Out of Poverty
‘Out of Poverty’ is a book about how the author, Paul Polak and his company, IDE, have been trying to solve poverty in many countries, and what has been the key to their success.
Roughly summarizing the discussion in the book, we cannot deliver that many people out of poverty by donations, and neither can national economic growth nor big enterprises achieve that; creating a system with which the dollar-a-day poor can earn more through their own efforts is the answer.
Polak and IDE have been introducing products like treadle pumps that can help these poor people multiply their productivity, and creating business opportunities for some other local people. The argument is very convincing, and for me it sounds like it’s also applicable to many issues other than poverty in the developing countries. I’m thinking specifically about the people living in the old district in Tokyo. The people who want to preserve the classic cityscape and small businesses.
I do understand where they’re coming from, even though, at the same time, I love contemporary architectures – yes, including the foolish-looking ones from the postmodern era.
But just claiming that things are important because they are traditional, old, culturally significant, or whatever doesn’t really help unless we find a good ecosystem that will be self-organized to drive people into protecting these values.
Street formation in Tokyo
What is characteristic about Tokyo’s city formation is that the streets and zoning reflect the terrestrial form to a great extent.
Most of large streets are built to go along the ridges of valleys. With these streets, the city is naturally divided into small areas according to its land form.
Tokyo is a city of slopes. Basically every single slopes has its own name. That is very different to San Francisco, which is also known to have a great number of slopes. In San Francisco the city is basically formed in grids and streets are not relevant to its land form. They’re just going from north to south or from east to west.
While in Tokyo, where the city form precisely reflects the terrestrial form, people used to be more conscious about where they are, in a valley or a highland. You can see this in the fact that many names of places in Tokyo have letters that represent their relationship to the surroundings, e.g ya/tani – valley, yama – mountain, ue – up, shita – down, etc. Thus in this city, slopes have their own meanings to connect different areas with different characters.
Older cities and districts, for example Lisbon, the city of seven hills have similar foundation as Tokyo. But I still feel Tokyo is unique because of it’s scale(Tokyo was already bigger than London in 18th century!) and failure in fundamental re-sturucturing efforts that have been appeared and dissapeared through the 19th and 20th century. Some patches are done but an Haussmann’s renovation never occurred in this city.
The basic structure of the city has gradually evolved through the Edo period.
Residences of high-classed warriors(Samurai), temples and shrines took large areas in the higher grounds surfacing to the large streets going through the hills. Not so large houses of lower samurai followed, then much smaller houses of ordinal city dwellers formed small grids. The streets were shaped rather naturally and incrementally as the city grew.
In the Yamanote area (area around and west from the imperial palace), you can see this complex structure of the city. In the Shitamachi area, especially in the area east to the Sumida river, houses are in more larger and organized grids because the area is basically flat and developed at a rather later stage in the Edo period. But even in Shitamachi, the city has a lack of ground structure. The land is divided into small districts by water, natural and artificial, and each has its own scale of grid.
(continues)
Samba Carnival
I just learned that the Asakusa Samba Carnival has been postponed for a year, which means it has been canceled for this year.
Asakusa Samba Carnival is the biggest carnival in Japan (either that or I’m not aware of any other) and it’s a spectacular event at the end of the summer season where half naked people go down the good, old streets of Asakusa, singing and dancing to the beat of myriad percussion instruments.
As you might already know, Asakusa is a popular tourist spot that is well-known as the city built around the famous Senso-ji temple.The contrast of half-century old Japanese atmosphere and bright and gay sambistas always makes me dizzy. I just hope it’ll come back next year.
It doesn’t consume much electricity – all man-powered – and energizes people. What else suit more to this summer.
Tokyo Sky Tree is still 398m
Tokyo Sky Tree has been staying 398m for a few weeks. What happened?
Tokyo Sky Tree
Tokyo Sky Tree is 398m in height as of today (14th June, 2010), making it the tallest structure in Japan now.
This modern Tokyo tower still under construction is in Oshiage, where there are no other tall buildings, and is expected to be 634m in height upon completion in December 2011.
It’s sort of fun to see the tower grow taller and taller day by day, and to witness people flocking to take pictures of it with all kinds of devices ranging from brand new SLRs to mobile phones. Needless to say, I’m one of them too.
The original aim of building this new TV tower was to improve terrestrial reception because the current Tokyo tower is no longer capable of serving adequately the area in and around Tokyo, where skyscrapers continue to multiply. However, some experts question the need for a new TV tower, pointing out that accessing the TV network via alternative ways such as cable, satellite and the internet is far more efficient than counting on one single mega-structure.
At the same time, findings from a study conducted by the authorities of Sumida ward show a promising outlook for the future of Tokyo Sky Tree as a tourist and commercial site. Official forecasts released in the January 2008 investigative report put the annual number of visitors to Tokyo Sky Tree at some 5.5 million, and the combined number of visitors to the tower and its affiliated commercial facilities nearby at some 29 million each year.
An artist’s impression of the tower upon completion shows how huge the tower will be compared to its surroundings.
Looks like the Tower of Babylon, doesn’t it?
For better or worse, Tokyo Sky Tree is expected to have a significant impact on an area that has remained, for the most part, unchanged over the last few decades.
Let’s see how things turn out.
Statue of Kappa, Kappabashi
Contributed by rinmo14, 2010/03/23 at 12:28
Kappabashi is a street near Asakusa, which is full of shops selling restaurant supplies such as tableware, cooking utensils, restaurant furniture and exquisite plastic food displays.
There are two theories about the origin of the name, Kappabashi.
One has it that “Kappabashi” originated from the old Japanese word “ama-g(k)appa,” which means “raincoat.” According to this theory, there was a townhouse that belonged to the ruler of Iyo-Shintani (present Osu-shi, Aichi prefecture) at the former site of Kinryu Elementary School. And in this townhouse, lower rank samurai and ashigaru (common foot soldiers) made raincoats on the side and hung them on the bridge (“b(h)ashi” in Japanese) to dry when it was sunny.
The other theory claims that the name comes from “kappa,” an imp-like creature that lives in rivers. This theory tells the story of Kappa Kawataro (autonym : Kappaya Kihachi), whose grave is in Sougen-ji, also known as Kappa temple. In the first year of Bunka era, about 180 years ago from now, he started building canals at his own expense as he couldn’t bear to see the area around the present Kappabashi being often flooded because of bad drainage. The kappa living in Sumida river watched this slow-going construction and were moved by Kawataro’s good deed. So they helped with the construction every night. It’s also said that those who saw these kappa got lucky and prospered.
Well, here’s something I found about kappa.
“Kappa in the north, being green, is a divine-like existence,
while Kappa in the south, being red, is a devil-like existence.”
So, what color is the Kappa in East Tokyo, which is right in between?
The answer is…
… gold.
Yes, it is a golden kappa.
“Kappa in the north, being green, is a divine-like existence,
while Kappa in the south, being red, is a devil-like existence.
Kappa in Kappabashi, being golden however, is C-O-O-L cool.“
Asakusa Sanja Festival
Contributed by East Tokyo Survey, 2010/05/18 at 02:50
Sanja Matsuri, a festival that needs no introduction, was held on May 15th and 16th. For the uninitiated, Sanja Matsuri is the festival of Asakusa Shrine. It is an event that is representative of Tokyo, and makes it, on and off, on the list of the 3 major festivals in Tokyo. Owing very much to the reputation of Asakusa, it is the ultimate crowd-puller. And so we went.
The location of the mikoshi (portable Shinto shrine) could be tracked in real time on iPhone. What a high-tech Japan.
It was also a business opportunity for rickshaw pullers. Make eye contact with him and he would talk to you. We shot this from a distance.
It was just awfully crowded. Dangerous if you got too close.
Today’s Mr. Good Looking.
Here’s one legendary good-looker, Bentenkozo Kikunosuke*, presiding over the festival. 
*A famous character in the Kabuki play “Shiranami Gonin Otoko.”
The crew from Sanja Matsuri Nama (“real time” in Japanese) TV with their equipment.
It was a 17-hour live telecast. And in 3D. Incredible! Thanks for the hard work (even though I didn’t watch it)! We also tried broadcasting real-time on Twitter, but found it troublesome and gave up after a while. Professionals are simply impressive.
Miso, Miso, Dried Anchovies and Kelp Stock
Contributed by umibe305, 20/02/2010 at 21:07
I dropped by Kameido, which is the happening street only here at East Tokyo Survey. The purpose of my trip? Miso paste!
Alright, then. Off to the main branch of Sano Miso in Kameido.
Miso, miso, and… yet more miso!
A dizzying array of miso lines the interior too.
I have no idea where to begin with so many varieties, to be honest.
I shall let my prevailing mood decide, and judge the miso by its “cover”.
Get some of the reddish one and some of the whitish one; mix them up as I use them. That’s the smart approach, I believe.
Buying miso by the weight is making me feel a tad extravagant, surprisingly.
Weigh and wrap – not a single redundant move; the economy in the lady’s actions is also the highlight of the trip.
So, is that all now that we’ve gotten the miso? Uh-uh, that’s not all.
Dried stuff, cured stuff, pickled stuff, salty stuff – irresistible to those who are fond of them. Now, that’s Sano Miso for you.
Here’s another entrance. “Umeboshi Fair,” the poster says. Strikes a chord, doesn’t it?
“Pickles,” this one says. “Soy sauce,” that one says.
“Kelp,” this one says. “Yuzu vinegar,” that one says.
“Buckwheat cookies,” this one says. “Miso-flavored beans,” that one says.
However skewed their product range may be, you can get anything, everything and what have you, among others, at Sano Miso.
And oh, their hospitality is unrivalled too.
“Please feel free and help yourself to the magnifying glass should our product descriptions give your eyes a hard time.”
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Fukagawa Tokyo Modankan
Contribué par East Tokyo Survey, le 21 nov. 2009 à 20:55
Fukagawa Tokyo Modankan, une galerie et office du tourisme de l’arrondissement de Koto, ouvrait ses portes en octobre cette année.
Ce bâtiment était apparemment à l’origine une cantine publique municipale : le « Fukagawa Shokudo ». Sa construction faisait partie du plan de restauration après le séisme de Kantō de 1923 ; il servait des plats à bas prix. Sa vie comme cantine s’est achevée quand les attaques aériennes de la Deuxième Guerre mondiale endommageaient le bâtiment. Les autorités ont envisagé un temps de le démolir mais finalement il fait partie désormais du patrimoine culturel national.
Comme vous pouvez voir sur la photo, c’est un joli bâtiment avec des fenêtres rondes caractéristiques.
Un plan de travail avec une plaque à induction à l’intérieur m’a rappelé que le bâtiment était à l’origine une cantine. L’intérieur était bien ordonné d’une manière bureaucratique. Pas particulièrement intéressant. Oh, sauf l’escalier qui mène au deuxième étage et les vitraux sur les fenêtres.
Au premier étage, on pouvait voir côte à côte des plans de la période Edo, et des plans contemporains, ainsi que de belles photos d’événements saisonniers dans le quartier. Au deuxième étage, il y avait des œuvres exposées sur l’histoire de la cantine et des bâtiments historiques dans le quartier.
La bénévole de l’office était assez gentille pour m’expliquer toutes les choses en détailles, donc je me suis senti obligé de lui poser des questions pour lui montrer que j’étais sincèrement intéressé.
Tout ce que j’ai trouvé à lui demander fut : « Est-ce que cette petite île est l’île de Tsukuda ? »
«Je ne sais pas» elle répondait. «Parce qu’elle fait partie de l’autre arrondissement.»
Alors, non seulement elle était gentille, mais aussi honnête. Il semble que son domaine d’expertise était les sanctuaires et les temples. J’ai reçu une explication très détaillée sur les sanctuaires Hachiman et Nanawatari entre autres.
Les visites guidées sont aussi disponibles et il est possible de faire des excursions d’une heure à Monzen Nakacho les samedis, dimanches et jours fériés.
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Fleurs de Colza Près de Chemin de Fer
Contribué par yellowlibra, le 30 mars 2010 à 11:34 La ligne Tobu Kameido à qui je suis toujours redevable. Un train sans contrôleur de deux voitures qui circule à 10 minutes d’intervalle. Une ligne locale qui fait l’aller retour entre Kameido et Hikifune à son propre rythme. Un service ferroviaire dont l’ambiance, contrairement à JR et au métro, évoque une immédiate sentiment de familiarité entre ses voyageurs. Lycéens sur le trajet de l’école ; les peluches un peu trop grandes pendillant à leurs portables me calment. Les femmes au foyer avec leurs enfants dans leurs pas, au retour des courses ; les cadres, épuisés à la fin de la journée. Dans ce train de deux voitures seulement, j’entrevois la vie des gens qui habitent près de moi, juste comme ça. Comme la météo était agréable aujourd’hui après depuis longtemps, je suis allée à pied à la gare en suivant la voie ferrée. En regardant les rails vers l’aiguillage, ma pensée s’est tournée vers les fleurs de colza que j’admire toujours du train. Je suis passés et ai jeté un coup d’œil par-dessus de la clôture. « Ah, oui. Elles fleurissent, alors » je me suis dit. Mais vous savez quoi ? Autant j’aimerais bien les fixer toujours, je préfère la gaîté soudaine amené par cette tache jaune, quand un champ de colza passe furtivement. Les floraisons de colza disparaissant dans le lointain de la fenêtre du train qui se balance. C’est mon paysage préféré de printemps.
