1. Lost In Space: Even in cities where we no longer have vast spaces, like Toronto, we still have more than in any Japanese city. Tokyo, at 12+ million, is densely crowded, but people there have learned and honed over generations the way in which civility (and the many layers thereof) can create personal space. So it's disheartening to see how little we have. The level of noise of people talking amongst themselves becomes a dull roar. I'll take Japan's hierarchical, extremely polite codified language and strict social mores any day.
The difference between the Tokyo and Vancouver airport is staggering, and my stereotype of us as the most polite citizens of the world was forever shattered by the succession of Canadians loudly yammering away on their mobiles the moment we landed.
2. The Silence Menace: I only heard a Japanese cellphone ring twice. For a nation where every one of the over 125 million inhabitants appears to own at least one mobile or PDA, you quickly notice that nobody is actually talking on them.
Instead, they text, read or play video games silently -- and small signs posted everywhere remind everybody to keep phones set to vibrate, and not talk on them. The signs themselves are not miraculous -- the miracle is the extent to which they are observed.
3. In Transit Gloria: The philosophies of just-in-time and continuous improvement, originally developed for Japanese manufacturing, are employed at every level ( just as there are health and safety committees here, there are continuous improvement committees there).
Public transit is well-integrated, inexpensive and ubiquitous. It's also quite literally on the dot -- dots on the platform show precisely where the doors will open.
4. White Noise: Japanese construction sites are self-contained and keep the surrounding area immaculate. I noticed a strange device at one construction site and realized it was a pair of automatic decibel meters. The ever-changing digits are writ large for the public to read, measuring the construction noise against the ambient traffic and street noise, showing that the former does not exceed the latter.
5. Economies of Scale: To deal with the sheer volume of stuff, everything is designed for efficiency, productivity and hygiene, from the individually wrapped cookies (which also goes hand in hand with the emphasis on presentation) to the near-compulsory, voluntary wearing of surgical-grade white masks in public when one has a cold, so as not to infect others. I wish the guy coughing and hacking on my flight home had worn one.
6. Portion control: The largest clothing size for women maxes out at about a six (though in most places, it's a four), which is tyrannical for an average-sized Western woman on a shopping expedition. But, if I had stayed long enough, I could easily have fit into them thanks to smaller portion sizes for food and drink (and I wasn't even hungry!)
As a souvenir, I brought back a so-called "supersized" Kirin Stout glass, a dwarf that resembles a thimble when compared to the rest of my beer mugs. This difference is clearly a factor in why our size large and theirs are so different.
7. Convenience Stores: The Japanese "just-in-time" manufacturing philosophy trickles down from the department store down to the corner convenience store. The 7-Elevens restock ready meals and fresh items like bread and delectable pain au chocolat just as they are about to run out of them.
I already miss the phalanx of vending machines that helpfully gobble up heavy pockets of loose change and dispense everything from chilled lattes to warm meals.
8. Ablutions: Once you have used the Japanese version of a Western toilet, it's hard to come home. In a pristine, quiet and privately enclosed space, complete with purse hook, bench and a gently warmed seat, they have built-in front and back bidets controlled at the touch of a button (like a car wash) and, for the toilet-timid, sound effects like faux-flushing, birdsong or chimes summoned with a wave of the hand.
Western public toilets and their grimy bathroom stalls now fill me with dread.
