There is something truly amazing about the atmosphere in Japan. I would briefly speak first about my experiences last night, and then explain why I would say so. After the long day of orientation, we were allowed to go and have dinner with the Japanese students at our university. Mine took us out to enjoy wakaiya – in the case of what I ordered, a sort of noodle and egg pancake ingeniously kept warm on an in-table grill while you eat – and then to walk around Kyoto. Our wanderings quickly brought us to a famous street (ichi…) of Japanese shops and restaurants, which was both quite old and would have been quite crowded by daylight. In the night, it was very quiet in the older sections, where shops had lowered their metal grills or simply left their doors open, garbage piled outside and lights out. From what I've said it may sound unpleasant, but it was anything but, being still well lit and clean. We then moved to a slightly busier section that catered to the night crowds of teenagers, some still in uniform, and other shoppers.
Here we stumbled upon a gorgeous and oddly displaced seeming Shinto temple. I have to say, one of the most fascinating aspects of Kyoto is the mixture of new and old, which has been remarked upon in the past, but that I think must be seen to be believed. One moment, we were standing amidst crowds of shoppers, the sounds of chatter and various forms of music on every side, and the next the world had gone silent, and the air taken on the more natural, earthy chill of undeveloped land. Here we walked more silently, and I watched as the Japanese students performed their rituals or enjoyed the scenery, explaining to us the omamori (charms to hold the prayer’s of those who hold them, and perhaps grant their wishes) among other traditions. Then we stepped out again into the crowded streets, and I swear it was as if we had never been anywhere else. Maybe we were just dreaming a moment while imaging a more ancient Kyoto – of course, I could turn around and see the temple gates, so I know that was not the case. We stopped at an arcade as well, and then took our token photo booth images, of which I can only say family photographers in the states could make use, because they do work wonders to wipe away the imperfections in an image.
We then meandered down to the river, slightly lower than the rest of the city and crossed by a somewhat busy bridge. Here we settled our group between and an equal distance away from two sets of couples, who were abiding by the local tradition and enjoying the view. It was a phenomenal sight, if only because these people seemed to abide naturally by unwritten rules, whereas in America there would often by some youthful law-breaker who set out only to ruin everyone else's fun. It turned out to be a beautiful night. The pressing heat and humidity of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze that just stirred the tall fronds of grass growing at the river’s edge, so that the heat that remained became warm and comfortable. Gallons of dark river water rushed past, shimmering over the smooth stones laid down by its passage, and hurtling over manmade waterfalls. Its voice was only a gentle hiss, but it drowned the sounds of traffic overhead, and seemed to welcome the accompaniment of several young men performing their songs higher up the banks. The lights of larger business buildings dominated the skyline, turning the navy clouds overhead to a cottony mouse gray, but it was peaceful nonetheless.
And so I come to my point that Japan is very different from America. What I refer to is the atmosphere. It, I am sure, is a product of many things, but the two that come to mind or me are the layout of the streets and the community of the people – though I may be premature in my assessment, having been here only two days. The streets are broad in some places, and these are more like the streets of America, though well kept and again, relatively clean. They are very narrow in others, catering to only one car at a time, and I think it is walking down these narrow streets that there is the strangest sense of security. Every two steps is a new door, crammed so close to the last that there is barely the chance of a shadow coming between the light cast by either one. People stand outside, calling out there services or offering flyers. The shop attendants seem to be constantly busy, moving back and forth past the doors and through their merchandise, while the shops themselves are small and give the sense that one can see most everything from outside. And shoppers wander everywhere. The really wonderful thing is that they have a sense of purpose, to some extent, but not in the way that Americans seem to. They walk along, talking, pointing, shopping for something in particular, but seemingly equally open to everything else. Rather than the American way of bypassing everything to find the item in question, the small shops seem to beckon a more casual way of shopping – as a result there is a sense of openness, not unlike the community feeling within a tract of homes when everyone is having a garage sale at once.
The community I would discuss is something much more complicated. Trust; Americans have typically pointed out that the Japanese tend to tote the phrase “shikatta ga nai” and turn a blind eye to the bad things that happen, but I believe that is not entirely accurate. There is something else at work here. To digress a moment, there seems to be an increasing trend in American schools to include at the doors a metal detector. Now I would love to do a survey on this at some point, but I would say that when I walk into a school with a metal detector, I do not think, “Wow, what a safe place. They even have a metal detector!” I think, “Wow, what a dangerous place. They even have to have a metal detector!” As a result, for however long I am in that place, I will most certainly be looking over my shoulder. Now, one could call this shikatta ga nai, because if the metal detector were not present, much less ignore the problem I might not even realize there was a problem, but if there were no metal detector, I would feel safer. What I mean to say is this – in America, everyone is constantly in a state of looking over there shoulder. I cannot site any scientific knowledge of group psychology for my words, but people’s thoughts are conveyed in their body language, and people’s thoughts do build the atmosphere. If everyone is looking over their shoulder, they are exhibiting distress, and if they are distressed, the atmosphere becomes one of stress, and people cannot help but react to it. People under stress tend to react more violently than would be normal, and…well, need I suggest more? As I said, there is no basis for my thoughts except personal observation, but to return to the discussion of Japan, everyone believes they are safe. As a result, few people look over their shoulder, and I would suggest that the resulting atmosphere itself leads to lower levels of violent crime, increased feelings of security, and the strange sense of safety that the Japanese streets seem to impart. Thus, you can sit on a riverbank at night drinking a cool beer and not feel the slightest bit as if your actions are compromising.
Again, I have been here two days. There may be places where one would feel overwhelmingly unsafe, and Japan is, of course, not without violent crime. Take it as you will. But I will say that at ten o’clock at night walking down the streets of Japan, I felt no less safe than at 3 in the afternoon – though I did sweat (may I say “condensate”) a great deal less.
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