Things Just Aren't What They Used to Be

I was supposed to meet some friends in Takasaki City at 6:30 on Saturday evening; having, however, arrived by chance a little before 4:00, I had a full two hours to spend before it was time to meet. I had pinned one area of the old downtown section "Cool Place" on my iPhone in September 2010 but had allowed 18 months to go by without exploring it fully. Here was my chance.

"Cool Place" might well have been christened "Old Place"; it's a covered section of shops on the northwest side of the station spanning some ten blocks, more than half of which are closed down. The ones that are still in business seem rarely frequented, and their aging proprietors, surely having worked there their whole lives, seem solitary souls.

I started on one end at a dusty china shop. Outside, a table was laid out under the dreary April sky, laden with rice bowls, sake cups, handleless tea cups, and other assorted dishes in piles of 50 yen, 100 yen, and 200 yen sections. Upon entering I was shocked by both the lack of customers and the wealth of wears--teapots, glasses, cups, and plates were precariously balanced on shelves lining up all walls. For all their splendor, though, there was a fine layer of dust over everything and the store had the feeling that no one had cleaned in years.

Even so, I found many pieces that I loved, and set them out on the counter for the chain-smoking tenin to wrap for me. According to the labels affixed on the pieces, I should have ended up paying more than 6000 yen, but he gave me a gigantic discount (without having asked for it). The 2800 yen flowered tea pot that I loved was acquired for only 500; the 800 yen chopsticks were lowered to 200 yen each. He wrapped everything in newspaper, smilingly told me my students were lucky for having such a pretty teacher, and sent me on my way.

I wandered up and down the street of other shops, stopping at a stationary store and a sweets shop, imagining life in Japan back when these stores were up and bustling. Surely in the 60s and 70s this area was the place to go--first to the vegetable shop, then the meat shop, on to buy books at the honyasan, a hat at the hat store; each shop dedicated to one purpose and surely having the best quality for it. Now, walking this line of half-closed down stores filled me with such nostalgia for a world I never knew, I almost felt like crying for its loss. I hadn't meant to buy anything that day, but sensing the hopelessness of decaying businesses, I felt compelled to contribute something to keep them going.

Of course modern life is convenient, but I still get filled with sadness for a life rapidly disappearing. No one wants to go shopping in the old stores downtown; they want to go to the places right around the station, where everything is together, or at the mall, way out of town. Ironic that right after shopping at these mom-and-pop stores I went to Costco. What can you do to preserve the simplicity that once was found here?

It's not just Japan; the U.S. has long since felt the sting of big box stores swiping business away from individual small business owners. Luckily there are downtown revitalization programs sweeping the country as well, but I know it'll never be what it was before I was born. I know the words "progress" and "change"--I just prefer "simple".

(Post Script: I've been reading "Jane Eyre" for the past two weeks; I think my writing is accidentally getting a 19th century feel as a result.)

In Defense of Small(ish) Towns

10 Biggest Cities I’ve Been To (And Their Populations)

10.)   Nagoya (3,377,000)

9.)    Washington, D.C. (3,927,000)

8.)    Madrid (4,072,000)

7.)    Toronto (4,657,000)

6.)    Chicago (6,945,000)

5.)    Osaka (8,815,000) 

4.)    Manila (16,300,000)

3.)    New York City (19,750,000)

2.)    Mexico City (20,450,000)

1.)    Tokyo (32,450,000, currently the largest city in the world)

(Population numbers from worldatlas.com)

Big cities have a lot going for them. They’ve got good art, culture, museums, music venues, international establishments, lots of diversity, all the types and variations of all the food you could ever want or think of, fashionable clothes, fun places to shop, entertainment up the wazoo, all kinds of people from hipsters to the homeless, bars, clubs, parks, places to hang out, and more. There are more jobs in the cities, so they're good for the economy. Thus, they are, for the millions and millions of people who live there, the place to be.

But they’re also terribly crowded: crowded trains, crowded streets, crowded restaurants, crowded train stations, and it takes an eternity to get anywhere, either jostling for a space on the jostling train or sitting still in terrible traffic watching the hours flow by. Even so, everyone is in a hurry, rushing from platform to platform, taking the stairs two at a time, never slowing down. Things are expensive in a big city, too, from housing to a vending-machine coffee.

During Spring Break, I spent five days bouncing around Omiya, Tokyo, Nagoya, Yokohama and back to Tokyo, during which I had ample time to dwell on the positives and negatives of living in a big city. After not a lot of reflection, I confirmed what I already knew: for me, it’s a vehement no.

It’s not that I dislike visiting big cities. On the contrary, I love the flash and excitement that comes from visiting a huge place. I’ve seen and done fantastic things in this metropolitan world that I’d never have a chance to do in a smaller location. Plus it’s self-affirming to be armed with just a map of the subway system, a travel guide, and an iPhone to be able to travel around a city. (Although of course I much prefer visiting someone who lives there who can be my guide.) But to live forever in a city of over a million? Never.

  

I suppose it’s all a matter of taste. Where the city is too stressful, too superficial, just too damn big for me, a city under a million is just too dull for others.

Maybe because I grew up on a family farm at the end of a dirt road in rural North Carolina. Maybe because we only had one high school in the whole county. Maybe because I read too much Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House on the Prairie, anyone?). Maybe because my hobbies run more towards reading under a tree than clubbing in Shinjuku. Whatever the cause, I am able to appreciate the down-to-earth-ness of a medium-sized city more than the glamour and excitement of urban life. I, though world-traveled, sophisticated, and multi-lingual, am no 21^st century urbanite. 

Look at small towns in Japan. A chestnut farm, a cabbage farm, a strawberry farm, a local vegetable stand. A dilapidated temple falling down from disrepair. Little restaurants, coffee shops and bakeries that close at 5:00 p.m. but that have the most delicious food you’ll ever eat. A smiling “irashaimase” from the proprietor. A huge blue sky over groves of cherry trees.

Small towns in the U.S. We’re not talking about politics here. There is something lovely about the salt-of-the-earth folk, the countryside diners with fried chicken and okra, the post office, supermarket, bank, farmers’ market people all knowing who you are. Sure, there’s small-town gossip, but that’s better than being invisible. And in a city of 200-400 thousand, you can still get a small-town feel without feeling stifled.  

I don’t need a lot to be satisfied with life, despite my actions which might make some of you think I crave constant change and excitement. [I did move to Japan, after all.] But I discovered way back in high school that it doesn’t really matter where you live as long as you have friends with you. (Thank you, Erin, Jacquie, Phillip, and Walker.) Because where’s the fun of living in Manhattan if you don’t have anyone to hang out with? Why work your ass off every day to pay your exorbitant rent if you don't have anyone to chill with after work?

In terms of the city itself, there are a few things that I find indispensible. I need a good grocery store, a farmer’s market, parks, and a local coffee shop. It would be even better if there were a used bookstore, international independent restaurants and relatively inexpensive yoga classes, too. Then I’d be super happy. But I'd settle for just the first few. I don’t need or desire designer clothes, super hip bars and clubs, or a condo with a skyline view.

I’ve traveled to six countries and lived in three of them. I’ve enjoyed their culture, art, museums, sightseeing places, tourist destinations, food, and shopping. And before I die, I want to go to Buenos Aires, Santiago, London, Paris, Rome, Oslo, and Helsinki. It will be wonderful to see all that those cities have to offer, and I will lap it all up eagerly. But I’ll also be glad at the end of those travels, when I come home to my house in a city I don’t yet know, in a neighborhood I haven’t yet visited, but that surely has copious amounts of trees under which I can sit and read to my heart’s content. 

New Teachers and New School Year

Last year, when all was new, I wrote a long post about graduation, going-away ceremonies, new student matriculation ceremonies, new teachers coming in, and all of the huff and fluff that comes with the ending of one school year in March and the beginning of the new school year in April.

Since you've read the same thing already, I won't bore you with the details of this year's changes. I will say that my favorite teacher/supervisor/mentor left my school to go work in the Board of Education, which makes me very sad because we won't be teaching together. We will see each other once or twice every few months when I have B.O.E. meetings, but it's not the same. Most of the new teachers seem cool--again, they're young like last time!

There's a 22- (23?) year old girl who just graduated from college who will teach math, a 29-year old P.E. teacher (married to my old JTE from two years ago--how funny that he works in the same school she did!), and a 28-year old Japanese teacher who sits in front of me and who luckily can speak a little English. My new JTE is a friendly, energetic woman in her 30s; I'm looking forward to working together. There's also an assortment of "older" (40+?) teachers who seems like nice people, in the two days that I've known them.

It's a strange feeling, though, to know that I'm only going to be working here for three and a half more months. It's just enough time to get to know everyone well and become friends before it's time to pack up and move out. I hope my successor enjoys working here as much as I did! It looks like she/he will have a lot of cool people to hang out with at work! It's the teachers as much as the students who make this job so enjoyable; I'm a lucky girl to have had so many nice folk.