Thursday, September 13, 2001. 1:49 pm.
One hour outside of Tokyo Japan. Car 2, Seat 26.
The train makes its first scheduled stop. I’m still in alien territory, making my way to yet another computer manufacturer. This is my fifth train of the day. We have moved up from the standard subway to a commuter train, complete with seat assignments and vending machines.
A short woman in a red vest and round hat demands my attention. Her speech is foreign to me, but her gesture is unmistakable. She wants to punch my train ticket. I say thank you (in English) as she hands the ticket back. There is a good chance my polite gesture falls on deaf ears, but it’s hard to break old habits.
Traditional Japanese architecture takes hold as we move further from the heart of Tokyo. Small houses with tile rooftops fight for landscape along side apartment buildings and warehouses. Suburban Japan takes form. Parts of Tokyo can be mistaken for New York or Chicago. This landscape is definitely foreign. This is really Japan … well, except for the Century 21 sign. American culture has definite roots in Japan, no matter how far you travel. There are fewer predominately English signs, but the occasional 7-11 or McDonald’s sign jumps out of the landscape.
Steely Dan is my companion as three basic laws of physics propel me to my destination.
“Do you throw out your gold teeth?”
“Do you see how they roll?”
I feel guilty for not speaking Japanese. It’s not necessary for my business, since all of the clients know English. I have this feeling I’m an intruder, stumbling my way through the country like a blind man. I tried to learn basic Japanese phrases on my last visit about three years ago. One of the hostess girls in a karaoke club tried to teach me between drinks and business talk. After slaughtering several basic phrases, I gave up. My history with foreign languages is not good. I fear I would insult this country while slaughtering their native tongue.
I’m still savoring lunch. After days in Japan, I finally got the chance to have sushi. Our Japanese sales associate and I stopped at a “sushi train” while Mike headed to KFC. Mike’s inability to eat fish typically hinders my diet when we travel together. I got to enjoy a moderately priced sushi meal, while Mike digested Asia’s interpretation of Kentucky Fried Chicken. I think I got the better end of the deal.
Train travel is becoming a familiar experience to me. Japan as a whole has embraced the train as a way of life. I wonder if America will ever follow suit. The recent terrorist attacks have made Americans wary of air travel. We can either we embrace the bus as the next great mode of travel, overcome our fear of hijacked aircraft, or ride the rails. Knowing Americans, we’ll just drive everywhere.
I peer over the seat in front of me, peering over the shoulder of a Japanese businessman. His magazine features several topless Japanese models. With the flip of the page, he is reading an article about cartoons. The feature is about an Anime baseball cartoon. Animation is a staple of Japan. The average American associates Japanese animation with Pokemon and giant fighting robots. But the Japanese use animation to tell all sorts of stories. My favorites tend to be fanciful tales of science fiction, like Trigun or Slayers. But serious character dramas are also animated, even if they don’t involve the monster-inspired urban renewal.
It’s now 2:26 pm. I haven’t seen an English word outside of my train car for the past fifteen minutes. The landscape has changed dramatically. Rectangular apartment complexes and warehouses have been replaced with two-story houses and two-lane roads. The scenery occasionally reverts to dense suburban neighborhoods and grocery stores, but we are definitely not in the big city.
As I reach for my spare laptop battery, I look out the train window. Open tracts of green land stretch to misty hills. The scene quickly fades, obscured by the next train station. I put a fresh battery into my 850 MHz stereo and add more songs to the WinAMP play list. As the train leaves the station, mist covered mountains return to the landscape. It’s time I took in more scenery. My break from work will be brief, so I should try to enjoy it.
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