Spring 1986 RAIN Page 11 almost 90 percent of its energy requirements. On the other hand, the Japanese transportation system is a marvel. The most consistent background noise in Japan is that of the mass transportation system. Trains and subways in Tokyo alone move 10 million people every day. The Bullet train that hurdles up and down the coastal plains of the main island, Honshu, rides over the top of houses on overpasses, through towns and cities, into the darkness of dozens of tunnels. It is probably the view that most foreigners see at least once on their way to Kyoto. Along the way you may notice several things. The green and gray slate roofs. Countless small solar water heaters. Gardens tucked into every available piece of land. And one of the most characteristic sites in Japan, clothes hanging to dry on small porches and balconies. Although the Japanese love gadgets and appliances, one that doesn’t seem to have a ghost of a chance is the clothes dryer. Apartment living in Tokyo stretches the attraction of “small is beautiful.” The average living space in Tokyo is 250 square feet. With so little space, the Japanese have learned to apply everyday appropriate technology principles. A living room in the day becomes a bedroom at night; a washing machine fits in a closet. The fixture that was most lovely in its simplicity was a toilet with a small bowl on the top of the tank with a faucet. The toilet is flushed with the water you use to wash your hands. The day after I get back from Kyoto I go to a meeting of the Technology and Economy group, an informal group that studies the impact of technology on Japanese society. The group was started by Fumihiko Satufuka and Teiichi Aoyama. Sat^uka is a teacher at Sagami Women's University, and Aoyama is director of the Environmental Research Institute of the Fujimic Corporation. We see a fascinating slide show and lecture about Yukashima, a small island near Kuyshu island, 800 miles south of Tokyo, in semi-tropical Japan. The island is best known for its massive and gnarled cedar trees, some of which are over 2000 years old. Many trees in the slides seem to have faces and personalities. They have been given their own names. It is a unique ecology because the north and south, the temperate and semi-tropical, push hard on each other. The atmosphere is a humid gray. On the beaches it may be steamy tropical, while only a few miles up the steep mountains (3500 feet high) in the center of the island it is overcoat weather. The island economy is 90 percent government subsidized. An active environmental ^ movement is attempting to preseve the island's natural environment, but some of the natives don't want to. They want to sell some of the resources to enhance their lifestyle. The monkeys on the island, which the environmentalists want to protect, the natives want to control in order to protect their crops. The natives would like to log some of the cedars. It reminds me of the Northern California redwoods battle. During the middle of the talk a note is handed to me that says in English, “the man who translated Stepping Stones [RAIN's anthology of appropriate technology articles] lives on this island.” The note has been given to me by a man named, Eisaku Tsuruta. I read on his business card that he works at IRI Global Books, “books for the new age.” I give a half hour talk on why I think it is important that we understand and apply computer technology for humanistic purposes. A fairly heated conversation takes place afterward, lead by Teiichi Aoyama. Aoyama would like the group to get involved more in issues afound computer technology. He also suggests that they should establish a bulletin board and electronic mail system. Many of the people can't see value in using a computer communication system, although they seem to concur that issues about computerization should be dealt with by the group. Moon Island On the last Sunday before I leave Japan, Masako, Shin, his small daughter, Haruku, and I travel through the busy Ginza to a place that Shin wants me to see before I leave. Moon Island. The Ginza on Sunday, with some side streets closed off is like a Japanese version of a South American street festival. Being a Japanese version means that the people aren't dancing in the streets, instead they are milling about with video cameras. We walk past the Ginza, pqst the gigantic farmer’s market area (closed on Sunday), and across a long bridge that spans a river flowing into Tokyo Bay. As a community planner. Shin is an excellent guide. He provides a running commentary that includes the history of the areas we walk through pointing to such sights as the modest and packed restaurant that serves a particular soba (noodle) dish from southern Japan. Moon Island is indeed special. In the heart of the district is a long business street, filled with people and bicycles. The small shops, dozens upon dozens, overflow onto the sidewalks. Down one alley I was struck by how here was everything one needed, in minature. At the end of the alley was a small temple. Very small. A place to bow, some incence burning. There were several restaurants, a doctor's office, and a public bath. Such close quarters, comfortable and cozy. That's Japan. Compared to the cowboy geography of America, Japan feels like someone's crowded living room. Also intimate. As Shin points out, “if you have a fight everyone in the neighborhood will know it.” We walk block after block. A wind picks up. It blows down the narrow streets. The wind graphically reminds me of how Japan is an island. The wind is an ocean wind, a small child of the typhoons that tear through Japan. The last sound of the day on Moon Island is the odd unsymmetrical and sad song of the Sweet Potato man. He drives slowly down the streets with a loudspeaker singing a song about the beauties of the sweet potatoes that are cooking over a charcoal fire in the back of his small pickup truck. O O The Other Japan
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