Demise of a Classic Old Tokyo Manor

Two evenings ago I was walking home in the rain from Jiyugaoka Station, and spotted about 10 fire engines, a horde of people, and a huge billow of smoke that drifted up into the sky in spite of heavy rain from an approaching typhoon.

The sad fact was that a classic Taishō period (1912-26) mansion was up in flames, and the firefighters were struggling with a huge blaze that consumed a wonderful, historic wooden building.

Today I went back to see the outcome.

The photo (right) was taken just over the front gate, where a wheelchair was disturbingly left and police tape wound across the entrance. The destruction is pretty intense - the whole building is a skeleton now, with the refuse of burned telephone books, kimono, furniture, a TV, and even a coveted old reel-to-reel tape player parked on the small roof above where the front door used to be.

For Okusawa, a generally wealthy area, this is an incredibly big space. And sadly it was probably the largest old house I'd seen in Tokyo - till now.


This is the way the place was 18 months ago.

The trees surrounding the huge property made it difficult to get a decent shot from the street; I always intended to climb the wall (discreetly!) and get a couple of good photos. Now, sadly, it's too late.

I just hope the people got out of there safely.

Tokyo Alleyways

One of the things I love about this city, but which are increasingly difficult to track down intact, are the aged alleys in older parts of town.

These are the vanishing places in which Taisho-era (1912-26) or early Showa period (1926-89) wooden buildings lean in disarray, and you actually feel like you've been transported back to one of Yasujiro Ozu’s or Akira Kurosawa's domestic dramas from the 1950s.

About a year and a half ago in this wayward blog I got cantankerous about the disappearing old buildings in the area of Tokyo (Okusawa) that surrounds our apartment - more about that here.


I also waxed a wee bit pessimistic over at Forces of Geek on a similar theme.

Don't get me wrong; I completely understand progress and change and I embrace it in many ways.

I'm also often knocked out by a lot of the contemporary architecture going up in Ginza, Harajuku and Odaiba.

I just hate to see this historical aspect disappear - some of these alleyways and the abodes within are absolutely mesmerizing.

Today I visited one of these rare gems in Ōokayama (大岡山駅), about 15 minutes' walk from our place.

In much of the surrounding area there're new apartment buildings, but some of the shops and houses sandwiched in between are classic vintage numbers - including this alley.


Tuckedjust around the corner is also a gorgeous little inari shrine.

It's cheap thrills like this that make my world go round.

Kuhonbutsu Temple

There's nothing like a disaster - or an ongoing rash of 'em - to make you appreciate what you have and where you are.



In my case where I am is Tokyo, and this is one of my fave temples, a sprawling and (mostly) unknown treasure called Kuhonbutsu Temple (九品仏浄真寺), located near the appropriately named Kohonbutsu Station, two stops from us on the Oimachi Line.



It's about 20 minutes from Shibuya, but there's a world of distance between the two places.



Kuhonbutsu is also sandwiched between Futako-Tamagawa — rated the fourth most popular place to raise children in Tokyo — and Jiyugaoka... the fourth most preferable place to live single, footloose and fancy-free.





Aside from this odd sense of spiritual displacement on either side, that which sets this consecrated turf apart from the other local shrines and temples in this city is the sheer size and spaciousness of the sanctuary, as well as three wonderfully renovated, historic main halls that house a set of nine massive statues of Buddha, captured for posterity in subtly different poses.



These affectations are s'posed to have some special meaning, though I haven't any idea quite what these may be and haven't bothered to check the significance out online.



It's like Madonna, circa 1989, if she were tastefully cast in bronze.





According to the brochure Kuhonbutsu Temple was constructed several hundred years ago on the grounds of the old Okusawa Castle, and sections of these aged foundations can still be discovered if you look hard enough.



The stand-out is the photogenic bell tower (sho-ro), built in 1708, roofed in copper and adorned by a huge clapper that was cast in honour of the two great bodhisattvas (Kannon and Seishi) - fittingly designated a national cultural treasure.



I went here again two days ago, just to breathe in the silence and tranquility away from the non-stop newscasts about aftershocks and radiation, and it was genuinely moving. Funny that. I'm normally so easily moved.



Man, I love this city.

Okusawa 奥沢 Shrine

This morning, at around 10:00 am, we had a bunch of guys in happi jackets and white pants that looked like they were nicked from cricketers, parading past our apartment here in Okusawa as they chanted and huffed and puffed like a troupe of big, bad wolves.

Over their shoulders they were lugging a long, twisted up thing that resembled a snake with a cute mush, and my wife calmly advised that it was the beginning of today's festival for Okusawa Shrine.

This is what it’s really all about in Tokyo.

About five minutes' walk away, nestled amidst an array of beautiful old trees, Okusawa Jinjya is a traditional Shinto shrine that’s obviously not only venerated by the local population, but beloved as well, if the queue right around the corner and down the road last January 1 was any indication; then again, that's typical at shrines during the wintry New Year period.

At other times at Okusawa Shrine you’re just as likely to encounter elderly women in kimono playing koto instruments to nobody in particular, or children in spectacular traditional costumes celebrating their birthdays.


But Okusawa shrine is famed for that aforementioned 150kg, nine-metre-long daija, or shrine snake, draped over the torii gate at the entrance, which is often mistakenly referred to as a dragon – probably by fellow ophidiophobics like myself.

This lovable-faced dragon ring-in has actually been decreed an official local “intangible folklore cultural asset”, and dates back to a legend from the early Edo period which has it that when a plague assailed Okusawa, the god Hachiman advised the village head – via a dream - to walk round the village carrying a python constructed of dry rice straw, in order to set about recovery from the epidemic.


These days, a new snake is made (of twisted rice straw) by volunteers each year, in early September, and paraded around the shrine at the insanely popular Yakuyoke no Daiji Festival the same month – which is what we just experienced the beginnings of this morning.

Kuhonbutsu Temple, Tokyo

Another (mostly) unknown treasure in Tokyo is the sprawling Kuhonbutsu Temple, located right next to Kohonbutsu Station on the Oimachi Line, just 20 minutes from Shibuya (and 5 minutes from us).

It's oh-so-conveniently sandwiched between Futakotamagawa — rated the fourth most popular place to raise children in Tokyo — and Jiyugaoka... the fourth most preferable place to live single, footloose and fancy-free.

Aside from this odd sense of spiritual (dis)placement, that which sets this holy place apart from all the other local shrines and temples is the sheer size of the sanctuary, as well as the three wonderfully renovated, historic main halls that house a set of nine massive statues of Buddha, captured in subtly different poses.

It's like Madonna, circa 1989, if she were tastefully cast in bronze.

Kuhonbutsu Temple (本堂 - 九品仏浄真寺) was also apparently constructed several hundred years ago on the old grounds of Okusawa Castle, and parts of the aged foundations of this can still be discovered if you look hard enough.

So if you’re looking for a spot of relaxation, reflection and contemplation away from the hustle and bustle of the 24-hour metropolis at play outside the temple’s walls, this gorgeous location is the place to discover it—with the stand-out here being the serenely photogenic bell tower (sho-ro), built in 1708, adorned by a huge clapper that was cast in honor of the two great bodhisattvas (Kannon and Seishi), and fittingly designated a national cultural treasure.

Old shanty houses round Okusawa

As a city, Tokyo isn't really known for its affection for old buildings.

Aside from the fact the historical structures in this metropolis were either (a) destroyed in the big 'quake of 1923 or (b) carpet bombed by the U.S. Army Air Forces in WW2, and the fact that there's an ongoing risk from further earthquakes, the residents themselves (generally) seem to see buildings 25 years or older as eyesores - in the way of modernization or funky new apartment blocks.


So, aside from areas where you can find lots of history, like in Yanesen, near Nippori, it sometimes feels that Melbourne, a 162-year-old city, has more preserved "real" history than Tokyo, a city that's in its 406th year as a capital - but was a village before that.

In Okusawa (in Setagaya-Ku), a fairly expensive residential area, there are some absolute gems of weatherboard houses tucked away around corners and down moldy alleys. For me, this reminds me that I'm in Japan, and not just another western city with McDonald's and 7-Eleven stores.

One of my faves was demolished a couple of years ago, however, and made into... a car park. The fate of the rest also doesn't look too promising; my theory is that once the elderly residents die out, their abodes will be razed and made into apartments.


Yesterday and today I set out to take some happy snaps for posterity, and here are just a few of these wunderbar places that give the local area... character.

Truth to tell, tho', I wouldn't choose to live in any of them in this 'quake-prone country and given the absolutely oppressive humidity in summer. Looking is another matter.