Haikyo

Abandoned houses/buildings come in all shapes and sizes, but personally speaking, the most interesting to explore are those with a plethora of possessions inexplicably left behind by the people who once lived or worked there. And in this respect, despite their lack of size or architectural significance, a small cluster of cottages once connected to a mining company in Chichibu, Saitama Prefecture, was a fascinating find.

A couple of the places in particular appearing as though their dwellers had simply disappeared.

Leaving behind a fascinating array of personal effects, from what was visible as soon as one walked in,

to surprisingly well stocked wardrobes.

Along with lots of random stuff liberally dotted around the lodgings.

All of them offering hints about the workers who once lived there, but nothing really concrete, apart from perhaps their sex,

and maybe fashion sense.

However, as the departure from one building dated back to 1988,

even that was difficult to decipher.

But that said, they did like tea. Or there again, perhaps they didn’t, as this apparent present hadn’t even been unpacked.

Although possibly they just didn’t have any place left to put them.

In part two, which can be viewed here, I take a look at the buildings and rooms, which, after being left untouched for 20 years or so, are a bit worse for wear to say the least.

When heading out to visit a haikyo/abandoned building, the biggest worries (for me at least) are whether it’ll still be there, and even if it is, whether we’ll be able to find it. So, with this in mind, coming across a long left lodging along the way is a real bonus, especially as it possibly hasn’t been pictured before, or at the very least posted in a publication.

And whilst this particular find wasn’t as filled with furniture and pointers to the past like some places, despite the gloriously green if overgrown front garden,

it still rather gloomily gave hints about possible fun,

obvious failings,

and even the future.

Even though it’s now forever 6 o’clock and there’s not a ceremony in sight, the Heiankaku wedding hall still looks surprisingly bright and breezy from the outside. Or at least it does considering that documents left dotted about suggest that it could have been abandoned as long as ten years ago.

Inside, however, it’s a very different story, with a sense of sadness pervading the property’s still partially furnished function rooms and faded fittings. A place where love, above all else, was once lauded, but even that has long since left the building.

As have the happy pairs in possession of it, who, on their big day, posed patiently next to preposterously sized plastic wedding cakes.

Props that now look far less preposterous,

but at the same time appear far more pathetic.

A lot like the rest of the complex really. As where four weddings could feasibly have been dealt with on the same day, quite possibly at the same time, there is now nothing but decay. Meaning no more laughter filled (or simply long) speeches.

No grand entrances through equally grand entrances either.

And definitely no more lavish banquets fit for a lord and all his legions.

Just ragged reminders of such reveries.

Next week, in part 2, I’ll look at where the brides went to be made even more beautiful, along with the tell-tale signs of nature beginning to take back the building.

In the meantime, however, there’s an abandoned mining town, mountain retreat, water park complex, or even love hotel to have a look at if you’d like to.

Almost every year it seems, the very scientific ‘which nation is getting its nuptials the most’ survey has Japan firmly rooted to the bottom, with apparently only a rare bit of rumpy-pumpy going on between the country’s clearly not bothered about it couples.

Yet that said, a lot of the respondents must be either lying due to the topic being a bit delicate, or because they are at it with other people’s partners, as despite the current financial crisis, Japan’s love hotels are, so to speak, one of the few areas seeing any substantial growth.

Not that such success comes easy of course, and with many areas having a positive plethora of such places, it’s perhaps inevitable that one or two spots are likely to suffer some very hard times indeed. Like the not so aptly named Hotel α21 for example.

A resting place that despite its rather dated looking driveway,

and well-worn walkways,

was nonetheless still open for business and promoting the Playboy channel as late as last month.

Until that is, a fire ripped through reception and a couple of the rooms.

Presumably causing panic among those caught with their pants not only down, but discarded.

A predicament that was sadly not prevented by one of the complex’s extremely feeble-looking fire extinguisher.

Meaning that the hotel’s remaining rooms now no longer need the green light to say go, or indeed come.

Although being so recently abandoned, the parts of the building that avoided the blaze have sadly yet to show those tell-tale signs of age, such as a vast array of vines, or more often than not, vandalism. But on the other hand, being a love hotel where privacy is understandably paramount, it does still offer some interesting light, like a canopy covered corridor for example.

Or windows that can’t been seen through, but at the same time set a suitably saucy scene. Whether it be racy red.

Or a bit of blue.

Plus, as an added bonus, from light, to the light hearted, with some phenomenally bold bathroom furniture.

But just like all abandoned buildings, with them once being somebody’s living space or livelihood, there’s understandably a sense of sadness of sorts, which in this case is in the form of a pool table that’ll never be played on again.

Along with a chair, complete with a neatly folded towel, that will unfortunately never see further use.

Or fornication.

After taking a look at the main part of the retreat-based building and its bunker-like memorial in part 1, any long gone Sanyo — the securities company and not the beleaguered electronics giant — employees obviously needed somewhere to stay after spending the day having group hugs in the hallway or dealing with increasingly desperate diatribes in the dining room.

And, as invariably seems to be the case with abandoned buildings/haikyo, the keys to these rooms were lovingly left behind in case they were called for.

Not that they were of course, and anyway, the rooms upstairs were only remarkable for being unremarkable, with chairs by far the main feature. Pieces of furniture that towards the end at least must have provided those sitting in them a spot to speculate on what went wrong.

Or somewhere to simply smoke themselves silly in sorrow.

Not that such practices helped fully fend off any final frustrations.

However, that’s not to say that visitors only had places to park their bottoms and not their bodies, as the rooms obviously had beds, but despite the welcome relief they may once have offered, they aren’t particularly appealing anymore.

Although the floor, after a quick run around with the vacuum cleaner, could at least be passed off as presentable, if not exactly pristine.

A feature that may, or indeed may not, have tempted the location’s last lodger to stay long term.