In Japan everyone is crazy about cartoons, fanatical about the fantastical.
Lightsabre man
Around Ginza Lightsabre man is busy at work. There‘s traffic to direct, people to usher across the road.
Move over Batman, stand aside Spiderman - Lightsabre man is a true superhero.
Carefully attired in his regulation uniform - reflective stripes, white helmet, white gloves and trusty glowing baton - he guards Tokyo’s good citizens against all possible hazards, from potholes and roadworks to broken-down escalators and car park exits.
Lightsabre man is anywhere and everywhere, ever vigilant and primed to act. A true hero of the streets.
Visor Woman
Up in Asakusa, Visor Woman heads for the temple, camera at the ready. She’s been hard at it in the hot sunshine, taking in the sights of this vast city, ticking off the must-sees.
And she’s well-equipped for this awesome task.
On her head she sports a sun visor so huge her companions could eat their okonomi-yaki (Japanese pizza) off it. This massive millinery monster covers her head and indeed her face, so much so that it could double as a motorcycle helmet, or indeed protective wear for any budding astronaut.
To complement this, Visor Woman chooses comfortable trainers, casual trousers, a blouse, handbag and miniature towel to discreetly dab her brow in the heat.
Salaryman
Way out west, amidst the scryscrapers of Shinjuki, Salaryman has his head buried away in his account sheets.
Salaryman is the unsung hero of the nation, the worker ant of business, the backbone of the economy. He’ll willingly sacrifice his family time for the company, displaying unswerving loyalty in the cause of the balance sheet.
This city stalwart has been at it since 8.30 am, and will stay there until 6.30pm (if he’s lucky).
After work he’ll share a beer and slurp noodles with his colleagues, or brave the rush hour and head for home.
Salaryman is one of two million who pass through Shinjuku’s stations every day, short-sleeved robots, brandishing mobiles, briefcases and inbuilt sat-navs to help them follow the well-trodden path between office and home.
If he’s lucky Salaryman will find an inch of space on the Metro, room to sit down and peruse a document headed “Offsetting certificates of deposit against high-coupon debt”.
If not he’ll nod off on the train, yet still somehow wake up just as he pulls into his home station.
Salaryman is prone to tiredness from overwork and the sight of collapsed salaryman on the Metro, exhausted and a little the worse for wear, is not unusual.
Some 30,000 a year die due to overwork - the economic miracle came at a high price.
The rock kids
Over in Shibuya the kids are united. In their love for replicating their pop idols.
Here West meets East in a potent cocktail of haywire hormones and overweening peer pressure to keep up with the latest fashion.
Tokyo is no different. Like the proverbial rat in London, in Tokyo you are never more than six feet away from a cartoon of some sort.
There are the advertising medium of choice for many businesses; the film (anime) of choice for many cinemagoers, the book of choice for all and sundry.
On the metro you are just as likely to see a businessman perusing manga (comic books) as you are to see a schoolkid flicking through the backpages of their favourite superhero.
Indeed, such is the Japanese mania for manga, their ardour for anime, that it’s sometimes had to tell whether some of them have a steady grip on reality. Certainly for me, after spending a few days in Tokyo it has become hard at times to discern what is real and what is make-believe.
This is a city which celebrates the outlandish and delights in being over the top. It is drenched in neon, buzzing to the tune of a million different polyphonic jingles.
We enter a megalopolis of such fantastical wonders where, it seems, anything is possible. There’s capsule hotels, rollercoasters on top of office blocks and people bowing all over the place.
In Tokyo, art imitates life, then life imitates art and becomes a cartoon.
There are the advertising medium of choice for many businesses; the film (anime) of choice for many cinemagoers, the book of choice for all and sundry.
On the metro you are just as likely to see a businessman perusing manga (comic books) as you are to see a schoolkid flicking through the backpages of their favourite superhero.
Indeed, such is the Japanese mania for manga, their ardour for anime, that it’s sometimes had to tell whether some of them have a steady grip on reality. Certainly for me, after spending a few days in Tokyo it has become hard at times to discern what is real and what is make-believe.
This is a city which celebrates the outlandish and delights in being over the top. It is drenched in neon, buzzing to the tune of a million different polyphonic jingles.We enter a megalopolis of such fantastical wonders where, it seems, anything is possible. There’s capsule hotels, rollercoasters on top of office blocks and people bowing all over the place.
In Tokyo, art imitates life, then life imitates art and becomes a cartoon.
This is a city of cartoons.
The following are some of my favourite characters.
Lightsabre man
Around Ginza Lightsabre man is busy at work. There‘s traffic to direct, people to usher across the road.Move over Batman, stand aside Spiderman - Lightsabre man is a true superhero.
Carefully attired in his regulation uniform - reflective stripes, white helmet, white gloves and trusty glowing baton - he guards Tokyo’s good citizens against all possible hazards, from potholes and roadworks to broken-down escalators and car park exits.
Lightsabre man is anywhere and everywhere, ever vigilant and primed to act. A true hero of the streets.
Visor Woman
Up in Asakusa, Visor Woman heads for the temple, camera at the ready. She’s been hard at it in the hot sunshine, taking in the sights of this vast city, ticking off the must-sees.
And she’s well-equipped for this awesome task.
On her head she sports a sun visor so huge her companions could eat their okonomi-yaki (Japanese pizza) off it. This massive millinery monster covers her head and indeed her face, so much so that it could double as a motorcycle helmet, or indeed protective wear for any budding astronaut.
To complement this, Visor Woman chooses comfortable trainers, casual trousers, a blouse, handbag and miniature towel to discreetly dab her brow in the heat.
And seeing that it is thirty degrees and the sun is high in the sky she plumps for the gloves ‘n’ arm covers look as well, just to ensure every inch of flesh is covered. It just wouldn’t do to go back to the folks back home with a suntan.
Pachinko man
Down in Roppongi Pachinko man’s making a killing. Working the one-armed bandits and other yen-grabbing machines he an old hand at the gambling game.
When it comes to slot machines, Pachinko man knows every trick in the book. He’s surrounded by a piles of ball bearings, coughed up by the machines as winnings and stacked up in boxes on the floor around him.
Pachinko man
Down in Roppongi Pachinko man’s making a killing. Working the one-armed bandits and other yen-grabbing machines he an old hand at the gambling game.
When it comes to slot machines, Pachinko man knows every trick in the book. He’s surrounded by a piles of ball bearings, coughed up by the machines as winnings and stacked up in boxes on the floor around him.
Well-adapted to withstanding a sensory assault like no other, Pachinko man is immune to the wall of sound, the epileptic fit-inducing flashing lights and the heavy fug of fag smoke.
Amidst this cacophony he inhabits his cocoon, ceaselessly working the unfathomable games till it starts to grow light outside.
Then it’s off home his newly gained winning, to bed and dreams of a Sega-filled paradise.
Amidst this cacophony he inhabits his cocoon, ceaselessly working the unfathomable games till it starts to grow light outside.
Then it’s off home his newly gained winning, to bed and dreams of a Sega-filled paradise.
Salaryman
Way out west, amidst the scryscrapers of Shinjuki, Salaryman has his head buried away in his account sheets.
Salaryman is the unsung hero of the nation, the worker ant of business, the backbone of the economy. He’ll willingly sacrifice his family time for the company, displaying unswerving loyalty in the cause of the balance sheet.
This city stalwart has been at it since 8.30 am, and will stay there until 6.30pm (if he’s lucky).
After work he’ll share a beer and slurp noodles with his colleagues, or brave the rush hour and head for home.
Salaryman is one of two million who pass through Shinjuku’s stations every day, short-sleeved robots, brandishing mobiles, briefcases and inbuilt sat-navs to help them follow the well-trodden path between office and home.
If he’s lucky Salaryman will find an inch of space on the Metro, room to sit down and peruse a document headed “Offsetting certificates of deposit against high-coupon debt”.
If not he’ll nod off on the train, yet still somehow wake up just as he pulls into his home station.
Salaryman is prone to tiredness from overwork and the sight of collapsed salaryman on the Metro, exhausted and a little the worse for wear, is not unusual.
Some 30,000 a year die due to overwork - the economic miracle came at a high price.
The rock kids
Over in Shibuya the kids are united. In their love for replicating their pop idols.
Here West meets East in a potent cocktail of haywire hormones and overweening peer pressure to keep up with the latest fashion.
Teenagers - large gangs of identical girls, smaller groups of swaggering boys - take to the streets and pout and preen their way to stage one of the great mating game.
Every detail is meticulously copied, from their hair and clothing to their attitude and gait.
Every detail is meticulously copied, from their hair and clothing to their attitude and gait.
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