It is helpful to have a malleable kinesphere in Japan, because one often finds oneself in a crowd.  For example, I have made a close and practical study of how to weave through a crowd while dragging a suitcase.  Shape flow growing and shrinking is of little use (the suitcase, after all, has a fixed shape).  Instead, one needs to watch for openings and slip through in a timely manner, or detect a stream flowing in your direction and go with the flow.

I’m a child of the American West.  I prefer wide-open and under-populated spaces.  But if I ever have to live in a densely populated place, I will choose Japan.   This is because Japan is a civil society in which consideration for others still matters.  We seldom experienced or witnessed pushing or collisions in the many crowded places we visited.  We saw only one public argument.  In contrast, we frequently  saw young people give up seats on trains and buses to the elderly and women with children.

We couldn’t get reserved seats on a train for Kariuzawa (a resort outside of Tokyo) because it was a holiday weekend.  Consequently, we had to wait in a long line on the platform to get into a car with unreserved seats.   The line was so dense I was sure we would never manage to get onto the train.  But we did.  All the seats were taken, but my husband and daughter clambered into a niche by the restrooms with their suitcases, while I was jammed into the aisle of the car, near the door.  Unbelievably, even more people got on the train at the next stop.   We all stood cheek to jowl for the next 90 minutes.  But it was quiet.  There were no complaints.  A few seated passengers even managed to squeeze through those of us standing in the aisle to go to the restroom and back to their seats again.

And so it went everywhere.    People crowded onto buses and trains until they were quite packed.  But everyone remained stoic and patient.   I sometimes experienced a moment of silent panic, facing an oncoming mob when crossing the street.  But I always got across, and no one ran into me.

Our daughter thinks the Japanese are magic.  They can tolerate damp cold in the winter, they don’t sweat in the humid summer, and Japanese women can ride bikes in high heels.  But above all, they remain polite, even when jammed together.

General space is a commodity not to be wasted in Japan.  Heavily forested mountains cover most of the archipelago of islands.  Flatland suitable for habitation and cultivation is precious.  Wherever we have traveled in Japan, small rice fields, gardens, and orchards are sandwiched between a jumble of residential, commercial, and industrial buildings.

Personal space must also be used economically.  Each time my husband and I checked into a new hotel, we had a moment of consternation – the room was so small!   Often there was no chest of drawers  — suitcases had to be opened on the bed and then stowed away.   Sometimes there was no closet – only a rail and some hangers on the wall.

Yet, clever design and consideration of human needs made these rooms habitable.  There was always a small refrigerator, a pot for heating water, a hair dryer, clean bathrobes and slippers, a TV and free wifi.  The bathroom, though tiny, always had a shower/tub combo; toothbrushes and small tubes of toothpaste; shampoo, conditioner, and body wash; and an automated toilet (Japanese toilets deserve a blog of their own!). There were towel racks and hooks for hanging things, a retractable clothesline over the tub, and an infinitesimal waste basket capable of holding perhaps three used Kleenex.

The first time my husband and I went to Japan twenty-five years ago, our son was 18 months old.  We made quite a spectacle of ourselves, for we traveled with a portable crib, a large suitcase of clothes and diapers for our son, small suitcases for ourselves, and the baby in a backpack.  In contrast, all the Japanese traveled with a compact suitcase smaller than a carryon bag.

Now you know why!

The Japanese also play hard, and some of the biggest, most labor-intensive parties take place in the street during traditional festivals.  The fall festival in the city of  Takayama, where our daughter teaches English, is one of the most spectacular.

Takayama’s festival is famous for its yatai, some of which are 300 years old.  Yatai are elaborately carved and richly decorated three story wooden wagons.  People ride in the wagons, and many have small groups of children on board, playing traditional Japanese flutes and drums.

Unlike our floats, yatai are not mechanized.  They don’t have steering wheels.   Instead they are pulled through the streets by elaborately costumed teams.  This is where the effort comes in, for yatai weigh several tons and they are not easy to steer or to turn.

The two-day fall festival in Takayama involves 11 yatai. On the opening morning, the yatai are parked on display near the festival’s home Shinto shrine.  In the early afternoon, a small cohort are paraded through the street for several hours.  Then in the evening, all 11, decorated from top to bottom with lighted lanterns, are pulled through the town.

To do so, the members of their teams have different jobs.  Some march in front, pulling the yatai with thick ropes.  Other crew members hover near the front of the wagon, serving as human brakes when needed.  Still other team members march behind.  At least one or two fellows use thick wooden posts to steer the wagon from the front and back and correct its course as it moves down the street.

The yatai pause when they come to a corner.  In order to make the sharp turn, the yatai must be tilted and oblique wheels lowered. Then the team grabs onto the float and, pushing altogether, rotates it 90 degrees. The spare wheels are retracted, and the float is set back on regular wheels.  Then the arduous pulling, braking, and steering resumes.

Those who ride on the yatai can also have challenging jobs, for some wagons are so tall that they will not pass under the electric wires that hang over the street.  We watched one grey-haired gentleman climb up on the third story roof with long stick to lift the wire so that the elaborate golden phoenixes adorning the roof did not catch on the wires.

Clearly, it requires a lot of effort to have fun in Japan!

Working hard is a tradition in Japan.  Nowhere is this clearer than in Shirakawa-go, a remote farming village located in the mountainous region of Honshu between Takayama and Kanazawa.  Shirakawa-go, now a UNESCO World Heritage site, is an outstanding example of a traditional way of life perfectly adapted to the environment and the resident’s social and economic circumstances.

The village was founded in the late 12^th century by survivors of the Heike clan. Virtually wiped out by the Genji clan in a brutal battle in 1185, the Heike followed the Sho River deep into the densely forested Japan Alps until they found an isolated valley in which to settle.  Here they developed a unique style of wooden farm houses with thickly thatched roofs that can resist the high winds and deep snows of winter.

On the day we visited, the weather was mild and sunny.  Shirakawa-go has three parts:  a vast parking area with tourist facilities, an uninhabited outdoor museum of traditional farm houses, and, across the river, the historic village that is still inhabited.

The latter is idyllic.  The mountainside literally gushes with water, which has been carefully channeled to sustain the rice fields and vegetable and flower gardens that are attached to each house.   Tourists are free to roam as long as they respect the inhabitants and don’t barge into occupied homes.  It is possible to explore one or two of these uninhabited, thickly timbered, two story houses.  But the real story of these unique buildings is told in a videotape in the museum village that demonstrates how these homes are built using only local materials.

The building process is incredibly complex, especially the thatching process.  This utilizes a special grass, which the farm families grew and stored.  The grasses are bound into bundles and attached to the steep roofs.  This involves the labor of the whole village, for the men must climb up on the roofs, position the thatch and tie the bundles to the log framing of the roof, layer after layer to a depth of three feet.  When complete, these houses can stand for 300 years, a testament to human effort, craft, and cooperation.

[image from http://lucky-japan.blogspot.com/]

I just spent three weeks traveling around Japan by train with my husband and daughter.  Both of them can speak and read Japanese.  I cannot.  Consequently, I am useless when it comes to most verbal transactions.

While deaf and dumb, I still can see.   To avoid total confusion, I spend a lot of time observing behavior, the social context, and the environment.  In the following blogs, I share some of these observations through the lens of Laban Movement Analysis.  I will focus on effort, general and personal space, and the use of the body.