18-20 Takamatsu, contemporary city and contemporary art.

        As soon as you arrive at Takamatsu Central Station, you'll get the fresh, pungent sea air. As soon as you turn a couple of corners, cross a few streets, walk on some sidewalk you realize that the center is horrible. Rectangular buildings and with different base to height proportion, compressed very quickly in a row, fresh new walls that host poster menus and bans of restaurants, storefronts of various types, shimmering rooms for slots machine (pachico) and those that appear to be 'strip clubs', or massage parlors or, even more absurdly, music listening rooms.

Of the latter you get in through an entrance without doors, on the ground floor. Waiting for the costumers there are always two elegant dudes, sometimes there is even a girl. Once inside there is no furniture, only a immaculate counter to serve. On the walls the contrast. No matter how empty the room is, the walls if filled with tiles that looked like music CD covers. All the covers feature photos of girls, all dressed, nothing very provocative, and only Japanese letters. When the costumer has made its choice, whatever it is, he is invited to get through a black curtain and follow the fulfillment of its desire.
Now prostitution in Japan is illegal. Someone cannot be paid directly to have sex. But there are ways around to the law. You can pay someone to have a date with you, or to give you a massage and nothing more. If she wants to have sex, that's up to her and not up what you paid for. So maybe you really pay to see a girl singing. I wonder.
To satisfy my curiosity then I entered in a beautiful Japanese garden.
Japanese gardens have an out-of-the-ordinary order and accuracy. Designed to pacify and at the same time to entertain, with activities like duck hunting in this case, the daimyo (the local lord) really have the effect of carry you out of time, forget about everyday trouble or habits.

However it still did not pay off. My curiosity took me to the island of Naoshima to enjoy contemporary art. An island that until the 1990s was a fixed raft, half uninhabited, in the inland sea of Japan. Then the enlightenment: a group of artists decide to build a center of contemporary art, the Benesse. From there other artists began to come to the island. They refill with post-modern installations and sculptures the island and the trend spreads on other islands, all the way til Takamatsu.

An arc that tries to embrace the sea to indicate the undefined passing of time

A standing metal structure that tries to define the landscape to make us aware of the discontinuity in the compact matter of atoms.

A pumpkin with venous branches that goes almost loose on the horizon to warn of the inexorable fate of us all.

A Shinto gate that opens on the beach and its occupants to give the opportunity to take a beautiful photo :)

        Still in command my curiosity leaded me to a bar, one Monday evening.
I entered. There were two waiters behind the counter. There was good music.
I went to sit. There were two customers at the counter. They were the only customers of the bar. There was not much light.
I ordered a beer. I turned to them. One of them, the one with his hair backwards, had a bottle of Johnny Walker more than half full in his hand. He was pouring it to him and his friend, a guy with a shirt with flower. They ordered the whole bottle.
       I started watching them for a while. They talked in an animated tone. 'Flower shirt' came down from the stool as he could and disappeared in the restroom. 'Backwards hair' poured another glass of whiskey.
       At one point I turned my attention, to the other side sat another costumer, a boy with a hat. He seemed to be in a hurry. He has ordered a cocktail. He turned to me for a second and then dag in his cell phone. No other reaction.

      Back to the other two. 'Flower shirt' was back. The whiskey in his glass as well. They started talking again. They went on like this for about 20 minutes. In the meantime I turned around at least three times and noticed that 'hat boy' had each time a new cocktail.
     I thought, he was actually in a hurry.
     In all this time the two waiters remained motionless behind the counter to observe the customers with an empty look. The youngest had a bad stamped smile on his face, and he was the one listening the two friends of the whiskey, who sometimes seemed to call him into question, but he was faithful to that smile and did not move at all. The other with goggles and older would come back to life from time to time to clean a glass with his white cloth, or to change the music CD. On those rare occasions I tried to speak to him.
     I asked him why he gave me a hot napkin.
     'For the hands.' He answered me
     Then he started to clean a part of the counter
      'Is it normal that there aren't so many people today?'
      'It's Monday.'
      'Usually when is it the busiest day?'
      'Saturday.' He said laconically.
      He changed the music.
      'You've got a really good selections of 1970s rock music. Congratulations'
      'Thank you.' He answered by returning to his motionless position.
      Then I took another sip of the beer. I turned left and saw 'back hair' explaining something to 'bad stamped smile' as background 'flower shirt' nodding. Now the bottle was less than a quarter. There were no doubt that they would be going to finish it. I turned right. 'Hat boy' had a new cocktail. He inexorably sank into his cell phone. I could just look at 'goggles'. I challenged him quite a bit and he finally moved. I have been asked him the bill.
      I payed and with my curiosity now gone I went to sleep.