Christmas Eve

I was back in Ueno and this time I arrived when the art galleries were actually open. I don't like the park itself. It is full of homeless people who live in little shacks in the woods. They sleep on the benches or sit together drinking, but never beg. The sun was shining and there was the sound of Peruvian pan-pipes playing. It is funny, because wherever you go in the world you always come across South American pan-pipe and percussion groups playing on the streets, all decked out in psychedelic ponchos.

As luck would have it, I was randomly given a free ticket by a woman in the lobby of one of the art galleries for the current exhibition of 80 works from the Moscow Hermitage gallery. It was just as well because if I had paid I would have been disappointed. The only painting I like was one of Gaugin's famous Tahiti works. The portrait glowed with velvety blues, tangerines, ochres and magentas. There were a couple of Bonnards and a Monet but the rest were unknown landscapes which held no appeal for me.

Following this I wandered through the park to the National Museum of Western art which was hosting a big exhibition of Dali's work. There was a long queue outside so I went to the ticket office as other people were doing. However, when I asked for a ticket the girl shook her head and showed me a handwritten sign which said "Sorry we are very busy at the moment, please join the end of the queue." So I strolled down to the end of the line where a guy held a sign saying that from this point there would be a 45 minute wait.

As I was about to join the line he asked me if I had a ticket. Confounded, I shook my head and tried to explain that I had just tried to buy one but was sent to the end of the line. He just smiled and said "yes, yes" and pointed at the ticket office. So, I went back to the office feeling rather annoyed. What was going on? Just another example of the sheer lack of logic that confronts one on occasion in this country. Back at the same counter I asked once again for a ticket and just as before, the girl showed me the sign. This time I felt really angry. I had seen other people buying tickets and although I knew she didn't understand, I started saying this to her and pointing at the guy with the sign in the distance. For whatever reason, she finally changed her mind and sold me the ticket. It struck me as very bizarre.

The exhibition was wonderful except for the fact that the space between me and every painting was six people deep, and they weren't moving. After a lot of persistence I managed to get a good look at most of the works but the gallery was too small for an exhibition of that size. You couldn't fully appreciate the pieces in that kind of environment. They were too close together and you couldn't get back far enough to view them from a distance.

Outside the gallery there was a Christmas tree decorated with Dali-esque golden eggs and a Chupa-chups vending machine. It somehow didn't feel like Christmas to me. As dusk settled upon the departing art lovers I did what I do best, an that is wander. A short walk from Ueno park are the lively streets of Ameyoko market town: bunches of dried squid, tubs of orange fish eggs, belts and shoes, fur coats, fresh pineapple on sticks, TV screens, men with microphones, cigarette smoke, noodle bars, girls in Santa outfits handing out flyers, plastic food displays and the thunder of overhead trains. I thought a lot about my painting and how much I want to start doing it again when I get home. I want to do a series on Tokyo. There is so much inspiration here.

That night I welcomed Christmas day in with a Gin and Tonic and a complimentary bowl of raw cabbage with sesame dressing, in a quiet little bar in Toyoda with a friend. It was cold and quiet as I walked back to my apartment in the early hours of Christmas day. My first Christmas away from home. It was certainly different.