Train Life

Much of what I have seen and/or experienced this time in Japan has been either from the train or in the train. Whether this is a good or bad thing I can’t say for sure. I can only say that I have no more illusions about living a life abroad in Japan; there are no geisha, samurai, or friendly, wrinkled, little old Japanese men and women aching to have a pleasant chat with you in English about tea ceremony or the history of Japanese woodblock printing. Sure, these people do exist but they just take some searching around for, and thus usually are only found in travel essays by people who are smart enough not to have sold their souls to a Japanese company.

However, spending much of my time commuting by train has afforded me a glance into another aspect of Japanese life and culture. No, I’m not talking about yakuza, bosozoku (bike gangs), drug dealers, hostess women, or akibakei. Purely child’s play. I am talking about getting to the heart of the matter. Nippon’s vena cava. Not talking kabuki theatre here, but the backstage action. The behind the scenes of the “behind of the scenes.” Forget about the layers and layers of silk and fabric hiding the delicate geisha. Superman’s x-ray vision couldn’t see deeper and farther than what I’ve seen. (on that note… why is it that Superman could see through walls at people on the other side, for instance, a damsel in distress in a burning building, but couldn’t see through her clothes?)

I have seen well beyond the heart and soul of the Japanese people and let me tell you: when you get past the clean, cold and crisp, there lay waiting for you a hot, moist and gooey center that can't be rivaled by even the freshest oven-baked chocolate-chip cookie. Let's take a bite, shall we?

Strap Hanging

For the sake of brevity, let's call these people Hangers. There are at least two types within this category, the first being the kind that holds onto the straps and sways with the momentum of the car. These are often old men. These old men are often drunk. These drunken old men always smell bad. They are happy (translation: too lazy) NOT to use their legs as tools to help maintain their balance, but instead rock back and forth with every jolt of the train on it's tracks. Standing next to these drunken, old men is like being in a mosh pit with your grandfather but sans music.

There are also Hangers who fall asleep while standing up and suddenly let go of the strap. Much to the dismay of the person seated before them if they happen to be facing the seats, as invariably, the Sleep Hanger knocks off that person’s glasses or simply slaps him on the forehead. Sleep Hangers are mutated forms of the basic Strap Hanger.

Seat Ninjas

Seat Ninjas are an evolved species with origins dating back to the Edo Period of Japanese history. Although there is a direct correlation between the first sightings of Seat Ninjas and the beginnings of steam locomotion in Japan, there are also theories proposing that Seat Ninjas were also known to have been around since the horse-drawn carriage days. Contemporary Seat Ninjas, though known to act unpredictably, are rarely dangerous. In fact, unlike their precursors, the sole obsession of Seat Ninjas is to get a seat in a crowded train. They practice their black arts in the following ways and in no particular order (see, told you they’re unpredictable!):

NOTE: For simplicity’s sake (we like that around here), I will play the role of the seated person trying to stand up to get off at my stop.

- Holding onto the strap (often, posing as a Hanger or Sleep Hanger) then, as I stand up, leaning in at a 45 degree angle to capture my seat.

- Sitting on me as I get up. These are the least subtle and skilled of the Seat Ninjas.

- Sliding across the lap of the person next to me and into my seat as I stand up.

- Obachan style – The word obachan is a moniker given to your grandmother or random old ladies. They are known to stake their claim to seats with their umbrellas or canes. They will literally stab the seat as soon as your crotch creates enough space so as to prevent anyone else from sitting down. Seat Ninjas often masquerade as obachan on rainy days and when they are feeling a bit frisky.

- Old school Seat Ninjas will teleport into your seat after having distracted everyone with a smoke bomb.

Sleepers

These come in several types as well. Among the seated versions, the most notable are the ones with head back against the window and mouth agape, as if just begging you to drop your old gum or some coins down their throat. There are also those with no cervical vertebra who sleep with their chins resting on their chests. You often expect the skin around their necks to give out at any moment, their heads dropping onto their laps with a swift ripping sound and a terrible deluge of drool onto the crouch area of their pants. One of my personal favorites is the ones that lean to the side. Basically, they end up resting their heads on the adjacent person’s shoulder. It’s fun to watch said person either avoid the leaning mass coming at him by leaning forward or to the opposite side (if there isn’t anybody there) or by suddenly shrugging his shoulders to “politely” wake up the offending sleeper. Said sleeper, within an average of 3.7 seconds, will be once again leaning on the same shoulder. And the game resumes.

Another aspect of Japan train life to be appreciated…

Sharing steam with 60 strangers during the winter months, when the heat in the train car creates a perpetual sauna on wheels. The condensation on the windows closely resembles Niagara Falls (the Rhine or Urubupunga for you more exotic types) and is comprised of the sweat, breath, and goodness knows what other biological and digestive vapors evacuated by the 59 other passengers in the car. Now imagine that the car is packed shoulder to shoulder, or worse, and you (most likely your face) are pressed up against aforementioned flow of water. Outside of peak commuting hours, you’re lucky just to experience fogged-up glasses as you board the car.

The paradox of physical contact in Japan

As a rule, Japanese people are generally uncomfortable with touching and excessive bodily contact between strangers or those unfamiliar with each other (with the exception of old Japanese men who like to pet school girls). Except in the most cosmopolitan encounters, bows are still preferred over handshakes. However, this rule flies completely out the door and into space when it comes to bodily contact on trains. It is a supreme mystery to me why this is so and I’ve only been able to draw one conclusion:

Due to the collectivistic consciousness of Japanese culture, excessive physical contact is tolerated on trains because everyone is helping everyone else get on board, with the understanding that everyone just wants to go home (or shopping, which I would say for Japanese people, warrants more attention and chest and back-rubbing than the desire to go home). People will literally push and shove their way onto trains, with little regard for physics and the rated human capacity deemed acceptable by the engineers that designed the car. I have been pushed (hard, I might add) by weirdos who talk to themselves (that is a whole other blog), obachan, and even a Buddhist monk.

The ones that get on a crowded train when it is already packed to the gills have a special technique. As they approach the car, they turn 180 degrees so that their back is facing the people closest to the doors. Indeed, the doors can’t even close at this point; there are so many people already inside. With back turned, the guy (not just guys but Japanese women too; they have found equality, at least in this respect) inserts his buttocks and one foot onto the car first (ala Shaquille O’Neal). He then reaches up with one or both hands and grips the upper railing of the car, where the door normally meets the roof, and actually uses his arms like levers to force the rest of his body into the car. Well, the Japanese are good at engineering, I will say that.

The Japanese businessman, or sarariman, is notorious for being a pusher. I once saw a sarariman place his hand FULLY on the back of an old woman and sent her nearly flying onto the lap of the seated person in front of her. She then turned and swung her handbag at him, catching him on the bum. He gave her a dirty look. She returned the glare. I grinned. Tis’ a good thing, being a foreigner with a keen eye for culture.