In Japan, pandas were replaced by fake employees (6 photos)

If you thought the Japanese had reached the pinnacle of contemplating emptiness by visiting a rock garden, then Adventure World amusement park in Wakayama Prefecture is here to convince you otherwise.





Deprived of their star performers—four giant pandas (the matriarch Raukhin and her daughters), whom Beijing recalled to their "home sanctuary"—the administration didn't give in to despair. Instead of bringing in something more tangible (like raccoons or at least capybaras), they decided to monetize the bears' very absence.



For a long time, these animals, exchanged through the program, were a symbol of friendship between the countries. However, now, amid a diplomatic chill, attributed in part to harsh statements by Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, there are no pandas left in Japan.

The pandas officially belong to China and are "leased" for a hefty sum—around a million dollars a year. When the lease expires, they fly to Chengdu. This is always a disaster for Japanese zoos, as pandas generate the lion's share of their income. In January, the situation became critical: the last twins, Xiao Xiao and Lei Lei, were flown from the famous Ueno Zoo to Tokyo, leaving Japan at risk of being without a single living black and white bear for the first time in 50 years.

Having decided that feeding the expensive animal tons of bamboo was too expensive, the Wakayama park administration found a solution: who needs a panda when they have an artistic caretaker? No sooner said than done.



As part of the "Panda Love Club" project, zoo staff are literally taking the place of pandas in their former enclosures. To ensure "maximum resemblance" (by Japanese standards), they wear panda masks.

The thing is, at panda breeding centers in China, keepers are actually required to wear costumes saturated with panda scent to prevent the cubs from becoming accustomed to human form. Apparently, they had some leftovers of this "masquerade" lying around in storage, and they decided to use them to create an immersive show.



Visitors can not only look at the man in the cage wearing an antler hat, but also feed him an apple or a carrot. The animator has so far refused to eat bamboo, but he's probably willing to do that for a fee.

The administration calls it "skills maintenance," but from the outside it looks like the most expensive and bizarre cosplay in zoo history. As the Japanese themselves write: "It's so surreal that it looks like a neural network hallucination."



The hats are certainly cool, but they could have given the guy a full-fledged costume, so to speak, for realism.