This is the second typhoon I've survived in Japan, but the first one that I willingly went walking in.
The first time, my typhoon-virginity one might say, I made it back to my dormitory in time to sit out the storm in comfort and dryness.
This time, I openly set out into the growing tempest, oblivious to the tribulations that would later befall me.
I was supposed to be meeting Morimoto Sensei from Leeds University for some thing or other, I'm not really sure. When I arrived at Hosei, mildly damp and prepared to "dazzle" my teacher with my Japanese, I was told that the meeting had been rearranged to 2pm that day, and that I'd been sent an email... I received no such message, checking both my phone and gmail (upon arrival back here).
So, having been spurned away from campus and told that a storm was a-brewing, I made my way back dorm-wards. However, having earlier been unable to meet a Miss Kristy Jones from the airport due to my meeting, I decided to take a detour to Ueno, where I (foolishly, it now seems) gambled that she'd take the train to.
Let me tell you: I've never seen organisation and crowd management like it. If we had weather conditions like this in England... London's subway would be on its knees! Normally, travelling at just before 4pm in Tokyo isn't too bad - most people are still at work, at school or whatever, so the trains aren't too packed. In this weather though, people are sent home from work early in case they are stuck there. Usually at 4pm.
Most figures for Tokyo's population don't take into account the massive influx of people who work in Tokyo but live quite far away. In fact, 43% of Tokyo's workers don't even live in Tokyo prefecture. The general estimate is that the population is around 8.5 million, but this can go as high as 12.9 million if people who work in Tokyo are counted too.
For the first time today, I truly got a sense of just how many people live here.
To put this into context: lets say you have a tube of any length you like. This tube is specifically designed to be ultra-efficient and let the maximum number of marbles (for example) through without things getting backed up. This essentially means that between 7.40 and 8.20 in the morning, you get a steady stream of marbles running through this tube, perhaps not comfortably, but they can always move through the tube and very rarely have to wait at one end.
Now picture all the marbles that go through between those times trying to get back again, only instead of staggering themselves nicely, they all want through at the same time.
Kayabacho station (the only way to get to the Tozai line from the Hibiya) was much like our hypothetical arroyo at 4pm today. It was like being in a water park, with massive queues and staff holding people behind rope barriers. The staff were blocking people from going downstairs until the disembarking passenger flow had thinned sufficiently to allow the horde of white-shirts down onto the platform. Queues for the ticket machine longer than my d- *ahem* they were long. Ticket barriers being literally fought over.
The best thing I saw (and was involved in) was boarding the train to Ueno. The packed train completely emptied itself of passengers, so there was the usual mad scramble for seats. As I was trying to get on the train, another five people were doing the same (three had pushed in to try and get on ahead of us). These doors can barely manage three abreast, but six was ridiculous. Ever the Brit (WE KNOW HOW TO QUEUE!) I stepped back and allowed them to scuffle it out for the best positions on a train that was fast looking like it was a tube of smarties. With people for chocolate. And smarties that are shaped so that they tessellate with each other perfectly and easily.
Skipping forward now to having not met Kristy and making my way home, I get to Kayabacho and find that the trains aren't running. I wait on the platform like I'm at the post office lining up for stamps: eagerly awaiting each time the line will move forward... Ok, that simile doesn't really hold up, as the line wasn't moving... ANYWAY! After more trains that I cared to count passed with no lights and no passengers, one finally arrives that is already choc-full of damp Japanese men and women. This train, is only going to Toyocho, three stops shy of where I need to be: Kasai.
So, getting to the last stop on the train's ill-fated journey I leave the train to wait for the next one, and see even more people (who'd have thought it possible?) than there were at Kayabacho.
It turns out there was a shuttle bus running to all the stops that weren't going to be hit by the trains, so I went to check that out, but the queue was ridiculous so I thought, as a true Northerner should "Screw it, it's only rain."
Famous last words. When I finally arrived almost 90 minutes later (the wind doesn't half slow you down when you're having to lean into it one minute, lean against it the next), I was beaten. My shoes had lasted until the last 200 metres, and they finally took on water. My hoody was so wet that it weighed twice as much. My jeans were beginning to chafe, and were actually leaking it turned out.
I must have looked ridiculous, because when I returned to the dorm, the dorm mother greeted me with a gale of laughter (ha, see what I did there?) and asked if I was ok.
Crikey, this was going to be a short post. Extreme weather means extreme blogging.
... Or something.
