DAI BIRU divine

the GODDESS on the corner

It is my Goddess building somehow. All triumphant she is in braving the modernity happening all about her. She has Presence. She has Integrity. She has Wisdom, Beauty and an aura of Mystique. This is Dai Biru. Just as I would prefer to have an old 1960's E-type Jaguar Roadster, MGB or Morgan in my driveway to accompany my Japanese gold paper-driver status, so too do I honor most the buildings that have reached old age in style; especially those in central Osaka.

I intentionally ride past Dai Biru whenever I can, to catch glimpses of her in different shades of sunlight and season. I have always felt though, that I needed permission or some kind of reason to walk into such a glorious monument humming quietly with expectancy. So, with a back-up plan to have breakfast in an atmospheric coffee shop there one Monday morning early, I set off on my maiden adventure inside Dai Biru.

I felt happily welcomed to my destination by a young groover J-man about my age, on a super funky bicycle humming away without a care in the world. I smiled at him, and commented what a lovely mood to have for the start of the work week. I started to say something about his sweet humming, when I suddenly couldn't remember the word. It wasn't 'kuchibue' (whistle), it wasn't 'uta' (song), and it wasn't what I said, 'kuchi no uta' either. I laughed at myself for my obvious mistake, and he followed up with, “Aaaaa, Hana uta o!” (Ok! My humming!). Yes. The main character should have been the 'hana' (nose), not the 'kuchi' (mouth). Japanese language games at 8:30am.

The first thing I experienced when I walked in the main entrance was the shining glimmer and glitz of all the roof adornments. The beautiful illumination, the yellow aura, and the embrace of another era's love. The first thing I noticed was the quiet of the backdrop without any hustle and activity of a work space. There was a distinct mood of hollowness, and a sadness lingering. There felt to be no kind of thriving, renewal or 'iki iki' (vivaciousness) so clear-cut.

The worn tiles smoothe like shore-side big boulders at the beach edge, and the handrails showing varying colours of undercoat. The elevators with their true 'ding' symphonic melody to herald their arrival, and the golden-olden post office boxes shaped like chimneys, which are still looked after by the post office staff on the first floor. There is the euphemism of the toilet labels, and the staircase silhouettes full of secrets and memories.

Dai Biru has all the charm, character and confidence I knew it would, and a future I feared it might.

“Yeh, they're going to pull it down and rebuild” said the retiring-age man in light green uniform, doing a bit of sweeping here and there. There was no emotion in his voice, and no true comprehension of the shock and dismay deep on my face. “Knock it down?” I whimpered. “Oh don't worry love, they're going to keep the best parts.....” he countered. I looked about me and felt even more intensely the reality of the situation. There was a shy isolation all about because many of the first floor tenants had already relocated to other places (including the coffee shop Dai Osaka I had planned to visit, which had closed four months prior). A dark shadow of disappointment filled me up almost immediately. I remembered the words of the woman at the 96 year old Monaka shop (See the entry, HOME made ice cream. The MONAKA) who forlornly commented to me why more older Japanese buildings are not preserved and respected like overseas. As we all know, this 'setsunai' feeling is not for buildings alone.

I recalled the wisdom tree they cut down in the name of “progress” on the old Kumano Koudo pilgrimage path to Wakayama where I used to live. I clearly remember my outrage even now; the red-hot anger that burned and exploded in complete disbelief. My feverish march to the Development Headquarters after school, and my one-woman show of “What have you done?”. Their empty reply without any sign of remorse or even compassion, “The tree WAS blessed, Miss”, did nothing to soothe my fury. I returned to the area, and uprooted softly the most stunning red geranium bush wild, which I had always admired growing in the garden of my favourite 'Obachan'. Her house too had been destroyed, and there was just this mass of broken boards. I took the geranium bush home on my shoulder, with the ancient roots, earthworms and dirt, and replanted it in my garden. It was the only thing I could think of to keep something alive from this mess of modernity. A brand new (ugly) station has been built now; with no form of green to be seen.

While you can, go find the retro buildings of Osaka and show them some love. Let them feel your enjoyment of their beauty. Go now while you can. Go soon. Dai Biru waits for you. The all-alive museum experience for free.

How to get there:

Take Exit 3 out of Higobashi station of subway Yotsubashi line and walk North. Cross over Higobashi bridge and turn left along Nakanoshima-dori street.

Compare your feelings about the brandest-new Nakanoshima Dai Biru West next door. What building speaks to you deepest I wonder?