Japanory

Painted Lady - more tattoos

Woo Hoo! I've finally finished May 2007!

I thought I'd just pop this in here after talking about tattoos in the previous post.

A friend of mine recently asked me to write a guest post on her
blog called Typecast which I've copied here - the original link can be found at the end of this post.

 

I like tattoos. No, scrap that. I LOVE tattoos.

My fascination with skin art started many years before they became so commonplace that every man, woman and dog has one. Nowadays it seems non-tattooed people are rarer than the decorated.

 

I resisted the urge to get tattooed until I turned thirty. Choosing the perfect indelible design for me took a long time. Finally a particularly nasty boyfriend, whom I had trouble getting rid of, said he’d leave me if I got a tattoo. So I promptly booked my appointment with a local studio in south London and waved the vicious boyfriend off.  

My first tattoo was a peacock on my left shoulder blade. I was inordinately proud of it and showed it off as often as I could.

There’s a saying that once you’ve got your first tattoo, you will get more.

Some years later I went to Hong Kong on a business trip. Fuelled by alcohol and a defiant need to shock my strait-laced colleagues, I got my second tattoo. We visited a famous but rather seedy parlour late one night. While my friends looked at the pictures on the walls, I plonked myself down and had my Chinese star sign inked onto my ankle. That one hurt like hell due to it being on a bone. But it was worth it just to see my friends’ faces. Frankly, a pretty poor reason to get a tattoo!

 

 

Number three was created in Thailand. This was a completely different experience. For a start, no rebelliousness was involved. It produced my favourite piece of all. I followed customer recommendations rather than picking a random studio. The artist interviewed me first before allowing me to make an appointment. At the appointment, he just drew a design directly onto my arm, I made some changes and off he drilled for about three hours.

 

The bug (and ink) was well and truly in my system now.

 

But life intervened. I had a baby, and my beloved Dad died.

My head was all over the place and some madness prompted me get a tattoo on my other arm. I designed it myself and it included a lot of personal symbolism. Unfortunately, the tattooist was no artist. The outline was just about OK but I should never have asked him to colour it in. It was a disaster and for the first time I regretted my tat. Do not get a tattoo when you are grieving.

 

Then my husband got a job transfer to Japan. The home of beautiful tattooing! But also a country with the greatest taboos about skin art. 

Before we left the UK, I found another tattooist for ink number five - a colourful compass on my right foot meaning “a step in the right direction”. But I wouldn’t recommend enclosing foot tattoos in shoes and socks while packing up your entire house. It got badly infected and I ended up taking strong antibiotics for a while.

Once in Japan I quickly discovered my decorated skin was not appreciated. One man verbally attacked me about the Chinese writing on my ankle. He seemed satisfied that I knew its meaning. I’m also not allowed into public swimming pools or gyms. I can live with that. What does sadden me is that I am not allowed to go into onsen, the natural hot spring pools that Japan is famous for. Tattoos here are a sign of the Yakuza, organised gangs. It makes no difference that I am a Caucasian female; tattoos are “bad”.

 

However, there are plenty of tattooists around. I’ve found a fantastic, gifted artist who entertains me with intellectual discussions and wonderful artistry. Yes, I’ve had more work done… 

 

He spent a total of about ten hours blacking in my disastrous tattoo and adding decorations to it so I’m no longer ashamed of it. I also broke the golden rule of skin art - “do not have a name tattooed on you”. But as it’s my daughter’s name I will never regret it.

 

 

The last piece I had done was another of strong symbolic significance to me, a spiral at the base of my neck, pictured at the beginning of this post.

 
Am I finished at seven tattoos? Of course not! I’ve just booked another appointment with him to have more work done.

 

The only difficulty now is deciding where to place it.

 

My thanks to Nickie at Typecast for allowing me to be her guest.
Here's the link to the original post on her blog.

http://typecast2000.blogspot.com/2010/07/painted-lady.html 

Naked Men plus Tattoos Equals…?

Sunday 20th May 2007 part 2

(Lots of photos again!)

So, we've arrived at Asakusa in the middle of the biggest crowd of people I've encountered outside of a stadium gig in the UK. Most of the people are wearing a kind of uniform of matching short jackets known as Happi coats and extremely short shorts.

Bear in mind that at that particular point in time I had absolute NO idea what was occurring, so the information about this festival was researched later. For now, allow me to indulge my view of the day while I was there…

I spot mikoshi. These are portable shrines, elaborately decorated with black lacquer and gold embellishments. They are so heavy, each weighing over a tonne they need to be carried by many people. So this must be a festival of some sort.

While I was happy to watch and enjoy the hypnotic drumming and fizz of adrenaline in the air, the others wanted to get away as quickly as possible. So I ignored them as they marched off and lingered to soak up the atmosphere.

And that atmosphere was exhilarating beyond belief. The festival was incredibly spectacular. And very loud! People were happy and joyful and the emotion was infectious. I saw a few geisha and maiko, but mostly the crowds comprised large groups of obvious collectives. These were the groups of people in matching uniforms - the Happi coats and headbands.

Suddenly I noticed groups of naked men. As you do. Well, nearly naked - they wore a white thong affair, like sumo wrestlers. Only these guys were nowhere near the size of sumo. And they were covered in the most wonderful tattoos.

A lightbulb went off in my head. Oh. My. GOD! These men must be members of the Yakuza! Yakuza are renowned for their tattoos. Among other things…the Yakuza are groups of people some compare to the Mafia. Organised crime etc. Anyway, whatever they do - it's not my place to comment, nor do I have the knowledge.

However, I am a huge fan of body art, as you will see from my next post.

Tattoos are a complicated matter here in Japan. It's hard to explain precisely why, but I understand it's something to do with the fact that the Yakuza have extensive, often full body tattoos so therefore tattoos equal Yakuza. I am tattooed. And this means I am not allowed into public swimming pools, gymnasiums, or onsen (natural hot springs). I also cannot use many of the spa's here for massage or other treatments. The fact that I am obviously NOT a Yakuza member - being Caucasian - makes no difference whatsoever. My decorated skin is forbidden. Tattoos should be covered.

Whatever this festival was about, it was a one of the few occasions to see the Yakuza tattoos on public display. So what a treat for my eyes to see these (mostly) rather attractive bodies and their amazing skin art! Of course, I had to take some photos… for reference purposes only, of course ;-) - see further down the page for close ups...

Some of the guys had jumped onto the mikoshi and were jumping, chanting and blowing whistles in time to the drumming, at the same time as the numerous people carrying the weighty shrines were bouncing them on their shoulders.

 

I adore people-watching, so had a wonderful, but short time, doing this. During the summer, fans are freely handed out by many companies - these made me laugh. West versus East!

I couldn't resist taking photos of these decorated men. I make no comment on the pink hat. Well, would you?

 

 

It was Sanja Matsuri - the festival of Asakusa Shrine and has always been known as the largest and rowdiest festival in the whole of Japan. Sanja Matsuri lasts for three days, starting on the third Friday of May with hundreds of people walking through the area for a purification ritual. The purpose of the procession is to bring good luck and prosperity.

During the procession the mikoshi are shaken violently as apparently this brings extra luck to the district. Sanja Matsuri is a joyful festival where everybody has a lot of fun and all this merriment includes music, dancing and drinking. The Happi coats bear the symbols of certain businesses, guilds or groups. I'd love to have experienced this whole day and night, but unfortunately haven't been able to for various reasons.

In recent years this festival has been threatened with cancellation as overzealous participants have taken to climbing on the mikoshi, damaging them and insulting the sacred items. However, because these particular participants are members of the Yakuza, police are reluctant to prosecute.

And to date (2010), it still hasn't been cancelled.

Sumida River Boat Trip

Sunday 20^th May 2007 part 1

Yes, I know - I've muddled up dates again.
Never mind. I'm so far behind, consider this blog as a travelogue rather than a chronological diary!

One of Tim's workmates is over from the UK for an extended visit so we decide to take him (and us) for a boat trip. Starting from somewhere and ending in Asakusa.

We take the train. Trains. It's quite a trek from home to the starting 'port' and among many line changes, includes a journey on a driverless monorail which weaves through the skyscrapers of Tokyo. Then there's a long walk to find the boats. The place is incredibly busy, which was quite surprising. But in retrospect, if we'd known what was occurring at the other end of the trip, totally understandable.

To be honest, the boat trip wasn't particularly memorable. There's none of the historical interest of seeing, for example, London from the Thames, but the many bridges are interesting… if you get excited about bridges.

After half an hour or so we arrived in Asakusa.

And it was the busiest I have EVER seen it. There were people everywhere. Thousands and thousands of them.

Now it's normally a very busy tourist spot, but this day was something else altogether. We could barely move. Rhiannon was in danger of being trampled so Tim hoisted her onto his shoulders for safety.

What was going on? See the next post… boy, was I in for a treat!