Tuesday 3 August 2010

The Far East: Reflections on Japan

Firstly, I should apologise for the length of time it's taken to get these final few blog posts up; it's been quite a hectic few weeks at home and it's taken me a while to get back into the mood of writing. Here, then, is a summary of everything I did in the Far East, together with links to the full blog posts:

Day 1: Belfast-London
Day 2: London-Tokyo-Beijing
Day 3: quiet day in Beijing, real Chinese food
Day 4: another quiet day in Beijing
Day 5: Tian'anmen Square and the Forbidden City, Beijing
Day 6: Summer Palace, Beijing
Day 7: quiet day in Beijing
Day 8: The Great Wall and the Ming Tombs, Beijing
Day 9: Yonghegong and Temple of Heaven, Beijing
Day 10: last day in Beijing, Peking duck
Day 11: Beijing-Tokyo
Day 12: bullet train to Hiroshima and Peace Park
Day 13: Miyajima island
Day 14: bullet train back to Tokyo
Day 15: Nikko and the Tokyo Tower
Day 16: Sushi and relaxing in Tokyo
Day 17: Imperial Gardens, and bullet train to Kyoto
Day 18: Osaka Castle
Day 19: Nijo-jo, Kinkaku-ji, Ryoan-ji and Ninna-ji, Kyoto
Day 20: quiet day in Kyoto reorganising travel plans
Day 21: bullet train to Tokyo
Day 22: Tokyo-London-Belfast

I reflected on Day 10 about China. In this final blog post, I want to reflect a bit on my time in Japan, which was undoubtedly the most enjoyable holiday I've ever had. First, I want to talk about some specific points:

Language and culture: It's undoubtedly a cliche to say that Japan is a crossroads of east and west, but it's true. More than any other foreign country I've been to, Japan felt like home: they drive on the left, they're an island nation, they use public transport in droves, there are recognisable western brands on every street corner (McDonalds and Seven-Eleven are probably the two more prominent ones). But on the other hand it feels foreign enough that you know it's not quite home: the writing is perhaps the most noticeable difference. Nonetheless, I felt at ease in Japan in a way I didn't feel at all in China; China was unremittingly big and alien, and you couldn't get a handle on the language at all.

The Japanese language, in contrast to Mandarin, is quite easy to pick up a few words and phrases. Moreover, most people understood at least a little English: if you asked "Do you speak English?" and they answered "no", they usually understood enough to make yourself understood if you were looking for the toilet or trying to buy a train ticket. If they answer "a little", it means they're basically fluent and you should have no problems. All in all, the language situation made Japan much more hospitable than China as a place to visit, and it was all the more enjoyable as a result.

Public toilets: One major gripe I had with Japan was the state of their public toilets. They were invariably clean and tidy, but at least half the time there was no soap, or no hand dryers, or both. It may be that the Japanese expect each other to carry soap with them, but for a tourist this is a damned inconvenience, and one I wish they would put right. There are certain circumstances in which not washing one's hands is really not an option, and it really annoys (and, frankly, baffles) me how a nation which prides itself on efficiency and cleanliness should fail in such a basic aspect of hygiene.

Vending machines: Until you've been to Japan, you can't quite fathom just how many vending machines they have. They are, quite literally, everywhere. A dozen in a line would be considered perfectly normal for a typical subway station in Tokyo, selling everything from water to green tea to lemonade to beer to sake. When I say everywhere, I mean everywhere; they even have vending machines in shrines and temples. Oddly, though, they only ever seem to sell drinks; I don't remember ever seeing a vending machine for chocolate bars, or any food of any kind.

Weather: I suppose it's a peculiarly British thing to go somewhere and complain about the weather, but in this case I think I have licence to. In China, it was pretty hot (occasionally hitting 36C), but not too humid. In Japan, however, even though it wasn't often above about 28C it was stiflingly humid, even at night, and it was much less bearable. There were a few days when it wasn't too bad, but most of the time it was sticky and not all that pleasant to be outside. I guess I picked the wrong month; April or May would have been perfect, or perhaps September; the summer is simply too hot and (nearly) tropical.

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When it comes to the Japanese trains, where do I start? It's self-evident from the moment you set foot in Japan that, in spite (maybe even because?) of it now being privately operated, the Japanese have running an integrated, efficient, punctual railway network down to a fine art. Perhaps the most important thing from the point of view of a tourist is that nearly everything is signposted in English, even at small stations in the middle of nowhere.

I suppose, before I go on, I should make one caveat: when I say "the Japanese", what I really mean is the Japan Rail Group, which is the collection of six companies that make up what was, until 1987, the nationalised network. There are a myriad of other private companies competing for business on all sorts of other lines; these have no affiliation with JR, and as such they are not valid for use on the JR Pass, and so I didn't use anything other than JR trains.

The sheer size of the (JR) network, and of the trains themselves, is also impressive. The number of different lines operated by JR in the Tokyo area is mind-boggling: there are 36 lines operated by JR East in the Tokyo area, which collect into about five or six main arteries which take commuters into and out of Tokyo city centre. The busiest station in Japan - and, indeed, the world - is not Tokyo station proper, but Shinjuku station on the western edge of the city centre, which is used by a staggering 3.64 million people every day. (For comparison, Britain's busiest station, London Waterloo, is used by about 500,000 people every day, counting both mainline and underground services.)

Even the shortest suburban trains in Tokyo are ten carriages long, with many being 15. And they need to be; even in the middle of the day, most trains are standing-room only, and in well into the evening - even as late as 9pm - trains are breathing-room only. The Shinkansen trains I was on were busy, though not crowded; that said, I was barred from getting the fastest trains between Tokyo and Osaka, and I suspect they would have been pretty busy.

One key difference is that there's enough track that, at most stations, each separate line can have its own platform. At Tokyo station, for example, platforms 4 and 5 are used only by Yamanote Line trains; this is what makes it possible to have a train every three minutes on pretty much every line out of Tokyo. It also means that finding where your train goes from is easy, because you don't have to peer up at a huge departures board, such as at Birmingham New Street, to find which train you need to get and then wait for which platform you need.

The Shinkansen undoubtedly make a huge difference to the railway network: being able to speed across the country in double-decker trains with huge amounts of legroom and hundreds of seats at speeds of up to 186mph means that the train is undoubtedly the most enjoyable way of getting around Japan. More importantly, though, it means there's enough capacity on the old mainlines to run commuter trains every three minutes.

What really impresses me about the Shinkansen network, however, is that they haven't skimped by putting the stations outside the city centres. The tracks have been threaded through the very centre of Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka and countless other cities to provide stations right in the heart of the urban centres of Japan. When, occasionally, such as in Osaka, they have had to resort to building new stations, they are fully connected with the existing network. It means that getting a Shinkansen train isn't like getting a plane: there isn't endless amounts of hassle in getting to and from the Shinkansen station, it's exactly the same place as you'd get any other train, albeit a different platform which might be a slightly longer walk.

You've probably heard that Japanese trains stop to the nearest centimetre and measure delays in seconds: this is absolutely true. The stopping positions are so accurate that they have barriers along the side of the platform except where the doors are going to be (like platform edge doors, such as on the Jubilee line extension). This makes it easy, for instance, for staff boarding a train to wait at exactly the right place.

You could, pretty much, set your watch by the Shinkansen departures; departures on classic lines are still punctual but I did experience a few delays of no more than two minutes. One other useful feature, though, is that on certain trains - the Yamanote line in particular - they display information of delays on other key lines, and there were clearly lots of delays on one particular day (I can't remember which), they just happened not to affect me.

It did feel, however, that this was all achieved by having more staff than the British railways would; there were always several people on the platforms - which are all very long indeed - at any one time, and not just the conductor but several catering staff on each train. But it does seem to be worth it: it delivers a railway network that is probably the best in the world.

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Unlike China, I found Japan to be a welcoming and thoroughly enjoyable place to visit, with probably the best trains in the world. Monetarily speaking, I got the value of the JR Pass, in the sense that it was probably about the same price as a return from Tokyo to Hiroshima. However, I could have used it much more than I actually did, and I would have loved to have done so. Next time I go to Japan I intend to spend a few days just train-hopping to get a better feel for the network; in spite of being on 56 JR trains in twelve days, most of those were either Shinkansen trains, or trains between Tokyo and Minami-Senju. (In the meantime, I've got the JR timetable to try and make sense of, so I can be prepared for when I go back!)

There is one experience which stands out above all others: Hiroshima. The Peace Park and Museum had much more of an effect on me than I expected; I didn't walk into the building a nuclear abolitionist, but I did walk out of it one. I truly hope that humanity can work together to get rid of the horrible threat of nuclear weapons (though that's not to say I believe in unilateral disarmament). The park is a beautiful testament to the undying power of the human spirit: in spite of the devastation in Hiroshima, the city came back to life, and was rebuilt from the ashes, and stands as a triumph of peace over war.

There are many other experiences from Japan which I will remember for the rest of my life: the bullet trains, undoubtedly, but also the crush of the very busiest suburban trains; the many beautiful shrines in Nikko; the temples of north-west Kyoto; fresh sushi; and Tokyo Tower by night. Being able to share much of this with Jonathan made the whole experience even more enjoyable, and I thank him for joining me for a week.

Having to come home a couple of days early was disappointing, but I am very glad that I did, and that I was able to attend my grandfather's funeral. Without my grandparents' support, I would not have had the means to go to China and Japan, and for that I thank them both. My grandpa was a civil engineer, and he was the one who first engendered a love of transportation; I regret that I didn't get the chance to share my tales of China and Japan with him.

I have fallen in love with Japan, in a way I haven't fallen in love with anywhere else before. It's foreign enough to be exciting, but not so foreign as to be daunting; the shrines are beautiful and the mountains imposing; the people are welcoming and the language accessible; and the trains are fantastic. It's definitely a matter of when, and not if, I go back to Japan, and until I do I will be itching to return.

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