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Date: Wed, Feb 8, 1995 11:24 PM EST Something about Osaka . . . it's different from Kobe, or from the Kobe I knew. You HAVE to use the subway. Kobe was a walking city. If it was too far to walk, you took a cab. TFW and I are in residence, but water & gas are not, so showers are an Osaka affair. Up at 0530, a brisk 15-minute walk in the dark to the 2nd nearest train station (before our train station was destroyed, it was a one-minute stroll), into the 0623 train, arrive Osaka 0750, first ones into the gym, workout for 30-40 minutes -- SHOWER . . . ahhh, the bench mark of civilization -- suit-up and then meld with the constant mass waiting for the next subway train. Each train is about a football field long. Each car has four doors. Departure/arrival lag time is roughly 30 seconds. The number of commuters waiting in line is constant: close to the platform they wait 2-3 abreast, widening out to 10 abreast 50 feet back. No matter how many manage to board, the same number remain. The train that arrives is usually crammed full; faces pressed against steamed glass. Doors open, pressure relief; those staying on/those getting off do battle -- elbow swords and briefcase shields. Entryway clears; those waiting push in. Pressure increases, max, more than max. Station attendant echoes prerecorded announcement to behave nicely while riding the train and try not to overcrowd. More salarymen wedge themselves in. Doors close unsuccessfully; attendant pushes in elbows, pocket books, coats -- doors shut. You wouldn't want to buy sardines packed like this. Fish paste. OK, positive thinking for all you Covey-ites: Gee, Steve, I ride the train and I get my suit pressed for free! The ride home is the same, minus the gym and shower. Out of Osaka's business world, back into the war zone, I try not to look into the darkened, windowless homes; better to watch out for the cracks in the pavement. More later, HTO |
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