A Snapshot of Japanese Subways

Unpublished

The stairs and floor of the station were perhaps once shiny and gleaming. Now they are colored dark-gray by the trampled-in grime of millions of feet passing by daily. The only bright thing in this over-whelming dullness of color are the yellow arrows on the floor pointing out where the doors of the subway will open. Even their bright color, however, has been made dull by endlessly trampling feet. Although the colors in the station are hardly inspiring, the neatness of it may very well inspire. Not a single piece of trash is visible along the whole length of the station. Often, while waiting for the train, you can see the "station-janitor" moving around to pick up bits of trash and rubbish.

The subways themselves are another picture of neatness. While the floors are the same dull-colored griminess of the stations, the cushioned seats are always covered in a pleasant velour, usually dark red or blue, that is kept in perfect condition. To allow for maximum standing room, the seats are arranged as two rows down either side of the train. Vandalism on subways in Japan just doesn’t exist, so there are no cut seats or writing on the walls, aside from advertising. Posters in the subway are a major mode of advertising here and one that is highly effective in reaching its audience. Here is a ready-made audience, kept captive daily by the length of time it takes to commute, which is often one hour or more. Unless one of the three major train activities is undertaken--sleeping (sitting or standing style), reading, or reading over someone’s shoulder--then there is nothing else to do except stare at the posters. A simple observation of this subway’s passengers reveals that quite a few of them are engaged in "poster staring". That makes for quite a high rate of effectiveness for the advertiser (unless you count the inordinate number of subway-sleepers too).

The unbelievable promptness of Japanese trains is renown around the world as well. I once got on a train a few minutes earlier than the time printed on my ticket, and it ended up being the wrong train (my train was the next one)! Fortunately this train was going to the same place, so I arrived safely. With buses, you may be okay if you are a few minutes late (although not more than five minutes, or ten in extreme cases), but, if you are twenty-seconds late for your train, you might as well forget it. Your best bet in this case is to buy a ticket for the next train. If you are taking a subway, you will be more fortunate, however, since they come every ten or fifteen minutes.

The ironic thing about these aspects of Japanese trains and subways--neatness, promptness, etc.--is that they are just taken for granted by the Japanese themselves. They don’t even realize what a blessing it is to have no odor on the subway. You can’t smell anything, even when people are packed in like sardines with hardly any room to breath! Contrast this with the infamous "aromas" of some major US subways, and it is easy to see what a "haven of hygiene" the Japanese subways are.

The haven continues into the realm of noise. Generally the only sound heard is the click-clack of the subway as it passes over the tracks, interspersed with crisp computerized announcements of each station. Conversations are rare, except by foreigners or drunk businessmen, and conducted in low murmurs when they do occur. After all, the three major train activities--sleeping, reading, and poster staring--just don’t produce that much noise.

As I recall how the seat-cushions were taken off the subway back home because of vandalism and the peculiar way that subway always seemed to smell, I settle into the plump, velour-covered cushion of this subway and sigh with gratefulness at the comfort and quiet--except for those loud foreigners a few seats down...

Julie M. Yamamoto

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