My friends and I are no different. After a fair bit of back-and-forth negotiation of days and free time, we finally found a suitable time. This time happened to be a Wednesday, which meant a pleasantly uncrowded beach on a gorgeous sunny day. For our spot of sand we chose Zushi, an hours train ride from Tokyo.

Zushi is an amiable little town just beyond Kamakura. It may not be the world’s cleanest beach, nor the cleanest ocean but it is a perfectly agreeable place with a great summertime atmosphere. The beach is lined with bars, great for that post-swim drink and is home to Otodama, a beachside livehouse. Famous Japanese acts will play there throughout the summer and during our stay, we could hear Otsuka Ai entertain the sweaty masses while we kept cool in the sea.

After a bit of time splashing in the water, lying on the beach and having a giggle it was suddenl sundown. The old adage about time flying really does apply when you’re having fun. We ignored the less-than-blue water and merrily dived over waves, and floated in the water just feeling the relaxed bliss a day at the beach can bring… Lying in the water, arms outstretched, the noise of the world muffled by the water and above your eyes an endless blue sky, Ahhh…

As the sun set, we went for that drink. A rum and coke as the sun made glowing shapes out of the clouds and golden waves that came crashing into shore.

That’s the thing about Japan, amidst the hustle, bustle and general mayhem, even at the beach, you can find a small centre of peace and calm. In true Japanese style though, next week it will be truly calm. After next Tuesday, the 31st will hit and the beaches close becoming a ghost town once again. Time limited beach fun… aaah Japan.

The addiction of Japan to all things cute and fantastical has led to a love of the classic novel, Alice in Wonderland. The nonsensical, dreamlike world of Alice continues to be a perfect escape for millions of people, away from the grey worlds we live in. Nowhere could this be more true than Japan where for many life is defined by an endless loop of commuter trains and the office. Alice – and this is surely why the cultures of Harajuku have embraced the book more than most – represents a world of marvels that fits in perfectly with the teenage rebellion against society.

As an Alice fan myself I was so excited to discover that, thanks to Japan’s love of Carroll, the Japanese applied their quirkiness to the book and came out with a themed cafe, 迷宮の国のアリス (The Maze World of Alice).

The reception area is tiny, resembling the tiny room Alice lands in after she falls down the rabbit hole. Sadly there are no tiny doors in the wall, or eat me/drink me bottles on the table bearing meishi. Instead there is one big door, illustrated with a simple sepia toned Alice design. When our Mad Hatter Maitre D appeared, they led us past this door down a long tunnel-like corridor still decorated with this sepia design that marked the doors to various private rooms. At the end we turned a corner at the giant clock and the maze changed. Everything was now a lush blue with velvet drapes adorning the walls, or glass engraved with playing card suit motifs.

Our small room was in this area, and sadly not in the main dining hall with its great china tea-cup. I would have loved to dine in a giant tea cup! Our room was private though, and the volume level was at a level where we could easily talk.

Our waitress came along shortly after we sat, bearing a box. She was dressed, as were all the waitresses, like Alice, in her famous blue. Smiling and chirpily she took apart one side of the box to reveal both the menu and, inside the box, an adorable scene of Wonderland.The box was so wonderful, so entrancing and so Alice that it took us a while to get into the menu. When we did however we found ourselves spoilt for choice over drinks and food. The drink selection seemed good but we only had eyes for the special cocktails. Over this list we pored, reading the cute descriptions to each other of drinks like the ‘Abunai! Dodo Shima’ (Danger! Dodo Island) with the description ‘A cheerful speech that gathers everyone together. Round and round on the waters edge we go!’ It looks in the picture like a sea with a small, (strawberry) Dodo wearing a crown:

Eventually, we settled on a チェシャ猫のスマイル (Cheshire Cat Smile) and an あわてん坊の白ウサギ (White Rabbit who is always flustered). The name of my cocktail led to my White Rabbit being a little less than White, and instead blushing red with his endless state of fluster.

The food was as wonderful. The Caesar Salad, a familiar offering at any restaurant, made an appearance on our table, as did some tasty fried prawns. We couldn’t not try the themed food though, and were tempted by the tasty – if small – 牛肉と茄子のミートパイ　チーズグラタン風 (Cheshire Cat beef and eggplant meat pie in the style of a cheese gratin). Of course there was also room for dessert and I found myself smiling in happy delight at my marshmallow and ice cream Mad Hatters.

We spent an age in there, just marvelling at everything and giggling with happiness over the cute food and cute drinks and cute waitresses. One even posed for a picture!

Since it’s success in Ginza, the Alice Cafe has spread out a little across Japan in two other locations, Shinjuku and Osaka. They have slightly different names too.

In Shinjuku we have 絵本の国のアリス (The Picture Book World of Alice)

In Osaka we have 幻想の国のアリス (The Illusion World of Alice)

Would it be strange and sad to aim to go to them all, I wonder?

I’m not surprised by people who cry when their band breaks up or takes a direction that isn’t so appealing but I could never fully understand it. This was until yesterday when Merry, a band very dear to my heart announced a radical change in direction.

The visual kei world is a rather dark world, as was told in the revealing interview posted on Tokyo Damage Report a month or so ago. While that interview was a mixture of truths, half truths and elaborations, the basic theme served as a warning about the control of major labels like Free Will and PSC. Merry have become Free Will and the change in them is so sudden and drastic that it seems almost forced upon them.

At the live at Akasaka Blitz, a live we believed was to be a special day, the band, while playing a blistering setlist, failed to convince us of their ease on stage. They lacked a warmth that they usually have for both fans and each other. There was little more than a straight play through of the songs. No smiles, no quirks like Gara’s headstands, no flag waving or mindless chatter from Nero. Yuu, the guitarist, looked in pain a lot of the time. He looked as though this was the end of a band he had built up. It wasn’t noticeable mid live but rather an image that developed in the aftermath. When Gara told us that Merry were to become an ‘even more amazing band’ he spoke so coldly it was as if he didn’t believe in his own words.

Finally, the new single was announced. The title was our first clue, a title so very un-Merry. A band known for jazz, retrock and eroguro had a single called ‘The Cry Against…’ Then the song played and a bland metal so indistinguishable from Dir en Grey or Gazette filled our ears. It was unlike anything Merry had even been making two months prior. Is this the cause of Yuu’s melancholy perhaps? Song writing has suddenly been wrenched from him and Kenichi to be taken over by cold corporate bods who know what what sells is a sound like Gazette, a sound like Dir en Grey. At that moment you could hear the hearts breaking. As we were given fliers at the door our hearts broke more. Everything had become cold and commercialised and it is hard to not wonder whether this is indeed the much-reputed control of Free Will. The new website is now pushing the fanclub in a way we have never seen before. The money drive is on.

Merry were great for many reasons; their refusal to conform, their quirkiness and their warmth to their fans. They may never have had the greatest fanbase but the band never seemed to mind. They also gave their all for the fans who stuck by them. Gara’s stubbornly fast return to the stage one month after a herniated disc sent him to hospital showed this to us. He was doing it for the fans. The Merry of yesterday and the new Merry are really not like that now. I never thought they could squish a sheep-shaped peg into a gazette-shaped hole but it seems they are trying. And finally, a band who have given me joy over the last nine years has in one moment unwritten everything of that past decade and broken my heart

I took my computer to be repaired recently, thinking in my mind it would only need a couple of days – simply replace the harddrive and give it back to me. I enquired cheerfully of the assistant when I could come back. “It will take ten days” she replied dourly. My shock could not be disguised. As it happened however, a phonecall two days later informed me that the whole process had been completed and I could pick up the computer at my leisure. Feeling confused, although not displeased with this situation I couldn’t help but wonder why the gross overestimation for processing time.

This scene is all too familiar, and often in situations more important than a simply laptop repair. The “Alien Registration Card” is needed for, among other things, bank accounts and mobile telephones, necessities when starting life in a new country. On application however, one is informed it will take up to a month. The stress starts to accumulate and the impatience sets in, images of delays start coursing through the mind. Very often however the card is completed within two days and then simply sits around Immigration gathering dust. The frustrated cry goes up, why can’t they give a more reasonable estimation of time.

One has to suppose it is really about managing expectations. If we expect something in two days then it can be hard to explain away delays. Giving a long time estimate does not allow for ‘hiccup’ time. Nonetheless, some time estimates are very much unreasonable. I remember when I went to get my internet installed. The time between my buying the connection and their installing it was a delay of three months. I still feel shocked when I think about it today. I was told it was due to a large amount of customers. Really? Three whole months worth of 8 hour days and 6 day weeks? Rather I just think it is a fear of disappointing a customer, the old adage of loss of face. It is much easier to give a long time than fail to deliver. What these companies perhaps don’t realise is the stress they cause by their long time delays.

Sometimes, I will grant, such long delays will exist. It’s inevitable that certain busy times crop up; maybe there will be a spate of national holidays or just an unprecedented demand. Most of the time however It is simply a matter of procedure, to give an estimate blindly without considering the actual situation. It would be rather nice if companies could consider for a few more moments the actual time something might take to give a more realistic estimate. It is unusual in our supposed ‘culture of convenience’ that such long time delays still exist. Funnily enough, the only organisations that give a good time estimate are purely consumer based, like shops you mail order from. Then, and even though it might be Golden Week, they give you just a few days before you can buy the item. On the whole though there is a lack of reality regarding the actual times these things take. Guess noone told Japan that convenience is not just limited to the local conbini store.

A month of waiting after the ritual chocolate making and giving that is Valentines Day in Japan comes the reward for all that hard work in the form of White Day. The return of gifts is not simply on a one for one basis, but rather for White Day the gifts given to ladies are meant to be more expensive than those given to men. The idea of 三倍返しor Sanbangaeshi is often observed; you give back three times the value of that which you received for Valentines.

The return is not simply confined to the honmei – or true feelings chocolate – either, but too giri (obligation) chocolates too.

Valentines in Japan is a rather strange holiday for those of us used to romantic dinners, or alternatively, spending a day cursing the celebration of coupledom. While some of these Western ideas have come over to Japan the majority follow the unusual customs of chocolate giving. In the run up to Valentines, girls either buy or, for a true love, make the chocolates to give to their menfolk. This does not just mean boyfriends or husbands. Special people are given ‘honmei’ chocolate, which are often homemade but the overwhelming number of chocolate gifts are ‘giri’ chocolates given to every man you know or work with as part of a social obligation. On Valentines, men are simply the recipients. A month later however, White Day gives the girls a chance to get something back.

While Valentines Day is a worldwide observed event, White Day is an invention of the Japanese Confectionary Association that began only very recently in 1978. Spying a good way to make more money while playing on the feelings of men to reciprocate the kindness of women, the confectioners began by marketing marshmallows to men on the 14th March. This took off and now the lead up to White Day is quite the occasion with convenience stores stocking up on ‘white’ themed sweets and clubs taking on ‘white’ themes for their dresscodes. Any chance to have a celebration…

In the transaction of sweets, it is true that girls who give honmei chocolates are, like the giving of a Valentines Card in the UK or USA putting their feelings on the line a little, as the idea is that one only returns such chocolates if one returns the feeling. Unlike the emotionless giri chocolates, honmei, as the name suggests, carries a risk of heartbreak. More often than not though, the social obligations and face saving culture ensures that men feel duty bound to return the honmei chocolates too. One can only wonder what it must be like being the most popular boy in school at that time…

What this entails is that White Day is rather popular in Japan among the women, who eagerly await the potential returns of honmei chocolates – and non food related gifts – while knowing that the giri chocolate returns will stock their sweets cupboards for the foreseeable future.

As a foreigner looking in and as yet have not participated in the ritual, it is all very interesting and I am not quite sure which I prefer. Slaving over chocolate for my beloved and buying a ton of giri chocolate or bemoaning singledom…the Japanese way does at least have a knack for involving everyone. Including, today, me. About an hour ago my neighbour paid me a visit to give me some macarons she had received from a customer at her shop. She had received too many to handle so passed on some lovely Pierre Herme macarons, including me in the general festivities.

The macarons were gorgeously presented too – a proper gift box of macarons.White Day… I wonder if it would work in the UK…

I wanted a way to dress like a lady, to feel elegant while still maintaining a certain everyday wearability. I found what I was looking for with casual lolita brands, Emily Temple Cute, MILK and a mon avis.

My love of these three is Emily Temple Cute or simply Emikyu to its followers. The Emikyu concept is simple:

From the base of a girlish style, an expression of everlasting cute in an original style,

that accents the expression of fashion into the suggestion of a new style

The result is a wonderland of girlishness. The style varies wildly between boldly printed jumperskirts and skirts, often with empire waists to accent a sense of youth, to more mature a-line pieces and ladylike sweaters. Sometimes the shape can be very lolita, adhering to the bell-shape sillhouette whereas other times the design can be casual, with simple t-shirt dresses and cardigans.

Lolita-ish ETC

Casual, non-Lolita ETC

As a company. Emikyu’s foundation precedes most major lolita brands by about ten years. It’s style is indeed often more associated with MILK and both companies share a history of around 30 – 40 years. In department stores it is also set a little apart from the other lolita brands too. It can seem like an odd sheep, as it does in La Foret, surrounded by borderline gyaru or mori girl shops, Emikyu is a burst of pink on the 4th floor. Like all lolita or ‘ladylike’ brands though, it is a little pricey.

A standard ‘wanpiisu’ or dress costs around 24 000 yen or $240, cardigans hover around the 15 000 yen mark whereas t-shirts or lacey camisoles will cost around 8000 yen. The costs largely result from the detail in prints used and the origin of manufacture: all or at least most ETC clothes are made in Japan. As a small shop, the pieces they make are also finite in number. There are only 5 Emikyu shops in Japan, and none overseas. Add to that 3 franchises in Nagoya, Kyoto and Osaka, where the shop space is shared and finally the stock held by Baby Ribbon and the number is severely small. It gives Emikyu a feel of the exclusive. Lolita is a fairly exclusive deal anywhere but, as with MILK, which has even fewer outlets, Emikyu designs feel somehow special.

They do like to reward their faithful shoppers too with occasional free gifts for spending over a certain amount of money. The gifts are not shabby either and giving the high cost of Emikyu clothing already, the goal figure is not too stratospheric. Last year my purchase of a skirt in the Victorian print and a black sweater earned me a cute, cake-shaped clock. This year, another wanpi purchase got me some lovely nightwear and a hair tie.

Like all good quality branded clothing, Emikyu does cost but for the girl searching for a way to be cute without going all out, Emikyu is the cutest place to go.

Not so.

If anything, things are taken one step further. Meet the Jouren and together with it, concepts of Shikiri (lit: to partition/ to take control), Saizen (front row), Ensei (expedition) and Zentsuu (lit: full opening, means to attend a whole tour).In short, visual kei has its own language, regular terms that when applied to the genre take on a whole new meaning. For visual kei fans, watching a concert is called ‘going to war’ and sometimes, amidst the etiquette and obsessive behaviour of (largely) female fans, it does feel something like a battlefield.

‘Jouren’ or 常連 literally means ‘Regular customer’ or ‘Frequenter’. By regular, it means every single time, with the exception of extenuating circumstances like illness. One is not considered a jouren unless you appear at somewhere near 90% of a band’s concerts. For some girls, that means 90% as regards the whole of Japan, so fans who only attend concerts in Tokyo/ Kanto would not consider themselves, Jouren. For others, their attendance means they call themselves Kanto or Tokyo Jouren but they don’t travel for the band. To be a proper jouren however takes time and dedication and money, to be there every time, come rain or shine.

The jouren are easily noticeable at concerts, particularly if you go enough to recognise similar faces. One can even sometimes tell from the clothes they wear, which band they are there to support. For some bands, many of the jouren seem to have permanent places in the front row and so will wait near the back for the majority of the event only coming forwards for their band. Some may even leave once their band has played, as I have often seen some Awoi jouren do. The shikiri, the girl who manages the allocation of front row places is usually the most devoted jouren. She has most likely never missed a live in her life, whether that live be on a working day or weekend, in Tokyo or Sapporo. One has to wonder what the shikiri/ serious jouren do for jobs.

Once the live is over, the jouren are ones who give regular gifts to the band, the first buy polaroid pictures (cheki) or wait for the band to leave outside (demachi). Many are in good contact with the band, whether that be simply friendship or otherwise and are often party to privileged information such as tour dates before they are announced. These girls also tend to know the merchandise salesgirls and even the band management. When you go all the time, your face becomes recogniseable.

It seems crazy on the surface level. Why would anyone choose to follow a band so obsessively?

I wondered myself, before I became one for the bands, DELUHI and Merry.

Merry were my love before I came to Japan, having visited these Isles back in 2005 for their concert. I also consider my Merry jouren-status a little different. The atmosphere is less personal as they are a big band, nor was I there at the start. I am also a member of the fanclub and there isn’t that same feel as one gets attending an event of many small bands, of which one is yours. So I consider myself more as a jouren when it comes to DELUHI.

I can’t say I am a 100% devoted jouren but I attend as much as I can when illness does not prevent me. Within Tokyo my attendance last year was around the 90% mark and I even travelled around a bit for my bands. I have skived work for concerts, changed my schedule around, taken overnight buses… same as any fellow jouren might. What do I get out of it? Why bother becoming a serious fan? I calculated the cost of being a jouren: tickets, cheki, merchandise fanclub dues, and came up with a total nearing 120 000 yen for the year! Obviously this lifestyle is not friendly to the wallet but the enjoyment of being a jouren comes from the intangible things.

The most wonderful thing is feeling a connection with the band. They know their jouren, they smile most at their jouren who are always there occupying the first few rows. We get to know the music intimately, to witness firsthand the growth and development of a new band. There is a thrill, a pure adrenaline like thrill to watching musicians you love. The feeling of euphoria throughout as everyone is singing and dancing along is incomparable. When this is a serious thing, you start to miss them when there are long breaks between concerts like one would miss a friend. You could easily brush this off as addiction but rather it’s this feeling of connection.

The other thing is the community. Being a jouren means you meet other jouren, talk to other jouren and become friends. A small community forms around the hardcore fans. When in Europe one goes to a concert, it is anonymous. In Japan too unless you are a regular. Kind of like having a regular pub, when you go in a million smiles turn your way and greetings of either ‘hello’ or ‘long time no see’ if you have waited a while between concerts. At other times fellow jouren can easily become friends outside of the livehouse atmosphere. It is comforting to know that even though you are going alone, there are always friends there. The experience becomes more than just music.

Then finally there are the superficial things. The chance to learn the detailed dances, the furitsuke, properly or the chance to stand on the front row to being a bit giggly when poring over the polaroids of the bands you have bought. Once, during an event, there was a group of us DELUHI jouren buying cheki endlessly as we tried to get pictures of one member. It became something of a sport.

Before I came to Japan and indeed when I first arrived, I would have dismissed being a jouren as crazy obsessional behaviour. I admit to feeling a twinge of jealousy at lives when everyone around me knew each other but still, I thought the commitment required by the path of the jouren was too much. When I tell people I saw DELUHI around 28 times last year, people are predictably shocked but it is more than just a number. Now I wouldn’t change being a jouren for the world.

On my Nippori wandering/ failed Shichifukujin meguri/ Fujimizaka day, my friend and I were heading in the vague direction of Yanaka. A few years back I visited the cemetery with a friend and loved the atmospheric wildness of it. I wanted to go back again. Unfortunately our trip was interrupted by this place: Inamura Shozo. Suddenly amongst the mishmash of residential buildings was a glass walled shop, looking ultra modern and bright against the dark wood of the houses. We did a double take on passing. It wasn’t just a random glass walled shop, but a cafe with slick white decor and buzzing with life. On closer inspection we saw lots of tasty looking chocolate patisserie. The trip to Yanaka was abandoned for the love of every girl’s life: Cake!

I chose a decadent chocolate gateaux. It was so rich and smooth, with an intense dark taste that verged on being intoxicating and had us both making little satisfied sounds for a while.

It was so-so expensive. At 530 yen a cake it was Ginza priced but for cake that good I’d happily pay that amount.

Strangely they had no tea, only coffee, but still coffee and cake a good pair make. And isn’t it a cute cup of coffee!

The how and the where of how to get there

Take the Yamanote line to Nippori station.

From the North ticket gates, take the Western exit and head up the street.

Take the small road before the 7/11 convenience store and walk straight. The warm lights of Inamura Shozo will draw you in.

Alas, the view is only preserved from one of these slopes, in the area near Yanaka and Nippori in Northern Tokyo. It is a rather wonderful that this place should have kept its view. The district is teeming with hidden shrines and small old, wooden houses recalling the atmosphere of the Edo Shitamachi. A few refer to Yanaka/Nippori as the closest Tokyo gets to its past and to a feeling of Kyoto.

I was wandering the area with a friend, attempting a Shichifukujin Meguri (A tour of seven shrines each dedicated to one of the seven gods of luck). Our attempt died with the first shrine, as a case of map mistake led us to an unknown temple. As luck would have it though, we came across a steep slope with interesting lampposts. Atop each was a small metalwork sign, within which was a symbol of Mt Fuji. I initially thought it rather quaint, unable to believe that here, in Eastern Tokyo one could still see Mt Fuji. I thought it a relic of the past.

As we climbed, the sun was setting behind us, some rather beautiful colours being cast across the old shitamachi buildings. We were more concerned with how attractive a sunset it would be from the slope. Near the top though, there was a small crowd of people with cameras, all staring straight ahead in the direction we had just climbed. Turning, we could see why. Beneath the setting sun was a stunning silhouette of the mountain, its sharp edges clearly defined against the amber sky. Of all the surprising things I have stumbled across in Tokyo, this was the most magical moment. They say you shouldn’t stare directly at the sun, well they are right, unless of course near that sun is a perfectly shaped sacred mountain, stubbornly, still making its presence known above a vast metropolis.

It is rather sad that, until 2000 the view was perfect. Now it has been partially obscured by a tall apartment block. I don’t think I will ever understand why such beautiful sights have to give way to urbanisation, or why Japan, a country so fixated on the beauty of sakura and ume, of a perfect kaiseki meal or respect for traditions and beloved national symbols, could freely allow such development to happen. There is a group fighting to protect the view, The Society to Protect Nippori’s Fujimizaka, and I hope that in the face of future developments, the authorities can see the beauty of what they stand to lose, and help to preserve the final Fujimizaka in Tokyo.

In Japan, nowhere seems to encourage this feeling more than the innocuous local park.

The local park, if drama is to be believed, is a hugely important place for  Japanese youth. These inelegant dusty spaces crammed between the quiet houses of Tokyo’s residential districts bear witness to the rites of youth. A deep confession of love or a heartbreaking admission, a fight between best friends or the lonely thoughts of an outcast, through Gokusen to Last Friends, the dusty park spaces witness them all.

By day they are children’s play areas, as normal as any neighbourhood park, but by night they hold a different appeal. Deserted and eerily quiet, despite being surrounded by houses, with still swings and playframes and dust bearing the scars of a minature baseball game there is a certain atmosphere to the area. One can feel the happy emotions, hear the mothers chattering and children playing on the play furniture, or see the teenagers doing their best impression of rebellion with half a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of beer.

As all around is still, the houses bearing forth little more life than squares of light, the feeling of liveliness gives way to one of impersonality. It is as if the park exists in two characters, effecting a jekyll and hyde transformation as the dark takes the life away.

I find it fascinating and wonderfully creepy to explore them at night. I love to get a sense of the days movements from what is left behind, to discover hidden shrines in dark nooks. Shrines that in daytime would be robbed of such mystery. When there is a silence that is at once peaceful and so utterly disarming that a rustle of trees overhead makes one jump. A sense of desolation emerges despite the surrounding life and the territory becomes alien. Departing childhood and into the scarier world; the same story happens every day.

I wonder why I get this strong feeling though. I can’t say I feel the same from a British park. I can only think it is in the huge contrast between night and day, between the differing crowds in various stages of childhood and the all encompassing silence of night. Whereas British parks are lively at all hours, there is something in that silence. Of how a place with such warm familiarity and importance in the day then becomes so unfamiliar at night.