Nighthawk Rides the Rails

A lot of my time here in Japan is spent riding the rails. I have fantasized since happening on the traveling ditties of Woody Guthrie six years ago about being a boxcar hobo. A strange thing to fantasize about, I know. Most guys my age are thinking about Pamela Anderson and here I am dreaming of a full bush of beard covering my dirty face, torn clothing and a cold wooden train car rumbling down the tracks as it takes me to wherever. Reading Woody’s autobiographical account of his years of hard traveling, Bound For Glory, and the amazing biography by Joe Klein “Woody Guthrie: A Life” only furthered my dreams of life on the road. Kerouac really sparked the fire of travel in me whereas Guthrie gave me images of the freedom only obtained by having nothing but the clothes on your back and a corner of a railcar to call your own. Traveling the tracks of Japan is the farthest thing from my visions as you could possibly get outside of maybe the train taking off and soaring away as seen in Back to the Future III. Those who know me well know that I really dislike vehicular travel. I don’t drive despite acquiring my license like most in my early teens. Partially this is for environmental reasons but the other is that I don’t trust myself behind the wheel of a car. I’d be a nervous wreck as I was taking the exam I failed twice. I analyze too much, worry, second guess and these are facets you don’t want to be in possession of when you turn onto a freeway. As for boats I get sick with the slightest of motion off land. Even waterbeds churn my stomach. Ask my sister who witnessed me tossing my cookies just thinking about a white water rafting trip. Planes and I have a budding relationship and so far so good except for turbulence which is just like putting me on a boat not to mention the images of Labamba that are conjured up when the aircraft starts to shake, rattle and roll. Buses are fine when they are not crowded or if you trip only lasts a few hours. My three day cross country bus trip nearly permanently altered the shape of my spine.

Trains, on the other hand, have always been extremely agreeable to me. I’ve already mentioned that a good deal of my life was spent living near train tracks and somehow the clatter became soothing and it is even more so when actually traveling the rails. Putting me on a train is like injecting me with a few doses of diphenhydramine as within a few minutes of train travel I just float away on dream clouds populated by dirty bums in front of popping embers recounting the years of travel. Seats or trains tend to be far more comfortable then their bus counterparts, more leg room. Prior to these last two months my train travels were at their most abundant in college as they were the quickest means of getting me back home for holidays and birthdays or summer break. I always looked forward to those few hours between Toronto and Cornwall where I watched the scenery go by or took a big chunk out of the current book I had taken out from the school library. Train travel also tends to attract less crazy folk where you can find asylums on buses, especially the TTC after 9pm. My good friend Red and I met on one of my train trips and a friendship flourished…errr…well, it flourished nearly seven years later but flourished nevertheless. Yes, there is just something about trains. When I was a kid I’d go out to the overpass near our house and sit in some shadowy crack there, huddled with the beer bottles, cigarette butts and graffiti and I’d watch the trains go by feeling the great rumble under me as they speed on down the tracks. Where did this interest begin, I wonder? Why trains over everything else? Maybe it started with my grandfather. He collected electric trains and built an entire countryside for which his trains traveled around in a constant loop until the switch was pulled and they came to a slow stop. He had made hills, purchased model homes and even had miniature people walking about or waiting for the train. It was the tunnel that got the most attention as watching the train go in, lights illuminating the darkness, and then pulling back out was a great thrill to a six year old. Sure, I had an electric car racing set but this was the grown up version and it was so much better. Sometimes grandpa would let us kids control the trains ourselves and the urge would always be there to see how much speed we could get out of those babies. If he wasn’t paying so close attention to us each time we were in the general vicinity of his creation my brother and I probably would have attempted to stage a train wreck of such magnitude not seen since the tragedy at Quintinshill. I sadly don’t remember much about my grandfather and it seems like the small bits that have remained all find him with his trains. He took so much pride, I think, in his train set and us kids were the biggest fans of his train room. You could always catch him smiling with us as we watched his trains circle around. My uncle has those trains now and grandpas spirit lives on, I like to think, each time that switch is thrown and the trains clack into motion. Yes, maybe my love of train travel started with the models at grandpas house.

Train travel should not be confused with subway travel. Subway travel is usually cramped and dismal. You are underground and in the dark, nothing to see. I loathed the subways in Toronto as I was always pushed up against somebody with extreme body order or, worse, wet spots on their paths. If one were casting for a horror film they need look no farther then the people who dwell on the Toronto subways after hours. I am talking of above ground travel here. The Japanese train travel experience can be a mixed bag of pleasure and disdain depending on where you are or where you are going. The characteristics of subway travel are prominent during peak hours probably more so due to the overflowing populace although there has never been bad body order or wet trousers. You are jammed in, though, although I have only experienced sever discomfort in larger cities like Osaka and Nagoya. Aside from Nara, my schools are located in smaller cities where there is less chance of running into crowding unless you are traveling at the beginning or end of the work day where it seems that no matter where you are if you didn’t get on the train seven stops ago you are standing and holding on to those little loops wishing you had a seat. A large portion of the population here commutes to work by train and the Japanese rail system as often sited as the world’s best when it comes to speed and efficiency. These things are so punctual it is as if a train conductor could face execution or something should he arrive late.

27,268 km of rail roll over Japan with over 20 billion passengers riding the rails each year and now I am one of them. For the most part I enjoy my time spent on the train as the scenery in the Nara prefecture is wonderful and my rides are generally not assaults on my personal space. Conductors and other rail workers dress in pressed suits with matching hats and carry around with them a small electronic device which I am unsure totally what it is for but it was used once to charge me more when I stepped onto a more expensive train so I imagine that is the main purpose of those brown rectangular devices these guys cart around with them. And they are all guys. I have never seen a female conductor and I wonder if this has something to do with the dangers of women travelers on trains what with entire cars allocated to them. The conductors will move through cars bowing to those on board each time they enter and they exit. Trains are usually places of rest for tired people worn out from the work or school day and the only real problem I have run into with the Japanese rail system is the internal debate on whether or not I should push back the heads of the weary sleepers as they drift closer to resting on my shoulder. The younger folks will have their cell phones out, decorations dangling off them like windchimes, texting away. Chatting on phones is extremely frowned upon and I think it might even be a legal issue. Cartoon characters Tom and Jerry are the spokesperson, ummm…no, wait, spokes-cat-and-mouse for cell phone and other electronic device usage on the trains. Ads with these characters are found in stations and on train cars with usually Jerry being the mischievous one chatting away on his phone while Tom looks on in disgust. Talking on a phone is indeed a serious offense. I once witnessed a woman who had to be pushing her mid-hundreds nearly beat a young teen with her cane because the girl was chatting on her phone. Most adhere to this rail policy and text messaging is all the rage as multicolored phones are pulled from pockets and bags to keep one occupied during their ride home. As for me, without a cell phone and always trying to resist the urge to give into a travel coma for fear of missing my stop I tend to just observe, people watch, as it is often my best opportunity to observe the Japanese in one of their natural habitats. My MP3 player has been put to good use on some of my longer trips and I use this opportunity to reintroduce myself to artists I haven’t listened to in some time for one reason or another. When I began this journey back in February, and even prior to that, my biggest fear was getting lost in the mesh of confusing railways. Now, two months in, I feel I can navigate myself most anywhere via the train and it is now second nature. I hardly glance at the station boards anymore knowing my class locations by landmarks or the number of stops to get there. I am now a professional rider of the rails. True, this is far from my peculiar dreams of hobos and boxcars but with the train, the track and so much more to see the most important part of both the fantasy and the reality remains prevalent: freedom.

And now I invite you to take a train ride with me to see how I get to and from work each day. This little film was shot over the course of one trip and although it is not the full half hour between start and finish it gives you an idea what my train travel experience is like. Tickets please. Thank you. Enjoy the ride.