SHIDAKA'S ABANDONED UTOPIA
We found an amusement park in Kyushu--Japan's largest southern island--from some grainy satellite photos. It opened in the early 80s and lasted just over ten years before it was abandoned in 1991. Most Japanese people say that Kyushu lags 20 years behind the rest of the country, and although it felt Japan's economic situation with the same heinous consequences as the rest of the country, it hasn't seen nearly as much recovery.
Matching the satellite pictures to maps of Beppu's mountainous hinterland, we eventually found an entrance, preceded by cracked pavement and dead clumps of weed. The sober, predictably ironic, Japanese sign said "Shidaka's Utopia."
From the entrance you can see a field of deserted amusement attractions. The first attraction we went to, the roller-skating rink, still had all the skates. It was like everyone went home after work one day, and just didn't come back. Which, I guess, is pretty much what happened.
The water in the boating pond looked pretty grim, and outgrown and ragged shrubs and weeds surrounded it. The helter-skelter looked like something from Return to Oz.
We found a house of horrors on the other side of the pond. With only a totally pointless phone-light and our camera flash to guide us, we wandered through the dark tunnel. The decay had taken its toll on the robotics. One character on the ride had been based on a traditional Japanese folk tale about a cat ghost, but the cables and pistons that once gave it life had torn its face out. Probably adding to the effect.
There were quite a lot of monsters and disassembled robo-beasts on our way out. It was all quite impressive; it made me think of The Killing Joke where the Joker takes over an abandoned theme park--with scary/rapey results.
Slightly out of the way was an enormous Ryokan hotel for the families that couldn't cram all this J-amusement into a single day. Some windows were broken, but from the outside it looked like it was more a victim of neglect than abuse.
It wasn't. A huge lobby welcomed us with a front desk and sofas that had been turned over and thrown about. At the far end were a bunch of scattered 90s arcade machines and an air hockey table. Below is a Japanese hot spa. Clearly these his-and-hers bathhouses overlooking Oita's mountains were pretty amazing before everything fell apart.
On the upper floors of the hotel there were large Tatami bedrooms. Most of the windows on these floors were either broken or left open, but there were loads of intact TVs. On the way out, we found a 90s Japan's-most-wanted mugshot poster on the floor of the lobby. J-ailtime.
We also hit Japanese gold: a massive pile of J-porn. Clearly though, you can wander through a man's dangerous skeleton of a theme park, but you can't flick through his porno, because at that moment a voice boomed out over a mega phone and we had to run, leaving the jazz mags behind. An hour later we came back to get them. Natch.