Tokyo, Part I

I was leisurely waiting on an escalator going to the train platform when I heard an impatient grumbling behind me. I realized the man behind me could not get past my overstuffed suitcase. I wanted to move it but it was too late: The escalator was done, and we both just made the train on time. I felt bad for getting in this man’s way, my suitcase a dead giveaway I was a dumb tourist. I did not actually see the man until we were on the train. We were both foreigners. This stoked my fears because now I would know exactly what the man would say to me if he decided to let me have it. However, after a few calming breaths, the man apologized to me for being impatient and didn’t mean to get mad. He explained that he knew Tokyo was overwhelming and that it doesn’t stop for anyone. 

        I learned he was from Louisiana but had lived in Japan for 27 years: Longer than I had been alive. He asked me how I was enjoying it, and I told him that quite frankly it was a lot at once, but once I was actually in a restaurant or shop, it had been very cool. He agreed with me, but rephrased that sentiment as Tokyo having “small pockets of sanity”. He often thought he had made the wrong choice in moving to Tokyo, but something kept him here and he has been enjoying his life despite the craziness. He helped me get off at the right station, even giving me directions once I entered the maze of Shin Okubo. “God bless you,” he told me as he disappeared into the sea of people going in the opposite direction. 

        Tokyo is probably the busiest place I have ever been. The average train station at a low ridership time is like a big game day back in the Twin Cities. Much like many Japanese phrases that cannot be directly translated into English, “cluster-fuck” is an English phrase that only vaguely describes how many people and sensory inputs in Tokyo.

Shin Okubo

Everyone going everywhere

The upside to everyone needing to be somewhere is that there are many ways to get to those places. The transit systems in Tokyo are some of the best I’ve ever experienced. I never waited more than five minutes for a train, and trains were quiet, clean, and efficient. While there are many different companies, color coding and English signs make things fairly easy to understand, and a catch-all transit card called an IC Card makes switching train companies less of a hassle. 

        Bicycles were everywhere, ranging from the classic Mamachari (European style city bike) to cargo bikes and minimalistic fixed gears. Cycling rules were a bit unclear. Many people rode on the sidewalk, but others rode in the street. However, I never witnessed any crashes or close calls. It reminded me of Amsterdam: Cycling culture, not cycling infrastructure. Grandmas, families, salarymen, and students all rode bicycles with a sort of patient urgency that I felt a lot in Tokyo.

All kinds of bikes for all kinds of people

The pedestrian is the top of the transportation hierarchy in Tokyo. Tons of pedestrian-only streets, back alleys, and frequent crossings made for a very walkable city. I never had any close encounters with taxis, who stopped for pedestrians even when they were walking against a crossing light. Kids walked without supervision from their parents, a testament to Japanese social harmony and trust. As long as you swam with the current, you wouldn’t have any trouble, yet your decision of where to go was largely dependent on you picking the right stream of people to jump into. 

        People look and act differently in Tokyo than in the area of Japan I live in. Maybe it’s the styles and makeup, maybe it’s their busy schedules, but going to Tokyo was in many ways like going to a different country. Body language and general attitude were different than up north. A few people lived up to the stereotypes I had heard from other Japanese people: Tokyoites are cold, impersonal, and stressed out. After spending some time in the city, I could see how the hustle and bustle of everyday life could wear one down. The number of elite schools and companies is large, and the stakes are high for many people. However, I never experienced outright hostility; it was more of a sense that people’s lives were enough to deal with on their own, let alone help a random stranger. It was much like New York, but if you exchanged east-coast frankness for Japanese stoicism (and passive-aggression). 

A small crowd in Tokyo

Everyone was a lot more fashion conscious. Styles ranged from designer suits to rainbow-vomit kawaii, 90s sportswear to French-inspired oversized menswear. Everyone had their own style, and it all seemed meticulously curated. Some people say the lack of space in Japan makes people really think about what they want to buy, as there is no room to store material goods. Therefore, people’s possessions are more prized and spending decisions are more thought through than the “buy as big as you can and as much as you can” sentiment in much of America. 

        Tokyo was not just stress, crowds, and superficiality. In fact, I loved my trip once I got my bearings. I met very interesting and friendly people on my trip. Conversations with shop owners, bar patrons, and a few musicians in Tokyo have been some of my most memorable experiences ever. In parts II and III, I will go into more detail of how these conversations left an impression on me.

A welcomed break in Shinjuku

Month 2

My outlook and experience in Japan has followed the season. My first month, January, was a cold, harsh reality; unforgiving to the inexperienced yet held moments of serene beauty. My second month, February, is beginning to warm up, but going through an awkward transition. Much like the weather, I have not yet warmed up enough to be comfortable, and the cold reality of being out of my element still makes up most of the day. Yet, the sun is coming out, snow is showing signs of a retreat, and paths once difficult to pass are easier to navigate. The paths, once obscured by a heavy blanket of ambiguity and illegible cultural ques, have been traversed enough where my mental map has been drawn and my internal compass leads the way. I look forward to a spring of fresh starts, blossoms of new friendships and routines, and a summer of exuberance and celebration.

I have had enough classes where I understand the dynamics between myself and the Japanese Teachers of English (JTE from here on out) for each class is. In my larger elementary school, I am the primary instructor and the JTEs are there to provide translation and facilitate group activities. I learned this after having my first lessons start out by the teachers giving me a panicked “well, do something!” look. In my smaller elementary school, JTEs take a slightly more active role in lesson planning  but are not fluent enough in English to feel comfortable teaching an entire lesson as the lead. My junior high school, where instructors teach one subject, I am more of a side-man. I am there to provide native accent, conversational practice, and be a model of just how big western noses can be. Now that I understand my primary role in the classroom, work has become less of a “flying on the seat of my pants” experience. 

Making a weekly “treat yo self” trip the local hot spring (onsen) is the world’s third most affordable luxury, after coffee and tea, respectively. I’m convinced there is nothing more relaxing than boiling in a vat of volcanic activity with a bunch of old, grunting, naked Japanese dudes. You really can’t put a price on that, but the entrance fee is only 350 yen. It’s a chance to get a decent shave, pick-your-poison hot water bath (your choice between still, jacuzzi, or slightly electrified), and listen to the soothing sounds of a genre of music I can only describe as “Japanese video game composers trying to figure out jazz”. 

I am glad to have started these routines because other aspects of my life have been anything but. I am fighting a black mold problem in my poorly ventilated shower room. After showering, I was having asthma-like symptoms, and upon further investigation, I discovered a colony of black mold in a crevice of the shower door. I believe this was the culprit of my sickness. I quickly quarantined the room with “Kabi Killer”, and promptly went to the doctors. I’m sure I gave the doctors water cooler (No one drinks water. Tea kettle?) material for months: A foreigner bursting in mumbling something about “breathing mold” and showing them his questionably translated symptoms on his iPhone. I like to imagine I sounded like Collin in the Secret Garden (“The spores! The spores! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kS-Ni3vzXSs ). Something must have gotten across, because I was prescribed a mouthful of pills to be taken three times a day, and they seem to be helping.

I left America with the thought that the worst that could happen is that I realize how much I appreciate my family, friends, and my own culture. That is the best worst-case scenario to have. I believe this is happening. Most days I wish I were home. While my work is not stressful, and most day-to-day activities have become routine, I have realized how important my friendships are back home. I have also realized that the things I want to do in Japan are not contingent on living here. Many people come to Japan to start new lives as expats, but I don’t believe I am one of them. My long-term life goals cannot be achieved in Japan. It took coming here to realize that, so I am glad I took a chance and came here. I have plenty of time and space to think about what I really want out of life, and I believe even just 7 months in Japan will leave me feeling refreshed and ready to work on creating the life I want.

Like most 20 somethings, I’m still figuring out what I “want to do with my life” (whatever that means). I have learned that the only way to know if something is right for you is to experience it yourself. I am a Meyers-Briggs INTP (one of the most eye opening things for me, I highly recommend this site: https://www.16personalities.com). I mostly live inside my head. I often write things off as not for me before actually experiencing them. I create how I want things to be in my mind and then I am disappointed when reality is different than my own mental construct. Therapy and zen meditation has helped me to start experiencing, rather than thinking. Had I not come to Japan, my mind may have created an idealized image of what it would have been like, where Japan is nothing but City Pop, green tea, and cool vintage guitars. I would have suffered because I would have never found that mental image. However, I did come to Japan, and I know what my experience is. I’ll never wake up wondering what it would have been like, because I will have done it and experienced it. I am finding what I looked for in Japan, but also finding surprises, and dealing with things just not going the way I want them to sometimes. That’s life though: For every cool 80’s Fender Japan-exclusive guitar, there is also plague-like mold, out of shape salarymen hanging out with nothing but a little hand towel on their head, and people staring at you as if you were a zoo animal. The only true reality is that which is, and I’m choosing to accept it.