The Metro, Mei and Me

by Bella Larkins (Australia)

I didn't expect to find Japan

I sat on the subway in Tokyo and watched, transfixed, as a woman folded her umbrella so neatly back into place. She unfurled the daffodil yellow canopy, one metal arm at a time, traced a channel through the centre of that segment with her delicate finger and curled the fabric around the frame. Segment by segment, one overlapping another. Precisely. Rhythmically. For me, time stood still until the yellow bundle was perfectly back in its rectangular sleeve. As if newly purchased, she positioned in her purse. Straightening her skirt (just as meticulously as she’d origami’d the umbrella), she stood up and alighted. The whole Tokyo Metro was like that. Seamless. Perfectly executed. No apparent rules somehow very strictly adhered to. In my experience it’s the anomaly in the train systems of big cities around the world. London, Paris, New York… As far as transport services go, subways are effective but they can be unruly. I’ve had my butt pinched by leery old men in Rome. I’ve been shoved around in peak hour in Mexico City. I’ve had gypsies and beggars stare at me unforgivingly until I toss a coin. They’re the gritty home of buskers, rats, overflowing bins, graffiti and thick, dank air. It’s the Wild West down there. But Tokyo! Oh Tokyo! Their system’s glorious. Not just the basic “it’ll get you where you need to go” transport of all other global systems. No, no, no! From start to finish the Tokyo Metro is enchanting. Serene, seamless and quite simply a delight to use. I got off in Shinjuku. I was looking for a specific exit so I asked at the information stand. The woman denied she spoke English, in the self-deprecating way of people who aren’t speaking their native tongue, but continued to give me precise instructions. The information went in one ear and out the other, as I thought about the metro- how everyone standing knew to face the sitting passengers... how?! The woman finished up. I smiled, said “arigato” and headed in the direction I think she had instructed me to take. Still in my Tokyo reverie - if you have luggage, put it in the rack above the seats. If you’re sitting, you can sit in your lap… - lost in the thrumming crowd of the subterranean labyrinth, about to take a curve, I felt a polite tap on my shoulder. Mei, the petite woman from the information booth, gave me a polite nudge in the actual direction I was meant to take. This, after she had jogged fifty metres to catch me. Who anywhere else in the world would run after a tourist to tell them they’re about to get lost?! After a week exploring outside of Toyko, I returned to the city to meet a friend for drinks in Shibuya. For those playing at home, I had discovered Strong Zero drinks. 9% alcohol by volume, sweetened artificially, they are (not to mince words) fuckin’ gross. But, cheap and effective. Also for those playing at home, Japan has open-container laws. Now, I believe, when travelling, it’s essential to try out foreign customs and cuisines (including hideous alco-pops) otherwise, what’s the point? Taking advantage of the above, I was at the Shibuya metro. I went to Information seeking knowledge on which exit to use. Lo and behold, there was Mei. She recognised me - the foreign girl who got lost immediately after hearing her perfect directions – and notices my giant can of sickly alcohol. I’m ashamed. Of day drinking. Alone. In the subway. Bothering a consummate professional. I try to put the drink out of sight but it’s too late! Mei asks me if I’m drinking. I bashfully admit that I’m on my way to a night out with a friend. Out of every possible response, “I wish I was drinking too” is the last thing I expected. But there it was. No reprimand. Just Mei politely admitting she enjoys day drinking on the metro in Tokyo. For a country so incredibly well-mannered, precise and efficient, I almost forgot that it’s not mutually exclusive with having fun and maybe, just maybe getting tanked in public places while the sun’s still up. Goddamn, I love Japan!