Long Train Runnin'

After Friday's catastrophic earthquake--the Japan Meteorological Agency has announced that it was Magnitude 9.0--and tsunami, rail transportation in the Tokyo area  completely shut down, stranding what was probably well over a million commuters. Many stayed in their offices, with friends,  or in ad hoc shelters set up in hotels or public halls. Hotels were quickly filled, and many people decided to give up on the long lines for taxis and buses, especially after hearing media reports of closed or gridlocked roads, electing to walk home even though it was a journey of tens of kilometers. Some of the more enterprising bought or rented bicycles. Most watched and listened eagerly for news of the resumption of train service, among them thousands waiting in and around stations.

Saturday morning's announcements of the piecemeal return of one line after another triggered a rush on the stations that opened, notably those on the circle-route Yamanote Line. I was about to embark on what promised to be an arduous journey by motorcycle to Kumagaya, 60 kilometers away on a map but 70-odd by road depending on the route. The combination of dismal news about closed expressways and somewhat more optimistic notices of returning train service changed my mind, so I took a cab to Shinagawa Station.

A horde of people, mostly tired-looking office workers  it seemed, stood or shuffled at ground level, hundreds queuing for buses or cabs intermingled with more hundreds edging slowly toward the stairs up to the concourse and wickets on the floor above. The escalators were turned off, probably wisely given the size of the crowd and the potential for a dangerous domino-like mass toppling. I was impressed by the stolid, steady, stoic behavior of nearly everyone, pressed together and moving at a glacial pace, considerate of their companions in adversity and obedient of the station employees' directions...I was to see much more of that for the next half day.

I remembered a little used and rather obscurely placed elevator  tucked behind a couple of shops in the station, and so managed to avoid the long wait to climb the stairs. The automatic wickets were disabled, left open presumably to facilitate entry and thus avoid bottlenecks and maybe injuries from the sheer press of people. I took a swipe at the sensor with my Suica card just in case, but it was indeed free to enter. The Shinagawa concourse, both inside and outside of the wickets, is spacious. Even with the steady stream of people entering, it seemed less crowded than during normal rush hours; the platform was a different story altogether.

There wasn't space for more people on the platform--indeed some people were waiting on the stairs leading down to it--but the crowd waiting patiently for the next train was arranged in neat rows and lines at the spots marked for the train doors. When I arrived, only the counter-clockwise route had been started, and that only just, but there was a train at the other side of the platform waiting for the start of service in that direction, and people waiting patiently inside those cars and in line for the next train, too. Most had expressions of relief at having made it this far, and there was an overall air of gaman.

The first train to arrive was probably among the first two or three of the day, with predictably few people getting off (I assume it had started from Ōsaki ). They had to thread their way through the ranks of the waiting crowd, but there was remarkably little pushing and shoving other than unavoidable jostling due to the sheer number of people. Although much more crowded than an ordinary rush hour, it was considerably less hectic and frenzied; I presume that everybody was just pleased to have a train to board, and nobody had any unrealistic expectations of a speedy journey.

That train was filled and pulled out, and I was now close enough to have a reasonable expectation of getting on the next one. During weekday rush hours, there's a Yamanote Line train every couple of minutes, barring unforeseen accidents, but it was closer to a half hour when the next arrived. In the meantime, periodic announcements were made explaining that the previous train was moving slowly, checking the condition of the tracks as it went, and the subsequent train would proceed accordingly. These announcements continued after I squeezed onto the next train, all the way to Ueno Station, a trip that took something like three times longer than usual due to the slow deliberate pace. The car I was in had one of the fancy LCDs mounted above the door, providing more-than-usually-important information about which lines or sections thereof were running, delayed, or still stopped. At least one of the announcements turned out to be false: it incorrectly indicated a shinkansen line had resumed, unless I was hallucinating--but I had decided to take the longer, slower Takasaki Line...if the train stopped along the way, I thought I had better options for walking to the next station on that.

When we finally reached Ueno Station, the electric signboards were of no help at all; evidently the schedules were so utterly fouled up that it was pointless to even attempt displays. I can see the point, but it would have been useful to know which lines were using which platforms, for the lines (like the Takasaki and Utsunomiya Lines, for example) that sometimes--but not always--share platforms. This bred confusion and the attendant anxiety about maybe standing for over an hour in a line for the wrong train. Further confusion was caused by some station employees' having incorrect (or at least obsolete) information, and by the continual cacophony of announcements--loud and often unclear--from multiple platforms competing for attention. It didn't help that trains all seemed to have "Ueno" as their destinations until moments before they pulled out of the station, so one couldn't judge merely by looking.

I could have...probably, barely...crammed myself into a Takasaki Line train  that left about noon. I decided to wait for the next train, on which I was able to get a seat. It left at 12:50, and finally arrived around 15:00, taking about twice the time it usually requires for the run. I had to wait in line for an additional 20 minutes or so to pay my fare, since the initial wicket in Shinagawa didn't record my entry. They took my word for where I'd entered, and I imagine they would have done so pretty much regardless of where I'd said, within reason.

It was a long, often uncomfortable, day. In retrospect, I think that I made the right decision in choosing the train system over the motorcycle, though. Having since heard of people taking 16 hours to drive 16 kilometers (I can stagger that fast), even though I'd expect somewhat better time on the bike it would probably have been a lot slower and probably even less comfortable.

And I might have had to title this post "Midnight Rider".

Late Coming of Age

Last Monday was Coming of Age Day, a national holiday celebrating the entrance to adulthood of those who become 20, the age of majority in Japan.

As usual, TV news and variety programs interviewed many of those attending the coming of age ceremonies held across the country, asking them predictable questions about what they intended to do as newly full-fledged adult members of society, about their aspirations and dreams, and the like. Along with many positive, optimistic, even idealistic comments, there were plenty of anxious or outright pessimistic ones, as might be expected in the current grim economic conditions. One that really attracted my notice, however, was "I wish I'd (been born early enough to have) experienced the bubble".

Japan's economic bubble was pretty much over in the early years of the '90s, with the last vestiges gone by around '95. Economists would probably argue that that's too late, and it probably is from an economic point of view. There were still quite a few people behaving as if things were better than they were, though, dancing on the fantail of a sinking ship, until about then.

That young man would have entered kindergarten about the time that the last notes had been played and the last steps danced, when the bubble had unarguably burst, and I feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for his parents, too; their son was conceived at a time when relatively few people even noticed that the ship was taking on water, when it looked to many people as if the carefree party cruise was still going to continue for a long time, if not forever. Those parents probably expected a much brighter future for their son, and for themselves.

Having heard, from his parents, from others of their generation, from the media, and from movies and dramas, of the heady bubble days, that young man is understandably envious, and disappointed.

I don't blame him. I was lucky enough to experience that bubbly era, and I had a great time. He missed a lot by coming of age too late.

The Return of the Tiger

Just at the tail end of the Year of the Tiger, an anonymous benefactor styling himself "Naoto Date" donated some "randoseru" book satchels to a facility for underprivileged children. These sturdy knapsack-like bags are essentially required for elementary school children, and they are quite expensive. Appropriately, the satchels appeared on Christmas Day. Also appropriately, "Naoto Date" was the "real" name of a character from a manga and anime of around 40 years ago, whose alter ego was "Tiger Mask", a professional wrestler who kept his real identity secret, and who, having been brought up in such a facilty, donated much of his winnings to children in similar straits. This makes the Year of the Tiger an apt choice, too.

Since then, evidently inspired by this act of charity that caught the media's attention, more donations have been made to institutions across the country...almost 100 the last time I checked. Some of the gifts were randoseru, some were stationery items, or toys, or cash. A recent gift was a large quantity of fresh vegetables. It appears that people are giving whatever they can that they think will be of benefit to the children.

Some of the donations have come with letters from the anonymous donors, at least one signed with the name of another famous old manga/anime character, Joe Yabuki ("Ashita no Joe"), a boxer who also had an underprivileged childhood and also finally won fame and success--or at least a sort of redemption--in the ring. The letters sometimes say very little except that the gifts are meant to be used to improve the lives of the children. Sometimes they indicate that the benefactors were motivated by hearing or reading about the initial donation from "Naoto Date". A few of the donors mention that they are not rich, but want to contribute even just a little toward the children's well-being.

Some of the media coverage has been describing this phenomenon as a "charity campaign". What I particularly like about it is that it's not a campaign: it is a series of spontaneous charitable acts by people, apparently all individuals rather than organizations, to benefit underprivileged kids. The donations subsequent to the first one have been characterized as being "copy-cat" gifts; that's fine with me, too...these "copy-tigers" may have been motivated into action by the first and subsequent donations and the publicity they received, but to me that in no way diminishes the value of the gifts, or of the sentiment behind them.

I'd bet that the kids--many or most of whom are probably too young to remember even the reruns of the manga characters that were popular among people who are now mostly over 50--would agree with me.

Gone Tomorrow

I'm sorry to see that Anne Francis has passed away, not long after Leslie Neilsen.

Apparently they are both more remembered for other roles, but I remember them best for Forbidden Planet, which--along with The Day the Earth Stood Still--is among my favorite old science fiction movies. I don't remember exactly when I saw Forbidden Planet, but it may very well have been at a theater when it first came out; I would have been only six or seven, but my Dad took me to quite a few movies when I was younger than many people would think appropriate for the content.

Dad was pretty iconoclastic sometimes; at least, he didn't seem to hold many opinions because they were popular. His take on "age-appropriate" seems to have been "whatever the kid can understand sufficiently to enjoy", and he determined that by trial and error. He gave me a copy of Moby Dick when I was maybe nine or ten, and I recall enjoying it even though I had to struggle through parts of it at the time, and probably missed a lot of what the author wanted to say. When I read it again some years later I appreciated having had the earlier opportunity even though I naturally understood the book very differently when I was older.

I understood Forbidden Planet differently, too,  when I saw it again later in life, and it motivated me to read The Tempest earlier than I might otherwise have done so.

It seems that a remake of Forbidden Planet is planned. I'm not sure how great of an idea that is; when I heard about what they'd done to The Day the Earth Stood Still in its remake, I decided to catch it on TV or on a rented video, and even if they don't utterly ruin it by making egregious changes from the original, Forbidden Planet without Anne Francis and Leslie Nielsen just wouldn't be the same.

That's one past future that I'd just as soon they leave alone.

Hare Today

Happy New Year!

May the Year of the Rabbit bring you all of the health, prosperity, happiness, love, adventure, and excitement that you could possibly want, even in your wildest dreams...and then a lot more on top of that.

Too much is never enough; it may be wiser to be moderate, but it's certainly not as much fun. Wouldn't you rather burn out than fade away?

Think twice about avoiding temptation, because the opportunity may not present itself again.

That probably doesn't sound like very rabbit-like advice, but Napoleon Bonaparte was born in the Year of the Rabbit, and he said, among many other things, "Ability is nothing without opportunity". Walt Whitman was another born in the Year of the Rabbit, and he said "The road to wisdom is paved with excess". I can't argue with either of those sentiments.

Have a great year! 

Burning Bright

The Year of the Tiger is just about gone. I count it as the year when I entered middle age, not exactly a welcome thing but one that was inevitable. It has been a fairly good year, all things considered, with roughly as many ups as downs; I've always known that you need valleys to be able properly to appreciate mountains, so I can't really complain.

I have reestablished contact after a very long time with at least one highly valued old friend this year, and that makes up for a lot of the less happy surprises I encountered.

Blake's The Tiger is from his Songs of Experience while The Lamb is from Songs of Innocence. Most of my innocence is far behind me, but I'm looking forward to lots more experience in the year to come, and--with any luck--many years ahead. I've pretty much always valued experience over innocence, anyway.

I hope the past year has been good for you.

Saved from the Flames

Stories in the news about house fires are depressingly frequent in Japan, and it seems as if they usually involve deaths. I don't think that this is due to less reporting of fires that don't result in death or injury; there are plenty of reports of fires that only do property damage, but I get the impression that a disproportionate number of fires are deadly. Since many of the victims are children, it was particularly gratifying to hear about a fire in which all four children survived.

Personally, I think that it was extremely irresponsible of the parents to go out leaving such young children unattended, and that they are very, very fortunate even though they have probably lost most or all of their possessions. I can certainly understand the desire of a couple in their mid-20s to go out together once in a while without the kids. There aren't a lot of places where a young couple can bring along kids aged 2, 3, 5, and 6 and enjoy themselves more than the kids do, even if you ignore the near-certainty that caring for the kids is going to make the outing more of a chore than a joy.

Since this couple went out at 10 in the evening and hadn't returned by midnight when the fire broke out, I think it's likely that they went our for a drink (it seems too late for pachinko, another common reason for leaving children unattended). I don't know anyone in drinking establishments, whether staff or patrons, who can honestly say they like having little kids around. Some people make polite noises and perhaps comment on the kids' cuteness, but I believe that nobody in a bar thinks kids really belong there, and it's absolutely certain that noone thinks the kids are as cute as their parents do...particularly when the kids get bored or tired and start whining, crying, and running around. Only the most oblivious of parents can fail to notice that, really putting a damper on their social life.

In Japan, at least in big cities, getting a baby-sitter isn't generally a viable option for parents who don't have relatives living nearby, either, particularly late into the evening. Adult neighbors typically want neither the responsibility nor the aggravation, and teenagers don't generally have that much free time. There are cultural/social issues with paying non-professionals for such services, too, and with their accepting pay. And obligations incurred must be repaid, one way or another. There's also a certain amount of social stigma attached to leaving one's children with "a stranger"--even a neighbor or friend--even assuming one could find a willing one and wasn't worried about repaying the favor.

So I can understand, but not condone, the desire of the young parents to go out leaving their kids alone but apparently asleep, thinking that they'd be safe by themselves for a few hours.

Unfortunately, Japanese homes aren't that safe, particularly from fire.  There are numerous reasons for this. Small, often cluttered homes that are either built of or filled with flammable material are the rule rather than the exception. Many homes--although well-stocked with electronic gear and appliances--have inadequate power supplies and insufficient or inconveniently placed wall outlets; this leads to lots of extension cords and multiple-plug taps, often stuffed behind or under furniture, and even if there's no short circuit from damaged wires, the heat buildup can cause fires. Particularly in winter, when the humidity in much of Japan is very low, fires tend to start easily and spread quickly. Ventilation tends not to be very good, heaters--especially older ones--are often not particularly safe, and escape routes are rarely wide or unobstructed even if smoke inhalation hasn't already removed escape as an option.

A building fire alarm, and presumably a (still relatively unusual in private homes) smoke detector that triggered it, combined with a neighbor both awake and alert, managed to avert a much greater catastrophe than this fire could have become. The kids were saved from the flames, and I'm very happy to see it. I hope that the news
will motivate at least a few parents to reconsider when they think about leaving their kids alone in the house, even for a short while.