The Aquarium

The diversity of species on display at the Osaka Aquarium is probably rivaled only by the largest aquariums. Even comparing this aquarium with the magnificent one in Monterey, California, I have to say that Osaka’s seems to have a much broader spectrum of life on display, organized into “rooms” that represent various parts of the world.

My favorite area was probably the Equadorian Rain Forest room, whose colorful (and motionless) iguana looked truly resplendent. Iguanas can get up to a couple meters in length, but apparently feeds only on leaves, buds, flowers, and fruits of fig trees. Though they have been known to sometimes eat small birds and mammals, I was surprised to learn that iguanas are, by and large, herbivores. They enjoy perching near the water on rocks, bathing in the heat until disturbed, when they leap into the water to scurry away.

In his work, The Voyage of the Beagle (1831-36), Charles Darwin wrote amusingly about about iguanas, “…they are ugly animals … from their low facial angle they have a singularly stupid appearance … In their movements they are lazy and half torpid. [...] I watched one for a long time [making its burrow], till half its body was buried; I then walked up and pulled it by the tail; at this it was greatly astonished, and soon shuffled up to see what was the matter; and then stared me in the face, as much as to say, ‘What made you pull my tail?’”

I used to think that Man’s Best Friend meant Fido, but I now understand that it’s really a penguin (provided you’re carrying a bucket of fish). The Antarctic room sports a rookery of penguins, and they really do look like they’re wearing a tuxedo.  But, unlike the penguin on Tennessee Tuxedo and His Tales, these ones did not seem to be doing much talking. In fact, they seemed really intent on eating more fish!

Some of the most interesting things about the aquarium were probably some of the most common points. Of course, there are lots of very spectacular fish and exotic colors to be seen. But I enjoyed seeing some of the less colorful fish just swimming around together. The silver colored fish in the the Seto Island Sea room (see photo, left) were very interesting because they were almost entirely motionless. Except for the fact that a few other fish were moving around, I might have mistaken the tank for an acrylic display of fish. Instead, they seemed to be in some kind of ballast state so that they neither rose nor fell. Only rarely did one of them move in the five or so minutes I watched them. Maybe this is a way for the fish to sleep or take a break, I’m not sure; but whatever they are up to, they’re doing it as a group.

Speaking of groups, our group — consisting entirely of students — was given a set of tasks to do while in the aquarium. Mostly, we were charged with looking up information displayed throughout the museum on the various signboards. However, we were all asked to draw a picture (head on) of the Ocean Sunfish (マンボウ in Japanese). I can’t claim to be much of an artist, but at least I did get a decent straight-on photo to use as a guide! (photo, right)

I tried to take pictures of more of the fish, but discovered the difficulties that wildlife photographers must experience when they’re shooting their subjects: they move! The giant whale sharks are quite spectacular, but it’s really difficult to get a good photograph of them with a pocket camera.

I think everyone had a great time visiting the Osaka Aquarium. Afterward, we all went to Yume-Hachi in Shinsaibashi (Namba) for an enjoyable dinner and a couple hours of revelry, after which some of us departed (study!) and others went on to karaoke. There’s no telling how long that went on…

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I’d visited the park on several occasions before, but forgot how massive the park is—over 1.07 million square meters—and how majestic the castle appears, particularly when seen under a clear night sky. The best view was saved for last, as a crescent moon rose over the castle just as we were about to leave the park (see photo, right).

During the cherry blossom season each spring, Osaka Castle Park fills up with people celebrating the arrival of the new spring. However, on this evening it was nearly empty, save for the odd jogger or tourist.  Under the klieg lights and in the cool December air, the castle’s imposing size was quite an impressive sight.

And so it came to pass that, today, my bicycle was towed by the city whilst I was stopped at a cafe on the way to school.  Even though I was sitting where my bicycle was in sight, I was studying intently enough that I didn’t see that it had gone missing until I went out to head to class.

This is the second time in as many months that I’ve had a bicycle towed.  Ouch!  The fine for retrieving a bicycle is often 50% or more of the bicycle’s value, so many people do not even bother collecting the bicycle from the impound lot.  Bicycles are frequently towed from around the city’s 155 train and subway stations.  [Hint: usually it happens on weekday mornings.] When you see a notice like the one shown here, you can be assured that your bicycle has been confiscated.

According to a December 2002 article in the Japan Times, the present impoundment release fee of JPY 2,500 (roughly US$23.00) was put in place by Osaka officials in October 2002.  With around 300,000 impounded every year, only a fraction are ever returned to their rightful owners.  Many are left beyond the one-month holding period, after which they are sold off to secondhand bicycle dealers.

Alas, my bicycle is worth quite a bit more than the impoundment fee, so I needed to first get myself to class (a fast walk did the trick) and then figure out how to get to the impoundment site.  I was lucky this time, as my bicycle was at an impoundment station directly in front of the Bentencho train station, so I rode the train from school directly to Bentencho station.

Unfortunately, it’s a long way (about an hour’s ride by bicycle) from Bentencho back to my house.  Since I collected my bicycle uncomfortably close to the closing hour, it was already dark out by the time I got home.  Still, I did get it back the same day, so I was not inconvenienced the following day.  Just 2,500 yen poorer.

Yesterday, I stopped at the McDonald’s restaurant in front of the Momodani train station for breakfast and to do a little bit of homework before heading to my Japanese class. What I’d failed to heed was the no parking sign for bicycles. It’s easy to overlook, as such restrictions are universally ignored. But it turns out that this area was to be “swept” of all unattended bicycles … this morning.

So, it was with some shock that, upon exiting the restaurant, I saw that there were no bicycles to be seen in the area. The one I was using was among the missing. To make matters worse, the bike wasn’t even mine: it was a friend’s, whose bicycle I was using until I got around to buying my own. I had to either find the bike or replace it, no matter what.

But at that time it was then just after 9 AM.  With class starting at 9:30, there was no way I could take the time to investigate what happened, although I assumed that all the bicycles had been impounded by the city. After all, everyone knows that the entire area within about 300 meters of a train station is a massive “no parking” area for bicycles.  But everyone also routinely ignores that rule (at their own risk).

So, I hopped in a taxi and headed to class.  Cha-ching! That’s about 1,000 yen (US$10). After class, I walked back to Momodani station and found a bunch of copies of the notice that I’d missed. Fortunately, it included the address of the impoundment lot.  I tore one off the street and hopped in another taxi and asked the driver to take me to the address written on the flyer.

I only know sections of central Osaka; I’m certainly no expert on the city. Therefore, I was wondering how far it might be to get to the impound lot.  Eventually, I asked the driver if it was near or far.  “Far” was the response.  “Quite far.”  And indeed it was.  Taxi fare turned out to be just over 2,500 yen (US$25) Situated in a reservation underneath an elevated expressway, the impound lot was neatly organized and attended by a couple of older guys circulating on bicycles (presumably not impounded ones).

Impound release receipt

Even though there were numerous bicycles there, I quickly found mine. I unlocked the lock on the bike to prove it was mine, and then they collected the 2,500 yen (US$25) impoundment release fee and sent me on my way.  It took about 40 minutes to get back to an area that I recognized, and, with the temperature and humidity being high, I was happy to get home and drink some cold water.

Bicycle parking’s a real problem in Japan, because it is the preferred mode of transportation for many – perhaps most – Japanese residents. But parking all those bikes (and the fact that some are abandoned) leads to congestion. That impoundment lot sure is a long way away. Perhaps inconvenience leads to deterrence?