Akihabra or "Electric Town" is typical of many of Tokyo's retial districts.

Tokyo

As we approached Tokyo, the factories flying by our window began to transform into high-rise office buildings. Residential areas evolved into spindly apartment towers interspersed with brightly lit retail districts. A colleague who had been to Japan more often than I once noted that, from a distance, it was easy to spot all the major stations in Tokyo. You simply had to look for areas where the buildings were the tallest.

When we arrived at Tokyo station, time began to accelerate. We walked out onto a platform that had at least four bullet trains loading or unloading and we were swept along in a broad and fast moving river of passengers. We maneuvered, as well as we could, into a sub-current that was heading for an escalator, rather than the stairs (in deference to the suitcase I was wheeling around), showed our rail pass and handed in our spent inbound tickets to an attendant at the turnstiles. (Actually, the turnstiles in Japanese railroad stations only appear when a gate is closed or there is some sort of problem. Following the theme of trusting the customer, they always remain open under normal circumstances.) On the level below, we found a counter where we could check our bags, leaving us free to wander about unburdened (with the notable exception of my ten pounds of camera equipment). My wife asked a station agent for directions and he pointed us to the platform where we could catch an elevated train to the Akihabra Distract, also known as Electric Town. It was only two stops away, so we would have over an hour to browse around before having to return to the station for our long trip south.

Size does matter in Japan's shopping disctrict, but height is far more important than width.

Electric Town

We squeezed into the car with an eclectic cross-section of the city's population and very quickly found ourselves at our stop. It was obvious from the moment we stepped off the train where we were. We were surrounded by colorful billboards advertising computers, software, electronics and the local retailers. Leaving the station we were greeted by glittering neon reflecting on rain-slicked streets. The downpour had gotten quite heavy, but that had little or no effect on the crowds wandering through the streets and jamming the stores.

Regardless of how wide or narrow they may happen to be, all the stores rose at least five and often ten stories and, more often than not, their brightly lit signs would rise just as high. In spite of the rain, the fronts of nearly all the stores were open to the streets with only the wider buildings offering space for window displays. In the stores, attendants were handing out plastic covers for shoppers to put over their folded umbrellas to keep the inside of the store and merchandise on display as dry as possible. In one large shop, there was a fairly large machine that used a blower to open each bag automatically, so a passer-by could simply insert their umbrella and pull it away with a cover attached.

We passed by a booth in front of one where two, very attractive, silver bomber jacket-clad young women were trying to ignore the rain and demonstrate various new electronic devices by National-Panasonic. Even though it was done in moderation, they were made up in Japan's newest seventies-retro fashion: artificially lightened (if not platinum) hair, artificially darkened complexions and ultra-pale lipstick and eye-shadow. In deference to the weather (and possibly the fact that they had to be on their feet all day), they were not wearing the six to eight-inch platform high-heels that were appearing on the streets all through Japan (not to mention in more than a few emergency rooms).

The collection of products in the electronics stores was dazzling. It was obvious that the goodies the major Japanese companies exported to the US were nowhere near as slick and sophisticated as the ones that were sold domestically. I longed for one of the Sony FM receivers that were not much bigger than a large matchbook. But I was told that it would not work in the US FM band. My wife was just as infatuated with the super-light and super-powerful vacuum cleaners that were popular here but, alas, they would have a problem with the higher voltage coming out of American wall outlets.

The prices here was the best in Japan and the selection was the widest. We actually didn't buy a thing while we were there but I was faced with some of the most profound temptation of the entire journey.

Oops!

A steady downpour doesn't put a damper on this street-side demo.

We saw more Americans and Europeans here than in any other locale. I stopped at a small cafe for a four-dollar espresso and chatted for a while with a husband and wife from England. Then, we headed back out into the rain to the station. We had allowed ourselves plenty of extra time, so there was no need to rush. At Tokyo station, we retraced our steps and picked up our luggage. When we arrived at the ticket gate, I realized that I had accidentally handed in our unused return tickets by mistake. With the JR pass, this didn't represent any financial loss, but it would be very hard to obtain reserved seats for the long trip to Hiroshima at this late hour. Most of the southbound seats were nearly sold out, as it was.

The agent at the gate was very helpful. My wife explained our situation and he and two assistants went digging through several large plastic bags of collected tickets looking for ours, pausing occasionally to attend to the passengers disgorged by an arriving train. It took nearly all of our extra time, but he finally found one of the tickets and wrote up a replacement for the other that was still missing. With a deep bow and a sincere arigato gozaimashita, we ascended the escalator to the platform just as our train was arriving. Bound for Hiroshima Even though our train to Hiroshima was still considered a Hikari express, there would be far more stops than on our northbound trip, so we had a ride of over five hours ahead of us. After that, we would spend about an hour on a local line heading back north along the coast to Hiro. This was fine with me because, by now, I was completely infatuated with Japanese trains, particularly the shinkansen. Even though I had a book with me and a lot of writing to catch up on, my eyes remained glued to the windows. Leaving Tokyo, the train was, indeed full. Most of the passengers appeared to be shoppers returning to the southern cities.

It wasn't a surprise to learn that, in recent years, the shinkansen had taken on the role of commuter train. Because of the limited amount and high price of housing in the Tokyo area, it was becoming more practical for workers to commute in from greater and greater distances. With the bullet train, a family could live comfortably in the country a hundred miles from the city and the husband could still be at work in around an hour. That's less time than it takes most Silicon Valley workers to commute less than twenty miles to their jobs through gridlocked freeways. America is deeply immersed in its own traditions, as well.

A Quiet Ride to Hiroshima

When we stopped at Kyoto, I realized that this was the last time we would pass through this territory during this trip. Even with the growing darkness, I was beginning to recognize the smaller neighborhoods we kept traversing over the past week and once again watched as the small patches of farmland shrank into backyard gardens and the buildings filled in the open spaces and so quickly grew taller and bolder. Soon, at their center, I could see the brightly lit spire of Kyoto Tower piercing the darkening sky, then we slowed and stopped one last time at Kyoto station. I did my best to focus my thoughts on the week ahead, rather than the week that had so quickly passed.

By now, the train was no longer full. After our next stop at Shin Osaka, it was nearly empty. Night had finally settled in and a steady rain kept falling. We bought our dinner, a freshly-made bento box, the next time the vendor strolled by and we ate quietly between Osaka and Kobe.

We arrived in Hiroshima right on time at 9:30. The emptiness of the station made it feel much larger than it really was. There was about ten minutes before our train would come, so my wife called her mother to let her know when we would arrive at their station. Her brother had volunteered to pick us up in his car. Then, we walked out onto an outdoor platform to wait for our train to Hiro on the Kure line. The rain had slowed considerably, but the air had gotten cooler and was quite refreshing. One thing I noticed right away was that there were no longer English translations of station information on signs and schedules. In all the major cities we had been in so far, most station information was in both Japanese and either English or, at least, roomagi (a phonetic way of spelling Japanese words and names using the English alphabet). Here, the only roomaji to be found were on billboards and vending machines.

The train held a random cross-section of the community: couples out on dates, some school children who were, for some reason, still in their uniforms in spite of it being late on a Saturday evening, workers ending a late weekend shift and a family or two returning from a long day's outing. Most were napping, a few were tapping out or reading e-mail on their cell phones and the rest were reading. I think that I was the only one gazing out the windows at the sparsely lit scenery passing by. The train followed the coastline, heading back north. This was yet another heavy industrial and shipping region with a large Japanese Defense Force naval base.

As we headed out of the Hiroshima, I could feel the weight I always sense when I am in a dense, urban area begin to lift off my chest. Even in the darkness, I could sense that we were in a more peaceful place. We passed no sparkling pachinko palaces or high-rises with lights still burning in cluttered offices. A few headlights would shimmer on rain-slicked roads and an occasional vending machine would shine like a white beacon on a dark side street. But it was quiet here. It was, by no means, a place that came alive at night. It rested.

Next: Home in Hiro

Home

Services

Current Writing

Resume

Journey to Japan

Kazz's Site

The Back Page