So much has changed in Kagoshima since the first time I came with my parents on an ill-conceived visit in late summer 2004—all of it for the positive. I'm reminded of the Phillip K. Dick short Second Variety for some reason, where the “Claw” robots developed by the U.N. For use against the Soviets continue to adapt themselves to become better at infiltrating human social groups in order to exterminate them. Like the fictional Claws, Kagoshima continues to evolve into something designed to ensnare me—it remains the only Japanese city I've visited to do so. The Central Station complex (magnificent as always, perhaps second in grandeur only to Kyoto Station) is 100% finished, with all the subterranean access tunnels finally complete. One of the more impressive facelifts has to be how the streetcar lines have all had their tracks repaved in an environmentally friendly concrete made from the recycled ash spew of Sakurajima. Furthermore, grass has actually been planted on this surface (as one sees in many European cities with streetcar lines) giving the appearance that the low-slung cars are just floating along on a fluffy bed of grass. The summer heat and humidity...ahhh!...perfection.
In Kagoshima streetcars are called chinchindensha, the onomatopoeia derived from their bell's ringing. In coloquial Japanese, chinchin means "penis", causing much grade school-style snickering among tourists.
After checking into our hotel Maia and I hopped a streetcar to Starbucks for the very guilty pleasure of a couple iced coffees and people watching, which turned out to be more difficult than we had thought. You see, our people watching really peaked when Maia lived in Kitakyushu and we could walk down to her nearby mall Starbucks where a Roman legion of anorexic, Chihuahua-toting, track suit-sporting, blonde-dyed, makeup-caked, Japanese analog to American trailer trash-style men and women congregated to blow the money and time they should obviously have been spending on their malnourished, unloved kids, and it was all just so much shooting fish in a barrel to sit there and marvel audibly at the very worst embodiments of the 21st Century knowing full well they wouldn't catch a single word you were saying. Whew. In Kagoshima, where men and women are (mostly) fashionable, self-respecting and have a look of at least a cursory education the pickings were slim and the spirit wasn't willing. I can't argue that's a bad thing though.
And now, for no reason, a schoolgirl lap pillow you can win at an arcade! Notice the sitting position with the legs splayed out to the side slightly there--denotes that this surogate lap is that of a very underage girl and that you are, in fact, a complete sleaze if you own this. (I won three)
It wasn't long before hunger gripped us and the dinner search ensued, but not for long. That's the thing here: You just can't walk more than a handful of minutes before finding someplace good to eat/something nice to browse. This time we stumbled upon what will go down as one of my all-time best finds in Japan, a second-floor Sri Lankan restaurant with some of the cheapest, tastiest curry I've ever had, not just in Japan, but anywhere! I wasn't quite as hungry as Maia and ordered a mini portion only to have it differ from the normal size by seemingly a pitiful handful of centimeters in plate diameter. I would have accepted a mere drizzling of this curry though, for it was heavenly in flavor. After this dinner Maia and I parted ways for an hour so I could indulge my lust for Kagoshima's specialty, kurobuta (“black pig”), and headed for a local favorite restaurant. The kurobuta donburi I ordered was...orgasmic. Huzzah for second dinner!
The hip part of downtown, just behind the Tenmonkan shopping arcade. Our Sri Lankan friends are just off to the left.
To sort of work off our dinner we went for a streetcar ride and a bit of a walk into the quietest entertainment neighborhood in Japan, Kishaba, a yokocho (a side alley) frequented by college students from the nearby university and the metro sophisticate type. My favorite izakaya/dining bar in this area is a second-story joint with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over a quaint four-way intersection called...I can't remember, but I can find it nonetheless. We had a couple beers, at the most delicious dish of goya champloo EVER and chatted for a while before catching a train back to Tenmonkan and our hotel. Oh, along the way we fed a ridiculously cute alley cat and finally saw some of the more skanky members of Kagoshima's human element, but what do you expect in the largest, seediest entertainment district in Southern Japan?
Ah, the Kishaba Donguri Yokocho. If you're ever in town that there second-floor izakaya is tops!
The next day, before beginning the trek home, we visited the newly built Future of Kagoshima's Environment museum, a stunning piece of green architecture that practices what it preaches—a difficult thing to find in Japan. The building is constructed of recycled materials, cooled by termite mound thermoregulation techniques, topped by a grass roof you can picnic or play on and filled with informative displays backed by hard numbers. I was, to say the least, impressed. The displays of trash art inspired me to build my own steel coffee can sculptures (I've shipped back my entire can collection, over fifty in all, to help me in this endeavor) and hopefully build a few bits of furniture out of cardboard or used books.
I sure hope the people of Kagoshima know what they have in this green roof here. The view is might fine.
Alas, the vacation—this last view of my personal Utopia Japan—was at an end. Disengaging from Kagoshima's newfound environmental savvy, its delicious vittles and quirky little single-speed hipster subculture almost caused me to tear out the spark plugs from my car if only it meant I could stay for a little bit longer...and hawk the copper at a pawn store. Though I've toyed around with plenty of cities here in Japan, touching and teasing and sussing the situation out, Kagoshima, you're the only girl for me! Let's not lose touch after high school!
--Matt
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