Last fall, a most unusual radish was unearthed in Japan. The vegetable walked — no, raced — from that farm and into our hearts. The result was TV appearances, a calendar, toys, and even a photo book. Behold the world’s most successful radish.
If you are not familiar with daikon radish, they are rather large and look like this:
So no wonder after a farm in Hyogo Prefecture pulled a radish that looked like a little person running, people online in Japan were quite surprised. Dubbed “Running Away Radish” (逃げる大根 or “nigeru daikon”), the vegetable’s initial tweet became an internet sensation and was retweeted over 30,000 times.
Obviously, the radish’s shape is quite surprising; however, sometimes radishes grow what look like legs. What’s amazing is that the farmers were able to pull the radish out and not accidentally break off any limbs!
More tweets followed, and the Running Away Radish went viral, even catching the attention of those outside of Japan.
This could get ugly.
Run, radish, run!
Run!
For freedom!
The farm’s Twitter also uploaded photos of more radish friends.
Some like jump rope.
Others like hot baths.
This one is glum. So glum.
But none of them have been as popular as the Running Away Radish!
There have been TV appearances.
A calendar.
Coffee art.
This past weekend at Wonder Festival saw some new radish toys (FYI: these are not mass marketed).
There’s even a Running Away Radish book.
All of this certainly must make this vegetable the most successful radish that has ever walked — sorry, ran — on this Earth!
逃げる大根 [Facebook]
Photos: Photozou, ロケットニュース, 根菜農家うめまま@Twitter
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Comments
One response to “How A Japanese Radish Became An Internet Hero”
The first photo looked a little creepy, but the subsequent ones all made the radish look super cute. I want one >_> I wonder how many bells it was worth…
Once my partner and I were waiting for a train in a small Toyko station, when an old man walked up to us and tried to make conversation, but was struggling to get out his words. He was kind of endearing but kind of creepy. This kind of occurrence was certainly not irregular, but what made it memorable was that he was carrying a sole, exposed to the elements, daikon.
My partner got on the train and I remained behind, to get one going in the other direction. As I turned to change platform, the rambling gentleman offered his daikon to me, perhaps as some sort of act of international diplomacy.
I was too polite to accept a random daikon off a strange old man who didn’t seem to have much else in realm of worldly possessions, but that man will always and forever be remembered to us as DaikonMan.