Manin Densha - Oct 3rd

Today there’s not too much to talk about. The train to get to school was a bit cramped, but I noticed that I had a bit more space around me than the other passengers were afforded. A lot of people have called this the “gaijin barrier” or “gaijin forcefield,” which Japanese people are reluctant to penetrate for one reason or another. Some people see this as a form of silent racism, I saw it as a chance to stretch my arms and legs a bit.

We had mostly kanji practice in the Japanese class, and did a listening comprehension section from the level 2 Japanese Proficiency Test. If I knew the stuff was that easy, I would’ve taken it last year with binchan! Eri (one of the Japanese students, and to the people back home, not the one you’re thinking of) is in my sound system of languages class (read: phonology), which is actually really interesting so far. I had a bunch of time to kill, so I ended up meeting up with random people all over campus, and hung out in a couple student lounges. I then went to Dr. Shek’s Chinese Religions class; I already have 19 units, and 20 is the limit, so I can’t actually enroll in his class unless I drop one of my other ones. He said that I’m welcome to sit in on the class, which I might do. It’s a later class, and staying at school that long means going home at rush hour. Even three stations away, it’s a hideous affair.

So, I walked up on the platform and found a sea of people. This isn’t so unusual, but the platform was especially crowded. My train (the one that stops at each station) was waiting in front of the crowd, already ridiculously packed with people. I skipped over to the doors, but not fast enough to get past them. Dejected, I sunk back into the crowd. The next train would be a kyuukou (express), and a majority of the people would be riding that. As the doors of the incoming train opened, I watched a frightening but comical scene unfold. A stream of people getting off the train ran headfirst into the river of people fighting to get on. The train was obviously filled to capacity, and yet, more and more people kept pouring into it. It came to the point that people were literally standing outside the doors, shoving the strangers inside the train to make room for themselves. With great difficulty, the doors finally closed on the third attempt. I thought the sides of the train were going to bulge from the stress of all those people crammed inside. The train took off, and I edged closer to the edge of the platform, not willing to miss another one. My train arrived, and I got some first-hand experience. Once in the train, I was moved by the will of the crowd toward the center of the car, and with each new passenger, was inched back just a bit further. Finally coming to a rest somewhere near the other door, I wrapped both hands around the metal bars above everyone’s heads. Unfortunately, in this close proximity, I can’t even afford to reach down to change the song on my ipod lest I catch a handful of someone else and get accused of being a 痴漢 (groper), not that it’s physically possible to lower my hands anyways. Perhaps since it is such a common occurrence, everyone just kind of suffers in silence and listens to their headphones, or plays with their cell phone if they can. It’s amazing, the mental wall the locals are able to put up around themselves to ignore the more crowded, unpleasant situations of daily life in Tokyo.

Grateful to disembark from the train, I enjoyed a nice walk home, and had tempura with Okaasan and Yukiko (sorry, that's the only picture I took today). I told them about the gaijin barrier, and they explained that most Japanese don’t know how to act around foreigners; mostly they are worried about bumping into us or causing us discomfort. They aren’t even sure if we’d understand if they apologized to us for stepping on our toes. It’s not so much that they expect all foreigners to be ignorant of Japanese customs or manners or the language, but rather, since they aren’t sure, it’s safer to avoid embarrassing themselves or us. Of course, we can’t speak for all Japanese people, but it was very interesting to hear the other side of the story. Later on, Otousan came home from a business trip in Aomori, and gave me a packet of neat postcards. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get one.