We talked in class about the social standards that we adjust to when we move to a new place. Like how in Tokyo it’s inappropriate to walk while you eat. There are customs and rules that we have to learn when we’re trying to assimilate into a new culture.
I learned one of these on the train the other day. This young guy was sitting next to me and he started to fall asleep. I was reading and out of the corner of my eye I could see his head bobbing. Then, slowly it started to fall in my direction until it was almost resting on my shoulder. I really wanted to tap him and make him move his head. I looked around at the people to see if they thought it was strange that this guy was falling asleep in my direction, but nobody reacted. When the train arrived at my stop I stood up carefully, so that I wouldn’t wake him and got off the train.
Maybe I’ve never been in this sort of situation, so I didn’t know how to react to it, but I felt awkward sitting there with this guy so close to me. I started watching the sleepers on my trains and I noticed that the way people react in this situation is just to sit there and let the person sleep. I watched a woman fall asleep the same way my guy had and the man next to her continued to read without reacting to her head on his shoulder. It’s very strange for me to think that a complete stranger is allowed to let their head fall almost on your shoulder, but on Tokyo subways it’s allowed.
Thursday 31 May 2007
Wednesday 30 May 2007
Three Day Project
The place I chose is a grocery store in Kita-Ku. This store is about ten minutes away from my house and it’s the first place I went to when I moved into the neighborhood. On the first floor there’s a grocery store, a bakery, a pharmacy and a flower shop. On the second floor there is a book shop, dry cleaners, 100 Yen Shop, shoe store, futon/linen store, and a clothing store. Even though most of the people in the neighborhood use it primarily for groceries, it’s a very convenient store to have since there’s so much condensed into that one building. Unlike grocery stores that are near train stations and main roads, this store is hidden within the houses and apartment buildings that surround it. People usually walk or ride their bikes here.
Day One
Observe. I chose to observe mostly from the benches that are outside around the building. I can see the people that come and there are usually people sitting on these benches either while they wait, or just to sit after they’ve shopped.
Day Two
I arrived at about 6:45 and outside of the building there are 173 bikes.
After I walked around the building to count the bikes I went to sit on the bench that I had sat on the day before, but there was a man there. I was walking toward a bench nearby when he looked up at me and said, “Hello, Baby.” There was no way I was going to sit anywhere near this man, because he didn’t look like a safe person to sit by for an hour or two, so I went inside of the store for a while.
Inside, most of the people are downstairs in the grocery store. There are mostly women with children shopping for dinner, but there are also a lot of middle school and high school students. There are a few schools around this area so a lot of the students come here after school. Everyone was busy shopping so I went upstairs. In the bookstore there are men and women in suits looking for books. Maybe they’re coming here to find a new book to read on the subway. In the area where the clothes are, there are a few women and even fewer men looking through the racks of clothes. There isn’t a huge selection for them to look through, so you can tell they’re only looking out of boredom or curiosity. None of them look like they really want to find any new clothes. Nobody is in the shoe store and there’s only one woman in the futon shop. She seems to be on a mission to find a new blanket. The dry cleaner doesn’t have too many people around the counter, but behind the workers there are many garments hanging in plastic bags. At the 100 Yen Shop there are a few young people looking around. One boy is in his early twenties and he’s looking through the notebooks and stationary supplies. There’s a young couple looking at the dishes and discussing which ones to buy. There are two cashiers and a line of about five people. In the line there are two older women, that might have come to the store together, but they each have a basket. There are two young women and one young man each with their baskets full. Everyone else in the store is shopping quickly and quietly. Unike the men and women shopping for clothes, these people are scanning the shelves and looking specifically for certain items. I’ve made my way around the second floor so I decided to try the bench again. Hopefully that man has left.
Thankfully, he has.
I sat at the bench at the end of the row. There are six benches total but when I arrived there are only three other people sitting—an older couple and a man. The older couple seems to just be resting before they walk home. They each have a bag at their feet. The man on the bench is just sitting with a can of beer and watching the people. There are so many bikes outside of the store. They’re arranged neatly into two lines. A woman arrives on a bike with her two daughters. One of them is about twelve or thirteen and she is riding on her own bike next to her mother. The other daughter is eight or nine and she’s riding the back of her mother’s bike. Most of the mothers carry their children on their bikes, but this girl is definitely big enough to be riding her own bike. A few school girls arrive and more mothers with children.
Then, the most interesting man comes and sits on the bench at the other end of the row. I’ve seen this man before, because he’s here almost every night. I’d never seen him arrive or depart from the benches because I’ve never arrived this early. I’m usually just running into the store to buy a few things, but he’s usually here when I come in the evenings. He’s about sixty-five for seventy and he’s wearing a plain white shirt and black pants. His face isn’t a typical Japanese face. He’s got a long square jaw, high cheek bones and round eyes. He sits down and reaches into his bag for a glass bottle of Sake, opens it and begins drinking. I can see that he’s not really watching anyone; he’s just gazing toward the door. Then his face begins to look sad. The glass of sake is about two-thirds empty by this time and then he begins to cry. He’s not actually crying with tears and he never is, but his face looks very sad and he shakes his head every so often. When he shakes his head he usually mumbles something, which might be the explanation to why he’s crying, but I’m never close enough to tell what he’s saying. The other man that had been sitting at the bench has left, but the couple leaves when the man begins to cry. They gave him a curious glance before they picked up their bags and walked off. I want to stay and watch this man, but it’s starting to get late.
Day Three
It’s raining really hard today. I count the bikes again, and there are only 97 when I arrive.
I went inside for a while, because it was raining pretty hard when I arrived. After about fifteen minutes it dies down a little. Here are a couple pictures.
Day One
Observe. I chose to observe mostly from the benches that are outside around the building. I can see the people that come and there are usually people sitting on these benches either while they wait, or just to sit after they’ve shopped.
Day Two
I arrived at about 6:45 and outside of the building there are 173 bikes.
After I walked around the building to count the bikes I went to sit on the bench that I had sat on the day before, but there was a man there. I was walking toward a bench nearby when he looked up at me and said, “Hello, Baby.” There was no way I was going to sit anywhere near this man, because he didn’t look like a safe person to sit by for an hour or two, so I went inside of the store for a while.
Inside, most of the people are downstairs in the grocery store. There are mostly women with children shopping for dinner, but there are also a lot of middle school and high school students. There are a few schools around this area so a lot of the students come here after school. Everyone was busy shopping so I went upstairs. In the bookstore there are men and women in suits looking for books. Maybe they’re coming here to find a new book to read on the subway. In the area where the clothes are, there are a few women and even fewer men looking through the racks of clothes. There isn’t a huge selection for them to look through, so you can tell they’re only looking out of boredom or curiosity. None of them look like they really want to find any new clothes. Nobody is in the shoe store and there’s only one woman in the futon shop. She seems to be on a mission to find a new blanket. The dry cleaner doesn’t have too many people around the counter, but behind the workers there are many garments hanging in plastic bags. At the 100 Yen Shop there are a few young people looking around. One boy is in his early twenties and he’s looking through the notebooks and stationary supplies. There’s a young couple looking at the dishes and discussing which ones to buy. There are two cashiers and a line of about five people. In the line there are two older women, that might have come to the store together, but they each have a basket. There are two young women and one young man each with their baskets full. Everyone else in the store is shopping quickly and quietly. Unike the men and women shopping for clothes, these people are scanning the shelves and looking specifically for certain items. I’ve made my way around the second floor so I decided to try the bench again. Hopefully that man has left.
Thankfully, he has.
I sat at the bench at the end of the row. There are six benches total but when I arrived there are only three other people sitting—an older couple and a man. The older couple seems to just be resting before they walk home. They each have a bag at their feet. The man on the bench is just sitting with a can of beer and watching the people. There are so many bikes outside of the store. They’re arranged neatly into two lines. A woman arrives on a bike with her two daughters. One of them is about twelve or thirteen and she is riding on her own bike next to her mother. The other daughter is eight or nine and she’s riding the back of her mother’s bike. Most of the mothers carry their children on their bikes, but this girl is definitely big enough to be riding her own bike. A few school girls arrive and more mothers with children.
Then, the most interesting man comes and sits on the bench at the other end of the row. I’ve seen this man before, because he’s here almost every night. I’d never seen him arrive or depart from the benches because I’ve never arrived this early. I’m usually just running into the store to buy a few things, but he’s usually here when I come in the evenings. He’s about sixty-five for seventy and he’s wearing a plain white shirt and black pants. His face isn’t a typical Japanese face. He’s got a long square jaw, high cheek bones and round eyes. He sits down and reaches into his bag for a glass bottle of Sake, opens it and begins drinking. I can see that he’s not really watching anyone; he’s just gazing toward the door. Then his face begins to look sad. The glass of sake is about two-thirds empty by this time and then he begins to cry. He’s not actually crying with tears and he never is, but his face looks very sad and he shakes his head every so often. When he shakes his head he usually mumbles something, which might be the explanation to why he’s crying, but I’m never close enough to tell what he’s saying. The other man that had been sitting at the bench has left, but the couple leaves when the man begins to cry. They gave him a curious glance before they picked up their bags and walked off. I want to stay and watch this man, but it’s starting to get late.
Day Three
It’s raining really hard today. I count the bikes again, and there are only 97 when I arrive.
I went inside for a while, because it was raining pretty hard when I arrived. After about fifteen minutes it dies down a little. Here are a couple pictures.
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