2018-04 - Blog Posts

The Osaka Monorail

The final post in this mini-series on the Osaka Expo 70 Commemoration Park is the obvious: how does one get there? Considering the Expo was all about bringing together the world's shared (or non-shared) visions of the future, the Monorail seems perfect! Except this line wasn't launched in time for the Expo - it was a later project, opened in 1990.

The straddle-beam monorail links Osaka Airport to Kadoma, and is due to be extended by the end of the decade. A short branch line pops out just to the East of the Expo 70 Park station, so a visit to the park is also a chance to see some mighty impressive sets of monorail points either side of the station, as the West side (above) also connects to the depot.

Expo 70 Japanese Garden

While most of the pavilions of the 1970 World Expo at Osaka were demolished, a very large exhibit was preserved: the Japanese garden. Located in the North of the enormous Commemoration Park, it's designed as a stroll through the ages, with four sections inspired by different periods, Ancient, Medieval, Modern (Edo period) and Contemporary - kind of like the zones from The Crystal Maze, just without the puzzles and Richard O'Brien.

From rock gardens to ponds and rolling hills, from a bamboo grove to wisteria and maple trees, it hits the notes you'd expect from a summary of Japanese landscape styling, but allows one plenty of room to contemplate each tableau - I'm emphasised how big the overall park is, but the Japanese garden alone covers 26 hectares.

One of the few gripes I have with Koishikawa Kôrakuen, my favourite garden in Tokyo, is that some buildings are close and large enough to appear in the background. With the Expo pavilions gone however, most views in this park don't have that problem. Only the Tower of the Sun and the Osaka Wheel are able to rise above the park in this view towards the South.

Been a busy bee today, so here are some animals from the Expo 70 Commemoration Park.

The Tower of the Sun

With another World Expo underway at Osaka this year, a massive park to the North of the city (actually in the neighbouring city of Suita) sits on the site of the first Japanese World Expo in 1970. There's usually some form of centrepiece: in 1889 it was the Eiffel Tower, and at Osaka Expo '70, it was the Tower of the Sun.

It is a massive sculpture by Taro Okamoto, which it was possible to climb into to view another work called the Tree of Life. As it was going to have people inside, it needed a lightning rod - that's what the top face (officially a mask, but I tend to call it the "bird face" - whose eyes light up at night apparently) is sporting. The three faces on the back, front and top represent humanity's past, present and future respectively, though some art critics and historians have a more bleak interpretation due to Okamoto's larger body of work and stance against technological progress, something the Expo would put emphasis on.

Similarly to the Eiffel Tower, the Tower of the Sun was supposed to be a relatively ephemeral structure, and nearly all the Expo pavilions around it have been demolished. Like the Eiffel Tower, it was avant-garde and no doubt not everyone liked it. But this building is one of the few to be preserved, and requires regular attention - again, like the Eiffel Tower which needs periodic repainting. In any case, the Tower of the Sun is one of Osaka's most iconic landmarks.

Feeling rather non-committal today, so here are some flowers from the Expo '70 Commemoration Park near Osaka. This is probably going to start a mini-series because the place is huge, so more information will come later.

To rebuild or not to rebuild? The case of Fujiwara-kyô

While travelling along the Rhine, we've covered a few castles which have been rebuilt and repurposed, unlike many forts in Alsace (links to some of those in that post). In Japan, the rebuilding of castle keeps to house museums was common after the Second World War, though some have remained ruin sites (further links in there). But what about a whole Imperial palace - scratch that, an entire capital?

Well, let's not get too excited: Kashihara, which was the Imperial capital for just 16 years between 694 and 710, has not rebuilt the old palace. By the time excavations began in the early 20th century, this area to the East of the town was farmland, and actually locating the lost palace and city was part of the problem.

It turns out Kashihara was the first city to be planned in the Chinese style: a grand palace at its heart, and a grid of parallel and perpendicular streets around it. In 710, the capital was dismantled and moved to Nara, before moving again to Kyôto in the late 8th century - and the grid street pattern can be found there, with numbered parallels going North to South (Nijô, Sanjô, Shijô...).

Today, the site of palace buildings are marked with these arrays of pillars (photo above with Miminashi-yama in the background), and a small museum sits on the side. There don't appear to be any plans to develop further, unlike what has been done at the palace site in Nara, which we can talk about next time.

World's Loudest Prius

In 2012, apr, one of the big teams on the Japanese GT scene, decided to do... Well, I'll just tell you what they did, you can make your own opinion: they took a Toyota V8 originally designed for American open-wheel racing, which was due to be used for Toyota's return to the Le Mans 24 Hours, plopped it in a mid-rear position on a race chassis, cobbled together a hybrid system with various parts from production cars in the Toyota range, and covered all this with a Prius-shaped bodyshell with an ultra-aggressive aerokit.

To me, the result is both brilliant and ridiculous in equal measure. Brilliant because it worked: as the first full-time hybrid competitor in the Japanese Super GT Series, the mid-engined Toyota Prius apr won 4 races, scoring 16 podiums, and finishing as high as second in the GT300 championship twice in a 7-year career.

Ridiculous because it's the complete antithesis of a road-going Prius, to the point of being the loudest car in the field! When I first witnessed the Prius apr at Motegi in 2016, I could only gasp and laugh; there's no way a Prius should be this loud! And it was a joy to see it again testing at Suzuka in 2018, in what would be this version's final season.

In 2019, the next-generation Prius apr would not be mid-engined, as per the rules that forced manufacturers to put the engine where it is in the road car, and the screamer was replaced by a growler - still ludicrously loud, and I wouldn't want my Prius race car any other way! By the time I visited Super GT a third time at Fuji Speedway in 2023, the Prius was no more, but I jumped on the chance to get a miniature of this remarkable car.

For more on its history, development and results, Roflwaffle has a 35+ minute video on it.

Suzuka Circuit

April became Formula 1 month for Suzuka last year, but back in 2018, it was the venue for a Super GT test weekend. I took the opportunity to enjoy the circuit in a much calmer atmosphere, though the weather was very changeable on the day (I got drenched walking down to Inô station afterwards!).

Opened in 1962, the track is very much enjoyed by drivers for its large variety of corners (the Esses, hairpin, chicane, the double-apex sweeper at Spoon, the dauntingly fast 130R...), and has an unusual figure-of-8 shape, crossing over itself - the bridge is before this hairpin, just out of shot on the left. On a test day like this, most grandstands are open to all, offering the viewer a similar variety of angles and vantage points.

The paddock was also open for the relatively few fans to walk around and have a chance to meet the drivers (James Rossiter pictured above). But even then, 2018 was the year Jenson Button was racing, and his garage got a lot of attention!

Despite the weather which turned miserable in the afternoon, the teams didn't shy away from running. There were even a couple of Safety Car training moments: rolling restart, and full SC procedure with class separation.

Meoto Iwa - the married rocks of Futami

We noted the presence of "married camphor trees" at Meiji-jingû last time, so I guess we can talk about other sacred things linked by rope.

One of the most famous of these is the couple of "married rocks" on the coast of Mie, on the premises of Okitama-jinja at Futami, near Ise. The Meoto Iwa represent the founding couple of Japan according to Shinto, Izanagi and Izanami.

The shimenawa ropes are more heavy-duty than what we saw on the camphor trees: 5 strands, 40 kg each. Still, as they are exposed to the seawater spray from crashing waves, they need to be changed several times a year, which involves quite a few people as you'd expect, as shown on the poster below. Ceremonies occur in May, September and December.

The ropes certainly look heavy on the smaller rock in particular, they look like they could slip off, but instead they cling on rather gracefully.

Dotted around the shrine are statues of the messengers of the gods: frogs.

While Futami's Meoto Iwa is the most important example of "paired rocks" in Japan, owing to how far the tradition dates back and its proximity to Ise Grand Shrine, there are quite a few others across the country. Below is another Meoto Iwa in Mihonoseki, Shimane.

More faces on Dôtonbori

There are the classics on Dôtonbori: Kuidaore Tarô, there's a well-known animatronic crab, and of course the Glico man. I reckon this ramen-loving dragon is my personal favourite.

... though, giving it some thought, I quite like the hand holding a sushi and Spiderman reaching for a pearl too.

But oh boy, are you ready for some real randomness?

This is the front of the Dôtonbori Hotel. According to Atlas Obscura, the hotel had these pillars made to symbolise them welcoming people from all over the world - the faces represent East Asia, Africa, the Middle East and Europe -, at a time when domestic tourism was dwindling (early 1990s).

Sangaku Sunday #6

We are about to solve our first sangaku problem, as seen on the tablet shown above from Miminashi-yamaguchi-jinja in Kashihara.

First, we should conclude our discussion: what are sangaku for? There's the religious function, as an offering, and this offering was put on display for all to see, though not all fully understood the problems and their solutions. But a few people would understand, and these would have been the mathematicians of the time. When they visited a new town, they would typically stop at a temple or shrine for some prayers, and they would see the sangaku, a sample of what the local mathematicians were capable of. Whether the problems were solved or open, the visitor could take up the challenges and find the authors to discuss.

And this is where everything lined up: the local school of mathematics would have someone new to talk to, possibly to impress or be impressed by, and maybe even recruit. With the Japanese-style mathematics of the time, called wasan, being considered something of an art form, there would be masters and apprentices, and the sangaku was therefore a means to perpetuate the art.

Now, what about that configuration of circles, second from right on the tablet?

Recall that we had a formula for the radii of three circles which are pairwise tangent and all tangent to the same line. Calling the radii p, q, r, s and t for the circles of centres A, B, C, D and E respectively, we have

for the circles with centres A, B and C (our previous problem), and adapting this formula to two other systems of three circles, we get

for the circles with centres A, C and D, and

for the circles with centres B, C and E. Add these together, and use the first relation on the right-hand side, we get a rather elegant relation between all five radii:

Of course, we can get formulas for s and t,

r having been calculated previously using just p and q, which were our starting radii.

For example, setting p=4 and q=3, we get, approximately, r=0.86, s=0.4 and t=0.37 (this is the configuration shown in the figure, not necessarily the one on the tablet - I will be able to make remarks about that on another example).

Arashio-beya

The quickest way to witness some sumo wrestling is probably to watch a morning practice session in a stable (though we'd probably use the word "club" in Europe). Arashio-beya in Tôkyô is one such stable, with the nearly-daily practice watchable from the street.

On some days, wrestlers may come out to meet the spectators and pose for some photos. This happened on the day I was there.

While researching for this post, it appeared that these two wrestlers may be among the stable's most successful. Arashio-beya was founded in 2002, and has had four wrestlers reach the top division as sekitori. Their first one is retired and now manages the stable, and their second was Wakatakakage, who won their first major tournament in March 2022 - and who probably is pictured left (I'm confident it is him based on other photos, but I'm couching it slightly just in case I'm wrong). Wakatakakage is the youngest of three brothers who all wrestle for Arashio-beya, and one of his brothers is the third sekitori from the stable. The fourth and most recent is Kôtokuzan, probably pictured right.

For someone who knows absolutely nothing about sumo, looking back at that morning, it's neat to think I was in the presence of people who would fulfill their ambitions.

Ryôgoku Kokugikan

It's sumo season in Tokyo! Though, to be fair, it's sumo season three months per year, as this arena, the Kokugikan in Ryôgoku, on the East bank of the Sumida-gawa two stops from Akihabara on the Chûô-Sôbu line, hosts half of the year's six major tournaments.

It wasn't open when I visited Tokyo, so I didn't see inside, but even then, there are apparently, and unsurprisingly, a lot of sumo-related places to visit in Ryôgoku, like Ekô-in temple... and I missed them all! Well, apart from the odd statue.

I went to Ryôgoku area without a real plan, I wandered around and found some interesting places I'll get to another time, but one thing I think I planned was to try the "lunch of champions", the classic stew for sumo wrestlers: chankonabe, or chanko for short. It was rich and copious, as you'd expect, and, as I remember, I didn't quite finish it.

Climbing Toba Hinoyama

The road (and I guess that is the only downside: it is a road all the way) to the top of Hinoyama starts with the welcoming entrance to Jôan-ji temple.

After some 800 m uphill, past a rather large resort hotel, a chance for a break appears: a viewpoint with a camera stand (which may have been the first time I noticed one! very handy for group shots, though I was alone of course), and an art garden called Medaka no Gakkô, or the school of rice fish. Not knowing that at the time (I looked it up for this piece!), I didn't notice the fish, but I did notice the art and the wisteria in full bloom.

Most of the climbing is done at this point, and it's only another 300 m to the entrance to the shrines at the top of Hinoyama. Shrines, plural, and of various sizes, as the modest Hakuryû Inari-jinja sits next to the grander Toba branch of Kotohira-gû.

On the right, at the bottom of the stairs of Kotohira-gû, one finds the donors' board, and an inviting path... to the views shown in the previous post.

I promised more impressive views from the hills above Toba, and here they are. They're not very hard to reach: the Hiyoriyama circuit is only a couple of kilometres long around the station and involves climbing around 50 m. Hinoyama is further away, further South and a little higher.

The views of the coastline at Toba were good enough for Hiroshige to use in his Famous Views from the Sixty-Odd Provinces to illustrate Shima province (though there wasn't much else, I presume, Shima province was tiny, it was just Toba and the neighbouring town of Shima - also Shima is 志摩 and not 島 "island").

Beyond the islands near Toba, lies the mainland again, the Southern part of Aichi prefecture across the Ise Bay (Minamichita and Tahara), which the car ferry in the above picture traverses.

Toba Castle ruins

After Hikone Sawayama and Numazu Nagahama, a final entry in my mini-series of castles that are outside the Top 100 and Next 100 lists - until I get to see more! - is Toba Castle, located on the glorious Shima coast, and of which little beyond a few walls and foundations are left.

Now a park, the top level offers some good views of the coastline, only a short climb up some stairs from Toba's attractions sea level. Admittedly, the best views require a longer hike, and when I visited, Shiroyama Park was at the end of quite a long day's walk!

Golden Week has begun in Japan, and this quick succession of public holidays ends with Children's Day on 5 May. It's for this occasion that the koinobori, or carp streamers, are brought out. Here are some flying over Asuka-gawa in Kashihara during my visit in 2018, with Unebi-yama, at the base of which Kashihara-jingû is located, in the background below.

My part of France is also on school break. With my homework done, it's time to get out and about again for my own Golden Week!

The conference went well, as far as I can tell, so here are a couple of low-sun views of Kashihara's preserved Edo-period area, Imai-chô, as an outro. The first building seems to be operating as an art gallery (maybe?), while the other is a neat little temple. Both are on the same street, 大工町筋, which Google Translate says could be Daiku-chô suji or Daiku-machi suji... or it could be something else, I don't remember reading the name myself on site.

Different place next.

Here we are: Miminashi-yama

When I visited Kashihara, looking to explore some deep Japanese history in the former province of Yamato, I expected to move around a bit, but there was actually enough in Kashihara itself to make for a busy day.

First up was this curious green round space in the middle of a residential area on the town map I'd picked up. It just seemed conspicuous to me, I decided to check it out.

This is Miminashi-yama, one of the Yamato Sanzan, or Three Main Mountains of Yamato. Though it stood out on the map and it does stand out in the plain around it, it's not huge, and it's a short climb to the top where a shrine awaited.

In that shrine, a sangaku geometry tablet is displayed. By chance, based on a whim, I had found one! Nearly six years on, I've finally solved it - it's not very difficult mathematically, it's just taken me this long to get on with it, having said that, even today I'm still figuring out extra things on it! - and will be presenting it at a conference tomorrow. I wouldn't have thought it at the time... I guess curiosity didn't kill the cat that day!

It's time to go back to Kashihara, and let's start by meeting the local animals!

I'm getting real "fancy pants" vibes from the cat! But to be fair, it is a darn good looking cat.

That is all until I think of something more intricate to talk about.

C'est avec grand plaisir que je présenterai le mardi 16 avril à la Maison Universitaire France-Japon de Strasbourg une conférence sur la géométrie pendant la période d'Edo, avec en support le sangaku de Kashihara. Entre grande Histoire et petits calculs. Lien vers les détails 4月16日(火)、ストラスブール市の日仏大学会館に江戸時代の算額についてコンファレンスをします。楽しみにしています！ Looking forward to giving a conference on Edo-period geometry on 16 April at Strasbourg's French-Japanese Institute. Expect a few posts about Kashihara around then. Has it really been 6 years?...