Gulliver's Kingdom, Kawaguichi, Japan, 2006.
Of how quantum-x learned to stand in the shadow of giants, and read
japanese maps.
< Other adventures await .. click here..
| Kawaguchi, Japan, 2006 Present: dozey, dsankt, chonnie, quantum-x Oh, Japan. Best known for vending machinese of soiled adolescent umentionables, and of Bubbleman, by a quietly celebrated few. Beyond novelties, Japan hoards some of the most lush exploration secrets for those willing to dedicate the time. Etched into my mind since I first saw it: Gulliver's Kingdom, Kawaguchi. A fabled theme-park dedicated Lilliput - complete with tobogan run, a pirate ship, and the prize: Gulliver himself - a modern goliath, still restrained in bondage under the watchful eye of Mt Fuji. A photograph of Gulliver lurched out of obscurity and made quick circulation - there he was - lying with palms outstretched - his bonds strengthened by the vines and greenery that encrouched. And to further compliment the scene - the vista of Fuji, its snow cap lofty over the summer heat. As the months passed, plans formed to visit the proud empire of the rising sun, and to pay tribute to Gulliver. It came as no surprise that as with all other aspects of Japanese culture, urban exploration in Japan drammatically contrasts with the western practices. This is not to say noone explores - there definitely is a scene, which enjoys an element of public exposure through DVDs and intricate websites - but as a gaijin, it's a totally different playing field. Most foreigners are regarded with an inherent distrust, which grows as Tokyo dwindles. If you get seen somewhere you're not meant to be, a phone-call to the local constabulary isn't likely - it's guaranteed. Not only that - once caught, you get to surrender all your rights as you get held for up to 21 days without representation or charge. If you're lucky, you'll be booted in the date and banished from the land of the rising sun. Another peculuraity is the security, or apparent lack there of, to a foreigner. Were in Australia or the US, you'd expect a 10' fence and hungry dogs surrounding locations such as Gulliver, there's a simply a peice of rope across the main entrance, politely pointing out that beyond this rope is off limits. If you're Japanese, the rope probably looks like those blue lasers from Resident Evil, but to a gaijin, it's a piece of rope, and there's probably reasonable causality between this fact and the previous paragraph. There's merit in mentioning, that similar to most of our adventures, it's safe they're more goal-orientated - that is, the how and why is largely irrelevant right up until the point we're ready to leave. We'd found some rough details on a blurry quadrant of Google Earth. That was all we needed. Gulliver was calling, we'd just follow the scent. Thankfully, our stupidity was replaced with insight after a dinner with the most bizarre and generous of gaijin, KuroNeko. A shining beacon for any nervous explorer in Japan, after warning us of what happened to the last explorers who skipped tab and duping a taxi, we ended up at his house, lined up on the tatami, mouths agape in awe and fear as Sensei-Kuro-Neko shattered our dreams for Gunkinjima, scared us shitless with tales of the Sea of Trees and provided us with maps and the specific locality of Gulliver. The next day, we packed our obentos and grabbed the train to the airport: charged with the task of hiring a car, which quickly turned into a situation all to familiar to those who have travelled to countries where they don't really speak the local tongue. That is, you mumble about what you want, the person behind the counter seems to understand all too quickly, and rebukes any feeble attempts to make to clarify, and waves you to a seat, where you sit nervously for 2 hours, with the ever growing feeling that you're an idiot. Idiots as we were, we also ended up with a car from the bargain - our first car in Japan. It was shaped like a cube, pink on the outside, and just as pink on the inside. GPS? Sure! How's your kanji? Dsankt was placed behind the wheel, and I was placed behind the GPS. Roads passed underneath, soon we'd escaped Tokyo and were heading South towards Fuji on the Chuo Express way - and were treated the most amazing vistas that unfolded like origami as the road pushed through the vibrant green landscape.  Offers of lube and golfing gorillas are just the start of the services you can find in Japan.
From that point on, it was map, protractor, smoke signals, and keeping Dozey away from the controls. Eventually, Fuji San appeared out of the mist - and what a sight it was. So magnificent, in fact, that I missed the one exit that we needed. After slight delays, and a few circles later, the autoroutes gave way to smaller roads, canopied by the encrouching trees. We'd hit the 'Bad Side' of Fuji. As KuroNeko had explained, for the Japanese, Fuji is special, and not just special in a necessarily good way, either. The southern side of Fuji is known as the dark side. It's surrounded by dense, undulating forest. Centuries ago, lava had spilled down the slopes, scarring the landscape. The subsequent death of the forest left gaping voids in the solidified lavaflow, which would be eventually covered partially as nature took its hold once more. The result, The Sea Of Trees is an almost alien terrain. The ground rises and falls violently, trees twist from every nook at obscure angles, and the undergrowth is monotonous and thick. This foreboading forest has been swept up in Japanese culture, as the single most popular spot for suicide. Each year, hundreds of people made the pilgrimage to the Sea of Trees, where they would wander off the track and envelope themselves amongst the trees. So common were these trips, that at one stage, there was a hotel called The Last Hotel, which provided a macarbe service to determined individuals. Eventually, the government stepped in - the hotel was closed, and the Sea of Trees was removed from the maps. Despite this, the suicides continued - to this day, each year the government trawls the forest meticulously, charged with the grisly task of recovering bodies. Apprently, due to the forboding nature of the terrain, the potholes, the cavities and thick scrub, each time they pass, bodies that have been undisturbed for decades are uncovered. All of this is directly on route to Gullivers. We stopped momentarily by the roadside to take in the atmosphere, and then pressed on. As suddenly as it started, the canopy abruptly gives way to undulating hills, villages, and rice paddies. And, inexplicably to the uninitiated, in the middle of this, lies a strip of 4 lane highway, complete with the only traffic lights in hundreds of kilometers. This road marked the entrance to Gulliver's Kingdom.
Eagerly, we drove up as far as we could, until it stopped. The immediate area revealed no giant sleeping Gulliver. Eventually, after 30 minutes of scouting, nested deep into the countryside, we found the entrace. Walking in really felt like you were entering a Kingdom, a new domain. Within a few steps of arriving, we were weaving between lanes and alleys in an artificial village, and the rest of the world was shrouded in mist - you couldn't see in, and you couldn't see out. Guarding the stairs out of the village stood a patient Gulliver, staring into the mist and surrounding mountain ranges. We walked on, and in front of us unfolded the scene we'd all been anticipating... Gulliver, bound by ropes and nature, with Mt Fuji rising in the background.
Gulliver aside, the entire village was a sight to behold: there was a pirate ship, three distinct villages, a toboggan run, a magnificent lake, and a miniature train system, all in immaculate condition, almost untouched by the elements. Open doors revealed gift shops, still stocked with toys and trinkets, games and attractions stood as if they had been simply left a few hours before. There's not much more to say that photos can't, except for the fact that this place was truly, truly amazing - undoubtedly a sanctuary, hidden from sight. Even Google Earth never revealed the resting place of Gulliver. And now, it no longer exists. All that remains from this proud village is a strip of a concrete that scars a hillside. And just like that, Gulliver's decade of waiting has come to an end.
And so ends the sad tale of Gulliver. |
