The second dispatch from an American musician in Bulgaria actually arrived soon after
the first dispatch, but I didn't notice it until yesterday, when my son re-sent it.
Osaka, Sunday, Aug. 21. Following a pleasant rehearsal of Mozart's K. 478 with pianist Miyuki Kawabe, I borrowed Milena and Pavel's camera (a Panasonic Lumix), stealed myself against the persistent drizzle with a baseball cap, and went out to soak up the Osaka atmosphere on this calm Sunday afternoon (luckily I didn't actually get soaked until the final mad dash for the hotel a few hours later).
I started with the narrow one-way street that the hotel is on, passing many small eating and drinking establishments, each with its quaint (and in most cases carefully arranged) storefront scene, often embellished by one or more parked bicycles that added their own colors and patterns to the photo compositions. These still-lifes kept me occupied as I made my way down Kasayamashi Avenue toward Nagori Street (really a boulevard).
Then I began to incorporate the occasional passersby into some of the photos (I haven't yet looked at them, so I'm describing what I was attempting to do rather than the results.) When I reached Nagori Street, I made a u-turn and then turned right at the Seven-Eleven onto a street that my map leaves nameless, following it to the shopping street that the Midousuji subway line runs under. That street is called—surprisingly—Midousuji Avenue. I stepped up the pace—and no doubt missed a few interesting shots—when some shouting from Midousuji Avenue became noticeably louder and I realized that there was some real action ahead. At first I thought it was a rally and that people were shouting as they walked, but when I reached the corner of "nameless" and Midousuji, where a Shinsaibashi subway station entrance descends to the right, a group of people in yellow uniforms and waving yellow fans with an apparent advertising slogan on them came into view. These were the shouters. Definitely a product promotion.
After turning left at Midousuji, I observed single promotional shouters at various stores along the way. This is the time of the "final summer sales," as several stores identified them in English.
Random English names and phrases caught my eye—can't imagine why I would pick them out in a sea of Japanese characters (a mixed metaphor here?). I'm pretty sure there’s a technical term for the way the English language is used to enrich Japanese with colorful phrases that English-speakers would never think of. Yesterday a Japanese-born friend explained that the treasure in an anime film [a Japanese animated cartoon] (I forget which) is called "One Piece," but the symbolism is about everyone being united under a single Peace, so is this a misspelling or a conscious play on words?
I kept the photos coming, trying to sneak in as many locals as possible using the techniques my Swedish friend Sofia taught me earlier this year (before that I really didn’t "do" people unless I got up the courage to ask them if it were okay to take their picture).
I was especially hopeful to capture some of the younger crowd with their unusual and(/or?) stylish hats. Then I happened on the Yamaha store (not to be confused with the store earlier on that merely sold Yamaha products), and everything changed.
Here I had no trouble metamorphosing from a photographing tourist into a shopping-spree tourist. I migrated from the full-price CDs (of which I bought a few, including "Quartina," a disc by a Japanese cello quartet) to the bargain bin, where I built up a stack of assorted titles, some of which had nothing more than an anime-type image of a orchestra conductor to recommend themselves to me. An anime conductor—I just couldn’t resist!
Then I devoured the second floor, where sheet music and musical souvenirs are sold. I went for the little notepads with little doodles and/or piano themes, plus stickers of various kinds (I kept telling myself that I "need" these for presents for…I'll think of whom all to give them to), plus these cute envelopes for collecting lesson fees (had to have examples to show in Sofia under the heading "the Japanese think of everything"), plus an arrangement for string quartet of Piazzolla's "Libertango" (good thing it was displayed front out and, unlike the other front-facing items, had the title in non-Japanese). This last will be an addition to the Sofia Quartet's repertoire, for we have a running joke that the tango I least like to play is…"Libertango." This is a different arrangement than the one we do, so maybe I'll like it a little better (and nobody else in the quartet will object to it?).
As I was paying for all this, my wandering eyes fixed on a round wall clock with a violin on it. I would have been like, "So what?" except that the hour hand (could have been the minute hand—it was back in an office, so hard to tell from my vantage point) was the violin's bow. I had to get one of those, except that they didn’t have any for sale. (I knew that was what the saleswomen were sadly explaining to me as they bagged my stuff.)
On the way out I stopped by the upcoming events flyers, and among them saw one with a prominent image of Alexander Nevsky cathedral and of me and my colleagues—this one announced one of the concerts we're doing here in Osaka later this month. Okay, so I’m not just a tourist here.
One other store drew me in. It was full of traditional Japanese watercolors (in mass-produced reproductions from China, I thought skeptically) on notepads, stickers, cards, etc., and I just couldn't leave before I bought some. Ironically, it was here that the salesperson was by exception not a young woman but an upper middle-aged man, and here that the salesperson actually tried to communicate in English. He never spoke more than two or three words at a time, but it all made sense in context and warmed my heart. Don't get me wrong, everyone I've encountered here so far (except a random fellow-shopper who carelessly cut me off at the counter) has been ready to help, courteous, and in tune with the very positive vibrations I sensed out on the street in the Osaka shopping district today.
It made emerging from the covered Midousuji Avenue and running back to the hotel in a downpour seem like a lot of fun too.
Enjoyed the post.
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