A GLIMPSE OF JAPAN

New Zealand Tablet, 29 January 1914, Page 9

A GLIMPSE OF JAPAN

REAL LIFE IN TOKYO

Endless books and newspaper articles have been written about Japan (says the Bev. V. F. Gettelman, S.J.). Every callow tourist rushing along the muchtravelled route hastens to disburden himself to some wearied audience of his impressions of Dai Nippon. There seems to be nothing left that has not been thrashed out at length. Nevertheless the real sojourner in this strange and fascinating land will find countless little details not mentioned in any book, not noticed by the casual traveller. It seems strange that Tokyo, the capital and largest city, the very heart of Japan, the centre of government and education, should be so cavalierly neglected by the tourist. lie goes there, it is true, but as a rule merely to make it his headquarters for excursions into the country. What he sees of Tokyo is the least interesting part, the business quarter, the foreign settlement, the region of hotels, banks, and stores, where the streets are comparatively wide and straight, extending over the level district in the neighborhood of the bay. At most he may extend his researches to the temples and the tomb of the Shoguns in Shiba Park, or to the lotus pond, the temples, and the museum of Ueno. But the real Tokyo, further inland, that inextricable maze of streets, lanes, hills, and dales, bamboo hedges and Buddhist cemeteries, those quaint little houses with their paper walls, their massive roofs of heavy tile or weed-covered thatch : those attractive little shops of all possible trades and professions, each, about fifteen feet square and perfectly open to the street, where Japanese life and commerce may be studied at leisure; those secluded mansions of the rich, with their curious entrance gate§ ■ find landscape gardens found in the

most unexpected localities of all this the everyday tourist sees little or nothing. , Tokyo may be considered to consist of three distinct regions. First, the business quarters along the bay, dull and uninteresting as all such quarters usually are; secondly, the central city contained within the triple row of moats deep and wide, and finally the outlying districts extending for miles and miles. The two inner moats surround the Government offices, the barracks of the Imperial Guard, and finally the sacred precincts of the' Imperial Palace, where no ordinary mortal is allowed to trespass. The large tract included within the outermost ramparts and moats was at one time occupied by the residences of the feudal daimyos, the military lords owing allegiance to the Shogun. When, in 1868, the Shogun was deposed, the Emperor restored to full executive power, and the present era of progress and enlightenment initiated, all that property became escheated: to the State. It is occupied, at present by Government institutions, foreign legations, and embassies, schools of higher learning, among which the Morning Star School of the Brothers of Mary is eminent not only for its lofty site, but especially for the excellence of its training and its large number of successful scholars. The rest of the territory is given over to miscellaneous business. All this was. at one time the fortified town of Yedo. At present, however, the bulk of Tokyo is further out, having the aspect of an immense park densely settled by one or two-storey cottages, but separated at intervals by business streets, or else by large tracts of land devoted to arsenals, cemeteries, barracks, temples, parks, universities, etc. A street-car system covering, at a rough guess, some two hundred miles, connects a population of nearly two millions spread over some fifty square miles. In a remarkably short time this system has been extended to all the principal thoroughfares, and is still pushing its way further and further through the tangled masses of Japanese dwellings. I say pushing its way, because in the outlying districts the streets must first be widened to about three times their former breadth in order to admit of a double-track trolley system. The ordinary Tokyo street—l do not speak of the business district—is a narrow lane, hedged in by bamboo fences, stone walls, or paper-screened houses, winding in and out, Tip hill and down hill in picturesque confusion. The street-car system does not, as in most American cities, converge toward one central point. The sacredness of the imperial precincts excludes, all street cars from that neighborhood. Therefore each car line connects some extremity of town with another. We are at present located in the farther west end our car. line does not go toward the business section : and thus to reach our goal, as a rule, necessitates frequent transfers. To illustrate: A few Sundays ago, it was my duty to go for Mass and instruction to the Convent of the Sacred Heart, at the southern end of the town, some six miles from our present location. It required five

changes of cars to'accomplish tho journey. I had made the trip once before in company the designations of the car routes are all in Chinese characters, my knowledge of which is as yet rather meagre, so it was quite a feat of memory to remember where to leave each car and where to take the next. • '.'.-■ . Cars in Tokyo take the left-hand track, and stop only at certain spots designated by a red telegraph pole ; and it happens not infrequently that at some intersection the management has seen fit to put the point of embarkation half a block away, apparently for no other reason than to promote pedestrianism. However, I arrived safely, threaded my way gingerly through a number of winding lanes, and reached the convent. . My work done, I returned. Elated at my previous success,' I considered myself infallible in finding my way. But alas! After three minutes I was wandering along lanes I had never seen before. I tried to retrace my steps ;no use—l was lost. 1 struggled bravely on till I struck one of the übiquitous white-clad policemen, standing near his glass house. The Tokyo policeman does not make the round of his beaf; a glass kiosk provided with telephone, etc., is his usual abode, or'else he promenades at some little distance. Having ransacked my memory for the proper Jananese expressions, I politely inquired the nearest way to the street car, which he pointed out by a majestic gesture. Following his directions, I reached the line one station further than I had left it. low did it happen ? On a subsequent occasion I noticed that I had missed turning down one lane for the simple reason that to the uninitiated there seemed to be no lane at all, but merely the open courtyard of a Japanese house. Foreigners, especially tourists, very seldom make use of the Tokyo street cars. No conductor knows any English ; what they mean by their shouts, or by what they punch on your transfer, literally covered with Chinese characters, is at first worse than the confusion of Babel. Besides* the small care are almost always crowded, sometimes to suffocation. Therefore the tourist prefers to spend a few dollars in jinriksha hire in order to see the points of interest pointed out by his guide book. European residents, on the other hand, as a rule, have their own rikshaw man for making their trips. Thus, I suppose, it happens that in books and reports on Japan practically nothing is said about the street cars. Yet there has been evolved here a system which renders it practically impossible for a passenger to beat his way or for a conductor to knock off a fare. First of all, let me remark that the fare is five sen (2i cents), return ticket nine sen. If you buy a book of one hundred tickets, one ride costs two cents. There is universal transfer, so that for two American cents I can ride from any part, of Tokyo to any other point. There is no pay-as-you-enter car, but you cannot get out without paying. Getting into the car, you wait

for the conductor to come around, give him your ticket or cash, and announce your final destination. He will punch your ticket and return it if you pay cash, he give you a punched ticket in exchange, and at the time a transfer indicating your destination and the transfer point. As you* leave the car you must hand your ticket to conductor or motorman, who will * carefully deposit it in a box provided for that purpose. In the next car the conductor will punch your transfer and give you another, if you need one ; and thus indefinitely, as often as a change is necessary. You cannot leave the car without being held up for either ticket or transfer, and it has happened that the ignorant foreign giant brushing past the conductor begins to walk down the street oblivious of transfer regulations ; but lo and behold the conductor, leaving his car to the care of the gods, hastens after him to recover that precious bit of paper, as if the empire were to go to smash if that transfer should not rind lodgment in its apportioned box. Incidentally let me remark here that toward foreigners especially, the conductors, and in fact officials generally, are the very pink of obliging politeness. Rapid transit is as yet unknown in Japan ; fifteen miles an ■ hour is the ordinary rate of trains, six or seven miles an hour for street cars. However, much Japan may have taken over Western advance in education, manufacture, army, and navy, it has kept sacredly aloof from Western hurry and excitement. Time seems to have No Practical Value in Tokyo, except for the student, who is overwhelmed with lessons. But in business everything proceeds at a leisurely gait. To-morrow means next week or next month ; if in your ignorance you try to hurry things by a show of impatience, you but rouse the suspicions of the native and make him all ,the more cautiously slow. Make haste slowly seems to be the motto of New Japan, and a very good motto it appears to be: as was seen by the grand results of Japanese training and foresight during the war against Russia. The first fervor of accepting everything European or American, merely because it is Western, has spent itself, and maturer reflection taken its place. What is really good and useful is adopted and modified to suit local needs ; the rest is disregarded. Thus, for instance, there is by far less of European clothing to be seen on the streets than the traveller might be led to expect. Women are exclusively dressed in Japanese —becomingly and modestly. The dress and demeanor of Japanese girl students could serve as models to many of' our hoydenish high school maidens in America. Among men the Japanese kimono, with now and then a kind of wide-sleeved cloak, called kauri, and skirt like trousers, the hakama, prescribed for schoolboys and students, together with the : noisy wooden clogs, form the ordinary costume. European hats and caps, however, are universally worn. . It is only Government officials, students of certain schools, and a number of higher class business men who appear in full European costume. The Japanese have recognised that their own way of dressing ,is not only cheaper and much more picturesque, but also by far more practical, convenient, and adapted to their climate and mode of life. There seems to be no danger in the immediate future of the disappearance of the costumes, dwellings, handicrafts, children's games, etc., which to me are a source of unflagging interest and delight. It may not be out of place, however, to mention here one of the oddest sights in the streets of Tokyo —its amazing billboards. They embody European enterprise and Japanese art to a degree. ' Hot-burning fires are immediately extinguished,' reads one of these* extolling the merits of a fire-extinguisher. The idea is vivid. A spirit in spotless white is putting out the «fis of the nether world by means of the unsurpassed »2tinguisher ! Japan advertises her own wares to her own people. Practically all the billboard display of the community is in the hands of local trusts. One never finds formade J manufactures advertised on Japanese billboards, though they are competing successfully with the native products. ' *;"