I have been meaning to write about the process of shopping for hashioki for some time. Now, when I’ve just returned from a 2 week trip to Japan, seems like a good time!
First, full disclosure: I’ve come home from some trips to Japan with more than 100 individual hashioki. But my collecting quest is winding down, and this time I only bought 10. I even flirted with the idea of buying none… but old habits die hard.
One of my first stops in Tokyo this time was at a store called Ginza Natsuno. They have several stores in Tokyo, but I prefer the one on the fringes of Harajuku, just a short walk from the Omote-sando Metro station. The describe themselves as a “chopsticks” store, but what are chopsticks without chopstick rests? There are no bargains here, but they have a great selection, and it’s plainly fun to shop here.
This time at Ginza Natsuno I bought a stag horn beetle, a Japanese wooden bucket with a handle, a Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur, Jomon-era figure,and a Fuji-san with snowflakes.
It turns out you can never have enough Mt. Fuji hashioki, as evinced by the fact that I bought two more Fujisama’s in the next few days: the one of the left depicting Hokusai’s Great Wave off Kanagawa at Takashimaya, and the one on the right which shows Hokusai’s Red Fuji at the wonderful new Sumida Hokusai Museum . Added to the ones I already own (see my “Fuji-san” post from July 2017), I believe I now have 27 unique examples (!).
I also caught a glimpse of the constantly shrouded iconic mountain on this trip, bringing my lifetime sightings to a total of three. Technically, as you can see from my photo, I saw the mountain before I got to Japan, because I took this picture from the window of the
airplane as we got in position to land at Haneda. It was magical to see Mt. Fuji rising from the clouds, and awe-inspiring to see it appear so dark and menacing without any snow cap. Of course, it was over 95 degrees Fahrenheit while we were in Tokyo, so everyone and everything was melting, including Mt. Fuji.
While we were in Japan the government announced the creation of a task force to plan how they might cope if Mt. Fuji erupts and covers greater Tokyo with 10 cm (4 inches) of volcanic ash, particularly during the 2020 Olympics. I previously thought Mt. Fuji was dormant, but it turns out that it simply hasn’t erupted since 1707. Given the increase in seismic activity in the Pacific region, including the volcano of the big island of Hawaii and the recent earthquake in Hokkaido, I hope that task force comes up with a good plan.
This hashioki, like the one from Ginza Natsuno above, depicts a clay figure produced in Japan during the Jomon Period (14500 BCE – 300 BCE). It comes from the giftshop of the Sannai Maruyama Archaeological Site in Aomori in northern Tohoku. This figure is also a logo for the site, so I think it’s wonderful that they offer an inexpensive souvenir in this shape. I would like to think that school kids bring one home after a class trip to the site, and that this little fellow launches some good conversation at the dinner table.
This hashioki is nice, but it probably doesn’t look particularly special. But it’s special to me because it comes from Blue & White, a tiny and delightful shop in the Asabu-juban
neighborhood of Tokyo. The shop is owned by Amy Katoh, an American expat who is also the author of several great books about Japanese design and living, including a charming little book about Otafuku (please see “What is it about this woman?” from August 2016). Although this hashioki depicting a deflated kamifusen or paper balloon is obviously mass-produced, Blue & White primarily stocks handmade artisan goods, including lots of indigo fabric items.
My last hashioki purchase on this trip was also my first official Star Wars acquisition. This pudgy little fellow looks too cute and cuddly to be Darth Vader, but the saleswoman at the Yaesu Book Center near Tokyo Station insisted that is exactly who it is. Hopefully using it does not lure one towards the dark side of The Force.
Some of the places I used to shop for hashioki in Tokyo are not as fruitful as they once were. I was in a number of department stores, previously one of my best sources, and their inventory of hashioki was much reduced. The guidebooks still direct shoppers to the wholesale shops in Tawaramachi, two metro stops from Sensoji Temple in Asakusa, but on my past few trips to Tokyo I found that many stores had closed there, and the selection and prices in the remaining shops was disappointing.
The day after we returned from Japan I bought what I think is my last hashioki purchase. It’s from Japan, but I bought it on the Internet site Etsy.com. If I’ve piqued your curiosity, check back for my post about it at the end of the December.
HASHIOKI 