Complexes and secretaries
The illustrated booklet Hello, Japan, lying in abundance on hotel stands for tourists to consume, supplies the willing with detailed statistics, while also debunking myths and clearly demonstrating complexes. A little diagram "How big is Japan?"; three colored silhouette maps - the aforementioned islands, other islanders, Italy. It turns out: the territory of Italy is 301 sq km, Great Britain - 244 sq km, Japan - 377 sq km. One - zero. We look further: in population density - ahead of the whole planet (33 people per square kilometer; consequently, two - zero). The average height and weight of a seventeen-year-old Japanese: 1948 - 160.6 cm and 51.7 kg respectively; year 2001 - 170.9 cm and 62.8 kg. See how we have grown!
And actually, there is nothing to be complex about. Allow me to remind you: you are in the world's second-largest economic power. A characteristic story from a Japanese newspaper in English: in Tokyo, a gang of apartment burglars is operating; some incomprehensible hieroglyphs began appearing on apartment nameplates; some of these apartments were subsequently robbed. The police version - the criminals mark houses whose owners are away for a long time, giving a sign. Testimony of the victim - a 23-year-old office employee of some company, who lost personal jewelry worth 1,200,000 yen (i.e., $10,000). You will not find in either English or American newspapers young secretaries whom burglars would have deprived of personal jewelry of such an amount. Because at such an age they do not yet possess such purchasing power. But Japanese secretaries do.
Workaholics
Tokyo's Harumi district is an analogue of London's Docklands; even the location on city maps is similar. It opens onto Tokyo Bay (the capital of Japan is a maritime city) and is surrounded by shipbuilding yards. The wholesale fish market located nearby is a separate spectacle (by the way, completely free - you just have to get up at six in the morning, but the broken biorhythm allows it; the time difference between our country and Tokyo is plus five hours). But the most interesting thing is not that. Harumi is a land of office skyscrapers (in essence, the district continues Ginza - a business district of Tokyo better known to the domestic reader and TV viewer; it is slightly to the south). Office Tower X is a tower rising into the sky with seventy floors, lighting up at night with red marker lights. The remaining 25 letters of the Latin alphabet are right there, nearby. Therefore, if you leave the hotel at six in the morning (we repeat that the biological clocks thrown into the trash immediately upon arrival easily allow this) and head to the nearby metro station, you will witness a grandiose spectacle. Television reports from even Soviet television told us a lot about the industriousness of the Japanese, the discipline of the Japanese, the perseverance of the Japanese, and the harsh samurai morals of Japanese corporations. And now become an eyewitness: Japanese workers marching to their workplaces. A huge black-gray-white column (with rare splashes of pale blue shirts - Japanese employees prefer an extremely classic color scheme) moves along the sidewalk; from six to nine daily; a forced march of the creators of the wealth of prosperous Japan. And here are those very secretaries: with LV bags (retail price - from 500 pounds sterling on London's high street). In the evening this wonderful picture will repeat. From 19 to 22 the column will move in the opposite direction. Sitting in a café at the foot of the office conveyor belt, you can hear how on the upper floors, closer to ten in the evening, a booming abrupt voice gives a command - and a harmonious chorus responds to it. These are Japanese employees thanking the corporation for the working day spent and swearing loyalty to it - tomorrow they will not disgrace it either.
Blade Runner
One thing is to read in a guidebook: "More than three million people pass through Shibuya station every day." Another is to see it with your own eyes. The streets of the 12-million metropolis, crowded not so much with cars as with people, are a sight not for the faint of heart. Winding among glass-shining skyscrapers, multi-level interchanges on five levels - here it is, hyperurbanism, here it is, cyberpunk! But the hour-long road from the airport to the city center is almost a pastoral sight; on one side of the road are rice paddies (100% self-sufficiency in rice in a country where arable patches constitute 14% of the entire territory) and golf courses. But Tokyo itself is a hymn to the City. You did come to see exotic things, didn't you? The center of technological progress, futuristic architecture, seductive Japanese women, hieroglyphs again. No, sorry: the exotic thing is you yourself. A river of curious slanted eyes is examining you - a white European, dumbfounded by what is happening around. Respected guests of the capital with non-Asian appearance, seeing their own kind, at least greet with a nod. And go on, disappearing into Tokyo's human ocean. The next "racial brother" will be encountered no sooner than in two hours.
Phonetic oddities
The main cultural shock is not hieroglyphs at every step. The bohemian district of Shinjuku - music stores, fashion boutiques, restaurants, and a gathering of the young generation of Japanese choosing not only Pepsi but also punk-style hairstyles (any color except natural black) - greets you with a hit by the group 't.A.T.u.'. Widely and freely - for several kilometers - from huge loudspeakers on skyscrapers carries a hit song cursed by domestic high-culture critics. Moreover, in Russian. It is amusing that the phonetics of Japanese almost completely coincides with the sounds of Russian speech. Therefore, if you decide to master Japanese, you won't have to specially torture yourself with pronunciation. And, naturally, vice versa.
• Fans of Japanese art today don't necessarily have to go to Japan (although many dream of it). On the Internet, anime fans can freely download music and soundtracks of their favorite films. And numerous websites host special clubs for enthusiasts of Japanese animation.
But if you listen to Japanese songs, you'll find that each one could be fitted with lyrics like 'Polyushko Pole' (a Russian folk song). That's why the 'Beryozka' ensemble never left the Land of the Rising Sun during their tours!
Dangerous locals
But English is worse off. Rumors about the younger generation's near-universal command of it are not confirmed. Plus: where else will you hear a compliment about your English, if not in Japan. 'It's just that our papyrus is different, it's harder for us to learn,' remarks the interlocutor, struggling to find the right words.
Indeed, the 'papyrus' is different. Hieroglyphs turn any object into a piece of minimalist art. A business card becomes a small postcard reproduction, a coin turns into an artifact, a shop sign into an avant-garde installation. Post-post-post-postmodernism as a natural habitat.
Be careful: a foreigner's request for help will be taken so much to heart that they won't rest until it's fulfilled. Example: you stop a passerby and ask how to find store X (Isetan, for instance). The only word they understand is the store name. Since the Japanese person cannot share their secret knowledge of the way in a language you know, the situation takes a rather awkward turn; turning 180 degrees, the person interrupts their path and goes in a different direction, periodically looking back and waving at you. They can walk like this for ten or twenty minutes—as long as needed. Finally you stop, and with the broadest smile they point to the facade of that store ('There it is!'), bow, and head back—to their own affairs.
Where is this street, where is this house
In general, addresses in Tokyo are a separate story. Chuo-ku 3-9-18—does that mean anything to you? Elementary: first comes the name of a very, very large district (ward). This very large district is divided into several smaller districts (let's call them blocks). The number 3 denotes the number of this very block. Within these blocks there are even smaller blocks (the second number). And in these small blocks, houses are numbered (18).
Memorizing all of this is certainly impossible. But at the exits of all metro stations there are huge maps showing the geography of the surrounding areas. Another source of such information is a booth with the sign 'Koban.' A 'koban' is a local police station, and in this booth sits a 'Japanese constable.' In white gloves, as is proper. And on the wall is the coveted map. Don't traumatize the locals—don't puzzle them with finding the house you need. Find it yourself.
Land of comics
Another symbol of the techno-trash culture on which Japan stands is comics. Anime-manga-Pokémon and the like. What could be the emblem of the police? Shield and sword? A menacing bird of prey? Not in Japan. A big-eyed, long-eared smiling creature in a blue cap, something between a mouse and a rabbit, named Pi Po-chan—that is the symbol of the Tokyo police.
And vending machines, vending machines, vending machines... Selling tea, beer, cigarettes, candies. At every step. Accepting coins, bills, automatically counting change, heating what needs to be heated, cooling what needs to be cooled.
Myths
Japanese food—everyone knows—is sushi, sashimi, etc. Getting acquainted with Japanese restaurants debunks the main myth: everything in Japan is very expensive. Only someone who has never been to a Moscow diner could think so.
Allow me: a set lunch (a substantial bowl of miso soup, a good portion of rice, a breaded cutlet, some green salad, fried pieces of pork, plus the usual bonus—a glass of pure Tokyo tap water with ice) in a small restaurant where ordinary Japanese people eat costs 1,100–1,200 yen ($10–12). If you leave a tip on the table, they'll catch up with you on the street and say worriedly, 'Here, you forgot your money.'
Don't forget the American-imported custom of adding ice to everything you drink (cold coffee with milk and ice, iced tea, of course). If you want hot coffee or hot tea, specifically say so. Even at Starbucks, the symbol of pernicious globalization, it's worth emphasizing that you prefer your cappuccino hot.
Shopping
Stores in Japan suit every taste. Akihabara is the mecca of electronics: on both sides, blocks made of skyscraper shops (at least nine floors) stretch into the distance, filled with audio and video equipment, computer components, and so on. Above your head, a train flies along an overpass; people rummage through boxes of 'everything for 100 yen' placed on the street; the reflection of neon advertising on their faces completes the phantasmagoria of the 'electric city.'
The bottom line
The only obstacle to overcome for anyone wishing to visit Japan is obtaining a visa. It would seem: you book a hotel online (for $60 a night you can find a decent option), buy a plane ticket (from $780), get a certificate of your sufficient solvency (at least $1,000 per month), buy medical insurance... No, they don't want it that simple. Travel agencies position a trip to Japan as something exclusive: 'Oh, it's such an expensive country, oh, just the plane ticket costs so much!' and they push nearly double the price of a super-trip. Targeted work with a Japanese operator can bring a more effective result.
The price of the hotel, though, will still be marked up—but on a more modest scale.
But for the sake of visiting another planet, one can put up with these inconveniences. And for the sake of the feeling that you have found yourself in the future of our best of all worlds. A Japanese person always starts bowing when you least expect it. Falling in love with the 'Blade Runner' Tokyo is just as much of a surprise. In the techno-trash neon body of this strange city lives a friendly and bright soul, which you want to get to know better.