Got some time to kill? Then check out this photo set on Flickr – all my photos from my recent trip to Tokyo, in lovely high-res. Or hit the link below to watch them in a slideshow. All 1353 of them. Yeah, it’s a lot. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

• Tokyo 2008 Flickr slideshow

I know a lot of people really dug the Anime Guide to Headphones image I posted up a few months ago, myself included, so I couldn’t resist picking up the book it was meant to promote when I stumbled across it in Mandarake.

Yet again – as with all these Japanese artbooks – it’s beautifully printed. Each double page spread features a page of Japanese text and diagrams about a particular brand and model of headphones opposite a large, full colour illustration of a girl modeling them.

The illustrations are by a variety of mangaka, and of amazing quality throughout. Luckily they are never quite hentai, but they do at times resort to all to familiar manga theme of objectifying, overly-stylising and sexualising teenage girls. It’s the only part of animanga culture that ever makes me feel uncomfortable – but believe me, I saw far, far worse when I was in Tokyo. Far worse.

Towards the end of the book the illustrations give way to pages and pages of Japanese text and photos, which seem to consist of interviews with the artists and some musicians – including the legendary Kenji Kawai, making this an interesting purchase for Oshii fanatics like myself. Shame I can’t understand it. Time to get back to my Japanese practice, I guess…

As mentioned in an earlier post, we survived the melee of the Ghibli Museum shop, even if we were left more than a few thousand yen poorer by the experience…

First of our spoils is this beautifully printed Mei and the Kittenbus book. An essential purchase for us, especially as we were so lucky to catch the film, it’s a short but glossy leaflet style affair, featuring tons of great scenes telling the story of the short. It’s the only official way of seeing any images from the film outside the museum, and as far as I’m aware only available from the shop. Click the thumbnails below for more glimpses…

Next up (below) is a DVD/Blu-ray double pack of the documentary on the recent exhibition by Ghibli background artist Kazuo Oga. We missed the exhibition by a few months sadly, but having this on BR almost makes up for that. Full report when I’ve had time to watch it.

Similarly, I’ll post up more details about this DVD (below) about the museum itself. I’ve had a quick flick through some of it, and there’s lots of footage of the museum plus some pretty in-depth interviews. More soon.

Finally, my partner couldn’t resist this, and who can blame her. A solid glass Totoro paperweight. Beautifully crafted, and elegantly presented in some cool packaging, its now resident in our living room.

Oh, and lets not forget that Ghibli branded beer bottle we were so generously given…

Some of the coolest things I picked up in Tokyo were a trio of Katsuhiro Otomo art books – although sadly they weren’t for me, intended instead for my favourite Otomo-san obsessive Al T. Shame, as I would have liked to have spent some quality time with these beauties. Luckily though, I was able to grab a few shots before I let him get his grubby paws all over them.

First off is the hard to find Akira Animation Archive – tricky to get hold of in the UK, and pretty elusive in Tokyo too, it turns out. But on the big man’s request I hunted high and low from Shinjuku to Akihabara, finally bagging a second hand copy in Mandarake Shibuya.

It’s a nice looking book, packed with lots of images, storyboards, sketches and concept designs from the classic film.

Next up is a hefty tone – one I had to think twice before buying just as the weight of the thing threatened to crush my luggage restrictions. Steamboy – The Storyboard Book does exactly what it says on the cover, presenting the films entire board set in a stylish hardcover volume.

As you can see, the hand drawn storyboards – all by Otomo himself, apparently – look great in this format, and the book looks like one you’d want to spend hours with.

Finally I also grabbed him this Robot Carnival art book. I have never seen the movie, sadly, but seeing as it’s an anthology of different directors’ works, there’s obviously a lot of stuff in here that isn’t Otomo produced. From the quick flick I had, there’s a lot of interesting stuff, especially if you’re into that slightly retro looking ‘80s anime vibe.

Anyway, I won’t say anymore, I’ll just wait for the man himself to let you know what he thinks…

Despite having been boringly safely back in the UK for over a month now, I’m still only just managing to mentally process everything we saw and experienced in Tokyo. A major highlight for us, in fact one of the main reasons for going in the first place, was our trip to the Studio Ghibli Museum in the suburb of Mitaka.

Anyone that’s read this site in any detail before has probably picked up on how much of a Ghibli fanatic I can be at times. My obsession is over a decade old now, first triggered when my then new girlfriend, on finding out I had an NTSC capable VCR, gave me a dusty old pirated VHS video of a film her grandparents had given to her on her last visit to Japan, at the age of eleven. She wanted to watch it again, as the only machine capable of playing it at her parents’ house had failed years ago, but I could sense a slight trepidation in her face as she handed it to me. It was a children’s film, she explained, and it might not be as good as she remembered.

The film was My Neighbour Totoro, and despite the lack of any English subtitles or dub and the poor quality of the recording, for 90 minutes we both sat transfixed and enchanted.

It’s pretty fair to say that up until that point, with the exceptions of the works of Oshii and Otomo, I’d pretty much given up on anime. After the success of Akira over here in the UK, we had been flooded with over-priced but poor quality VHS releases of Japanese TV and OVA shows. Largely misjudging what us new-born anime fans wanted, distributors bombarded us with anything that had a hint of sex, violence and a regurgitated cyberpunk vibe. Releases were given rushed, poor quality English dubs, with the scripts edited to include cursing not present in the originals, in order to force a 15 or even 18 classification and give the impression of ‘adult’ material. Rapidly many of us lost interest, seeing works like Akira and Ghost in the Shell as one off artistic triumphs.

But sitting, watching that Totoro tape for the first time, I realised how wrong we were. It was clear just minutes in that I was missing out on something very, very special, and over the next few years, now with the internet as my spiritual guide, I found myself consumed by a new obsession.

Eleven years later the story of that lovingly pirated tape came full circle, when the two of us found ourselves stood just a couple of miles from her grandparents’ house, at Mitaka station. After the first official shuttle bus filled with excitable children and their parents, we were too impatient to wait for a second, so instead decided to walk the kilometre to the museum instead, the charming, regularly spaced signs counting down the distance heightening our already gripping state of nervous anticipation.

If you search for information about the Ghibli Museum online, what you tend to find – even in personal reports from bloggers that have visited – seems to be pretty sparse on details. I’d originally intended to try and break this mold, and to give you a detailed tour of the museum, room-by-room, exhibit-by-exhibit. But it was clear after just a few minutes of being in the building that there are three very good reasons as to way that’s not only a nearly impossible task, but one that I just didn’t want to undertake. Firstly, it’s largely a visual experience, and with the no photography policy strictly enforced by the firm but smiling staff, it’s not one that easily translates to words. Similarly, the sheer scale of some of the material on display defies not only description, but at times also comprehension. And finally, and perhaps most importantly, I don’t want to spoil it for you. If you can, you need to go and see this yourself.

The building itself, partly buried in the grounds of Inokashira Park, feels compact from the exterior but surprisingly spacious once inside; the main atrium decorated to feel exactly like you’ve stepped onto the non-existent set of one of Miyazaki’s beautifully crafted, European feeling films. The highlight on the ground floor is the animation room, where the aim of the museum is the show with light-boxes, models and layered cells how the art and theory of animation work together. From the very start everything is very hands on; there are dials to turn and levers to pull, and images hide behind little doors and shutters that need to be opened.

The centrepiece of the room though is the huge ‘Bouncing Totoro’ zoetrope, where 3D models of characters from the film are brought to life through strobe lights as the huge exhibit rotates. It’s breathtaking to watch, and even if you could take photos, they obviously wouldn’t do it justice. Similarly, the ‘Rising Steam’ exhibit employs optical illusions to project a holographic image of birds flocking around the iconic robot soldier from Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Again, it needs to be seen first hand. Trust me.

Also on the ground floor is the entrance to the Saturn Theatre. As you enter the museum, you’re each given a ticket to one free showing of an exclusive Ghibli short in the Saturn – luckily you get to keep these tickets, as each one is made of a few sequential frames in film cell form from a Ghibli movie.

There are six shorts they show in rotation, none of which have ever been shown outside of the museum. To be honest, we would have been happy to have seen anything, but I can’t express how thrilled we were when we found out Mei and the Kittenbus was showing. The 20-minute short is a sequel of sorts to Totoro, re-uniting some of the original’s characters for the first and only time in nearly 20 years. Even putting aside how lucky we felt to have seen it – I have Japanese friends who have been there multiple times and have never glimpsed it – it’s a magical piece of animation, and without embarrassment I can honestly say that watching it together, sat like wide-eyed children on the steps of the overcrowded theatre, was a touching, emotional experience.

The next floor up is dedicated to temporary and permanent exhibitions – the highlight of the latter being a recreation of what is presumably meant to be Miyazki-san and Takahata-san’s studies, or at least versions of them told in true Ghibli-fantasy style. As you slowly walk around these small rooms, your breath is stolen once again by the treasures on display. Desks are covered with illustrations and notes, concept art and character designs, blueprints and technical drawings. I’m sure they must be printed copies, but the quality of them conspires with the setting to convince you of their hand-drawn authenticity, and many are simply attached to the wall by just a single drawing pin, all so close that you not only can but are encouraged to reach out and touch them. At the end of the display sits a huge wooden bookcase, filled leather bound books just encouraging you to take them down and flick through them, revealing themselves to be sketch pads full of the movies storyboards. Again, they must be fakes, but their quality again fools you into staring at the pencil strokes and dreaming they’re from the masters’ own hands, and wishing you had a few days to sit on the floor like a kid, absorbing them all. The whole exhibit was my personal highlight of the museum, and to any Ghibli or just true anime fan it’s worth the entrance fee on it’s own.

The top floor houses the Catbus room, with a huge plush recreation of the feline transport that sadly only small children are allowed to climb all over. At the other end of the floor is the ‘Mama Aiuto’ museum shop, officially the most chaotic place in Tokyo. Forget Shinjuku JR at 5pm, nothing in Japan is as terrifying and noisy as a shop full of Ghibli loving kids and their parents in full consumer frenzy. I didn’t see any blood spill, but believe me my friends, I saw images of tears being shed and tantrums being thrown that I will carry with me to the grave. We got out alive, but with our wallets considerably lighter, and our bags heavy with books, DVDs, Blu-rays and ornaments, the details of which I will post up here in time.

The roof garden houses the now famous life-size statue of aforementioned robot soldier from Laputa, and is one of the few places where you can take photo. I got some pretty good shots, but again I have to say that the only way to really appreciate the intricacy and craftsmanship is firsthand. Also up here is the small open-air café, that sells some pretty good hotdogs and homemade soup, as well as a Museum branded beer – it was too early for drinking for me, but yet again the kindness of the Japanese revealed itself when a woman on a neighbouring table offered us an empty bottle to take home.

Anyway, I’m going to cut this short before I start gushing even more. The place is simply amazing. It sets out to, and easily achieves, the aim of the best Ghibli movies; to create a world for children that is so intricate, charming and believable that it sucks in adults as well and fills them with youthful fascination again. Go there.

Check this guy’s outfit – I’d have killed for that get-up back in my early 90s techno days.

I took this photo outside our apartment in Shinjuku; apparently this guy was paid to stand there all night waving his lightsabre at the passing, minimal traffic. Another reason Japan has such low unemployment – well, until recently at least.

Actually, it makes you wonder. When Tokyo residents are confronted with this sort of thing on a very normal, daily basis, maybe watching stuff like Akira or Ghost in the Shell doesn’t quite have the impact it does on us in the west….?

Shibuya was the only place in Tokyo that I felt slightly disappointed with. Initially anyway.

After paying our respects to wonder-dog Hachiko at the stations exit (if you don’t know the heart-wrenching story, it really is essential reading), we headed into the much hyped shopping district. Dominated by big brand, global chain stores like Gap, HMV and Tower, the place feels decidedly soulless compared to the style mash-up of Harajuku. Sure there’s the Bathing Ape shop, with it’s funky disco-bling interior and glass steps filled with trainers on conveyor belts, but the prices in there feel like someone is actually taking the piss. Same goes for the G-Star store – nice gear, but how much? Really? Most interestingly, you never see anyone actually buying fuck all in either of them.

Feeling a little deflated by the bland excess of it all, we headed back to the station, only to stumble across what felt like bumping into a good, old friend when you’re feeling down: Mandarake Shibuya.

This used to be the chain’s flagship store before the Akihabara one got moved and expanded, and while it’s not quite so big and only on one (substantial) floor, it’s pretty cavernous. If you can survive the near seizure inducing flight down steps lit only by strobe lights, you’re in a for a treat. It’s a similar deal to Complex, but with much more of an emphasis on manga and artbooks than toys, where I was not only able to pick up some Patlabor books I’d been hunting for but also a copy of the highly elusive Akira Animation Archives for my boy Al T….

• Click here for more images of Shibuya

Look, I know what you come here for. Really. I mean, I’m sure you’ve been enjoying reading about the last few days exploring Tokyo’s ancient monuments and culture, but I know what you’re thinking.

Where the fuck is the anime and the toys, Tim?

Well, my friends, let me put you out of your misery.

Returning to Akihabara to make some essential purchases at Mandarake again, I stumbled across Super Modelers, hidden away on the fifth floor of a small pile of shops on the main street. A model-kit and supplies shop, the back end of it sells the usual Tamiya military and car kits, along with quite a lot of train set stuff. But the vast majority of the shop, and most importantly the display cabinets as you enter, are dedicated to one thing only: Mecha.

The away of kits on sale here is bewildering. Gundam, Voltoms, Armoured Core, Patlabor and Evangelon boxes of every size are stacked up on top of each other down every aisle, and combined with overpowering smell of paint and glue that fills the air it’s enough to spin you out. But the real treat here is the aforementioned display cabinets, showcasing some of the best model work I’ve had the privilege to see, highlighting the uniquely Japanese otaku art of taking a glossy, brightly coloured Gundam kit and painting and converting it into a moody, grimy, realistic looking piece of futuristic military hardware.

It’s awe-inspiring stuff, enough that I couldn’t leave the place without buying something, and wondering how I was going to get this huge Patlabor Ingrams Mk 1 box into my suitcase and home…

• Click here for more images of Super Modelers

While chilling in the gardens around Dembo-in in Asakusa, admiring the beautiful Koi under the bridges, I got chatting to an elderly local called Hideo. I think he just wanted to flex his pretty impressive English skills, but his eyes lit up when we told him we were staying in Shinjuku. Excitedly, he insisted that when we got back there, we head on down to the Hanazono Jinjya Shrine, as there was a one day, once a year Torinoichi Bamboo Rake Festival taking place, and it ended at midnight. He explained it was where these elaborate bamboo charms were sold that would bring good luck for the following year.

So, after getting back to the apartment late that evening, and seeing on a map that it wasn’t that far away, we decided we’d wander down and check it out.

I don’t know what either of us were expecting – if anything – but the scale of the events down near the shrine blew us away. There was, it seemed, a full scale party going on. Dozens of stalls lined the streets – that had been closed to the usual Shinjuku traffic – selling a multitude of different foods, from deep fried octopus tentacles to chocolate covered bananas decorated to represent the Rakes that were being sold and celebrated there. But the smell of the food was only part of the sensory overload; every time a Rake was sold it was accompanied by a ritual of clapping, chanting and woodblock drumming, and hundreds of paper lanterns were mounted on frames around the Shrines.

The Rakes themselves grew more and more beautifully elaborate as you journeyed into the heart of the fair, and people leaving with newly purchased ones held them proudly aloft above their heads. Apparently half of Shinjuku was partying down there – and had been drinking for a few hours too – and again there was the great, exhilarating sense of contrast that I keep feeling in Japanese culture between the ancient and the futuristic, as the city’s young, fashionable, scantily dressed kids descended to celebrate what is obviously an important tradition.

Or maybe they were just looking for a reason to get drunk. Either way, we left feeling we were really lucky to have caught it.

• Click here for more images of the Torinoichi Bamboo Rake Festival

You could be forgiven, on first arriving at Asakusa on the Ginza subway line, that you’ve descended into Japanese tourist-trap hell. And to some extent you’d be right; it certainly seems to be the most touristy place I visited in Tokyo at least – as soon as you pass under the impressive Kaminari-mon (“Thunder Gate”) you’re greeted by a line of literally dozens of stalls selling everything from woodblock prints to Gundam model kits. Further down though, towards the Senso-ji temple, they give way to more traditional craft stalls, with giving you a unique chance to see artists in action. The Temple at Dembo-in, where Japan’s two leading religions Buddism and Shinto meet, and it’s surrounding gardens and pogodas are breathtaking, and a welcome break from the initial chaos.

One thing you must do if you ever make it to Asakusa is make sure you’re at the crossing near the Tourist Information Centre on the hour, as the clock there bursts into an amazing, and typically Japanese, animatronic display every time the minute hand hits 12.

Also, just opposite here on the corner, is a tiny shop that just sells yet more Ghibli stuff. Worth a quick peek round, despite the prices and the moody mama-san that runs it.

• Click here for more images of Asakusa Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3