The Stress of Urban Living

triangulation

A few days ago, a man rented a van and intentionally ran over people in a crowded part of Tokyo. He got out of the vehicle and then proceeded to stab people randomly. Seven people died and another 14 were wounded. He explained that he was “tired of life”. I wonder if moving from Aomori, a remote rural part of Japan where the suspect is from, to Tokyo, a dense metropolis, was a factor in his tragic actions.

Earlier this year, I transferred from Shibuya to Meguro. I had worked in Shibuya, one of the three busiest station areas in Tokyo, for two years and the crowds started to aggravate me. People bumped me, cut me off, pushed, shoved, stepped on my feet. For a West Coast guy, used to a lot of personal space, it frayed my nerves. At first, it was interesting in an anthropological way, but then it just became people getting in my way, making me late for work.

My train line, the Yamanote, which circles around Tokyo, isn’t as crowded as other trains. The busiest lines are trains that radiate out to the suburbs. And the best way to describe those during peak hours is to think about that 50’s craze where as many people as possible stuffed themselves into a phone booth. Then imagine that every 5 minutes a few more squeeze themselves in. Repeat a dozen times. And that approximates the morning commute for millions of Tokyoites.

In the summer, it’s hot and sweaty and everyone’s in a suit. Eventually, you’re just propped up by the people around you. What a way to begin your day. I only did this for a month when I decided it’s better to pay higher rent and live closer to the city center. I once counted how many people were in physical contact with me and there were 12! I sometimes had to step out of the train, well before I reached my destination, because I couldn’t breathe. I could understand how people might have panic attacks.

Fortunately, once I moved to Ebisu, I only had to ride one station away to Shibuya and that was against the rush hour. But even after getting off the train, I had to contend with the throngs of spaced-out, slow-moving teenagers fixated on their mobiles, iPods and handheld video games. I still go there to go to my gym. But dread the crowds when I come back home.

Now it’s a 5 minute bike ride to Meguro. Or a 15 minute walk. And my sanity has begun to restore itself.

The Japanese are a slender and patient lot, two essential traits to survive the daily commute. If similar conditions existed in most other countries, there would be daily outbreaks of fisticuffs and hard words. I’ve found myself, more than once, barking at someone who obliviously bumps into me while sending a text message, elbowing overly-aggressive commuters, or flaring my nostrils at slow-moving tourists.

In this context, it’s not surprising that someone could snap, and wantonly hurt innocent people, because he was “tired of life”. I have an inkling of where that frustration is coming from. Out of the 30 million people who live in the Tokyo metro area, there are bound to be more than a few who just can’t deal with the stress of urban living.

But it’s important to remember, amidst all the media global coverage of the stabbings, that Tokyo is still the safest place I’ve ever lived in or visited, amazing for a dense city of its size. You can walk in any neighborhood at all hours by yourself and you’d be okay. There have been a few grisly crimes recently, but it’s nothing compared to the constant high-level of crime that I’ve lived amidst in other countries.

Still, dense urban living anywhere is not natural. It’s not good for the soul, mind or body. But concentration of people in the cities have been a powerful trend in the last 200 hundred years. I wonder what it would take to reverse the irresistible draw of the cities.

Soccer or Football?

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(I’ve updated this post for the World Cup 2010. Click on this sentence to read it.)

Since the Euro 2008 Football Championship is coming up, I’m going to continue with the sports theme and write about the use of the words ‘soccer’ and ‘football’.

While living in the UK, I learned that British people hate the use of ‘soccer’ to describe their favorite sport. As a culturally sensitive person, I dutifully referred to the sport as ‘football’ and referred to America’s most popular sport as ‘American football’. I was cool with that. I’m in their country; I’ll follow their customs.

Just like I gave in to the use of ‘lifts’ instead of ‘elevators’, ‘trainers’ instead of ‘sneakers’, and ‘trousers’ instead of ‘pants’. Now that I’m back in an American English environment, I’ve slowly resorted back to my native dialect. Still, I find myself using ‘mobile’ instead of ‘cell phone’; it just sounds cooler. And I’ve given in to the near universal use of ‘toilet’ instead of ‘restroom’. It’s a distasteful word to American ears, but just about every country outside of the US use some form of it.

What surprised me was the anger and bitterness towards the American use of the word ‘soccer’ instead of ‘football’. It is somehow the symbol of American imperialism. And this attitude extended to some of my other European and South American friends too.

Puzzled by the vitriol, I did a little research. So I’m going to give you a little history lesson and dispel some myths about what we call that sport with a bunch of people running around kicking a ball into the opposing team’s net.

Myth 1: Soccer is an American term.

The word originated in England back in the mid 19th century. Soccer was the original shorthand expression to refer to the sport. It was shortened from association football. At the time, there were many kinds of football, so it needed to be distinguished from all the other forms. American football and rugby are some of the other forms of football that also arose from those earlier sports.

Myth 2: The US is the only country that calls it soccer.

I was surprised to find that in Ireland, they also refer to the sport as soccer, and view the use of the word with anti-British-imperialist pride. Other countries that call it soccer include Australia, Canada (including Quebec where it’s called le soccer), New Zealand, Japan (called sacca), most Pacific Islands, and South Africa, where the next World Cup will be held.

Myth 3: Americans want the rest of the world to call it soccer too, as part of an insidious imperialist plot.

I assure you, I don’t know one American who really gives a damn what anyone calls it. The widespread use of ‘football’ stems from past British colonialism. Spanish and Portuguese speaking countries tried to replace the English word with native words (balompie and ludopedio, respectively). But were unsuccessful against the onslaught of British hegemony.

Myth 4: Well, okay a few countries say ‘soccer’. But the rest of the world calls it ‘football’.

Not so. While many countries use variations of the word football, like fussball, futbol, le foot, there are many many countries who use totally different words in their own language. Here in East Asia, the Koreans call it ‘chook-gu’, and in China it’s ‘zuqiu’. In Arabic, it’s ‘kurat al-qadam’.

Even among the Euro 2008 participants, there are many other words for the sport. Football powerhouse Italy, for instance, calls it ‘calcio’, which means kick. The Czechs call it ‘kopana’, which also means kick. The Croatians call it ‘nogomet’, which means leg sweep. The Greeks call it ‘podosfero’. In Polish, it’s ‘pika nozna’.

Myth 4: Fine. But the sport came from England so it should be called whatever they want.

Games involving kicking a ball has been found in nearly all cultures throughout human history. The earliest recorded sport using a ball and feet control date from the 3rd century BC in China, and it was called ‘cuju’. Maybe we should be calling the sport ‘cuju’, instead of the insidious British imperial term.

So there you have it. I realize that the US is the top dog in the world, wreaking imperialist havoc, so it’s fashionable to bash all things American. But there are many forms of football, and association football, or soccer, is just one of them. The pattern seems to be that where other forms of football are popular, that sport has taken on that term. Thus, what looks to me like rugby is called football in Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand. And what’s football to me, looks like ebbing imperial influence in Great Britain.

Eat Jerk! at Aala Wi

enjoy jerk!

One of my favorite neighborhood restaurants is Aala Wi. They serve Jamaican jerk chicken and pork. It’s on a little Ebisu street with a lot of posh, stylish restaurants and bars. In contrast, Aala Wi is very down to earth, casual and relaxing. And most importantly, cheap. None of the dishes are over 1,000 yen.

When I first entered I felt like I had stepped into a little hippie café from back home. There are hand-written menus, flyers of music events tacked on the walls, and a hipsterish crowd with dreadlocks and bohemian clothes. The servers and cooks have a friendly, tree-sitting vibe. I could imagine them having an Earth First! meeting after closing.

marley mural

Their specialty is the jerk chicken, which comes with a bit of cole slaw and some banana chips. It’s not as spicy as I would like but you can pile on the chili sauce and ketchup. For vegetarians, they serve a jerk tofu, which is very tasty and has more vegetables than the jerk meat dishes. Keeping with the Jamaican theme, they serve a lot of rum drinks, but I always opt for the mango shake. They also provide take-out.

In the background, there’s a constant stream of old school Jamaican music, reggae and dancehall, with a screen that flashes Caribbean music videos. During the week, it’s never crowded, except at lunch. And on the weekends, there’s a DJ who works the turntables.

This is a great place to connect with Jah, while planning your next subversive act.

For a map, click here.