Sayonara

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog by chance, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mehan and for one year, I lived and worked in a small town called Oirase, in northern Japan. This blog contains my thoughts, ramblings and photographs from a year of working, traveling and living in the Japanese countryside. So pull up a seat, pour yourself a cup of tea and let me tell you a tale.

To my loyal readers, thanks for your unwavering interest in this blog during the last year. Don’t be fooled by my often snarky attitude: my year spent in Japan was one of the most enjoyable, interesting and challenging journeys I’ve yet had the pleasure of embarking upon. I met some really incredible people over in Japan and I certainly owe no small part of the fun I had to them.

If you’re interested in teaching English in Japan, I really can’t recommend the JET Program more highly. While there are now a number of private English schools in Japan, none of them offer you the security, level of compensation or prestige of JET.

As for me, well, I’m hitting the dusty trail with a satchel on my back, heading west into the murky depths of America, with a dream in my head and a song on my lips. Okay, not really. I’m currently working as an editor for a publishing company in Washington DC, but that’s almost the same thing, right? As I left Japan in July, it didn’t really make any sense for me to continue writing this blog. I did briefly consider starting up a new blog but really, the last thing the world needs right now is another jaded hipster peddling his opinion of MP3s on the internet. I would like to start up another blog someday but I think that I’ll wait for the right idea to present itself to me before I do. Until then, you can check out my reviews at DCist, where I’m a contributor to their music section.

It really makes me happy to look back on this blog and to remember all of the good times we had in that crazy place called Japan. I sure hope you feel the same way.

-Mehan

The Goshogowara Fire Festival

Every July, Goshogowara City (on the western, Tsugaru side of Aomori prefecture) holds its annual fire festival (himatsuri). The purpose of the festival is to pray for fertile soil and a good fall harvest. This is accomplished by parading giant dragon floats around town and into an open field, where they are burned. Fair enough.
Upon arriving at town hall, we were directed to a changing room where a team of old ladies would help us change into our festival outfits (modeled by the lovely Leo, above). Of course, the festival organizers had failed to communicate a number of things to us, like the fact that white socks were apparently required. As I don’t even own a pair of white socks, I was told that I would have to wear the requisite (and extremely painful-looking) rope sandals on my bare feet. After a series of negotiations however, I was permitted to wrap white cloth around my feet instead.
Anyway, here’s what the dragon floats look like. Unfortunately, we were not permitted to carry any of these and were instead relegated to carrying a giant, flaming bundle of tindersticks:
Once our float had been lit on fire, carrying it became a somewhat unpleasant task. As we walked through the streets with the float hoisted on our shoulders, fire and ashes rained down on us from above. But wait, wouldn’t that be dangerous? I suppose it would be, if it weren’t for the volunteers who sprayed us down with water at the end of every block. Keep in mind that it wasn’t a particularly warm day and the hose brigade seemed especially fond of spraying the foreigners. Thanks guys.Despite the arduousness of our journey, spirits remained high.
We eventually carried the float to its final destination: a hole in the ground where it could be used like a giant matchstick.
Matt reminds us that in order to carry such a float, you must be very strong and also, ridiculously dressed.

Leo reminds us that he is covered in ashes and also, that he is a master of making funny faces.

For our efforts, we were treated to free tea and onigiri (rice balls).

After enjoying our meager meal, we walked around the festival for a bit, taking in the sights. Here, we see some demons getting down and funky with it.
I can’t remember what ended up happening to the floats that we had worked so hard to carry but we couldn’t really see from where we were sitting, anyhow. The festival’s grand finale was a huge fireworks show, which featured some metal dragons spitting fire at each other and other such things.
On the walk back to the car, Matt decided that he could no longer bear the pain of the rope sandals and opted to walk barefoot instead. Oh, Matt.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ll know that I’ve seen my fair share of strange things in this country. You’ll probably also recall that I’ve eaten a variety of strange animals including whale (a highly endangered species), puffer fish (a highly poisonous species) and wild boar (a highly delicious species). So when I tell you that the adventure that I’m about to relate to you possibly takes the cake for both strange tourist attractions and unusual local cuisine, I hope you’ll know well enough that I mean business. [Editor's note: It's worth noting that the following account includes only animals sighted outside of Aomori prefecture and is in no way intended to step on the proverbial toes of Operation Bear Watch]

As you might recall, I’ve been involved in a Japanese conversation course for some time. The class is held in Hachinohe once a week and aims to offer local foreigners with various levels of Japanese language ability an opportunity to practice their conversation skills. My class usually consisted of myself, the lone American, the infamous Scot Ewen, local English hooligan Charlie Tyack and between two and three young Chinese women who lived and worked in the vicinity of Hachinohe.

Well, one day during class, we had managed to go off on some sort of tangent (as we were wont to do, especially after Charlie and Ewen joined the class) and were discussing odd types of cuisine that we had sampled. I related my story of Momoishi’s canine culinary secret and someone forced Ewen to describe haggis. Then, one of the Chinese girls in our class, Eiko-San (I’m sorry if I’ve horribly mangled the Romanized spelling of your name here but since you don’t speak a word of English, I don’t assume you’ll be reading this site anytime soon, so it’s probably rather irrelevant anyhow) remarked that she had eaten bear meat in Akita prefecture. Without a minute of hesitation, our teacher rushed to debunk this claim, stating that “Japanese people don’t eat bears". Japanese people don’t eat any strange animals, this was simply a case of a Chinese person trying to disparage the Yamato race. Of course. Eiko-San, however, insisted that it was true and even told us that she had eaten the meat on a bear farm (kuma bokujyou) in a small town called Hachimantai.

Well, Eiko-San wasn’t the type to take being accused of lying lightly. A few weeks later, she came into class armed with two road maps and a number of flyers from the farm (pictured at left). She pointed out the exact location of Hachimantai on the map and gave us specific directions to the bear farm. Our teacher looked at the flyer, paused as if mulling things over in her mind and then announced that yes, this bear farm must indeed exist. Encouraged by the flyer, images of bears both tiny and massive frolicking in the hills danced through my brain. I was intrigued, to say the least.

Thus it was decided that on a particularly pleasant Saturday in July, we should make the nearly four hour journey into our southern neighbor Akita, to see this bear farm for ourselves and to dine upon the succulent meat of this fearful creature. Of course, no adventurer, no matter how brazen, can eat the meat of a bear without adequately preparing his or her palate. Thus it was decided that on the Friday night prior, we would convene in Hachinohe at my favorite bar Hanbey— purveyor of whole grilled canaries, frog legs and other such oddities.

As luck would have it, the chef’s specialty of the night was fried scorpion.

Here we see the ever-daring Leo sampling the sumptuous invertebrate as Megan looks on in either horror, admiration or (most likely) a combination of the two. According to Leo, the scorpion tasted like “fried”.
The following morning, we all convened again in Oirase, hung-over and in no shape for a four-hour car ride. Onward ho! Along the way, we saw this rather amusing sight: a farmer spraying his crops using a large, remote-controlled helicopter. Charlie took a brief video of it that will hopefully appear on his blog at some point. File another one under “only in Japan”.
At long last, we arrived at the bear farm, which was, thankfully, exactly where Eiko-San had said it would be.
After paying about 400 yen and stepping inside, we were greeted by this sight; a number of large pens, containing any number of bears of various species.
Of course, this wouldn’t be Japan were there not some measure of danger involved in a family attraction. So of course, you can walk within a few feet of the bear pens, separated from the beasts by only a short fence and a paltry rope net.

Aw, he’s so friendly! Just like Winnie the Pooh!

Er, nevermind.

Despite their ferocity, we managed to befriend a number of bears, including Vincent Van Bear, missing an ear and underappreciated during his own lifetime;

the Notorious B.E.A.R., who was, seemingly, too corpulent to move;

Onsen Bear, who enjoyed nothing more than a dip in the hot springs;
and finally, Standing Bear, who was not a Native American but rather, an actual, standing bear.

After walking around a bit, we decided that it was time to see what these bears were made of. After depositing a few hundred yen into a machine ominously labeled “bear snack” (kuma no oyatsu), we received a bag of…bread? Surely no bear would be interested in something as plebian as bread?

We were however, quite wrong in our assumptions. At the sight of the bread, the bears started performing various tricks in order to get our attention. These included clapping, gesturing, standing and what appeared to be primitive bear speech.

The bread even incited a few fights. Yikes!

Chicago baseball fans can rejoice, as cubs were also in no short supply at the farm.

Here we see Charlie Tyack looking nervous in front of the massive Kodiak bears.

Toward the outer reaches of the farm, Matt discovered this caged bear. Why was this lone bear enclosed in a cage all by himself? Bad behavior? Preparation for the equivalent of bear veal? There was no way to be sure.

Well, after about 15 minutes, we had exhausted our options in terms of looking at the bears. Now consider this: we were young, stupid, unsupervised and provided with an almost limitless supply of bears. Our next course of action was clear: it was time to do what man had long dreamed of doing. It was time to shake hands with the bears.
Matt, being the bravest and most foolhardy among us, decided to go first. Holding a small piece of bread, he extended his hand toward the cage. The bear grabbed the bread with his paw and surprisingly, did not attempt to tear off Matt’s arm.
Tyack was next, locking his hand in a tight grip with the bear’s. Before long, we had all shaken hands with the bears, in a demonstration of cross-species solidarity.
Here we see a close up of Tyack and the bear. As you can see, that bear isn’t letting go of the bread any sooner than Charlie does.
Not one to be outdone (read: a genuine idiot), Matt decided to perform two more feats of bravery: feeding a bear bread and touching the inside of a bear’s mouth. Thankfully, no one else in our entourage was stupid enough to attempt to duplicate either feat.
After making friends with and shaking hands with so many bears, it was quite clear that the time had come to eat a bear. I mean, what else can you do with a bear? Luckily, there was a restaurant across the street from the bear farm that was created expressly for this purpose. While we waited for our food, Matt grappled with a grizzly in an apron…

…but then hugged and made up. Awww!

Meanwhile, Megan showed off some Korean pride.

At long last our food arrived: a washoku (Japanese-style dinner platter) featuring bear stew (kumanabe). How did it taste? Well, the meat was quite soft and tender, not at all stringy. In terms of flavor, it was similar to other red meats like beef or buffalo but had a certain flavor all its own. In a word: delicious!
After a grand adventure, we bid farewell to our bear friends and returned to the cold, white north. So long, bears!

Tobu-Kamikita Picnic For Differently-Abled Students

Every summer, the Tobu-Kamikita board of education (which oversees schools in Oirase as well as in the neighboring town of Rokunohe) organizes a special day out for differently-abled students. Taking place in late June, this picnic of sorts allows the students time outside of the classroom to bond with their teachers—as well as with each other. While some of you may recall my critique of the way these students are normally handled in the Japanese school system, this event provides an example of something positive and inclusive that one school board does to make differently-abled students feel more integrated in their schools.
The day started out in front of the local gymnasium where the students were asked to give brief self-introductions. While these introductions were quite simple (name, school, grade level, likes and dislikes), the pressure of speaking in front of a crowd stressed-out at least a few of the students. I’m happy to say, however, that all of my students did quite well. Here we see two of my elementary schoolers with Tsutsumi-San, who organized the event.
The day began in front of the area’s (and allegedly, Japan’s) oldest ginko tree. I was carrying a heavy box full of sketchbooks at the time, so I was lamentably unable to take any photos. After spending a few minutes answering ginko-related trivia questions, we traveled to Icho Sports Park to view my adopted hometown’s most prominent landmark. Remember when I visited Oirase’s Statue of Liberty replica, over a year ago and reported that it sported decidedly manly features? Well, now you can judge for yourself.

Here’s the obligatory group photo. Not pictured: me.

One of my greatest teaching-related triumphs is the story of my relationship with Gou-Kun. Gou was a first grader when I first started teaching at Momoishi Elementary School and no matter what I did, he never seemed to be able to remember who I was. Considering that I’m about a foot taller and at least five shades darker than anyone else in the town, I was always a bit surprised that he couldn’t seem to recall any memory of me. Well, after almost a year of teaching, Gou eventually started to remember me and even got excited (instead of scared) when he encountered me in the hallway or in class. He’s in the second grade now and poses here with his portrait of yours truly (he was supposed to be drawing the Statue of Liberty but you can be sure he wasn’t reprimanded by me). The text reads “Mehan Sensei”.
Here’s Gou-Kun again, this time posing with a drawing of my cat, which is surprisingly accurate considering that my cat lives in Baltimore.
Meanwhile, one of my other students (the one who screams a lot) decided that he couldn’t be bothered with drawing and went off in search of bugs instead. Two of his teachers and even his principal assisted him in the hunt.
Finally, it was lunchtime. The picnic’s organizers had really gone all out to ensure that the meal was a memorable one (my longtime fans will notice the presence of the hunter in the background—he was actually quite indispensable in the planning of the event and obtained most of the foods used). First off, they constructed a long track out of bamboo through which they piped cold water.
They then dumped noodles into the track while the students waited, chopsticks at the ready, to catch them as they raced down the miniature waterslide.
After catching a bundle of noodles, the lucky contestant simply dunked it in a bowl of cold broth and proceeded to slurp. This is actually in keeping with the Japanese dish zarusoba, which is quite popular during the hot summer months.
This smart old dude from the school board, however, figured out the secret: most of the noodles inevitably end up in the basket at the end of the line.
Even though there were more than enough noodles to go around, I soon found that they were only an appetizer. The main meal consisted of yakiniku, with a plethora of meats, fish and vegetables available for grilling, as well as tofu and unadon (barbecued eel served over rice).
After lunch, we all gathered around for a rousing game of smash-the-watermelon-while-wearing-a-blindfold. Ah yes, of course.
Luckily, when watermelons are smashed, everyone wins! All in all, 2006’s Tobu-Kamikita picnic seems to have been a great success.

Tokyo Drifter

Seeing how I’m wrapping up coverage of what essentially turned out to be my last substantive trip to Tokyo, I figured that this might be an appropriate time to belatedly tend to a little spring-cleaning. So here they are, the odds and sods: random photographs shot in Tokyo over the course of the last year that never seemed to fit in anywhere else.
After visiting the city a few times, I stumbled upon a hostel in Ueno that quickly became my venue of choice when holding court in the eastern capital. Ueno station is located rather conveniently on the east end of the Yamanote’s loop and this particular hostel happens to be clean, cheap and free of the annoying American anime nerd crowd that seems to congregate at similar establishments.

Upon emerging from Ueno station, the wide-eyed visitor is greeted by a series of serpentine footbridges that snake through the humble Ueno skyline, above the endless torrents of traffic below. As you walk along these bridges, you’re treated to little snapshots of Tokyo street life like the one seen above. Of course, bridges like this exist in more exciting parts of the city as well-the footpath leading out of Shibuya station in particular sticks out in my mind as one of the more impressive ones.

Anyway, while walking over the footbridge to my hostel in early June, I spotted something that I had somehow failed to notice during all of my previous visits. If you look closely at the photo above you’ll spot a pizzeria called Nicola’s, on the second floor of an otherwise nondescript building. Why is this important? Well, if you heeded my earlier recommendation to seek out Robert Whiting’s Tokyo Underground, you’ll know that the original Nicola’s location in Roppongi was many things: the first pizza parlor in Japan (supposedly), perhaps the only parlor offering authentically American-style pizza in Tokyo, the first restaurant in what later blossomed into the bustling nightlife district of Roppongi and a den of seedy yakuza activity. The first time I ever visited Roppongi, I wandered around in the cold, fruitlessly searching for the restaurant that started it all. Much to my dismay, no one seemed to have even heard of Nicola’s pizza parlor, cabbies included. I was forced to conclude that the restaurant had probably served its final pie years before I arrived.

So you can imagine how excited I was to discover that at least one Nicola’s franchise still existed in Tokyo. Upon setting foot in the tiny restaurant, however, I discovered that the Nicola’s of today bears little resemblance to the original joint. As Whiting notes in the Epilogue of Tokyo Underworld, the Japanese investors who acquired the restaurant from American Nick Zapetti kept only the name. Gone are the checkered tablecloths and American-size pies, replaced by a stylish, minimalist décor and the Japanese standard-tiny pizzas covered in mayonnaise and corn. My fantasies dashed, I despondently walked across the street and ordered a cheeseburger.

Here we have a shot of Shinjuku’s main drag by night, the most densely packed nightlife district in the city.
Leo cranes his neck in search of a suitable venue at which to serenade me with his brilliant karaoke renditions of Eminem songs.
Roppongi’s famous Tokyo Tower, which any Japanese kid can tell you is exactly 333 meters tall. As you can see, the tower is designed to resemble the Eiffel Tower.
Shibuya crossing, allegedly the busiest pedestrian intersection in the world. I once showed up here at about 5 pm on a weekday and the mass of people crossing at the intersection seemed virtually endless. That Starbucks Coffee you see is also supposedly the busiest Starbucks in the world.

Greg and Jason bravely traipse through the whirlwind of humanity.

Akihabara, known to natives as “electric town,” is the place to be if you’re an electronics enthusiast.
Originally, Akihabara was where Tokyoites went to find deals on exciting new technology like televisions, vacuum cleaners and washing machines. As Japan started to emerge as a leader in consumer electronics, Akiba (as the locals call it) started to shift its focus more towards cameras, computers and video games. Nowadays, Akihabara is known not only for electronics but also for anime, manga and other related nerdy pursuits. I’ve heard whispers that the area is transforming yet again and that within the next decade it will be known primarily for cosplay items. Wonderful.
Yodobashi Camera, the stuff geek dreams are made of. Yodobashi is essentially the Japanese equivalent of Best Buy albeit much, much larger. They sell everything from computers to vacuum cleaners and traveling between the building’s seemingly endless floors feels like excavating layers of Akiba history. Although the company’s core business is selling cameras, most of that is done in Shinjuku, which has emerged in recent years as Tokyo’s camera district. While the newly opened Akiba branch does sell some camera equipment, photography enthusiasts are advised to visit the Shinjuku branch, which boasts four floors dedicated to cameras.
In case you’ve never seen a Tokyo railway map, here it is, in all its glory. Pretty intimidating, huh? While I felt the same way the first time I visited Tokyo, I pretty quickly learned that the Yamanote line (the lime green loop in the center) circumscribes the city center (much like the Chicago “loop”) and everything basically branches off of that. Keep in mind though that this is just the Tokyo JR map, there’s also the metropolitan subway line as well as a number of independently owned, specialized transit lines.
Living as we did, in Aomori, many of us soon came to miss good old, greasy American food. Outside of the globalist arches, there are few places in Aomori where one can eat something that approximates American cuisine. Tokyo, however, offers a wealth of options; I’m willing to wager, in fact, that literally any type of food can be found somewhere in the city. After a few months of delicious research, we were able to determine that the Outback Steakhouse offered the most “American” food that we could find (ironic in that it’s an Australian-themed restaurant) and was therefore the best restaurant in the world. However, steaks aren’t the only thing that Tokyo offers the hungry Westerner.
There’s also Freshness Burger, Japan’s best burger chain and the only place in Japan where I ever spotted a double cheeseburger in the wild. Of course, they operate almost everywhere in Japan-except Aomori.
And real beer! If it wasn’t for Tokyo’s numerous brewpubs, I would have forgotten that beer isn’t supposed to taste like fizzy water.
After a year in Aomori, you can’t blame us for having such a ravenous appetite for burgers and steaks. Of course, that isn’t all there is to Tokyo cuisine. From 24-hour sushi in Tsukiji to the world’s most famous ramenya, Tokyo knows how to please those with a more native appetite just as well. When stepping on to the pavement outside of Tokyo Station at 7 am, bleary-eyed from a 14-hour bus ride, the only thing on my mind is fresh sushi and fast.
Here’s the shinkansen (high-speed bullet train) that takes me home to Aomori. I always let out an exasperated sigh as it pulls up to the platform, knowing that I have no choice but to board.

Fair and Balanced: The Chimpan News Channel

One fateful night during my Tokyo trip in early June, I retired to my hotel room in Ueno, exhausted after a long day of sightseeing. I had resigned myself to munching on a convenience store sandwich and watching a little TV before bed, nothing all too exciting to be sure. By rights my night should have ended on an uneventful note, if only I hadn’t been in Tokyo where one never knows quite what to expect.

Anyway, after briefly watching a special on new technological advancements in the field of plant growing (seriously), I changed the channel to discover what is perhaps the most incredible thing that I have ever seen on Japanese television: The Chimpan News Channel. It’s worth noting that it’s not actually a channel but rather, a show, which only slightly detracts from its virtues. At any rate, rather than trying to somehow explain the show to you (trust me, this is one situation where words prove truly inadequate), I’ve decided to simply direct you to the video clip below (Shockwave required). Enjoy.

Passing the Dog, Panda and Shoebill Days of Summer at the Ueno Zoo

First opened in 1882, Tokyo’s Ueno Zoo is Japan’s oldest and most famous zoo. Situated in the west end of expansive Ueno Park, the zoo is only one of the many museums, temples and other public institutions located in the park. Since the park borders Ueno station (one of Tokyo’s largest Japan Rail stations, through which both the central Yamanote line and the high-speed Shinkansen pass) the park has become one of the city’s most popular and easily accessible tourist attractions.
The Ueno Park of today sits on what once were the grounds of the Kaneiji, a temple built by the Tokugawa Shogun and destroyed during the Boshin War of the late 19th century. In 1924, the Emperor Taisho granted the land to the city so that a park might be built as a gift to the people of Tokyo. A number of shrines exist in the park today, including a small shrine hidden behind a pathway of red torii (above).
Here’s the zoo’s front gate; as I recall, the entrance fee is about ¥600. Fun fact: during the Second World War, the Japanese military purposefully poisoned some of the zoo animals to prevent them from escaping in the event of a bombing. Wait, I guess that fact isn’t quite so fun after all. At any rate, this historical episode may have served as the inspiration for the brutal zoo killings in Murakami Haruki’s popular novel The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.
Just inside the main gate is a five-story pagoda, which dates back to the 19th century as well.
One of the first exhibits that visitors are greeted by is the panda pavilion. The Japanese love their pandas, so much, in fact, that even animals decorated to look like pandas receive media attention. If you visit the zoo during a weekday, like I did, you’ll find that the passageways of the panda area are absolutely clogged by large masses of schoolchildren on field trips. Dressed in matching uniforms and bright red caps, these pint-sized gawkers form an insurmountable, if adorable, obstacle to panda enthusiasts. Pictured above is the red panda, obviously basking in the attention of two hundred sets of eyes.
The giant panda, the zoo’s prime attraction and trademark animal, seemed even more hung over than a JET the morning after a charity event. Regardless, the assembled crowd delighted at the skills this magnificent animal displayed: sleeping, lying around and scratching.

Oh, Japan.

Here we see some schoolboys examining a shoebill (or “whalehead,” if you prefer), one of Africa’s strangest-looking birds.
Just look at dude lording it over those comparatively boring flamingos. That bird is king of the jungle in my book.
I suspect that someone was having a bit of fun in the zoo’s translation department that day. Anyone know how I can apply for that job?

Odaiba, Tokyo's Fakest Island Since 1853

Constructed in the mid-nineteenth century by the Tokugawa Shogunate, the artificial islands of Odaiba originally housed fortresses designed to defend Tokyo Bay from would be invaders. Following the success of the1985 World’s Fair in Tsukuba, Odaiba’s main island was re-envisioned as an international showcase for technology and ultramodern living. However, with the burst of the bubble economy in the early 1990s, the expensive project had to be abandoned. Later in the decade Odaiba was reborn yet again, this time as an entertainment and shopping district. Although Odaiba’s primary attractions are now shopping malls and theme parks, the area still exudes a certain futuristic ambience, as evidenced by the world-famous Fuji Television building (seen above). You can even enjoy a futuristic ride into Odaiba on the completely automated Yurikamome train line (“Look ma, no driver!”), just one of a number of private and public transit lines that service the artificial island.
The entrance to Nekorama! (neko meaning “cat”), a feline-centric store located at ground level in the multi-story Decks Tokyo Beach mall.
I love a good turkey sandwich more than just about anything and turkey has to be one of the hardest meats to come by in Japan (as anyone who’s ever tried to explain Thanksgiving dinner to a room of confused Japanese first graders can surely tell you). So you can imagine how excited I was to happen across “Turkey’s Premium Turkey Sandwich”. You can probably also imagine how utterly despondent I felt after discovering that they don’t have a single turkey sandwich on the menu. The fact that I didn’t even feel even the least bit surprised by this speaks volumes about what a year in Japan can do to a man.
Some naughty high school students sneak a peek inside Condomania, also located inside of Decks.
The 6th and 7th floors of Decks are occupied by “Little Hong Kong,” a mostly food-centric, Japanese-style amusement park. One restaurant I spotted here offered dim sum treats on a conveyer belt a la kaiten sushi.
Here we see the Daikanransha, allegedly the second largest Ferris wheel in the world. Just past the Ferris wheel you can see “Palette Town,” yet another shopping mall that also houses "Mega Web," a large car theme park owned by the Toyota Corporation. The park is split into three separate “pavilions”.
Toyota uses these three pavilions, the “Toyota City Showcase,” the “Toyota Universal Design Showcase” and the “History Garage” to showcase not only their new products but also their corporate philosophy. If you’re able to stomach a little corporate propaganda, the pavilions are a good way to kill an hour or two in Tokyo without spending any money (the park is free and open to the public).
First up is the City Showcase; essentially a huge showroom chockablock with all of Toyota’s newest vehicles for the Japanese market.
The main floor of the City Showcase is dominated by “Hybrid Wonderland,” which in addition to showing off the newest hybrid cars and SUVs also attempts to “educate” visitors on how Toyota’s hybrid technology works. What’s so great about driving a hybrid car? Why, ask Mr. Hybrid!
I mean, if you really think about it, hybrid cars are practically living creatures…wait, what?

As many of you will know, Toyota makes a bunch of really sweet cars like this…

…but 90% of all Japanese people would rather drive this instead. I stood and stared at this car for about ten minutes but not even a single clown came out.
One of the coolest things about the whole complex was the “Ride One Corner”. Allegedly, you can take any Toyota car currently in production for a test drive for only ¥300. All you have to do is make a reservation on the Ride One website a day in advance (it’s worth noting that foreigners can participate too, provided they hold a valid driver’s license from a Geneva Convention member country).

Wait, who the hell chose the clown car?

Up next is the Universal Design Showcase. I’ll let the good folks in Toyota’s marketing department explain to you what exactly “universal design” is:

Tall, short, male, female, plump, slim, young, mature, elderly-we’re all so different in so many ways. This showroom offers you an opportunity to notice for yourself the importance of Universal Design, a design approach that strives to accommodate the differences in the ways individuals use a product. TOYOTA Universal Design Showcase: a place where we can all share ideas about Universal Design.

Basically, the Universal Design Showcase is a museum of Toyota design, demonstrating how Toyota vehicles have evolved over the years to incorporate elements of this so-called universal design.
Ah, the “Space Touch”. Just because we now have the technology to create a functional control panel that looks like something out of a 70s science fiction film doesn’t mean that we should actually make it. The unit uses an antiquated-looking hologram projection system to create a floating orb that serves as the car’s control panel. But wait, there's more. It’s also a touch screen, so you manipulate the orb by touching the screen. Wow. “Seeing into the Future?!” Hell no.
Here’s one of the dancing, neon wheelchairs as seen at last year’s Expo in Aichi. Formally, it’s known as “i-unit,” Toyota’s “future concept vehicle”. Memo to Toyota: adding the uber-hip “i” prefix to a quadrupedal segway doesn’t make it any cooler.
Finally we reach the last of the pavilions, the history garage. From what I saw, none of the cars in here were Toyotas. Don’t ask me why.

This is pretty funny, don’t you think? I sure think so.

You know, I’m not much of a car guy (could you tell?) but even I could get excited for the DeLorean. If only it could have taken me back to a time when turkey sandwich shops actually sold turkey sandwiches.