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pedropascalunofficial · 4 years ago

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My Cousin, Pedro Pascal

Ximena Riquelme

16 NOV 2017 12:53 PM

Before being the protagonist of Narcos or filming with Colin Firth, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal (42) was a child whom I knew very well because we are from the same family. A man who today looks with nostalgia and some perplexity at his place of origin and his history and who still does not answer what would have happened if he had stayed here.

The first memory I have of Pedro is in the arms of my mother during his baptism, in the garden of my house. She was a weeping bus and had huge black eyes. I was 9 years old. It was cloudy. Years later I learned that the priest was Gerardo Whelan, the legendary rector of Saint George's College. Pedro's parents were not at his baptism: my uncle, José Balmaceda, my mother's only male brother, and his wife Verónica Pascal were asylees at the Venezuelan embassy, which was on Bustos street, near my house. Pepe, as we used to say to my uncle, who years later would become a famous gynecologist, an expert in fertilization, was then a 27-year-old young doctor, in those days wanted by Dina. Some time before they had hidden Andrés Pascal Allende, Mirista and his wife's uncle. One day they came to take him to the José Joaquín Aguirre Hospital and he managed to escape by jumping through the roofs. It was October 1975.

Like most of the Chilean families, there were supporters of both sides in mine: for and against Pinochet. Trying to help Pedro's parents, my dad called a relative who held a high position in the Army. "Tell the children to get asylum, because I cannot guarantee their lives or that nothing happens to Veronica," was his reply. She was 22 years old. Then began the journey of my uncles and with them that of my cousin José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. Pepe and Verónica had to start living secretly in different houses. Pedro, who was only 6 months old at the time, and his 3-year-old sister Javiera were left in charge of my mother's older sister, "Aunt Juani."

The second memory I have of Pedro is when I accompanied my parents, who carried him and his sister in their arms, to stand on the sidewalk in front of the Venezuelan embassy so that their parents could see them through the window.

My uncles left the Venezuelan embassy for the airport in January 1976, Pedro was 9 months old and obviously does not remember anything. I just remember that they didn't let me go. Pedro could not record the image, which I could not see, of his grandfather Luis Pascal Vigil - a very prominent lawyer - singing the National Anthem on the balcony of Pudahuel. A memory that is not mine but that I adopted, for cute.

As the people of the International Red Cross advised our family on time, Pedro and his sister did not leave the embassy with their parents, but arrived directly at the airport: this allowed their passports not to be stamped with the "L" for " limited to circulate "that stamped on the exiles who left. Therefore, the years that Pedro and Javiera came could come to Chile without problems. And for that reason, the choclón of cousins, we were able to share long summers in Pucón and some winters in Santiago.

The Balmaceda Pascal first arrived in Aarhus, Denmark, in October 1976. A year later they left for San Antonio, Texas, where Pedro's father was able to continue improving himself thanks to a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Veronica earned a PhD in Child Psychology.

________________________________________

"But Denmark is invisible to me," Pedro writes me by email. A while ago I proposed to interview him at a distance to travel a little about his history, and here we are, in front of the computer, sharing memories. "It is invisible to me, like everything that happened before. Although once, after telling him about my childhood, a doctor told me that the temporary separation with my mother was trapped in the memory of my body and that I could remember it through the senses".

My cousin, far away

The third memory I have of Pedro is a summer in Pucón. It must have been in 1978. "Pepelo", as we said, was no longer a guagua but a restless, very blond boy, who was so impacted by poverty in Chile that when he went out on the street with his gringo accent, he asked any person: "Are you poor?" He took food out of the pantry and gave it away. With my cousins we rented a warm wooden house, colorful, with the door frames out of square. It was summers with trips to those black sand beaches that burned the feet and picnics in Caburgua with lamb on the stick. They took us to mass and Pedro sang very inspired.

"This is where the memories become more vivid, like dreams," he writes. "I remember so many details: my older cousins, children my age who were like family. The beach seemed endless. I also remember running down the hallways and stairs of Aunt Juani's house looking for Santa Claus at Christmas."

XR: What was it like leaving your parents in the United States?

PP: "I think the trauma was going back to the States, although I obviously wanted to be with my parents. But childhood in Chile, with the Balmaceda and Pascal, was a dream, a world where nothing was missing, pure adventure and love."

Now that he tells me that, I remember that image of Pedro hanging on the neck of our aunt Juani, crying in Pudahuel because she did not want to return. At that time going to the airport was a panorama: we were going en masse to leave him and his sister, who traveled in charge of the stewardesses.

In 1981 I went with my parents and my two sisters to see the Balmaceda Pascal in Texas. I remember an eternal road trip from Miami, I remember Pedro's house, in a middle-class neighborhood, comfortable, beautiful, lovingly arranged by his mother. I remember the tears of my mother and Pedro's mother when we said goodbye to return to Chile. We still didn't know when they could return. Although Pedro never fully returned.

In December 1983, Pepe and Verónica were able to enter Chile. The whole family was packed on the terrace of Pudahuel, waiting for them. I remember the Balmaceda Pascal walking from the stairs of the plane to the International Police. I remember them happy, triumphant. Pedro was 8 years old and chose to stay in my house, in love with my girl sister.

We all went to Quintero, to the house of our grandfather Pepe, a great smoker, tennis player, and fanatic fanatic who took us to the town cinema to see double Tora! Programs, Tora !, Tora! More Bridges on the River Kwai and other old movies. Surely Pedro had to see several. Since he was a boy he said he wanted to be a "director". He liked horror movies and was a big movie consumer, like his dad.

PP: "I remember going to the movies with the cousins and the grandfather to see anything with Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone. They leased me VHS movies to see alone and happy."

XR: You once recited Hamlet on the beach with Grandpa.

PP: "No, it was Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller. I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it and lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the United States."

After that summer, Pedro began to come more sporadically. He was already grown up, at school and then at university. They had moved to Newport Beach, California. His father was doing very well. But Pedro, not so much.

PP: "I think that the way the family supported me in Chile was the opposite of what I experienced in Newport Beach. I started well in California but at 13 years old, very involved in the cinema, reading plays, books, TV, TV, TV, obsessed with these things, I had the bad luck to find few like me. It was a world very attached to conservatism and its privileges where not fitting was punished. There was a group of shitty goats who were my friends the first year and became my terrors thereafter. I don't enjoy remembering that time, but there are deep connections from back then. Friends of my parents who are like parents until today."

Pedro's mom soon found a performance arts program at a high school in another district. A more inclusive school compared to Corona del Mar, the neighborhood where they lived in Newport.

PP: "My mom and my driver's license were my salvation. There I was able to unleash my appetite for movies and theater without limits."

As time went by Pedro became a fun, provocative teenager with character. He said he was "lazy", but he went to study Theater at NYU in 1993 and he loved it. I started to see it less. When he came to Chile he went out with his friends, I was already married and having children.

XR: Did you find that our way of life was very boring?

PP: "Bored, no. But overwhelming regarding life's permanent decisions. I didn't have the Catholic structure, and I felt there was no room for a young guy like me. Like suddenly, from one trip of mine to another, you had lives that included marriages and children, and pleasing the visits of the gringo cousin was no longer an option for all of you. I had to duel, because I was jealous of his inattention."

XR: Do you find us very conservative?

PP: "Yes, but it is a major contradiction for me. I come from the perspective that no one can decide how someone else should live their life. And well, in our family there are social rules that are very firm. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tries to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much with our family for fear of hearing their perspective, but what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask any member of our family by the name of Balmaceda, and I would get it."

In 1995, Pedro's parents returned to Chile with their two youngest children, Nicolás and Lucas, who had been born in California. Javiera also came for a couple of years. Pedro stayed in the United States.

PP: "It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family in the United States and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had in California. I never thought that this could change as suddenly as happened to my parents when they became exiles. Everything felt fragile. Also, I knew that my parents' marriage was wrong and that the tension of those circumstances was hardly going to end. My mother's life felt in danger and the line between needing her, being there for her and finishing my studies and pursuing a career was a horrible conflict. I knew that my mom wanted me to continue doing mine, she never would have wanted me to sacrifice it."

XR: Did you really resent the failure of your parents' marriage?

PP: "For me it was the hardest time. I have not been able, and I do not know if someday I will be able to reconcile completely how my parents separated and the tragedy that came after that separation. The circumstances of my mother's death made it very hard for us to keep her memory of who she was. It hurts so much ... Sometimes I feel distressed and try to face it in the best possible way, because I know that my mother would not like me to do it in any other way."

Pedro lost his mother when he was 24 years old.

PP: "It's hard to say what I remember most about her. You met her, so it is easy for you to understand that she was the love of my life. I think of her every day. Since I don't pray, I can't say that I have a practice to feel her close, but I live for her even though she's gone, and that makes sense to me."

From Alexander to Pedro

XR: Do you believe that pain makes us stronger or does it seem like a horrible cliché?

PP: "I don't think it's a terrible cliche but a profound reality. In some way, losing the most important person in your life, discovering that something like this is possible and that what you fear most in life can happen is an identifiable and permanent moment. There is a before and after after his death. I think, yes, that old age would not have been for my mother, there would have been no footwear with her. Of course, no one wants to grow old, but others can handle it better. I would not have liked to see my mom struggling with it, but at the same time, I wish I had her every day still with me."

It may have been the summer of 2012. Pedro said to our aunt Juani: "I am 37 years old and I still can't get what I want. And it's the only thing I know how to do." It had been a long time since the death of his mother in the summer of 2000 that Pedro had changed his name. From Pedro Balmaceda to Pedro Pascal. He had been searching for years, years of casting where, by being called Pedro Balmaceda in the studios, they hoped to find a Latin or classic Mexican phenotype. He had only made minor appearances in some series.

XR: Although you did not regret it, you did wear Alexander at some point. Why?

PP: "That was a desperate period and directly related to having lost my mother. I was desperate to work, to fill my days with something more to suffer. To eliminate the confusion that casting directors had with this guy named Pedro with European or Caucasian traits, I changed my first name to Alexander and took my mom's last name, Pascal. That only lasted a year, until I was able to find a job and be selected for an Ibsen theatrical classic. But it was too late for people to identify me as "Alex". Also, my mom named me Pedro. So the decision was to call me Pedro Pascal, a name that fits with me more than any other."

Soon after that came Brothers and Sisters, other small roles, and later more important ones in The Good Wife, The Law and Order, The Mentalist, until Game of Thrones, Narcos in 2015 and now, filming Muralla china with Matt Damon and William Dafoe - last year we all went to see his cousins together - and then Kingsman 2 with Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Jeff Bridges, Halle Berry and Channing Tatum.

XR : Have you ever been excited acting with such powerful actors?

PP: "I have been thrilled with everyone."

With fame have come the new meetings of the cousins with Pedro Pascal. We all want to see him, take pictures of us, we ask him for greetings-chub for friends, we inflate ourselves by saying that he is our cousin. That Peña, the protagonist of Narcos and the sexiest guy in the world, is my cousin-brother. He laughs and humorously calls us "scoundrels" because now we remember him. In fact, that's what our cousin chat on Whastapp is called.

But there is also the modesty to disturb him. Know that you are busy. That while I'm sending you these questions, you're filming in Boston with Denzel Washington. And to feel that there is always a lack of time to speak to him calmly, a space to ask him questions like the ones that occur to me now:

XR: Exile changed your life. Can you imagine growing up in Chile?

PP: "I don't know, because I haven't thought much about it. I have been asked this question all my life and have never been able to come up with an answer. Perhaps my life would have been more complete and solid. What I am used to is that the past disappears as if it had been lived by someone else, in another time."

XR: Do you miss something from when you were Pedro Balmaceda?

PP: "You know? There is very little difference between Pedro Balmaceda and Pedro Pascal. As it is all part of José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, I feel the same person. But with back problems and more money."

XR: Would you like to start a family?

PP: "Being a dad? I don't know. I have no fucking idea. I love being an uncle. It may just end there. But anything is possible."

XR: Marialy Rivas said something very nice about you on Saturday: that when you play a character, you pretend that this character brought a whole previous story, much bigger than what they are telling. And it's true: you carry a bigger story than you tell it.

PP: "I don't know, cousin. I am very confused trying to organize the past and see what turns out. It helps me understand the pain or be grateful for what I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm a fraud, living between waiting for fame and attention and completely embarrassed by these wishes.

In reference to what Marialy said, I think she means that I put all my confusion, joy and sorrow, ambivalence, hostility, rage, love, lust, greed, compassion, ignorance, knowledge either to indicate a map with the finger on Narcos, throwing an arrow in Game of Thrones, lashing out at Kingsman. Cool! But I think my experience in theater taught me that."

XR: Would you someday like your life to be a script?

PP: "No way." (in english)

XR: Do you still want to be a "director", as you used to say when you were a kid?

PP: "Yes! That will be my way of being a father. Father of a production."

XR: Is dreaming about an Oscar the dream of every actor, even if you don't confess it?

PP: "I confess that possibly… yes."

#pedro pascal #cousin #la tercera #2017 #family #mother #father #asylum #embassy #pedro pascal article #article #javiera balmeceda #peter balmaceda #cousins #pp article

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seiin-translations · 4 years ago

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2.43 S1 Chapter 4.1 - Drifting Yunichika

1. LINE JUDGE

Heeeeeey guys I’m back

Translation Notes

1. Tora no Yu is the name of a public bath

2. A lariat is a wrestling move where a wrestler runs towards their opponent and “ strikes them by extending their arm straight out and moving it forward against their neck or chest area. “

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“If that’s how it’s going to be, Yuni,” Nagato Ryo said quite simply after he stuffed all his belongings from the locker in the room into his enamel bag.

It had been less than three months since he joined the team in April, so he didn’t have much stuff. The inside of the empty locker was also clean. They didn’t have a lot of members, and they weren’t tyrannized just because they were first-years, so they were given their own individual lockers as soon as they joined the team. They were a small team where everyone had to work together, regardless of rank, or there wouldn’t be enough people to prepare for practice. It was very hard on the team to have people quit.

The volleyball shoes that were transferred from his locker to his bag—they went to a sports shop together to buy them when they entered high school because the ones from middle school had gotten smaller. He wondered what kind of fate would befall those shoes that they had bought together at the store entrance after they examined them seriously but still excitedly, after he brought them home. He wondered if they would be put away somewhere.

“Ryo, are you really…”

Even while standing by the doorway to clear his path, Kuroba said in a way as though he was still unwilling to give up, Is there any way I can talk you out of this? He and Nagato had been together since elementary school and middle school. Since they entered the same high school and joined the same club, he freely thought that there wasn’t really any doubt that they would hanging out together again for the next three years.

“If Haijima’s joining, I quit.”

His chest throbbed when he flatly said that. Even though he wasn’t the one being rejected, when he thought about Haijima, his chest ached. Nagato gave a little exasperated sigh.

“I want to have fun in club. I just don’t want to make bad memories with a guy who ruins the mood. What’s so weird about that? Do you have to put so much effort into club activities?”

“No…”

Kuroba shook his head, his face slightly looking down. The purpose for joining a club was different for everyone. There were those who were ready and willing to spend their entire high school careers aiming for nationals, and there were those who just wanted to enjoy their hobbies and interests with their friends.

Nagato shouldered his bag and walked past him. He turned his body towards him at the door.

“Yuni, you’re still doing it, aren’t you?”

He said, as though it was the final confirmation. He felt like he was telling him that they could still go together.

Until that point, he had been mumbling his words, but when he was asked that, Kuroba raised his head and answered without hesitation.

“I’m doing it.”

Last summer, the prefectural tournament of their third year of middle school. Though they advanced to the semifinals, Kuroba ran away from the competition. He ended his middle school volleyball career with the regret of doing something that couldn’t be undone and the indigestion that grew larger and larger within him afterwards. He didn’t want to feel those things a second time.

But most importantly, he finally brought Haijima back to the volleyball team.

His middle school teammate, Haijima Kimichika, was a volleyball fanatic who loved volleyball. It was already at a level where it went too far. He was always serious towards volleyball, and what’s worse, his ability was so high that he often left the others behind and went on a rampage. He had the irredeemable flaw of not being able to read the mood of the team. The way he spoke was also awful.

He certainly was a guy who was unusually good at making other people angry. Even Kuroba had been irritated by him many times.

…But even so.

He joined the volleyball team in high school as well, had a good relationship with his senpais, and though the serious practice of high school was tougher than he expected, he had never thought that it was so painful that he wanted to quit. Every time he jumped off the gym floor with a squeak of his shoes, every time he hit a ball someone set to him, the feelings he had a year ago buzzed in the back of his body—while he chewed upon the joy of volleyball Haijima taught him, every day during club activities.

There was one thing he always thought.

“I want to play volleyball with Haijima.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Around seven o’clock in the morning, the sky was already bright as though painted in ultramarine blue, and thick columns of clouds were gradually rising. On both sides of the one-lane farm road that continued straight ahead were rural landscapes as far as the eye could see. The rice plants that were still green were growing quickly. The slightly hazy and blue-green mountaintops surrounded the perimeter at 360 degrees.

Blue and green and white. Monshiro’s summer, distinctly color keyed by these three colors, was arriving.

On the paved road in the middle of the rice paddies, a light pickup truck was driving fast with enka music coming out of it at a loud volume. His relative yelled cheerfully, adding embellishment to the song while he gripped the shaky steering wheel. It’s not a residential area, so it won’t bother the neighbors, but the Kuroba family acts way too freely in town… the son and heir to the Kuroba family sitting in the passenger’s seat, Kuroba Yuni, was feeling quite fed up. For the Kurobas, the entire town was like their own yard. Most of the mountains in Monshiro were privately owned by the Kurobas, so that wasn’t necessarily wrong.

“Uncle, can you turn down the volume a little bit…”

“Aah? You said something, Bon?”

His yelling voice returned from the driver’s seat, still with the strange intonations of enka.

“…Nothing.”

Exhausted, he leaned against the side door, his temple reaching the upper frame of the window. At that moment, they passed a bicycle that was travelling below the window and left it behind.

“Ah!”

He immediately tried to poke his head out of the window, but scraped his forehead against the window frame and groaned, “Oww…”

“Mm?” his relative stepped on the brakes. “Is there someone there?”

“Ah, yeah. A guy on my team…”

After he said that, he realized that there was also a delicate distance with “guy on my team.” He could say “team member” again, which was progress, but he didn’t feel like he could say “friend.” They were still more distant from each other than middle school—than kindergarten if they went back farther in time.

As his relative backed the truck up, Kuroba opened the door and jumped down onto the road. He stumbled a step forward and then ran.

Haijima, who had been pedalling his bike with his head down, looked up and stopped his bike by putting one foot on the ground. He was dressed lightly in a T-shirt and knee-length track pants, but heavily equipped with his baggage of box-shaped enamel bag and drum-shaped sports bag that were slung over his shoulders.

His relative stopped the truck.

“Oi, get in, get in. I’ll send you all the way to school.”

His relative tried to lift the bike that Haijima was riding on, and Haijima hopped his bike on one foot, looking annoyed. “You’re the kid at Ooe-san’s house, right? I’ll bring your bike home later. You’re gonna stay there for five days. If you leave it at the station, it’ll get stolen. I’ve heard things have been getting a bit dangerous around here lately.” His relative chatted as he carried the bike onto the back of the truck with an astonishing amount of power, even though he was past sixty. “It’s four stays over five days,” Kuroba corrected, but his relative basically didn’t listen to people. “There’s no way for this town to be dangerous. Everyone knows each other…” Haijima grumbled in a low voice.

“Well, get in. I said I’ll give you a ride while I deliver provisions to the training camp.”

Not being completely one-sided like his relative, Kuroba shyly stretched out his hand for the sports bag Haijima was carrying. He was relieved that Haijima didn’t push away as he obediently lowered his head and pulled the strap of his bag from around his neck.

“’Provisions’? You mean, all of that?”

While fixing his glasses, Haijima looked at the back of the truck with his eyes half-closed.

There were about ten bales of rice stacked in a pyramid on the tray. A huge mound of round cabbages that still had dirt on them. Tightly lined up buckets overflowing with potatoes, onions, and tomatoes…

“Do they think we have a hundred members or something?”

“I told them we didn’t need it. But they said it was Grandpa’s order…”

With the cargo of one bike and one human added on board, the truck started driving down the farm road again. This time, he and Haijima rode in the back of the truck, so they didn’t have to listen to his relative’s singing up close. The sound of the car radio in the driver’s seat and the rough voice of his relative were blown back by the wind.

Haijima sat with his back to the mountain of cabbages, hugging his knees, and Kuroba sat cross-legged with a bucket full of tomatoes in his arms. Haijima’s bike was precariously balanced in the gap between two rice bales.

“Ah, it’s hot…”

Haijima held up his hand to the sunlight beating down on the back of the truck and squinted his eyes.

It was now summer vacation, and the summer training camp for the boys’ volleyball team was starting today. It was taking place at school, so their practice environment didn’t change, but just the idea of staying there overnight made him a bit excited.

“Hey, how many pairs of underpants did you bring?”

When he inadvertently asked that, Haijima screwed his face up, looking very annoyed.

“Is this an elementary school field trip…Don’t get carried away.”

“Okay, but this is my first training camp. So, how many underpants?”

“I don’t know. Grandma packed enough for me.”

“What, you didn’t pack for yourself? I think you’re the one who’s like an elementary schooler.”

The man named Haijima didn’t have the nerves to spare time for anything else other than volleyball, so in the way of a first-year high school boy, he cared little about his clothes or looking good. However, looking at the shirt of his uniform and his T-shirts, he was always made to wear proper and pure white ones. It was probably the concern of his maternal grandmother who he lived with.

“This is my dominion, but…” With a haughty looking expression for some reason, Haijima pulled the enamel bag he usually carried around for club activities to his side. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said, indicating with his chin the duffel bag that thrown on top of the ragged pile of cabbage behind him. While he let someone else prepare his underpants, he was certainly very careful about his volleyball gear, to the point where he didn’t want anyone to touch them.

“You’re a guy who has clear judgement about your own ins and outs…”

Even while shrugging his shoulders and sighing, but he found himself reflecting on their conversation.

Their last tournament of their third year of middle school was held exactly one year ago, in July of last year. Because Kuroba evaded his responsibilities, Monshiro Middle School was lacking an attacker and were eliminated from the semifinals, and then Haijima got injured, so they ended up withdrawing from the third-place playoffs. Ever since that tournament, Kuroba and his other teammates had severed ties with Haijima. After a year of not talking to each other, he thought that they were finally able to communicate rather decently now. Even if for now, he was still no more than “guy from my team.”

“Hey, didn’t my mom go talk to your grandma? Can’t we make some kind of parents’ association or something…? It’ll make donations and gifts more convenient, Apparently she talked with Nagato’s mom at first, but Nagato quit, so she said she’ll go talk to Chika’s grandma…”

He began speaking in a good mood, but when he noticed Haijima’s expression becoming increasingly grim, he stopped talking. “Parents’ association…” Haijima spat out those words in a chilling voice. Kuroba faltered, wondering what set him off as his neutral mood was suddenly dropped into low gear.

“Haven’t you learned yet that club activities aren’t a good place for parents to butt in and meddle?”

“Well…sure, but it wasn’t my idea, it was Nagato’s mom’s.”

“Well, now that Nagato quit, there’s no need for this conversation then.”

Haijima turned to the side in a huff and sank his back into the mountain of cabbages. Even Kuroba felt annoyed at that attitude.

“Don’t talk like that. Whose fault do you think it is…”

“It’s mine, right? If he didn’t like me joining so much that he quit, then he wasn’t serious from the start.”

It’s no good. It’s not worth talking. Nothing changed…This guy’s lack of consideration. For Haijima, the people who played volleyball seriously and everyone else were clearly divided into those he cared about and those he didn’t. It was the same as the things he took good care of in his club activities bag and everything else he didn’t care about.

He didn’t believe Nagato’s quitting was Haijima’s fault, but he honestly wanted him to share a little bit of the bad aftertaste he himself felt.

However, when he tried to say something and inhaled, he couldn’t think of any words that would make Haijima understand. Ah, geez, sometimes I don’t know why I brought Haijima back, even to the point where I ended up cutting ties with Nagato.

Shit, he cursed, and took a tomato from a bucket and threw it at the side of Haijima’s face. He stopped it with his left hand, looking startled.

“You—”

“Eat it, it’s tasty.”

He also took out a somewhat large tomato and took a big bite out of it. The sweet juices trickled down his chin, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“I picked them in my relative’s field. I’m sure our senpais would love them.”

It had actually become a traumatic experience for him, when he had gotten nervous and lost his bearings with the huge cheering squad of all his relatives appearing at that middle school game. He really wished they would cut it out with that sort of thing. At any rate, in this case, they overdid it with the scale of the “little favor”. But, putting that aside.

“I think you’re doing this with good intentions. Even if you don’t want a PTA, you should accept these. And then they’ll be satisfied too.”

Although he often felt embarrassed or irritated by them, he didn’t hate or detest his grandfather or relatives or his parents. If someone talked bad about them, he didn’t feel good about that.

Holding the tomato in his hand, Haijima looked at him in silence for a while. The dazzling summer sunrays reflected off his pale face, and he couldn’t see his expression behind his glasses. He then clicked his tongue and turned his face from him again.

“…That’s something a well-bred guy would say.”

He said bitterly, throwing his gaze towards the scenery streaming past them. In the end, the tomato just rolled around in his hand, and he never ate it. Even though it had been a year and a half since he moved to town from Tokyo, he seemed to persist in not becoming a member of the town. It felt somewhat lonely. I might still be dragging the image of “Chika” from kindergarten around, he suddenly thought. He knew that “Chika” went to Tokyo and got lost and would never come back. The only clue to finding “Chika” was volleyball, and it wasn’t like he was only playing volleyball for that reason, but it was probably a big part of it.

A light horn sounded from the driver’s seat.

They passed another bike near the shoulder of the road. Haijima, looking behind him, noticed something and muttered, “Ah.” Kuroba also took notice of a jet-black umbrella that completely disregarded the weather and was somewhat meandering along under the blinding summer sky. “Ah,” he said, and half-rose.

“Kanno-senpaaaai!”

When he called out to him from the back of the truck, a pale freckled face, even whiter than Haijima’s, peeked out from beneath the umbrella. He was holding his umbrella, so he was riding with one hand.

It was Kanno Akito, who, in his long jersey pants and long-sleeved hoodie, he looked just like a boxer who was in the middle of losing weight. On top of that, he was wearing his hood entirely over his head and his hands were tucked into his sleeves (by the way, all of it was apparently of UV cut). He was their senpai on the volleyball team and came from the same middle school, Monshiro Middle, as Kuroba and Haijima. He looked like a lanky and tall scarecrow wearing clothes and carrying an umbrella. He hated to say it about themselves, but it was unavoidable that the volleyball team’s boys were often described as pasty.

Recognizing the two’s faces, Kanno’s mouth moved to form a “’’Sup” and he bobbed his head slightly in greeting. Kuroba turned around to the driver’s seat and raised his voice to not be overpowered by the loud enka music.

“Uncle, stop! There’s one more passenger!”

***

“Great, as soon as camp is over, it’ll be time for the Autumn Tournament. We’ll finish up the team during these five days. Some of you might have come here thinking you’re going to play around at night, but be prepared to be worked so hard that you won’t have the energy for that.” The captain, Oda, gave them a pep talk. “Yes!” the first- and second-years shouted, somewhat out of sync. The vice-captain, Aoki, was standing half a step behind Oda. Oda nodded in satisfaction at the team members’ response and turned diagonally behind him.

“Anything from Sensei…”

He was about to say, and then his face stiffened.

The old teacher who was the advisor for the boys’ volleyball team was leaning his frail body back in his folding chair, snoring comfortably. Slivers of light shone over the handrail of the second floor gallery, creating a stripped spot of sun in the gym, and the advisor’s face, his wrinkled mouth half open, looked like a fish being cooked on a grill.

“…Someone. A first-year. Move him to the shade before he becomes a dried fish.”

Oda ordered with a grimace. “Ah, yes!” When Kuroba tried to run, Haijima jumped at the same time, and there was an atmosphere that restrained them both for an instant as they wondered which of them was going. “…The two of you do it.” Oda sighed.

Heave ho. They lifted the chair on both sides at Kuroba’s call. They carried the chair to a corner of the gym with their advisor, who showed no signs of waking up even when he was in midair. Kuroba was about three centimeters taller, so it was slightly tilted towards Haijima’s side. When Kuroba lowered the position of his hand, Haijima raised his arm high as though indignant.

He’s still the same guy who hates to lose.

Now, if “first-years” was called, then it would be himself and Haijima who would move. After the provisional club enrollment period in April was over, three first-years, including Kuroba and Nagato, officially joined the club. Of course Haijima didn’t join the team at that time. It was after the ballgame tournament in June when Haijima finally agreed to join after Oda’s persistent persuasion. However, Nagato and the other first-year quit at the same time as Haijima joined. Apparently Nagato asked him to quit, but he hadn’t bothered to catch that person to find out the truth.

Since the ban on first-years quitting or leaving clubs was lifted at the end of June, three months since enrollment, it seemed that every club had members who left one after the other after the ballgame tournament either way.

“It was us third-year’ decision to take Haijima, even knowing Nagato’s opinion. There’s nothing a freshman needs to feel responsible for. There’s nowhere you can complain.” Aoki must have sensed Kuroba’s worries, because he reassured him with that.

For the current boys’ volleyball team members, there were two first-years: Kuroba and Haijima. Four second-years—Kanno, Uchimura and Hokao who were there from the start, and Okuma, who transferred over from the rugby team. For the third-years, there were still the same two people—the imbalanced captain duo of the 163 centimeter Oda and the 193 centimeter Aoki. There were fluctuations within the grades, but if you added the three years up, there were eight people, the same number as before the ballgame tournament.

The finals of the ballgame tournament, where they were betting on getting either Haijima or Okuma, ended in the victory of Team F led by Oda, so the right to obtain Okuma (well, it hadn’t existed in the first place) had disappeared, but Okuma himself came knocking on the volleyball team’s door. The rugby team had an image of being a tightly unified group, and there must have been a good reason for him to change clubs at this stage of his second year. Perhaps something about volleyball appealed to him.

“It’s as Oda said about practice. I’ll talk about the rest.”

While Kuroba and Haijima carried chairs over, Aoki took over the talk and continued the meeting.

“Well, it’s the same camp as last year, so the second-years already know, right? There are no baths, so you can either use the school showers or go down to the Tora no Yu. (1) No bikes allowed when you’re going to the Tora no Yu. Either way, you’d be drenched with sweat on the way back. For laundry, you can use the coin laundry at the Tora no Yu. We don’t have a specific person on duty, but it’s cheaper to use it all at once, so ask each other. Don’t let it pile up since it’ll stink. After dinner and the meeting, we’ll have a study session until lights out. The only time I’ll look at your homework is during camp, so make good use of it. Lights out strictly at eleven. If there’s anyone awake, I’ll assume you have too much energy and have you do twenty dashes on the slope. Now finally, for the meals, which you guys are probably wondering about the most…breakfast and lunch are sold in the cafeteria, but we’re making dinner ourselves. I’ll post the rotation chart in the kitchen, so keep an eye out for it. Anyways, we’re having yakiniku tonight.”

A small cheer went up. Aoki held up his hand and said, “However, starting tomorrow we’ll only be having curry. Kuroba’s parents have contributed tons of meat and vegetables, so everyone thank him.”

His name suddenly brought up, Kuroba, who was about to put down the chairs and return to the meeting circle, shrank back.

“Yo, land-owning rich kid!” Okuma clapped his hands and teased, and the other team members also applauded. “N-no, it’s not my parents, it’s my relatives. They can’t possibly eat all these vegetables and they think there’s about a hundred people on the team…” Before he knew it, he ended up copying the lines Haijima said this morning. Although he said something self-important to Haijima, when he was praised before everyone, he was embarrassed about acting like a rich country bumpkin giving everyone a lavish feast.

“What are you saying, Kuroba? It’s the kindness of your guardians. We’re grateful for it.”

“Well, if you throw it all into curry, then it wouldn’t be too hard to consume.”

Oda and Aoki backed him up in their own ways. The third-years are so mature, he thought.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Hey, Kuroba!” The spike he hit with all his strength became a home run and hit the opposite wall, earning him a warning from the setter, Uchimura. “You gotta hit them with each and every one of your nerves. There’s no point in practicing. Oda-senpai says it’s during practice when you should think. On the contrary, you think too much during matches…”

“Oh, okay. Got it.”

He pouted as he answered, but his gaze was pulled in another direction. Oda had just beckoned Haijima over and started talking to him.

“So, Haijima, how’s our attackers?”

“They’re not bad at all. I’ll match up with everyone during the training camp. Since the right side hitters seem useful, I’d like to increase the combos involving them and the centers. Like A and D double quicks or a C quick and a right broad jump or a tandem attack with the center and the right side…”

Haijima began to easily enumerate tactical terms that Kuroba couldn’t imagine very well just by listening.

“Oh, oh, wait a minute. Oi, Kanno, the white board. And, Okuma!”

Oda hurriedly called the two second-years over. Kanno ran over with a sketchbook-sized whiteboard under his armpit. “Me too? Alright.” Okuma did a lariat (2) to Kuroba’s neck for no reason and passed him. “Gueh…” It was quite irritating that this senpai always seemed to not be satisfied unless he did one unnecessary thing.

“And, Kuroba!”

“Ah, yes!”

He responded while rubbing his throat.

“I said center and right. Let the guys on the left do receiving practice.”

Haijima said without even looking at him. Kuroba, who was about to run, froze. Even the other team members were startled at the way he spoke, like he was cutting him off.

Haijima was the only one who didn’t notice the tensing atmosphere, and he put the whiteboard on the floor and knelt down, beginning to let his mind unfold on a two-dimensional court. Haijima’s position, setter, was also called the playmaker, and it was the team’s brain, the backbone of all the attacks from its own side. In Haijima’s mind, he probably stockpiled an infinite number of tactics that could be combined as long as he had the right pieces to make them happen. Dragging in the centers Aoki and Okuma and the right-side hitter Kanno, Haijima’s talk became excited, and even the captain Oda was left out.

Oda approached them, scratching his head.

“Let me join you guys.”

The remaining four people began receiving practice.

“He was like that since middle school, right?”

Oda said, while underhand receiving the ball Uchimura hit to him.

“Yes…like that.”

“He must have something special in his head. Like, apparently shogi masters are able to visualize the movements of all the pieces of the board dozens of moves ahead in their minds. I don’t know anything about shogi though.”

“I know a little about it. My grandpa’s hobby is shogi.”

He unintentionally mentioned his grandpa and felt embarrassed again that he might get thought of as a grandpa’s boy, but Oda didn’t make fun of him like Okuma.

“For him, instead of shogi pieces, it’s the ball on the court and the opposing team’s players…he can picture the movements of everything on the court in an instant. He’s really the embodiment of a volleyball brain…but well, everything off the court slips out of his head right away.”

“He’s extreme. Inside and outside.”

“It’s up to the team to make the best use of him or hold him back. It feels like if he was such a good all-rounder, he could be the top player anywhere, but it’s actually the opposite. There might not be a lot of teams that can accept him. If he goes somewhere bad, he’ll be pretty easily destroyed, so it’ll be too dangerous.”

“Haa…”

Feeling dejected, Kuroba’s shoulders slumped. Haijima had failed because of that in middle school. Probably at his Tokyo middle school too… There was an incident that forced him to transfer from his powerhouse private school to this countryside. Would he just repeat the same thing in high school? What was he brought back to this court for?

“We’ll make use of him.”

Oda’s voice suddenly became stronger. After he received the ball with his knees bent, he turned his eyes towards the circle with Haijima in the center. Haijima had his backside towards them now and his forehead almost touching the floor, absorbed in moving the pieces on the whiteboard.

“I started thinking, ‘Isn’t it my responsibility to protect that talent and send it off to university?’”

“Senpai…”

Something hot spread in his chest. Our captain is so cool…he thought proudly. He knew that the other clubs made fun of the fact that boys’ volleyball’s captain was tiny. But he didn’t care what other people said. Oda had the ability to make them want to take this person to the national stage before he graduated. That was why for the members of this team, there was no question that Oda was their captain.

That kind of existence didn’t exist when he was in middle school, where there were only vague, indistinct horizontal ties. They’ve never decided on a leader, and Haijima only served as team captain at the time of the tournament because of the difference in experience levels. Their middle school team was completely reliant on Haijima alone. Haijima was the only one who seriously wanted to win the prefectural tournament, and everyone else, including himself, still felt like they were participating to make memories.

I’m sure that with this team, this time for sure we’ll be able to say, “Let’s fight together” with everyone.

Now, if I could just get stronger individually…

I’ll work even harder at practice. So that I’ll be an attacker who Haijima will firmly place his trust in for any situation.

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#2.43 #2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

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angelxblossoms · 2 years ago

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They all couldn’t help but pout at his words, vocal about their disappointment. Setsuka gently pats their heads, reassuring them before they nod at Ayato. They’re all good kids and know better not to throw a tantrum if they didn’t get what they wanted.

“Okay~ We’ll hold onto you for that Ayato onii-san!” One of them giggled.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead and play with the wooden swords Tora-ojisan made? I heard there’s some made for you all.” Setsuka suggested.

The little ones immediately nodded at her suggestion, taking off to where their uncle was, leaving just Setsuka and Ayato alone. Glancing over at her lover, she smiled at him and repeated his words from earlier.

“You have a long list about me, my love?”

angelxblossoms:

Their little faces immediately brightened up as they started to circle him, with Setsuka making sure that they still gave him some space. They indeed get quickly excited when it comes to meeting new faces, especially who’ll be apart of their family soon.

Although she couldn’t help to giggle about that Ayato is downplaying his skills in front of her family, but when they see him in action. It’ll be worth to see their reactions.

“Ayato onii-san, what do you like the most about onee-chan?” One of the little girls asked.

Setsuka couldn’t help to blush at the question. She knew it was going to pop up, but didn’t expect it right this instant.

He chuckled at that.

“I’m not sure I could list everything in a reasonable amount of time,” he said. “And we are here just to see the arena. So perhaps this can be a conversation for later?” He was still smiling at them as he said it. “We still have a couple days until the tournament, so I’m sure we can find time to spend together.”

#milkteamedley

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recentanimenews · 3 years ago

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Manga the Week of 3/30/22

SEAN: The end of March, and manga is presumably going out like a lamb.

ASH: I’m not so sure about that…

SEAN: From Yen On we get the one-shot Josee, the Tiger and the Fish (Joze to Tora to Sakanatachi), a short story collection which includes the title story, which has been made into a movie. For fans of Yen’s other one-shot novels that can be summed up as “beautiful but sad”.

ASH: I’ve heard good things about this one.

SEAN: Also from Yen On: Konosuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World! TRPG, which turns the world of KonoSuba into a tabletop role playing game, and features the authors of KonoSuba and Re: Zero doing a playthrough of it.

And we get The Greatest Demon Lord Is Reborn as a Typical Nobody 7.

From Yen Press, we see the debut of Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie (Akuyaku Reijou, Cecilia Sylvie wa Shinitakunai node Dansou suru Koto ni Shita), the manga version of the light novel also published by Yen. It runs in Comic Flos.

Yen also gives us If the RPG World Had Social Media… 2 (the final volume), Let This Grieving Soul Retire 2, Overlord: The Complete Anime Artbook 2, Phantom Tales of the Night 8, Teasing Master Takagi-san 14, and Uncle from Another World 4.

ASH: I really need to catch up with Phantom Tales of the Night.

SEAN: Udon Entertainment has Steins;Gate: The Complete Manga (it got bumped) and Otherworldly Izakaya Nobu 10.

Tokyopop gives us the 2nd volume of I Was Reincarnated as the Villainess in an Otome Game but the Boys Love Me Anyway!.

Seven Seas has two debuts. Sheeply Horned Witch Romi (Youkaku no Majo Romi) is from Young Dragon Age, a manga where everyone in the world has fallen asleep except: 1) sheep; 2) a witch with sheep horns, and 3) the sempai with a crush on her!

MICHELLE: Here’s the lamb content we’ve been waiting for.

ASH: Ha!

MELINDA: Wait, wait, I’m HERE for the sheep.

SEAN: Yakuza Reincarnation (Ninkyou Tensei: Isekai no Yakuzahime) is a Sunday GX title. A yakuza badass is killed and reincarnated in another world… as a beautiful girl! This will not stop her from kicking ass.

ASH: As reluctant as I am to admit it, I am intrigued by this isekai variant.

ANNA: This does sound amusing.

SEAN: We also get The Ancient Magus’ Bride: Jack Flash and the Faerie Case Files 4, Chronicles of an Aristocrat Reborn in Another World 4, The Dragon Knight’s Beloved 2, THE EXO-DRIVE REINCARNATION GAMES: All-Japan Isekai Battle Tournament! 2, I Am a Cat Barista 2, My Next Life as a Villainess Side Story: On the Verge of Doom! 2, Reincarnated as a Sword: Another Wish 2, and Unicorns Aren’t Horny 2 (the final volume).

ASH: I need to catch up with the various Ancient Magus’ Bride spinoffs, too.

SEAN: No print debuts for Kodansha, but we do see The Hero Life of a (Self-Proclaimed) “Mediocre” Demon! 3, Something’s Wrong With Us 7, and UQ HOLDER! 25.

Two digital debuts. Bootsleg is a Shonen Sirius series from the artist best known for Yozakura Quartet and the Durarara!! novels. A young man whose family – and limb – were taken from him by a seeming serial killer meets up with the one person who might be able to stop them.

HIRAETH -The End of the Journey- (Hiraeth wa Tabiji no Hate) is from the creator of Our Dreams at Dusk, and runs in Morning Two. A woman despairing over the death of her best friend attempts suicide… and finds herself in another world! This is apparently great, though also dark – Kodansha’s blurb comes with a content warning for suicide ideation.

MICHELLE: Hm. The Our Dreams at Dusk link is very compelling.

ASH: That it is.

ANNA: This sounds exactly like the type of critically acclaimed work that I think I will read but don’t get around to because I’m not in the mood for despair right now.

MELINDA: Oh, this sounds perfect for my mood.

SEAN: Also digital: Elegant Yokai Apartment Life 23, The Great Cleric 8, Stellar Witch LIP☆S 5 (the final volume), Tying the Knot with an Amagami Sister 2, and Zatsuki: Make Me a Star 2.

MICHELLE: I need to check out some of these.

SEAN: J-Novel Club has some more print editions. We see Ascendance of a Bookworm Part 2 Vol. 2 (manga), Infinite Dendrogram Omnibus 4, Marginal Operation 9, My Friend’s Little Sister Has It In For Me! 3, and Tearmoon Empire 4.

Speaking of Tearmoon Empire, the 7th volume is out digitally next week. We also see Culinary Chronicles of the Court Flower 5, Dahlia in Bloom: Crafting a Fresh Start with Magical Tools 3, Forget Being the Villainess, I Want to Be an Adventurer! 2, and Invaders of the Rokujouma!? 39.

Ghost Ship gives us Booty Royale: Never Go Down Without a Fight! 5-6.

A new light novel from Cross Infinite World: Even Dogs Go to Other Worlds: Life in Another World with My Beloved Hound (Isekai Teni Shitara Aiken ga Saikyou ni narimashita – Silver Fenrir to Ore ga Isekai Kurashi wo Hajimetara). Dead salaryman. Huge overpowered wolf. Relaxed slow life. Fluffy headpats. This book knows what the audience these days wants.

Lastly, Airship debuts I am Blue, in Pain, and Fragile (Aokute Itakute Moroi), another tearjerker from the author of I Want to Eat Your Pancreas. This is the early digital release.

ASH: Glad to see Yoru Sumino’s work is still being translated. (Though, like so many things, I need to catch up…)

SEAN: Also out ahead of print: Disciple of the Lich: Or How I Was Cursed by the Gods and Dropped Into the Abyss! 3, Drugstore in Another World: The Slow Life of a Cheat Pharmacist 5, and The Haunted Bookstore – Gateway to a Parallel Universe 3.

What manga makes you want to go out like a lamb? Or a sheep… lots of sheep manga lately.

By: Sean Gaffney

#Anime #News #Manga Bookshelf

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floraexplorer · 5 years ago

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A Day Trip to Shibamata, Tokyo’s Retro Japanese Neighbourhood

Welcome to Shibamata, the most nostalgic neighbourhood in Tokyo.

In fact, Shibamata’s nostalgic nature was pretty perfect for my first full day in Japan, because I felt like I was stuck in something of a time warp myself.

For those who don’t know, the direct flight from London to Tokyo takes twelve hours and crosses nine timezones. By the time I landed, I was in a state of delirium – and the bright lights and street-side chaos of central Tokyo only exacerbated my condition!

But when you’ve just arrived in Japan, there’s no time to waste. So the next morning, still jet lagged and unsure of what time my body thought it was, I jumped on a succession of subway trains, switched to a tiny above-ground carriage and stepped off at a platform marked by a beautifully classic hand-lettered sign. We’d arrived in Shibamata.

What should I know about Shibamata, Tokyo?

Shibamata is a neighbourhood in Katsushika Ward which is in the eastern part of Tokyo – an area pretty far away from the usual tourist routes, or so I was told. In Japan, Shibamata is most famous for being the hometown of the protagonist in an old Japanese film series called ‘Otoko wa Tsurai yo’ – in English, ‘It’s Tough Being a Man’. Filmed from 1969 to 1995, the series starred a man called Kiyoshi Atsumi who plays Tora-san, “a kind-hearted vagabond who is always unlucky in love”.

Although Tora-san travelled the length and breadth of Japan in his films, he always returned to Shibamata, where his sister, aunt and uncle lived. It gave Shibamata a lot of media exposure, and cemented the area’s reputation as a traditional neighbourhood emblematic of ‘old Tokyo’.

And as for Tora-san himself? Well, he’s become the mascot of Shibamata. When we stepped off the train, walked across the tracks and exited Shibamata station, the first thing we saw was the bronze statue of Tora-san, his hand outstretched towards another statue of his younger sister.

[Image via Flickr]

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Walking down Taishakuten Sando street

The central street in Shibamata, known as the Taishakuten Sando, is just 200 metres long but immediately evokes an old-world charm which is hard to find in modern-day Tokyo. It leads visitors directly from Shibamata station to the famous Taishakuten temple and is lined with shops selling all kinds of local specialties: traditional street food including doriyaki pancakes, Japanese crackers and sweet rice dumplings flavoured with mugwort.

Many of the kitchens making these snacks are easily visible from the street – easier still if you crane your neck a bit!

We stopped at a dagashiya shop, an old-school sweet shop which evoked a number of gasps from our Japanese companions. Apparently the shop displays their products in the exact same way – it reminded them of childhood, and a nostalgic memory they hadn’t been expecting!

As we left the shop and continued on our way, it made me look differently at the street scenes of Shibamata. How many Japanese visitors were here looking for that same feeling? Were they longing for a glimpse of a Tokyo which no longer seems to exist?

Visiting the Shibamata Taishakuten temple

At the end of the Taishakuten Sando is Shibamata’s crowning glory: the Taishakuten Temple. Founded in 1629, the Taishakuten Temple has been rebuilt a couple of times but the current iteration survived the bombings of World War Two – an impressive feat, considering how much of the temple is carved from wood.

And your first step into the temple complex is right underneath the stunning Nitenmon Gate, built more than two centuries ago.

Once inside the temple grounds, we walked towards a water basin set in stone beneath a canopy. There’s a particular etiquette to follow when visiting a temple or shrine in Japan (which of course I had no idea about!) but thankfully our guide showed me the first part: how to wash my hands.

Pick up a wooden ladle in your right hand and fill it with running water

Pour the water over your left hand

Switch hands, fill the ladle again, and pour water over your right hand (ensuring your ‘cleansed’ left hand doesn’t touch your ‘dirty’ right hand!)

Switch hands again so the ladle is in your right hand and refill it

Pour water into your cupped left hand and ‘drink’ (you can pretend to do this if you don’t feel comfortable actually drinking)

Wash the ladle by allowing the running water to trickle down it

Balance the ladle back on the basin, scoop side down, for the next user

Although I tried my best to get this process right the first time, our recently-arrived temple guide (who was watching from the sidelines) told me to repeat the whole thing again because I didn’t do it perfectly…

Once our hands were adequately washed, we could advance to the entrance of the temple – but there, a second custom had to be followed.

I would’ve thought my ability to remove my own shoes was pretty easy by now, but as I looked around I realised there was a particular method everyone seemed to be employing… Well, everyone except me!

To be respectful at a temple, you’re supposed to face away from the temple entrance and slip off your shoes, taking care to step backwards onto the genkan (a little raised platform). Then you pick up your shoes and place them in the lockers provided, before entering the temple.

Gazing at the wooden carvings of Taishakuten Temple

The exterior walls of the Taishakuten Temple are covered with intricately carved wooden panels depicting Buddhist scenes from the lotus sutra. The wooden carvings were first started in the 1920s but they took over twelve years to complete and required a number of different artists. As a result the skill level changes somewhat: guides can even point out sections where the same artist has improved over time!

A set of wooden walkways allow visitors to circumnavigate the entire building and get relatively close to the artwork – and there’s also a glass wall built around the walkway, protecting these precious carvings from any inclement weather.

As I skim-read the little English signs explaining the stories of each panel, our temple guide told us a few interesting facts about the wooden carvings – namely, that they’re too delicate to be properly cleaned. Staff have attempted using brushes and their finger tips, but now they only remove the tiniest of cobwebs once a year.

He also explained the significance of dragons at Shibamata Taishakuten. There are dozens of the beautifully carved beasts supporting the carving’s lower structure, there to both protect the temple and also to symbolise peace.

Apparently you’re able to distinguish between dragon nationalities by the number of claws they have. According to Japanese mythology, three-clawed dragons originated in Japan. When they migrated towards Korea they gained another claw, and by the time they reached China they’d developed five claws!

Wandering in the Japanese gardens

We made our way along the covered walkway towards the Japanese gardens just behind the temple. This serene little space is filled with elegant trees, shallow ponds, stone pagodas, and trickling fountains – and the same wooden walkways run throughout, so you can observe the gardens without disturbing the peace.

By the time we’d been walking for half an hour I realised my feet were utterly freezing. Walking on tatami mats and cold wooden planks in just your socks can be perilous for someone with awful circulation like me – and in Japan you spend a lot of time without your shoes!

I hopped along the covered walkway, repeatedly curling my toes under to try and warm them up – to no avail. Whenever I found a patch of sun on the walkway I raced towards it and let my chilly feet soak in the warmth for as long as possible.

The best way to avoid this in Japan? Always wear double socks!

Read more: Essential things to know before travelling to Japan

Apart from my poor circulation, wandering through the Japanese gardens was a beautiful experience. We watched the koi fish swimming lazily past the turtles, and even came across a woman posing for her wedding photographs wearing a traditional kimono and holding an open parasol.

Although I only saw her from behind, I immediately got a little snap-happy through the wooden fenceposts and conducted a little photoshoot of my own!

When we made our way back through the temple complex to grab our shoes, I kept getting waylaid by people-watching: the women painting watercolours of the temple’s facade; the couple watching a dancing dragon puppet sequestered inside a coin-operated machine; the man hunched over on a little stool while organising the souvenirs he was presumably selling.

I began to understand just how many snippets of stories I was going to keep seeing in Japan – and I loved it!

Eating lunch at Yabuchu

My first full lunch in Japan required a lavish meal, and I wasn’t disappointed. We walked intp Yabuchu Taishakuten Sando store and immediately saw a table laden with food in separate wicker baskets: prawn tempura, onigiri, seaweed salad, and slices of duck which we fried ourselves on little heated griddles.

When we’d finished our tempura baskets, the second course arrived: cold soba noodles dipped in soy sauce, spring onions and wasabi. I’d never eaten soba noodles before and was really excited to try – but it was hard to ignore the family on the table next to ours, who were all making the most fantastic slurping-noodle-noises.

Stifling a giggle, our Tokyo guide explained why that noise was a positive thing – “It’s something we’re brought up doing, as a marker of how much we’re enjoying our soba!”

Leaving Shibamata

We walked back along the Taishakuten Sando in the early afternoon sun towards Shibamata station. I looked at the glinting light and thought again about how much nostalgia I already felt for a country I’d only just begun to explore.

If you’re looking for a classic introduction to old-school Japan, Shibamata is the perfect place to start.

Have you visited Shibamata? What other unknown neighbourhoods in Tokyo would you recommend?

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Tips for visiting Shibamata, Tokyo

– How do I get to Shibamata from central Tokyo?

First, take the Keisei Main Line (from Shimbashi Station) to Keisei Takasago Station. Next, take the Keisei Kanamachi Line to Shibamata Station. This is the main entrance to the town and all sights in Shibamata are within walking distance. A one way train journey takes about 25 minutes.

– How much does the Shibamata Taishakuten Temple cost?

The temple is open all year round, and admission is free. The carvings and garden are open 9am to 4pm, and admission costs 400 yen.

NB: my trip to Japan was supported by Tokyo Metropolitan Government and #KyushuxTokyo – but the observations about wooden carvings and frozen feet are all my own.

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