THE RISING EAST
Japanese senses of order, beauty survives even hard times
By Richard Halloran
TANASHI, Japan — Some things in Japan never change.
Returning to this country after three years, one finds that the trains still run on time. Service in hotels and restaurants and grocery stores is unfailingly courteous. The use of space in these tight islands may be the most intensive in the world. Getting a good education is as vital and stressful as ever. Evidence of the lingering economic doldrums is everywhere. And intricate beauty is still seen in small things.
From this residential town west of Tokyo proper, it takes about 30 minutes by train to reach Shinjuku, one of the hubs that circle the center of the city. The old adage obtains: If your train is supposed to leave at 9:27 and it pulls out at 9:26, you are on the wrong train. At a hotel in Shinjuku, the staff exerts every effort to make sure that a large family gathering for a memorial service and luncheon is carried off with grace. A young waitress in a tearoom on a side street near the Tanashi railway station is attentive without being intrusive.
Even the security inspector at the airport is courteous, abjectly apologizing for troubling the honorable passenger as he paws through socks and underwear.
The Japanese are clearly adept at squeezing more into less space. The driver of a family car backing it into a parking stall all but scrapes the paint on one side and leaves himself barely enough room to get out on the other.
Advertiser library photo • 1997
In raising their children, the Japanese point to "kyoiku mama," or education mother, who insists that her children study relentlessly. One kyoiku mama sends her daughter to a four hour "juku," or cram school, every day after regular school so that she will be able to pass the exam to get into a prestigious private high school, where she will do the same to get into a top university.
Some things in Japan have changed very little, even with an economy that has stagnated for the past decade. Blossoming cherry trees in Shinjuku, for instance, still attract thousands of visitors annually.
A press report said the bureaucrats in the Ministry of Education had concluded that Japanese pupils lacked the ability to think critically. Yet a Japanese has won a Nobel Prize in science in each of the past three years, with two winning the coveted prize this year. One was Koichi Tanaka, who is only 43 and is a product of Japan's public schools.
The parlous state of Japan's economy could be seen in the Livin Department Store. The store is well-lit, has spacious aisles, and its counters were piled high with well-made and sensibly priced clothing and housewares. Those aisles, however, were mostly empty, even on days when people would ordinarily be out shopping.
With the economy stagnant for the past decade, most Japanese, already consummate savers, are keeping their money in their pockets. The Asian Wall Street Journal has just reported that retail sales have fallen steadily for 25 months.
Not all of it. Across the street from the department store, a street vendor was doing a steady business selling men's shirts for about $5 each — all made in China.
For the visiting American, Japan still seems painfully expensive. The 500 yen special apple, the 1,000 yen ordinary lunch, and the short 1,800 yen cab ride to the railroad station are not much more than they were three years ago. Except with the yen trading about 115 to the U.S. dollar, that translates into a $4.35 apple, an $8.70 lunch, and $15.65 just to get to the train.
Despite the slow economy, construction of new houses and apartments in Tanashi seems to be moving apace. Moreover, the new houses appear to be a bit larger than those of a generation ago even if built on the same postage stamp parcels of land. The natural wood and dull gray concrete finishes have given way to bright paint, one of the new homes sporting a coppertone finish.
The Japanese sense of beauty persists. At a corner house, a husband and wife were out on a Saturday afternoon working in their tiny yard. Between the bicycle rack by the front door and the sidewalk that passed in front of the house, she carefully planted three small evergreens. Around the corner alongside the house, he spread a thick layer of pure white stones in a rectangle about 25 feet long and no more than 18 inches wide to turn the barren ground into a rock garden.
It wasn't Ryoanji, the famous rock garden in a Kyoto temple, but it was soothing to the eyes and brought peace to the heart.
Richard Halloran is a former New York Times correspondent in Asia and Washington. Reach him at oranhall@hawaii.rr.com.
