Photographic Memories

Phew! Okay, bit of a hiatus, but we’re back. Busy before the Christmas break, busy after the Christmas break... but things have calmed down now, so let’s kick off the new year (while it’s still... wait, February!? Oh man...) with a post, shall we?

Before I hopped on a plane to Vancouver to eat stupid amounts of food with my brother and sister, I left behind the snowy mountains of Tsuruoka for the skyscrapers of Tokyo. I’d been there before in July for the JET orientation, and I’d had a good time taking in the city with some of my fellow Irish. But at heart, I am a massive loner and I enjoy few things more than traipsing around somewhere entirely unfamiliar, exploring it by myself. At orientation, after a meeting with the Irish Embassy staff (in an Irish pub. Keepin’ it classy lads) I took a detour on my way back to the hotel. It ended up being the best 3 hours I spent in the city.


This time I had two days. Awesome.

My first stop had been the world famous Tsukiji fish market, or the Tokyo Metropolitan Central Wholesale Market, to give it it’s full name. The biggest, busiest fish and seafood market in the world. This thing is huge. And at 6:30am I was standing right in the middle of it.

Unfortunately for me, it was completely deserted. But when life closes a fish market, it opens a palace. You see, the market was closed for the Emperor’s Birthday, which is one of only two days a year when the palace grounds is opened up to the public. So I turned back around and headed over to see the big man himself give his Birthday Speech.

Joining the throngs of people gathering in the palace gardens, I made my way through the security checkpoint, along the wide, sweeping path, under the huge stone gates flanked by guards and up onto the plateau where the Emperor’s residence looks out over the city. The estate is vast by any standard, but especially so considering how high a premium is placed on land in this city. At the height of Japan’s property bubble, the palace grounds were estimated to be valued at just over the land value of San Francisco. And San Diego. And Los Angeles. And the rest of the state of California. Combined. The total land value. All 163,695 square miles of it. So it’s big. Big enough to make you forget that you’re still standing in one of the most populous cities in the world (possibly the most populous, depending on how you measure it).

On entry to the palace grounds, each member of the now growing crowd was given a small, paper Japanese flag. The idea being that upon the Emperor’s appearance before the audience on his balcony, the crowd goes wild and everyone waves their flags. From an elevated view, the gathered people would suddenly seem to disappear under a sea of red and white. And there I was, head and shoulders above the majority of the crowd, with a perfect, dead centre view of the balcony where the Emperor himself would emerge. With the intention of showing them to my students and my family, I had decided to take photos of my trip, and now I was ideally poised for the perfect Kodak moment. But in that instant came my dilemma.

Camera in one hand, and paper flag in the other.

I could either capture this moment, or be part of it.



I have had a long running argument with many people over the past occasions that I’ve been travelling. I hate cameras. Don’t get me wrong, I love photography! I have friends who have taken breathtakingly beautiful photographs of even the most mundane scenes. But I hate cameras, and what they do to people, and what they do to experiences.

I’ve lost count of the amount of times that a spontaneous, in-the-moment action had to be soullessly repeated for the sake of a camera, the amount of times I’ve had to wait to one side while somebody tries to catch an “uninhabited” scenic view on film, the amount of times I’ve felt that the countless pictures being taken beside me couldn’t possibly be looked upon later with fond memories, because the only memories they’d have is of taking photos.

In Cambodia, I walked straight past maybe a hundred people outside Angkor Wat, all of them trying to snap the perfect holiday shot of the awe-inspiring temple at sunrise. I had the entire temple to myself for maybe 15 minutes. The walls echoed with silence as the first crimson drops of morning light bled through the stone archways casting deep shadows across the never-ending bas-reliefs lining the halls. And that, to me, far surpasses the value of any still image.

The camera comes between us and the world. It remove us from the scene. And for me, the purpose of travelling is to become part of a different scene. To feel it. To see it with your own eyes.



The Emperor appeared before me. Cheers erupted around me as I raised my flag with the rest. And I waved. I waved my flag with everything I had. Smiling from ear to ear, I was completely lost in the intensity of the crowd, the uniqueness of the situation, the...

Then my flag broke. Ripped right in half and I was left holding a stick.



Well, I tried. Here’s the photographs  :)





Click any of them for a larger image

The Emperor was the second sweetest old man I've ever heard talk. Here's looking at you, grandad.

The interior moat, with eager visitors crossing the bridge into the Emperor's residence.

One of the traditional style buildings in the palace grounds.

I'd missed the fish market, but I sure as heck wasn't going to miss breakfast.

The entrance gate to Tokyo's oldest temple, Sensoji, built in 645. In the background is the Tokyo Sky Tree, completed this month. At 634 metres, it is now the tallest tower in the world.

A different view of the gate, this time showing the beautiful five-story pagoda which stands nearby.

Sensoji itself.

That's it for now. Wouldn't want to spoil you, would I?