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