
Although there again, as it somewhat surprisingly suggests that only spending a penny when standing is deemed undesirable, females and even fellas with a penchant for the previously posted Angel Lap Pillow are presumably still ok to pee.
Perhaps.
Japan’s economy may well be shrinking at its fastest rate since records began, but Tokyo’s rich Ginza region still obliviously boasts serious numbers of shoppers burdened with huge bags nearly bursting with big name brands.
And yet that said, for some it would seem, the simple pleasure of a book is way better than any bag could ever be.
And then some.
Coming across an abandoned building that hasn’t already been photographed and featured in books and blogs is always a treat, albeit an at times terrifying one, with any noise being unnerving and absolutely no way of knowing what’s waiting on the other side of its walls.
Still, slight apprehension aside, such a chance happily arose with the Hotel Queen, a love hotel that lost that loving feeling a long time ago, although for whatever reason the small office/main building remained in use for far longer.
But not anymore.
And while the hotel’s fairly reasonable number of rooms were sadly sealed, the office wasn’t, with pointers of the place’s past decorously,
and indeed indecorously, dotted about.
Inside, however, it was more a mix of private and professional — the likes of blankets and a few belongings in the bedrooms almost giving them the air of still being lived in.
Along with a jumble of possessions littering the sort of home-cum-hotel hub section of the building.
All compactly combined with the paraphernalia apparently needed to run such a place, like a plethora of post-its,
and pipes that presumably propelled other kinds of paraphernalia to the punters.
But obviously the customers eventually dried up, so to speak, and the location’s lucky cat clearly didn’t manage to make enough money.
A situation that eventually resulted in the sorry state of affairs that now exists, with the sad sight of several loved faces,Â
that haven’t been looked at in a long time.
Along with a schedule that is equally unstudied.Â
Plus, as is invariably the case with such places, there’s always something that’s unfathomable, and this time, despite the last person punching in sometime in September 2008,
the central entertainment system seated next to a samurai was unsettlingly still switched on.Â
Prompting me to speedily cycle off.