Day Twenty-Two

Tokyo, day 2. After day one of livin' large in the big city left us feeling slight...lackluster...we wanted to approach day two with some subset of a plan.

Waking up in the hostel felt like waking up in a birdcage. It was early, and the sun was just getting above the skyline - but I knew, behind the chain link, that today was the day we'd fly the coop. 

We'd woken up to beat rush hour, so we could head over to Shinjuku station - one of Tokyo's busiest - to catch the Japanese Salaryman migration. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of these magnificent creatures wake up, dress exactly like everyone else, and rush for the Tokyo Metro (or the JR system as is their prerogative). Mostly, once on board, they go to sleep. 

Our hostel was at the northeast end of Tokyo, Shinjuku station at the southwest. At one point on our travels, we sat beside an entire car of these sleeping people - and yet when their stop rings out over the loudspeaker, they lurch sluggishly to life and pour themselves on to the platform. 

Side note: Everybody bikes everywhere - including to the subway, and almost NONE of these bikes are locked. Endless lines of bikes line the streets, none locked, none stolen. For the paranoid commuter though, we discovered these underground bicycle parking garages that allow you to lock your bike into an electronic thingy. There's even a bicycle escalator to haul your bike up the stairs after a long day at work. Pretty cool. But I digress...

Shinjuku was pretty epic - three Metro lines and three JR lines all converge here, and when we arrived on the Ginza line, we must have been at least 6 stories underground. I say this, because we took no less than six escalators to get up to an open area where commuters ran to and fro, looking for their connections. We went to sit in a cafe to sip warm coffee (a rarity here) and watch the crowds. The first three cafes we tried, offered coffee at 650 yen...which is close to 8 dollars. We never did figure out why, perhaps they were something of a higher class nature...but we finally found a place in the indoor shopping area of Shinjuku that offered us hot coffee, croissants, and a sandwich for 450 yen. Such an odd discrepancy - and the first place was full of smokers too...we had won this round.

Have I talked about the smoking? It's bizarre in Japan - it's grist in the mill of the politeness culture. Stepping in front of someone taking a photo, terribly rude. Talking on your cellphone, or even speaking loudly to your neighbour while on a train, subway, or bus, terribly rude. Smoking on someone's children is totally acceptable. I don't understand why - but I'm sure it's got something to do with the fact that cigarettes - like beer, coffee, and pornography - are sold in vending machines, and available everywhere. Pornography less so than the others. 

I'm told though that this is something Japan wants to change, and it's made for some excellent anti-smoking literature posted about the city.

Things along the lines of "I was passing through a crowd carrying a flame. But that's best left to the Olympic torch runner." are a tremendous smoking deterrent. But they do a few things right:

Instead of forcing smokers outside, they enclose them. This might sound odd - but it makes sense, because even outside, they enclose them. You can't smoke in the street, for example (well, you can, but not if you're moving, or within a certain distance of the entrance to somewhere) but there'll be walled, designated smoking areas OUTSIDE, often at major intersections to enclose people's noxious exhalations. It's quite nice - you step outside of a train station, or get off a bus, and you're not immediately assaulted by the awful reek of cigarettes from all the people who've stepped just outside the entrance. 

The only issue is, most places still allow smoking indoors. Or they have the late 80's/early 90's smoking or non-smoking section option. But again, the place must be enclosed. You couldn't have an open store-front like in a shopping mall, and allow smoking. It has to be shut. 

Anyway - they've got a long way to go on that one, but they're off to an interesting start. It just blows my mind that smoking's not considered rude, or intrusive, but heaven forbid you say "Yoroshiku-ne" to a superior, and not "Yoroshiku onegai ishimasu." (Sort of a non-formal vs formal "Nice to meet you, let this be a prosperous and succesful relationship." Said when meeting someone for the first time.)

Another unbelievable display of the culture of politeness was on display today - the panic of a woman who was late.

In Toronto subways, you've got to jump the gate to access the subway without paying. In Japan, the gate only half-closes. You could easily slip through without even touching the sides, and where the TTC officer would sit, there's no turnstyle, and no gate, it's just wide open. A woman who was clearly late for something approached the manned section of the subway entrance. There are a few passes that can't be swiped, they need to be shown to an official (Such as my Japan rail pass. I sympathized.). The official...wasn't at the window. The gate was wide open - and there was no one there to stop her. She could've walked right through, and caught her next train. But she didn't. Except for a fleeting glance across the open path, she stood her ground. A line started to form on both sides of the empty booth. 

"Sumimasen!!!" (Excuse me) she cried and cried, going so far as to lightly rap on the glass with her knuckles, white tight around the ticket in her hand. Kids, salarymen, commuters, tourists, all started piling up, trying to get in, or get out of the subway. 

Not one person crossed the line.

This went on for easily three or four minutes. She definitely missed at least one train. 

In Toronto, everyone would've taken the free ride, and there would've been huge queue-jumping. But the Japanese won't do it. Perhaps this is why their transit is so incredible? It's really well funded because people don't cheat it? Regardless - it was an astounding display of discipline, self-control, putting the many above the one, and overall respect. I was pretty floored. This is something we don't have at home. At least, not in large quantities. 

The Shinjuku morning rush had been something to behold, not just for it's fascinating cultural insights, but also simply for its scale. I don't know how many faces I saw in the time we were there, but it was an enormous amount. Almost too much to process. But we needed to proceed ahead with our plan!

After Shinjuku in the morning, we went to check out Harajuku.

Those of you who are internet-savvy would have heard the term "Harajuku girl" floated around before. Harakuku is a fashion district, and the people here take it seriously. There's no niche either, although most Harajuku fashions relate to the quirky, anime-inspired, gothic, lolita, steampunk sort of extremes. The amazing thing is that these people are immaculately dressed, pressed, and manicured even though it's 40 degrees out! 

Granted, many of the fashions employed have been tailored to include umbrellas - but still! It's amazing! It's a billion degrees out, people are handing you fans instead of flyers, everyone carries a sweat rag (yes, that's a real thing) and yet these girls go by in 18th century corset-style dresses, perfectly curled hair, inch-long fake eyelashes, 6 inch heels, and embroidered umbrellas that look like they could have belonged to Anne of Green Gables (who incidentally, is quite popular in Japan.)

It's really something to behold. I geeked out a bit at a cool piece of digital signage at the entrance to one of the pedestrian shopping streets that incorporated live-streamed footage of the people walking beneath it. If the street was busy, the sign was busy. Pretty cool. 

Harajuku definitely lived up to expectations - so we moved on to the next stage of our plan - Shibuya.

Shibuya is a massive station as well - it's sort of central downtown, but not in a Bay street or a Yorkville way. It's more like old downtown by way of modernization....sort of St. Lawrence market area meets Yonge & Dundas square. We wanted to come here because of Hachiko, the dog.

Hachiko, is a Japanese legend. He's a dog that used to wait for his owner every day at Shibuya station, but when his owner died, and did not return...he waited every day at the station for nine years for him to come back. Now he's a symbol of vigilance, dedication, and loyalty all across Japan. There's a statue of Hachiko somewhere near Shibuya station, so we went to check it out. 

First, we took in the sheer size of the all-way crosswalk, and marvelled at the number of people spilling into the street every time the time came. Because of how extensive the subway/rail system is, you start thinking that different stations in Tokyo are almost like different cities. Shibuya had a totally different feel from Akihabara, and from Harajuku. It was a little more...normal?

We scoped out a stand-up Sushi place and had lunch. You literally stand around at a chest-high counter in a circle, with the Sushi Chef in the middle. You sort of shout out your order as you eat, one or two pieces of sushi at a time, and he makes them on demand, serving as many as ten people at once (When we were there, there were six people and four empty seats - even then he seemed close to his limit). It's very cool, but again, it feels rude to simply shout out "Tamago maki!" and have him shout back, and make it that moment. He was even searing tuna with a blowtorch. 

We found Hachi, and headed off to our next destination, Gotanda. I don't know if Gotanda is known for, or famous for anything, but we'd discovered that one of the three english-language bookstores in Tokyo was in Gotanda, and I had something that I really, really wanted.

My favourite author is Haruki Murakami, a Japanese author who's easily one of the most popular Japanese authors outside of Japan. His fiction is unbelievable, and his non-fiction is just as incredible. I recently read a book of his called "What I talk about when I talk about running: on the subject of Marathons (it also serves as something of an autobiography) and have learned a number of lessons that have stuck with me. 

The first book I read of his was "The Wild Sheep Chase". I saw a book on a shelf with a picture of a sheep, with a star on its back. I leafed through the book and saw the critics comparisons to Franz Kafka, who's "A Country Doctor" I'd just read, and been astounded by. I picked it up on a whim, and it turned out to be the best book I've ever read. I've probably bought four or five copies because I keep giving them away to anyone who'll listen. 

The Wild Sheep Chase, I found out later, is actually something of a sequel. It's sort of a third book in a trilogy, not in terms of the story, but in terms of the characters, and the universe and era it takes place in. The first two books in the trilogy were the first two books Murakami ever wrote, and he's not a huge fan of them (says his style has not matured in them) so they were never published outside of Japan.

Good Day Books in Gotanda had both, and for a reasonable price too - on Amazon i've seen the second book (Pinball, 1973) fetch as much as $120. I got both for about $45.

Satisfied, we decided to head in the direction of our hostel. We had to leave Tokyo today and head for Kanazawa, where much uncertainty awaited us. We'd heard, however, from our Australian layover roommate, that there was a temple in the district of our hostel that was definitely worth checking out. A temple? In the middle of downtown Tokyo? I suppose it's no stranger than Casa Loma. Still - we were not expecting this:

It was only about three blocks from where we were staying! We'd never have known it was there at all! Totally unbelievable.  We were witness to some beautiful ceiling paintings, steeped in tradition, and a gorgeous inner sanctum - to which we were not allowed access, since there was a ceremony that day. But we did get a chance to see the offering box, and the multitudes of Japanese lining up to pay tribute, and pray for whatever they desired. 

I like the Japanese non-religion. Most people think all Japanese are Buddhist, but they're not really. They pray to a nonspecific deity for things like health, success, long life, prosperity, and the like. But the prayer's not addressed to anyone in particular. They have a number of traditions, superstitions, things that will bring you luck, good fortune, etc, etc. But all of it is sort of emblazoned in the mythology of Japan - not of Buddhism. It's kind of refreshing. People just asking please, may I be happy? Please, may my business succeed? But then not sitting back and saying "God will make my business succeed. I asked him.". They then take their discipline, and their awareness of the greater good, and their intense work ethic, and they stride confidently toward their desires. Should a coin in a well, a sip from the right water, or a five yen coin (they're lucky) hung from a lightswitch help you along, then so be it!

Also, next time there's a smog alert in Toronto, go outside and thank the gods, or whoever you like for the beautiful air quality we have - 'cause in Japan there's a building called the Sky Tree, but most of the time you can't see enough sky to see it.

We strolled back to the hostel from the temple through a traditional-styled outdoor market, selling odds and ends, samurai lore to bobble heads, sandals to wallscrolls, and everything in between. We walked from the traditional outdoor market to a modern, semi-outdoor market...seeing the contrast was cool. It was as though we'd leapt through several centuries over the course of a few paces. Tres bien.

We grabbed our stuff from the hostel's baggage holding room and headed back downtown to Ueno station. We'd booked tickets on the Shinkansen to get to Kanazawa, which I'm told is supposed to be a less-commercial, more culture-rich Kyoto. Lindsay had been in touch with a fellow JET (English-langauge instructor in the same program as her) who'd graciously allowed us to stay with her. I'd never been on a high speed bullet train, and I was as excited as all the kids buying Shinkansen socks at the gift shops.

These things do 300km/h, and are so streamlined it looks like they've melted in the heat. Getting on board is like boarding the airplane you've always dreamed of. There is enough room for your bag overhead. There is enough room for your feet - and then some - before the seat in front of you. It's quiet. It tells you exactly when you'll arrive. You have a great sense of time and how fast you're traveling, because you can see the world flicker by in a heartbeat. Beer is allowed. Beer is allowed everywhere in Japan - and it's not uncommon to see folks riding the afternoon subway home with a beer in hand.

We tore through the cityscape, past crammed suburbs, and through the sides of mountains, until we were blasting past the rich countryside of tiered rice fields, gorgeous houses, farms, and the occasional lonely train station. Two transfers later we found ourselves in Kanazawa station, and one local train after that, in the small, pop. 3500 town of Matto. We were to meet "Kathy", Lindsay's fellow JET, at the only bar in town, where on this rare evening - live music was being performed by a touring band called Albatrus.

Along the way, I learned that not only had Lindsay never actually met Kathy before, but that she was in fact a friend of a friend, and they'd only begun speaking the past few days to try to organize things. So we didn't really know what to expect, though the JET community is quite tightly knit and the fact that she'd offered her hospitality was a good indicator on its own. But we didn't even know what she looked like.

Fortunately, she gave us good directions and not a ten minute walk from the station we met her in the parking lot of Bar Ueno. With her english-speaking, white skin, and british accent, she wouldn't have been hard to pick out.

There's not much english in Matto, but Kathy and a few fellow JETs had all come down to the only watering hole for a drink, and to check out some live music! They couldn't stress enough how unusual this was, and the fact that we were arriving on this night, during this performance, was a tremendous coincidence.

The best part was - the band was really good. It started as a solo acoustic act, then slowly he was joined by a sax player, and then a bassist. Even the house DJ joined in at a few points with some samples and some scratches.

The JETs had taught the bartender Chon that foreigners don't like their beer with too much head, so we all had nice full draughts and took in some amazing music. It was a real treat - i'd wanted to see some little Japanese band I'd never get the chance to see outside of Japan, and i'd gotten it. 

After the show, Kathy, Lindsay, the two other JETs Brittany and Andy, and myself all piled into Brittany's car, and Andy drove us home - about two minutes away from the station. We'd thought we were staying on Kathy's floor. But get this.

That very morning, Kathy had had a friend (also a JET) go back home for a lengthy visit. This meant that his apartment was open - and that Kathy had the keys. So instead of a tiny tatami floor in a little apartment in rural Japan, we were given our own digs - free thanks to the far-reaching kindness of Kathy, complete with bedding, shower, and kitchen. No more breakfasts at the family mart. 

We felt a little overwhelmed. It had a been a long and enormous day. Tokyo already felt like years ago, and it had been just that very morning. We'd expected small-town nothing and a hard floor, and instead been floored by live music, English-speaking new friends, and a place of our own from which to explore Kanazawa. What more can you really ask for out of life? This is why I am the luckiest traveller ever -  and I'm so, so, so grateful. 

Sleep now - new city, and new adventures tomorrow!

-Jeff