Cool Things In Random Places

It’s a window to the world.

More specifically, it’s a window between London and New York City, and it’s called the Telectroscope. It claims to be a tunnel, buried through the earth, connecting the two cities. If you stand on one side in Brooklyn, you can see out the other end, in London City Hall.

It isn’t quite the first of its kind. In 2003, people began to talk about a system called ‘Tholos,’ which aimed to network the cities of the world. Huge cylindrical screens would connect London to Vienna, Warsaw to Copenhagen, New York to Shanghai. But Tholos never got off the ground – whereas the Telectroscope goes straight through it.

Brits and New Yorkers alike have been waving hello for over a week now. The Telectroscope is an ‘art project,’ running for a mere month. As the story goes, the ‘tunnel’ was begun a hundred years ago, by the artist’s great-grandfather, Alexander Stanhope St. George. The reality is actually just some high-speed broadband – but the tunnel story is more fun.

The line goes down the block, at five in the morning.

The Tsukiji Market, in Tokyo, has some of the freshest sea food you will ever see, let alone taste. This gigantic, sprawling epicenter of Japanese seafood commerce features hundreds of restaurants, kitchen wholesalers, and forklifts traveling at breakneck speeds. Octopus meatballs, grilled eels, and uni – sea urchin gonads – are all available, at not unreasonable prices.

For years, the tuna auctions were a must-see: starting from 5am, gigantic tunas are laid out for the highest bidder. In 2008, the first specimen sold for over six million yen – about $60,000 dollars. This was not a record: in 2001, a 400+ lb. tuna sold sold for over twenty million yen. More than anything, tourists would flock to this auction, if only to see for one hour the cutthroat competition that only a fishing empire can produce.

Sadly, this same sort of competition has run several fishing stocks to near extinction, at least commercially. In 2006, one investigation discovered that Japanese had illegally caught three times their fishing quota – for the past twenty years, every year. It was a fraud worth $2 billion, in bluefish tuna alone.

These days, tourists are no longer allowed to attend the tuna auction. Officially, camera flashes were distracting auctioneers. But unofficially, tourists just didn’t want to get up at 4am – and had stayed up all night, drinking.

It was found in an English garage.

This seemingly pickled dragon was also found with technical papers, in German. The papers suggested that in the 19th century, German scientists had created the creature – most likely out of india rubber, or wax – in order to hoax their British counterparts at the Natural History Museum. Supposedly, it was rejected and sent to be destroyed – but was intercepted by a porter in the process, and saved.

But it wasn’t just a fake – it was a marketing scheme. The entire story – the garage, the porter, the duplicitous 19th century scientists – was actually created out of whole cloth by a British fantasy author. The dragon, meanwhile, were created by modern model makers. But in the resulting media furor, he managed to finally score a book deal – about, of course, dragons.

It even has an umbilical cord. And hoax or no hoax, it was enough to make a few scattered dreamers very, very happy.

It’s cannibalism at its sweetest.

The body bakery, in Thailand, specializes in delicious body parts. Made out of dough, raisins, cashews and chocolates, this specialty draws up to a hundred customers a day. The baker isn’t merely macabre – he’s an artist.

Kittiwat Unarrom has a master’s in fine art, but a family in the baking business. Sixty miles from Bangkok, he applies his art skills to the otherwise innocent profession of breadmaking. Faces seem especially popular, but the bakery provides tasty pastries for every limb.

Kittiwat’s ‘Human Bread‘ unnerved the neighbors at first – but the business is still going strong. And Kittiwat likes to suggest that there is a lesson in all of this: not to put so much stock in outward appearances.

In 1971, a former military barracks in Copenhagen had a surprising rebirth.

In the face of rising rent, a group of journalists, anarchists, and hippies took the place over. They christened the place ‘Christiania,’ and released a mission statement announcing that the barracks would form a ’self-governing society.’ Residents would make their own rules through consensus. These rules would include, for example, no violence, cars, or bulletproof vests.

“Pusher Street” is one of its major thoroughfares: for years, it was the center of the local drug trade. Within a decade of the community’s beginning, however, hard drugs nearly tore the community apart – heroin overdoses killed several residents. Residents instituted a Junk Blockade in 1979, patrolling the community in groups and and issuing ultimatums to junkies.

Hash remained. Permanent hash stands lined the street, and the business was (at best) tolerated by the Danish government. In 2002, the government asked the citizens to make the hash trade less visible – so residents dressed their stands in camouflage. But two years later, police moved in. Residents tore down their own stands.

Christiania still exists, albeit precariously. Riots in its defense have occurred as late as 2007. It is seen by many as a testament to how ideals can fade.

It used to be a power plant.

Nowadays, the Tate Modern is one of the most popular museums in London – it specializes in modern art. One huge room, in particular, is the site of some of its more unique works: the Turbine Hall, which once housed the power generators themselves.

It was here that a Danish artist exhibited his work: a gigantic, perpetual sunset. The Weather Project would run for five months, and some locals would return on a regular basis – just so that they could lie on the floor and stare at a single moment, for hours. The entire ceiling was replaced with mirrors, so they would stare straight up at their own shimmering reflection.

The Weather Project even gave some visitors a contact high. The meditative experience it inspired – by staring a hundred feet up at your own reflection – had some patrons comparing the experience to a drug trip. Some staff, sadly, didn’t fare quite as well: they said that the sugar water mist, used to set the scene, simply made them ill.

They are revered, praised, and toasted.

They are cherry blossoms – sakura – and they bloom for mere days. In Japan, their arrival is a national event: wide-eyed newscasters narrate elaborate national maps, explaining how one particular region is in 60% bloom. When forecasters get their predictions wrong, by even one day, they issue national apologies.

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It is a house fit for either a genius, or a 12-year old.

The home of Teller – legally, he has only one name – includes trick mirrors, human skulls, and the inevitable secret passages. Medieval torture racks come outfitted with artificial skeletons, and he still has a coffin in which he was stuffed for his 55th birthday. There is also a talking bear, which can tell you which card you randomly picked out of a deck.

Occasionally, his whimsy gives way to sentiment and wisdom. A taxi cab receipt for a drunk Buster Keaton is framed on the wall. There are also busts of Teller’s parents: Joe Teller was no insignificant man himself, painting his way through a Depression-era, hobo-style existence. Teller has also had a portrait painted of himself, of course – in the style of Dorian Gray.

Penn, of course, has his own house. It’s up the road.

It’s like a cross between Halloween, and a riot.

In Japan, the mochi nage is performed to bless a new home. After the frame has been completed, a Shinto temple is erected on top of the house. Here, the carpenters and home owner give thanks to the house’s spirit, and wish for luck in the coming years – usually with a toast. Meanwhile, someone pours sake around the house’s foundations. House spirits love sake.

Throughout the ceremony, a crowd gathers on the ground below. Each person – from young children to the very elderly – carries a plastic bag. These bags are – for the moment – empty.

After the ceremony is complete, rice cakes (mochi) are thrown to the people below – and they fight. The crowd rushes to stuff their bags with rice cakes, which in ancient times was a symbol of happiness. In more modern times, the gleeful mob also elbows each other for other symbols of happiness – which, in Japan, can sometimes include packages of instant ramen.

Foreigners are often shocked at the violence – which is all, of course, in good fun.