TOKYO, Japan — The only thing I planned for my first trip to Japan was to recreate Scarlett Johansson’s crossing the Shibuya in Lost in Translation. I did buy the requisite travel guides, bookmarked links on must-see’s, but decided to junk all that at the last minute, because I wanted Japan to surprise me. I knew it’d be a strange adventure. I never thought it would be life-changing, especially for a Filipino.
I did get to cross the Shibuya, bathed in neon on a very cold February evening — three times. I was in a sea of Tokyoites, all clad in black winter wear. The Shibuya crowd was a big fraction of the 13-million Tokyo populace. Yet, no elbows rubbed against mine. Not one shivering pedestrian pushed me in a rush to get to a heated enclosure. The Japanese are big on “sense of personal space,” it seems.
I tried one mean experiment to validate the personal-space theory. I got on the “wrong” side of escalators in malls and train stations which one should avoid to allow hurrying shoppers or commuters to pass. I’d stand still, not run up. I held up the mad dash. No one shoved me. Those behind me had to wait for the slow climb to the top. I would have been bruised if I did that in Tsim Sha Tsui.
When I entered the shops in Tokyo — from the glitzy ones in Ginza to the littlest in Shinjuku — salesladies greeted me cheerfully in their shrill falsetto, and it didn’t seem like they had been mandated by human resources to fake the politeness. Within their dizzying train network, they were just as helpful. We got lost on several occasions, and we’d stop the first local that came by to ask where we should go. They’d pull out their train guide and point us to the right platform. You’d think they wouldn’t bother because they didn’t speak much English. They’d actually run or walk with you to catch the next train, which was way better than rambling off specific verbal instructions.
A fundamental Japanese value
To me, all these intriguing encounters with the Japanese seemed to resolve themselves into a single, fundamental value: respect. It wasn’t hospitality, for after all, they all looked shy and not obviously eager; certainly not just displayed for the gaijin (literally meaning “person from the outside of the country”). Such behavior I remember seeing in the aftermath of last year’s tsunami tragedy. It’s a predilection for order. Things have got to work for me and the other person. They respect and recognize every person’s need for harmony and symmetry, including those ignorant of the intricacies of the bullet train.
The bullet train (Shinkansen) and all of their regular trains, for that matter, are even more eloquent expressions of the Japanese brand of “respect.” The extensive Shinkansen network was built in the ‘60s primarily to showcase Japan’s technological leadership. But I suspect its creators put as much premium on respect for the needs of the traveler. Traveling high-speed saves a lot of time for a traveler. For a tourist, it allows him to be transported quickly to cities hundreds of miles away, see sights and take in as much culture in a country that’s inexhaustibly rich with sights and culture. Hence, trains are never late. Punctuality is priority. It shows the train driver’s respect for his passengers.
Here’s a tip, by the way, when riding a train in Japan: your watch must be precise. When your reserved train ticket indicates 10:04 a.m., wait for the exact 10:04 train, not a minute less or ahead. You would surely take the wrong one if you did. And, when traveling with a tour group, you better get back to the tour bus at the appointed hour lest the Japanese guide’s falsetto get more shrill; worse, they’ll leave you behind.
SSSSHHH!
More on the train: commuting can get disconcerting for us Pinoys because everyone’s quiet, even when it’s elbow-to-elbow (but, no rubbing elbows still). All mobile phones are on mute. My friend Ivar’s phone went off during one train ride, and a group of teens reacted like another tsunami had just hit them. Our group got “ssshhh”ed a lot of times in the train, restaurants, hotel lobbies, and even shopping malls. Too much laughter upsets Japanese equilibrium. I actually didn’t mind the restriction. It put a cap on unbridled Pinoy silliness.
The strain of Japanese perfectionism was also unsettling for us Pinoy tourists who either loved to smoke or eat. There were hardly any ashtrays on the streets of Tokyo; neither trash bins. Just where would you dispose of your cigarette butts or the Royce ice cream bar wrapper? Certainly not on the pavement because the streets were just too clean. I have yet to learn how the Japanese garbage system works.
The Best Of Both Worlds: Machine And Poetry
What was clear though was that Japan had the best of both worlds. First, the technological: an efficient transport system, urban planning, orderly taxi queues, exact geometry of department store racks and layout, the most navigable tourist spots even without the benefit of English signs. And there’s the lyrical, best expressed in their cuisine.
Japan as a destination is overlooked by many because it’s believed to be very expensive. I was told that a meal at McDonald’s was the price of a buffet at the Shangri-la Manila. It’s a myth. Surely, if you get Kobe beef each time, you’ll run out of precious yen. I liken the price of a Japanese meal to lunch in Rockwell. Lunch is like having a Via Mare meal, or Mamou. There’s nothing close to ChowKing prices, though. But wouldn’t you want to eat well in one of the greatest culinary capitals of the world? Everything is yummy in Tokyo, from food courts found in basements of departments stores, to nondescript ramen houses. (My college classmate Kitty Go, a Tokyo resident, even declared that the Japanese do French cooking better than the French.) Five hundred pesos would be enough to make you full and happy, and the soul just as nourished.
Theirs has been called the most aesthetically sophisticated of cultures, and that remarkable sense of refinement applies to their cuisine. The calculated symmetry you’ll see in their man-made structures is just as evident in their food presentation. Every meal, wherever served, has to invoke a complete sensual experience. It has to look as good as it tastes. Nothing is superfluous. There’s the right tableware for the season (white in winter). The tray they serve usually has several portions that are grouped together to provide contrast and drama in terms of color, texture, shape and taste. Beautifully cut vegetables, thinly sliced ginger, a sprinkling of sesame seeds are there to provide a final touch of art.
The best part is the rice — soft, sticky, shiny and fragrant. I don’t want to go back to Sinandomeng again.
Never Bland, None Of The ‘Pisaphobia’
The images of perfection I’ve mentioned in this piece may appear suffocating for some. Isn’t everything too antiseptic? Where are the ragged edges that make for a spontaneous and wild adventure? But for blandness to happen, soullessness would be an antecedent condition. On the contrary, the art and passion of the Japanese is evident in everything they manage, whether natural or artificial. Besides, all of us who have to contend with the many loose ends that knot up living in Manila, ought to be treated to a scene we always dream about. A city that works. A city that’s clean and smells good. A city that respects your sense of space and time. Where art and beauty is everywhere. One that’s free of paranoia and fear of strangers.
The fear of tourist traps afflicts many, including myself, who’ve gone on tour groups before. Merriam Webster describes a tourist trap as “a place that attracts and exploits tourists.” I call it “Pisaphobia,” named after the world’s top tourist trap, the Leaning Tower of Pisa — high on kitsch, low on meaningfulness. It’s usually teeming with rows and rows of tacky souvenirs, including long queues for corny perspective photo ops. Japan had none of those. Every stop always captivated with unique curiosities.
Tokyo is a riddle. You’ll have to unlock the Japanese spirit behind every exquisite exterior. A friend just asked me where she should go. I struggled because I didn’t have a default list. Some would say, the zany characters in Harajuku, freshest sushi at the Tsukiji Market, the sublime Asakusa Temple, the ways of Walt perfected in Disneyland, the bars in Roponggi, the glamour in Ginza, and the trek to the magical Mount Fuji. Yeah, you can do all that, and you’ll still be wanting for more. In Japan, you will see and experience things that you can’t imagine elsewhere, even if they look Western and familiar.
And to those who stay away from Japan and repeatedly settle for visa-less and dirt-cheap Asian destinations, I say, save up for Japan. It’s easier to go and survive there than you think. And you’ll come back energized and enriched by the country’s art, beauty, harmony and kindness — the Zen of it all — as though transfused by a mob of Shibuya crossers.
* * *
Coming next: Kyoto — Understanding Japan in a cup of tea