Neuviller-la-Roche

Hikawa Maru at sunset

Moored permanently at Yokohama as part of a park and seafront promenade, is the ocean liner Hikawa Maru, built in 1928-1930. After life as a passenger ship and a hospital ship during World War II, it survives in impeccable condition - the paint is vibrant and there's hardly any rust to notice.

It is a museum ship and a protected monument, as evidenced by the banners:

(happy captain face) 船内を見学できます: you can take a tour inside the ship

重要文化財 日本郵船 「氷川丸」: Important Cultural Property, Nippon Yûsen ship Hikawa Maru

Obviously, I was too late to be able to visit the ship. I had arrived at Shinagawa late afternoon and was hopping over to Yokohama for a sunset walk-around and dinner.

I'm bringing it up because Mike Brady featured the Hikawa Maru on a recent episode of Oceanliner Designs about ships that avoided destruction and that still survive.

Success for Aston Martin at the Spa 24 Hours courtesy of Comtoyou Racing! The British marque hadn't won the Belgian classic since 1948, and hadn't won a 24-hour race outright since 1959, which was the year the legendary Carroll Shelby won Le Mans with Roy Salvadori in a DBR1 (pictured above at Le Mans Classic in 2018).

Aston Martin have had success at Le Mans since, winning the GT class four times with the Prodrive-built DBR9 and Vantage GTE (pictured above at Le Mans in 2013, a tragic event for the team as Aston driver Allan Simonsen driver died in an accident early in the race). But in the races where GT3 cars are the headline, they have typically struggled to beat the powerhouse brands from Germany and Italy. Seen below is a predecessor of the new Spa winner: the 2013 V12 Vantage GT3, raced at the Nürburgring 24 Hours (pictured at Le Mans Classic in 2018).

Catène de Containers

To celebrate the 500th anniversary of the founding of the port on the right bank of the Seine estuary, Le Havre went big. They commissioned a sculpture from artist Vincent Ganivet... and he delivered a monument!

Standing at nearly 29 m tall, the arches are made with 36 shipping containers, representing Le Havre's half-millennium as an international trade hub. 21 in one and 15 in the other, they are arranged in a catenary shape which makes the structure self-supporting. There's stuff to satisfy a maths and physics buff in there somewhere... but I'll just concentrate on the fact that it looks cool, especially compared to its industrial and brutalist surroundings.

As a major port in Nazi-occupied France, Le Havre was bombed into oblivion by the Allies, hence most of the town centre's buildings were built at once in the late 1940s-early 1950s. The result is a very rigid, homogeneous, mineral urban environment, to which the Catène adds a welcome dash of colour.

But if nothing else (and we've established there is a lot else), it looks like it'd make a compelling Mario Kart track.

Notre-Dame... de Strasbourg

I know, I know. Notre-Dame in Paris just reopened. But Notre-Dame is a very common name for churches in France. In fact, we covered one in Le Havre not that long ago, possibly one of the smallest cathedrals in the country. At the other end of the scale, one of the largest, if not still the largest, is Notre-Dame de Strasbourg. Built during the same time period as its Parisian counterpart, its facade has striking similarities: the grand rose, the two square towers at a similar height (66-69 m)... but while Paris stopped in 1345, Strasbourg kept going for almost a century, filling in the space between the towers, and adding a whopping octagonal spire on one side, reaching 142 m above ground.

Of course, there were plans to make the monumental facade symmetric, but the ground under the South tower wouldn't support the weight of 76 m of spire. In fact, huge structural repairs had to be made during the 19th century to avoid collapse.

The cathedral was the world's tallest building for a couple of centuries, from 1647 to 1874. Considering it was completed in 1439... Yeah, it didn't grow, it owed it title to the Pyramids of Giza shrinking from erosion and taller spires on other cathedrals burning down. Then it lost the title when churches in Hamburg, Rouen (another Notre-Dame Cathedral) and Köln were completed.

But talk of records is just talk, and 142 m is just a number, until you're faced with it. My favourite approach to the cathedral, to truly give it is awesome sense of scale, is the one I inadvertently took on my first proper visit to Strasbourg. From the North end of Place Gutenberg, walk along Rue des Hallebardes. The town's buildings will hide the cathedral from view for a moment, only for it to reappear suddenly at the turn of a corner, much closer, the spire truly towering over the surrounding buildings which also dwarf the viewer. I don't pass by there too often, to try to replicate the breathtaking reveal.

PS - We've already done a piece on the astronomical clock housed in the cathedral, an absolute treasure.

Busy week done! Lots of work especially on Wednesday, and helping Vent d'Est organise their mah-jong tournament on Sunday to cap it off. We were on the boat in the foreground of this photo taken a few years ago - yep, still there today. A more flattering angle for the river, at a greener time of year, below.

Schaffhausen's Schwabentor

Schaffhausen has a great preserved historical centre. One of the entries to this would have been the Schwabentor, the Gate of Swabia, and indeed, it faces North, towards the southwestern area of Germany. Built in 1361, it burned down in 1932, and a couple of curious features were added to it during restoration.

As I took photos, a local woman in a car stopped at the red light and told me to "keep my eyes open". What? "Lappi tue d'Augen uf, that's what it says on the tower". I noticed it just after crossing back over.

When the tower was restored in the 1930s ("Renoviert 1933" is just visible above the relief), a road junction had appeared before it, and this sign was added to warn people walking around near the Schwabentor.

Another addition are the clocks, each surrounded by a painting which are clearly 20th-century works. Carl Roesch's tableaux are called Kosmos on the South side, Kreislauf ("Cycle") on the North side, and they depict our lives in the vastness of space, and subject to the inexorable march of time, and Death can be seen at the top of the clock above: modern style it may be, but the symbols are classics.

Golden Week has begun in Japan, and this quick succession of public holidays ends with Children's Day on 5 May. It's for this occasion that the koinobori, or carp streamers, are brought out. Here are some flying over Asuka-gawa in Kashihara during my visit in 2018, with Unebi-yama, at the base of which Kashihara-jingû is located, in the background below.

My part of France is also on school break. With my homework done, it's time to get out and about again for my own Golden Week!

You can do as you wish @todayintokyo, it depends on how much of a hint you want to give. ;)

Personally, I did tag the city for classification purposes, and I found that 3-4 lines of rambling tags can drown out the rest on the dashboard ("see more tags" appears). This doesn't work on the full-page blog site, though that might be customisable with some HTML knowledge.

As the maths problems take a break, maybe we can have a brief pub quiz. So...

Q. What's that building on the 10-yen coin?

A. The Phoenix Hall at Byôdô-in, Uji.

Initially built as a villa by a member of the Minamoto clan just before the year 1000, the land was sold not long after to members of a rival clan, the Fujiwaras, who turned it into a Buddhist temple named Byôdô-in in 1052. The most striking feature of the temple is the Amida Hall, which with time gained the name Phoenix Hall due to its overall appearance: the two outer corridors are the wings, and a corridor extending behind is the tail.

At the same time, tea production was picking up in Uji, and by the 14th century, Uji tea had become well renowned. I need to go back there someday, my first visit was just an afternoon flick after completing the climb of Mt Inari in the morning. I thought of going back there in the summer of 2023, but couldn't quite make time for it.

Hormone is apparently short for ホルモン焼き, horumon-yaki, a dish that originated in Ôsaka. It is made from miscellaneous organs, but the organs aren't where the hormones come from... It is marketed as a meal that can improve stamina, but ホルモン is also close to 放る物, read hôrumon in the local dialect ôsaka-ben, which means "discarded things", which is what horumon-yaki is made of. Maybe the latter came first, and was construed in to ホルモン as a kind of joke.

With thanks to @felvass for the hint.

Friendly faces on Dôtonbori

Dôtonbori is the street to go restaurant crawling in Ôsaka (if you have the stomach). As there's a lot of venues, there's a lot of competition, so a lot of wacky stuff to draw the passer-by's attention.

If anyone knows why this restaurant is called Shôwa Hormone, please let me know. Shôwa, I can guess, is nostalgia for the post-war Shôwa era; but Hormone needs a good story behind it!

Is this guy mad at people double-dipping their fried skewers?

By the way, that's two fronts featuring another monument of Ôsaka, Tsutenkaku tower, just in case you forgot where you were.

Finally, we have this guy, a true local hero: Kuidaore Tarô. This animatronic was introduced in 1950 as a mascot for the Cuidaore restaurant, which has since closed, but Tarô and his drumming were such a stable of Dôtonbori, that people clamoured to have him back.

I dunno. I think he looks like Brains from Thunderbirds under the influence of the Mysterons. A figure of his time though.

"Kuidaore" by the way, is from the proverb:

京都の着倒れ、大阪の食い倒れ Kyôto no ki-daore, Ôsaka no kui-daore Spend all your money on clothes in Kyôto, and on food in Ôsaka

Today, "kuidaore" is colloquially translated as "eat until you drop" - so go restaurant crawling if you can!

Your typical Breton winter weather...

11 years ago, our group of friends was celebrating New Year on the coast of South Brittany. It was a windy time, sometimes even stormy (the drive back a day or two later was possibly the most dangerous I've ever done), and it made for some impressive shots of waves breaking at Port aux Moines.