By Kirsten Phillips (Niigata-ken, 2005-08)
Echigo Koutsuu spoiled the ever-living fuck out of me.
If I was ever for any reason required to place myself in Tokyo, I had four options:
1) The Shinkansen. Though I will forever be devoted to the miracle and blessing of the bullet train, one way on that horse cost 9,000 yen and required a trip to Nagaoka. Fast, clean, and idiot-proof, riding the Shink is kind of like God giving you a shoulder rub as you magically transport to any major Japanese city in .14 nanoseconds-mit snacks.
2) My Taxi: This was one of a few van shuttle services that picked you up from your front door and dropped you off exactly where you needed to be. Using this option required a keitai and a fairly efficient amount of Japanese as you had to be able to make the reservation and let the driver know where to find you in the terminal. Yes, once upon a time my Japanese was serviceable.
I often used this option when I was coming home from Narita. I could just as easily have taken the Shink but this option cost about 13,000 yen and spared me the stop-off in Nagaoka (with all my luggage). It took considerably longer in Winter (about 8 hours for road congestion) but it was safe, clean and convenient. I was usually the only foreigner on board and the drivers were always kind, especially when they figured out how much Japanese I could actually manage after a 13-hour plane ride.
3) 車屋さん: Rickshaw Man. This guy was a foaming man-beast! Conversation was always lively as he kept having to dodge mini-vans and various Hybrids along the way. He would cuss your mama out if you asked for a restroom stop and let you know exactly what was on his mind if you failed to tip. Predictably, this character demanded fairly ludicrous rates and you didn’t wanna be seen on God’s green earth if you didn’t have exact change. Journeys with him took about 18 hours to Tokyo and were always intimate, turbulent and utterly fictitious. 虚構
4) The BUS!!! The most cost-effective means from 柏崎 to 東京 was by highway bus. Only 4,200 yen one way (if memory serves). A round trip cost less than a 片道 on the Shink. Japanese buses put America’s to shame. Sure, they were pricier but a lot less hell. They were comfortable, immaculate, made frequent rest stops, had a place to put your trash/footrest, temperature-controlled, quiet, and SAFE. I usually traveled alone and I knew getting on a Japanese bus, no asshat was gonna try and talk to me.
There were 3 buses that left from Eki-mae on the Ikebukuro route: 8:15, 2:15 and the 11:45 night bus. I only ever took the night bus once and lemme tell you, if that had been America it would have been a completely different ball game. Japan takes into account gender when it comes to assigned seating. I could fall asleep on the night bus and never worry for my belongings or safety. Defense down. I always loved riding the bus to Tokyo. It took about 6 hours with good traffic and it was cool watching the mountains and trees gradually give way to the concrete madness. I required that form of 景色 once in a while.
I feel the need to point out the fairly profound statement that in the 3 years I lived in Japan, I never once felt threatened while traveling alone as a woman. No matter how empty the train was, no matter what time of night, no one ever stepped to me or wanted to know my business. Granted, I have latent powers of invisibility that render me safe from notice in an empty room. I am not trying to imply that I blended into the Japanese mis-en-scene but that I was able to go about my way at all times unmolested. Whether it was Ikebukuro at 4 AM or the middle of nowhere Yoshida-eki in Niigata waiting for the last train, the only people who ever talked to me where senior couples who wanted to practice English and ask what I thought of Japan.
I do not enjoy the same from home.
Granted, I never put myself there. I didn’t put myself in overpriced Tokyo clubs or shady pachinko parlors. I didn’t frequent the Royal House or Gusto at the wee hours. But even the manga-kissa I stayed in (all my Tokyo friends lived insane lives) was safe. It was minimal but it served. Could you imagine the concept of a NY manga kissa?
Yeah, I can smell it even now.
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