Tuesday's assignment! Its hot, humid, and time to get lost. Today, our objective was to go to the train station we were assigned to in pairs, and then split up and wander on our own. This was a lesson in observation. We were to turn off all technology, find a place to sit, and write in our journals everything that we saw, heard, and smelled, touched and tasted. We were to immerse ourselves completely in the task, and practice our perception skills. I was lucky enough to be assigned Ikebukuro, the second largest train station in Tokyo, and a bustling, developed tourist neighborhood. Here, I share my thoughts and observations as I explored the area.
I step off the train onto the platform, and part ways with Andrea. We turn in opposite directions, and I am immediately surrounded by a group of giggling school girls. I wade through the sea of people inside the station and finally step outside. It is mid afternoon in June, and the hot sun is beating down on the streets of Tokyo. The scene around me is electric, fast and hurried. Everyone seems to have somewhere to be.
My senses are overwhelmed by the overload of input, as I take in everything at once. Huge, blinking signs in every color and language. Blonde tourists in little sundresses. Buildings that tower twenty stories, plastered with chaotic advertisements. Two blocks west of the train station, as I am leaning against a railing (there is nowhere to sit), I smell the familiar city stench of beer, cigarettes, and urine. This was my first time encountering this smell in Tokyo, as the other corners of it that I have explored so far have been spotless. In this neighborhood, not even Tokyo’s staff can keep up. I once heard that if it takes two people to do a job, Japan will have three. My first impression of Tokyo as a whole was how impeccably clean it was. In a strange way, am almost relieved to see dirt and cigarette butts again, it makes the city feel more real.
As I walk deeper into the neighborhood, I enter a section of nine square blocks of tourist traps. Luxury hotels with cold stone lobbies. Brightly lit restaurants and bars advertise food from all over the world, including hundreds of signs for Jim Bean Whiskey (which I thought was from Kentucky. Interestingly, it is produced in Kentucky by a subsidiary of Suntory Holdings of Osaka). I pass three 7-11s before I see a single tree. Ariana Grande blasts from inside a nail salon. After a few blocks of souvenir shops and themed bars, I notice something missing, that is usually integral to the night life area of any city: tattoo parlors. Drunk, ignorant tourists making poor decisions allows for strategically placed tattoo shops to profit nicely. I didn’t realize that the tattoo stigma in Japan would be so prominent even in Tokyo. I began keeping an eye out for visible tattoos on people that passed me, and still have yet to see a single one.
Stepping out of the tourist alleys, I walk onto the main shopping street, with department stores, electronic stores, and grocery stores. The main streets are well painted, well signed, and separated from the wide sidewalks by railings and bollards. There are locals here as well, because these products are practical and necessary. I see mostly stylish people in their mid twenties, as well as a significant amount of well dressed business men. I notice that 90s American fashion has a strong influence on the young women in Japan today. I see many long a-line skirts, platform sandals with socks, and bucket hats. Men wear shirts with western brand names on them, like Converse and Supreme. The older women wear long pants and skirts, in muted colors. Their tops are loose and breathable, but well tailored. Overall, I get the sense that Tokyo fashion is quite practical. Despite the heat, I don’t see a lot of skin showing, and almost no one is wearing sunglasses. No one has facial piercings or unnaturally dyed hair. Also, everyone is thin, but I see no one exercising. I think it is important to note not just everything that I see, but also everything that I don’t see (for example, I did not see a single dog).
I keep walking, past the main streets. Still near the tourist center, the abundance of signs are prominent, but they begin to advertise different types of businesses, like print shops, dental clinics, and barbers. Smaller, older buildings are juxtaposed with big skyscrapers. I enter a residential neighborhood, where the streets are smaller and winding. Above me, hundreds of wires criss cross the alleys. There is no clear separation for cars, pedestrians, and bikes. I am the only obviously foreign person I see in this neighborhood, despite being a five minute walk away from the tourist hub. The pace is slower here.
A women bikes past me with two children with her, one in the front basket and one in a basket behind her seat. I see many bikes on the street, none of which are locked. The buildings here are three stories at the tallest, and mostly residential. There is laundry hanging up on most balconies, and houseplants line the street by the doorway to the buildings. I reach a school, just as it is ending. Women are there picking up their little children and walking or biking home. There is a fish eye mirror on every corner, to watch for cars. I pass a coffee shop, with wooden interior, and an old woman is smoking inside and reading a newspaper. I stop to sit in a park at the edge of a neighborhood. A small child is being helped by her mother on a zip line. Soon after, a young couple takes their place, and laughing they film each other on their smartphones. A father blows bubbles for his toddler. Young students in their school uniforms sit in circles on the grass, eating ice cream. Outside the tennis court on the opposite side of the park, a man sleeps on a mat on the sidewalk, with a cart of trash bags near him. I realize this is the first obviously homeless person that I have encountered since arriving in Tokyo.
Past the park, I see a tiled church with a cross atop it. Two blocks later, I enter a university campus. The buildings are brick and covered in ivy, but very new. Students mill about, laughing and reading. Colorful posters advertise university events. Organ music plays a familiar hymn from within the university chapel.
The different neighborhoods I walked through were all highly developed, leaving little room for nature. I did see more trees in the residential area and on the university campus, but they were highly groomed. The park was small, and dominated by a playground and tennis court that left very small spaces for some shrubs. I am looking forward to experiencing more of Japan’s nature in the future. I ended my journey in Ikebukuro by meeting up with some friends and comparing thoughts from our mapping experiences over conveyor belt sushi.
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