Tokyo Reinvented?

Governor Inose of Tokyo has a plan:  Make Tokyo into a 24-hour metropolis.  In a recent visit to New York City--the city that never sleeps--he sought out what New York has that Tokyo doesn't.  The list is long:  subways and buses that run all day and all night, a vibrant entertainment industry (e.g. Broadway), and an economy that benefits from continual consumer availability.  On a Sunday morning television talk show he spoke about how making public transportation available to everyone all the time, businesses will flourish and the Tokyo Metropolitan Government as well as the private companies that own various subway and bus lines will also benefit.  To all who watch the governor from afar it's clear he's struggling to fill the giant shoes left behind by his predecessor, the infamous Mr. Ishikawa.  Perhaps his attempts to make Tokyo into a truly global city is his way of leaving his mark.  My personal opinions of the governor aside,  during this one show he made his points well.

Except there's a problem.  (Of course there's a problem.)  Take the idea of running trains 24 hours a day.  Tokyo subway lines run two rails, each heading a different direction.  Maintenance on these lines happens at night, continual operation of railways being key.  Taking this a step further, continual operation and availability of prompt railway services is important because any disruption is meiwaku to the passengers.

Herein lies another problem.  Any English equivalent I've heard of this word, my translations included, simply does not do this word justice.  It's laden with cultural context.  You simply do not, in Japan, cause meiwaku.

The loose translation is "inconvenience."  Your inability, capability, or refusal to do the obvious, the right thing, and what is expected causes inconvenience to others.  There's no simple way to explain how wrong, bad, inappropriate, unappreciated, and unacceptable this is.  If trains were, on the off chance, late or worse yet, unable to run as smoothly as they do here in Tokyo, all because proper maintenance did not or could not take place the night before, then the idea of a 24-hour Tokyo is moot.  Causing Tokyo residents meiwaku far outweighs the economic benefit of an always-available subways system.  Let's say the governor does get his way and trains and subways do run all night.  Somewhere there will need to be maintenance done, as quality and safety is of paramount importance.  There would need to be routine work done on these lines--except the act of shutting down a train line to conduct routine repairs is also not acceptable if it means that line or station is inaccessible.  It's meiwaku to those needing to travel.  The number of people affected by this inconvenience is problematic enough that it kills any thought of 24-hour rails.

How does New York do it?  I don't know.  I can see, however, how Americans would be far more willing to accept a certain train station being inaccessible for a few hours every other week in order for any preventative maintenance needing to be done.  It's the price you pay.  Walk.  Take a taxi or a bus.  Drive.  You adapt to your surroundings.  I can't see New Yorkers flooding Mayor Bloomberg's office with complaints about how this inconvenience is unacceptable.

On another political pundit talk show, the "problem" of baby strollers on trains came up.  Again.  It seems mothers who ride trains, pushing their babies in strollers simply take up too much space.  I've heard this before.  Mothers my age and older say, "In our day, we folded our strollers and held our babies when we rode trains.  Young women these days expect people to make room for them."  The idea here?  Young mothers are causing other passengers meiwaku by taking up valuable real estate in rail cars.  Certainly, there's a generational difference in perspective.  The sense of entitlement my generation allotted onto our children has come back to bite us in the butt.  Point made:  Our children think it's okay to cause other passengers meiwaku.  No one says this, of course.  Much less that we raised a entire generation to think this way.  Is there a cultural shift happening in Japan?  Most definitely.  Should fingers get pointed?  Yes.  There's a reason for this change.  It lies with parenting.

My take on the governor's dilemma--how to make Tokyo global and continually competitive--is that anything he proposes has the potential to collide with cultural expectations and what is now the norm for Japan.  He dare not inconvenience his constituency, but if he is to take leadership in keeping Tokyo relevant globally, changes have to be made.  The subway/train problem is just one example of where he will have to ask commuters and tourists to cooperate, tolerating the meiwaku. 

I'm all for Tokyo going global.  Rather, more global.  I like the idea of not having to worry about catching the last train back to my apartment.  As Governor Inose pursues his goals on reinventing Tokyo I conclude with this thought:  Perhaps we just take a taxi or a bus, like New Yorkers presumably do, when any particular train station is going through construction or maintenance.  Maybe it's not that big of a price to pay, and the whole meiwaku thing is a bit blown out or proportion?  I think it's worth considering this idea. 

The stroller issue?  That's a whole other can of worms and one I don't see a quick resolution happening any time soon. 

On Not Mincing Words and 100 Yen Shops

Growing up, confrontation, blunt talk, saying what one really means was simply not a part of daily life.  Subtlety, implications heavy with nuances, hidden intent not clearly spelled out, all this was normal in Japan.  Imagine my shock then, fast-forwarding several decades when it's now okay to say what until now was kept inside.  Don't get me wrong.  It's not that all polite talk has been replaced with directness.  Make no mistake.  For the most part, tact still rules.  There are, however, exceptions.  These are noticeable.  These stand out. 

There's this, for example.

It reads, "How many times I gotta say it?!  If you drink, don't drive."

This is blunt in Japan.  It's almost shocking.  It's the smack across the head to those stupid enough to break rules.

Then there's this.
"It's not that you can't.  It's that you don't."  Particularly applicable post-March 11th, for those Japanese (in particular) who are "too busy" and for whom "Tohoku is alright, right?"

I find this refreshing.  There are those here in Japan who will say this kind of frankness is the result of an educational system that promotes self-assertion, a no-no until several decades ago when group-think was the norm.  As an American, I know it's not my place to plug any one "norm" where it's not welcome.  No one culture is superior to another. 

Those subjects alone could turn into several dissertations, so I'll save them for another day.  This notepad, the one on the right was bought at one of Japan's many 100 yen stores.  My new Mecca, I pretty much decorated my entire apartment with items brought here.  Some stores are small "hole-in-the-wall" shops while others take up four floors of a department building.  The merchandise sold here is not high-end, and it's most certainly not fashionable.  It "passes" which isn't bad for someone on a budget.

After dinner one night, I passed one such store as I made my way back to the bus stop.  At first I kept going, but then turned around and made my way down into the basement.  I could afford 500 yen on items I didn't otherwise know I needed.  It's a short-term shopping fix. 

The notepad caught my eye.  I don't need it, of course.  It begged to be bought.  The notebook fairy called out, "Buy me.  Buy me."  I obliged.  If nothing else, a conversation piece it would be.  "Who do you think it's referring to?"  "It's true, don't you think?"  "It's okay to be that blunt if you're telling the truth.  Or no?"

I will pull it out of my bag at hopefully just the right moment and see the reactions both it and I receive.  Blunt talk and 100 yen shops.  An unlikely duo if there ever was one.