The first time I visited Akihabara, the ground moved beneath my feet.
As I strolled down Chuo-dori that evening, the strongest earthquake to rattle Tokyo in over a decade struck, centered a mere fifteen miles away, far beneath Tokyo Bay. Damage was light, but dozens were injured. Train service ground to a halt. Fire crews rushed to rescue people trapped in elevators. For a moment in time, Tokyo was a broken city. And I didn’t feel a damn thing.
Akihabara. It overwhelms the senses.
I suppose I should be grateful that it wasn’t the “Big One”. After all, “crushed by a towering stack of used eroge,” would be a sad way to leave this world - I’m not hardcore enough, see - but I couldn’t help but be a little dissapointed by my complete lack of awareness. My first earthquake, and I missed it. How could I have missed it? And how the hell was I going to get home?
Of course, there are far worse fates in the world than to be an anime fan trapped in Akihabara. And, thus, the first of my many adventures in the Electric Town commenced…
What was once the center for the electronics trade in Tokyo, Akihabara has evolved to become the center of otaku culture in Japan in recent years. Some argue that the evolution continues, as new development in the vicinity of Akihabara Station attracts shoppers and residents with more “mainstream” hobbies and interests. The maid cafes sill outnumber the fashion boutiques, but for how long? It depends on who you ask.
However, back when I was tramping around the place, those new developments were merely piles of steel and scafolding. Change was in the air, but for the time being, Akihabara belonged to the otaku. For a foriegner, Tokyo can be a city of conflicts. It’s a city of silent train cars and downward gazes, people coming and going in complete anonymity. Yet, for a foreigner, there is no anonymity. The color of your skin, the color of your hair, the color of your eyes… there’s no hiding them. Towering over the crowds everywhere you go, you begin to feel out of place. On display. As if you don’t belong.
Except, that is, in Akihabara.
Since I lived on the Sobu Line, I passed through Akihabara often. Practically all of my trips into the heart of Tokyo took me through Akihabara Station. Even if I took the rapid train into Tokyo Station, I’d often pass through neighboring Ochanomizu Station on the Chuo Line, heading to locations deeper within the city. A stop in Akihabara eventually became a regular feature of any trip in and out of Tokyo, and I soon developed a familiarity with the place on par with my own neighborhood in the eastern suburbs.
Of course, regular visits translated into significant damage to my bank account. Let’s face it: anime goods can be difficult to come by in the United States. Yes, you can purchase DVDs with ease and find a large selection of mainstream manga at most chain bookstores, but character goods, figures, collector’s items, doujinshi and other trinkets are nearly impossible to find outside of a convention or comic book store setting. Akihabara, however, was otaku nirvana. Anything and everything, available for purchase. New and used. Common and rare. What treasure awaits at the bottom of the staircase?
I’m not much of a consumerist, to be honest. In fact, I can be a bit of a miser. However, every visit to Akihabara left me intoxicated. My inhibitions dulled, I parted with my hard-earned yen with reckless abandon. 23,000 yen for a DVD boxset? Why not? 5,000 yen worth of pencil boards? Might as well. 1,000 yen in gasaphon capsules? If I want that figure of Sakura in her summer uniform…
Akihabara is dangerous.
I was in good company, though. Sit down and observe the crowds in Akihabara, and you notice something: all the bags. Shopping bags, backpacks, messenger bags and suitcases. Containers for stuff. Otaku are drawn to Akihabara not necessarily for the atmosphere or the events, but for the stuff. They buy the stuff and take it home. Then, when they get tired of it or find themselves in need of money to buy more stuff, they return to sell it. Someone else buys the stuff, and the cycle repeats.
It’s kind of depressing, really. Is an otaku’s passion mesaured by the amount of stuff he or she posesses? Does that question even enter the minds of the hordes of backpack-laden geeks crawling along Chuo-dori? Probably. But in Akihabara, there’s little time to waste on such questions. After all, there’s shopping to be done.
I don’t know when I’ll visit Akihabara again. Next time I’m in Tokyo, I’m sure. When that’ll be, I can’t say. Could be next month. Could be next year. But I’m sure that, even if I ponder the aforementioned question on the train as the scenery flashes by, all will be forgotten the minute I step off on to the platform and see that yellow “Exit for Akihabara Electric Town” sign. The only thing I’ll be thinking then is, “How much can I cram in my suitcase?”
Such is the Akihabara life.
In retrospect, I’ve not yet had the opportunity to live in Tokyo. I’ve resided in Kyoto, Osaka, Yokohama and even Nagasaki but I still need to experience actually living in Tokyo. Hence, every time I managed to wrangle a trip to the Big City, I would squeeze a little time to drop by Akihabara, place of my dreams.
The anticipation at the end of your post, in my opinion, perfectly captured my own emotions and perspectives of that place. I never think about the consequences of my shopping but let myself experience a slice of happiness.
On a divergent note, I wanted to address your comments about feeling out of place in Japan, even Tokyo. I am an American of Korean descent and whenever I’m in Japan, I get the feeling that I’m a stealth foreigner. A lot of Japanese, being more insular than Americans (expectedly so) generally assume, in my experience, that if one is Asian and in Japan, one is more likely than not, Japanese. As long as I keep my mouth shut, I can move around the crowds easily. Even then, I feel the sense of not being there just as strongly as a Caucasian. At least though, I’m not the object of attention.
jpmeyer: I think this article will wake you up:
Akihabara’s Awful Truths
And, please, savour your trip while it lasts. Because frankly speaking, Lloyd Case has pointed out my extreme displeasure of the commercialization of my hobbies.
Interesting vignette there, and maybe it’s because I finished re-reading Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou, but your piece evokes that feel. It places an almost magical aura on the area, at least in terms of parting with money. :P
I’ve never been to Japan and if I did go, I’m not sure that I’d check Akihabara out; at least, by myself that is. For an otaku, is it a place that is necessary to experience?
I dont know, but everybody says or thinks that Akihabara its like the Mecca for a really devoted Otaku. Im not sure, but i think one visit dont harm anyone and it would be interesting. But you must be careful with your money in the shopping because before you notice you could be run out enough money.
As Jeff said, Akihabara is dangerous.
^_^
TP, jpmeyer is over here. Don’t get us mixed up. I’m nowhere near as handsome.
I actually saw Patrick’s piece in the Japan Times a few minutes after posting this last night. It definitely echoes a lot of what I’ve heard regarding what’s been going on in Akihabara the past couple of years. It’s been a little over two years since I last visited, and as I wrote above, you could feel change in the air at the time. However, I sometimes wonder if a lot of the complaints about Akihabara’s transformation are akin to the sour grapes you hear from fans of any stripe when their niche hobby is opened up to a larger audience. For the hardcore otaku, Nakano Broadway may feel more “authentic” than Akihabara (and I’d agree… I could spend days plundering the shops there), but I don’t think it’s fair to say that Akihabara is changing so much as to be be a lost cause.
I’d actually be curious to hear what the electronics geeks and hobbyists have to say about Akihabara’s previous transformation from transistor heaven to anime otaku heaven. Were they troubled by the change? Or were their interests enough in line with those of the anime otaku to where they didn’t care all that much?
As for commercialization of hobbies… if you view anime as a form of consumer entertainment (as I do), there’s not much room to complain. As much as I find the tendency for anime fans to spend and hoard to be a little depressing (just as I find the general cult of consumerism depressing), complaining about the commercialization of a hobby that’s predicated on and supported by the purchase of consumer goods and the spending of advertising dollars is kind of like pissing into the wind. I understand your concern, but I think all you can do, really, is shrug your shoulders and play along.
Wait, I did what now?
Oops. Sorry for the mix-up.
Yes, I do admit that trying to stop commercialization is like trying to achieve a Pyrrhic victory here. Sooner or later, those in the creative market will need to expand and achieve some form of financial stability in order to “progress forward.” Whether for good or otherwise seems irrelevant here.
I don’t know. Maybe I was trying to find that “niche feeling” that most hobbies tend to start out with: the feeling of “exclusivity,” where market forces doesn’t interfere much with the hobby itself. Perhaps I was not looking at the whole picture properly: that sooner or later, what goes around comes around.
Maybe I should just hang up my old “pirate-sy” ways and get on with life.
Jeff: go read Momoi’s book, if you could.
Nicely written piece by the way. And I think that Lloyd Case article linked is a good example of pathetic people disenchanted by themselves, not unlike some folks who are complaining about the changing atmosphere of Akihabara.
But on the flip side, changes always bring in both good and bad, so even in terms of “how to improve on hedonistic retail therapy” there is room for people who listen, and respect.
The trick is to pack one suitcase with clothes, then nest it inside another suitcase so you have an empty one for the trip home.
I’m not too proud to admit this.
My last trip to Tokyo, I went to Nakano Broadway and Ikebukuro before taking the Yamanote to Akihabara. It put me in a whole different frame of mind - I walked past the Gamers and K-Books, wandered several blocks away from the station, ate at Cafe Mai:Lish - and did, yes, SOME shopping, but having spent two days (and a day at Comic Market) doing pretty much nothing but shop in other places, it took the urgency off and it was kind of nice just to wander around and take in the sights and sounds and gawk at the maids. :)