Construction Nation

Now for something completely different--and unfunny, at that. A recent sea change in my view toward this new homeland of mine came while reading Alex Kerr's Dogs and Demons. It was not unlike meeting a charming stranger in class and then having one of your friends come up and tell you how that person cheated and was put on academic probation last semester. However, I pray that my love for Japan and all its many good qualities will not sink into cynical disillusionment at its various problems (and what nation doesn't have its issues?) but be strengthened and deepened as I see more of its true state.

I recommend picking up this book if you have a deeper-than-passing interest in this country, though chapters 9 & 10 are fairly redundant and it is definitely a discouraging read. For those of you without much time, as well as those who will read it but may doubt some of its claims, I offer an example from my hometown (which the Haradas, my geographically closest host family, first brought to my attention).

Once upon a time in this suburb called Kunitachi, there stood a very well-built train station. The architectural style wasn't lavish, but tasteful and stately. It was regarded with pride by its residents and was a sort of town symbol, even earning a spot in the pavement of the long pedestrian road that heads to Hitotsubashi University.


Unfortunately, that plaque and a few old pictures are all that remain. The government and the train system, flush with construction cash and steeped in expansionist dreams, made the executive decision that the station needed more platforms and a redesign more fitting with modern styles (historical retrofitting is, from the little I've seen, almost never taken into account as a viable option). When you lift your eyes from the walkway pictured above and walk in front of the nearby bus stop, this is what you see.

True, it isn't Wurster Hall on the Cal campus or some other such visual monstrosity, but Kunitachi has lost a part of its unique charm and become homogenized into the bland functionality that characterizes almost all of the buildings where everyday Japanese people work and live. The influence of their country's world-renowned architects doesn't exactly trickle down to something most people see.

For another sad example, this is the street which I bike up and down every time I need to get to the train station. Advertising clutters the sides of every building, telephone cables needlessly hem in the sky, and the sidewalks are not only narrow--two people alongside each other is almost cramped--but also freely given over to bike usage, another good reason to cycle rather than stroll. Apart from designated parks, there is very little nature to be found in this mammoth metropolis.

I realize that these things are small complaints and I am blessed to be here with all this convenience and efficient transportation. However, a little regard for streetside appearance and more concern for nature at the planning stage isn't, I think, an unreasonable request for change. Those of you out there studying architecture or interior design, please change the world wisely! OK, off the soapbox.