The Longest Sunday
My Sunday, September 9th, 2007 lasted exactly 45 hours. Twice I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, read a current Sunday newspaper, saw a sunrise, and caught a 10 pm flight. But only once did I sleep. Crossing the dateline never gets old.
I am glad to be back in the States. The lack of marshal law and threat of a military crack down really eases the daily tension, although the US newspapers are comparatively boring. The Bill of Rights is a powerful document, often taken for granted by our good citizens. I wish to celebrate my return to this great land by exercising my freedom of speech, without fear of reprisal or being hauled away to the military barracks. Commodore Frank Bainimarama is a giant tool and his military junta is a joke, excellent only at personifying ignorance, incompetence, and sheer stupidity. I pity the people of Fiji as much as a laugh at the interim government’s childish charade of politics, or even their attempt at speaking in complete sentences without drooling. I would go on with my criticism, but shooting fish in a barrel does get old… eventually.
Sorry. I have had to get that out of my system for the past three months. I feel a lot better.
I had a great summer though. Personally, just experiencing the contrast between Fiji and Vanuatu was a summer in itself. I enjoyed the food and the colorful contribution of the Indian influence. I loved the beaches, and sunsets. I learned the ukulele and even enjoyed AFN. Tokyo was amazing. My internship was a success. Overall it was a grand summer. And then came LAX. Again.
LAX is purgatory incarnate. Its mission on earth is to break the will of even the most patient Zen master traveler, reducing him to a sobbing wreck incapable of using the toilet unassisted. The most effective weapon at its disposal: the belief that landing on the runway after a 10 hour flight means that you have arrived at your destination. The plane lands, and sits. Inches its way to “gate” 202, actually a concrete outpost two miles away from the terminal. The passengers load the cattle buses, and wait. And then comes the gauntlet of immigration, baggage claim, and customs. Ellis Island, except for empty revolving baggage carousels with hordes of hollow eyes matching the speed of the creaking circulating belt.
The blow below the belt is the following flight connection mayhem. Wow to the poor bastard who wishes to leave LAX’s fatal shores. I chose Delta, the wrong choice if anyone is interested. I finally broke down yelling at an outsourced call center attendant concerning my airmiles. She had it coming. Delta had it coming.
But I am alive. My girlfriend surprised me and picked me up at the airport. It made the pain and suffering of airplane food, a sunburn, LAX and Delta worth it. It is good to be home, and I can’t wait for this Sunday.
9.13.2007
9.01.2007
Alive and Well, Sort Of
Two weeks ago I attended a leadership conference in Tokyo made up of students from MIT, Harvard, and the University of Tokyo. More correctly, I was swallowed by one of the world's craziest cities and excreted 10 days later with dehydration, blood shot eyes, and a new vocabulary of less-than-wholesome Japanese words. That place is ridiculous.
The organization is STeLA (Science and Technology Leadership Association), an international collaboration of students, professors, and concerned citizens who are pissed off that Harvard Business School is at the forefront of leadership development when it is shouldered by the blood sweat and tears of lab types. Basically, we believe that world problems such as climate change, energy security, and globilization are complex and daunting, requiring a sophisticated network of scientists, policy makers, politicians, and academics to solve them, utilizing cutting edge science and technology.
But back to Tokyo. If you have never been there, life can simply be summed up by the phrase "vending machine". I truly believe it is the symbolic key to understanding the Tokyo way. I submit to you several case studies to underscore this belief, and leave the verdict to you. How democratic.
Case #1: The question of Space. Tokyo doesn't have the luxury of elbow room. Walmarts and Safeways are out of the question. To solve this problem, space-saving technology is applied, affordable only because the crush of high-density makes it so. Enter the high tech vending machine. You could have a corner store, a flower shop, or a soup stand, or you could have a 2x3 ft box to administer the public. Problem solved.
I want to expand a bit on the affordability aspect. In the States, we have huge refrigerators, huge SUVs and huge houses by which to store food. Have you seen Over The Hedge? Tokyo apartments are on the tiny scale. Space is in fact a huge cost. American style consumerism is not physically possible. This cost of space also makes things like flat-screen tvs and brainy toilets affordable, and supplies the innovation behind Sony's crazy new miniscule gadgets. I believe this question of space also shows itself in Japanese automakers and their new dominance over American counterparts. The question of size was never a financial burden to the US, until the recent petroleum cost crunch. Tiny is not cute and expensive. Tiny is cost-saving and neccesary.
Case #2: The question of Public Health. There are a lot of people in Tokyo. If I understood my Japanese friend correctly though his poor english, burial is illegal in Tokyo and cremation is mandatory, not for the space but for the elimination of disease outbreak. Water fountains or non-existant, for instance. If Shibuya had a water fountain, I wouldn't use it, not when it is exposed to several hundred thousand people a day. Bottled water, and clean sanitation, are solved with the sterile, plastic goodness delivered with a vending machine.
Case #3: The question of Convenience. Tokyo is in a rush. Everyone is a slave to work and train schedules, so time is of the essence. Like a lot of cities, most jobs are in Tokyo, but few actually live there, but only on a much larger scale than say Boston. Vending machines fill in this time crunch. Work hard, travel hard, refresh hard from one of many many choices in food and drink.
Case #4: The question of Social Acceptance. Vending machines can only be ubiquitous, located in every remote and lonely corner only because society allows them to be. Vandalism, for instance, is not a problem as it is in the States. If I put a Coke machine in Harvard Square, I guarantee you that it would last maybe half a day before being covered in graphitti or drug down the road with chains. I propose this says something about the social structure of Tokyo: respectful and collective, as opposed to violent and fiercely independent.
And there you have it. Four questions that when thought through, reveal a lot about life in one of the most ridiculous, fun, and safe cities in the world.
The organization is STeLA (Science and Technology Leadership Association), an international collaboration of students, professors, and concerned citizens who are pissed off that Harvard Business School is at the forefront of leadership development when it is shouldered by the blood sweat and tears of lab types. Basically, we believe that world problems such as climate change, energy security, and globilization are complex and daunting, requiring a sophisticated network of scientists, policy makers, politicians, and academics to solve them, utilizing cutting edge science and technology.
But back to Tokyo. If you have never been there, life can simply be summed up by the phrase "vending machine". I truly believe it is the symbolic key to understanding the Tokyo way. I submit to you several case studies to underscore this belief, and leave the verdict to you. How democratic.
Case #1: The question of Space. Tokyo doesn't have the luxury of elbow room. Walmarts and Safeways are out of the question. To solve this problem, space-saving technology is applied, affordable only because the crush of high-density makes it so. Enter the high tech vending machine. You could have a corner store, a flower shop, or a soup stand, or you could have a 2x3 ft box to administer the public. Problem solved.
I want to expand a bit on the affordability aspect. In the States, we have huge refrigerators, huge SUVs and huge houses by which to store food. Have you seen Over The Hedge? Tokyo apartments are on the tiny scale. Space is in fact a huge cost. American style consumerism is not physically possible. This cost of space also makes things like flat-screen tvs and brainy toilets affordable, and supplies the innovation behind Sony's crazy new miniscule gadgets. I believe this question of space also shows itself in Japanese automakers and their new dominance over American counterparts. The question of size was never a financial burden to the US, until the recent petroleum cost crunch. Tiny is not cute and expensive. Tiny is cost-saving and neccesary.
Case #2: The question of Public Health. There are a lot of people in Tokyo. If I understood my Japanese friend correctly though his poor english, burial is illegal in Tokyo and cremation is mandatory, not for the space but for the elimination of disease outbreak. Water fountains or non-existant, for instance. If Shibuya had a water fountain, I wouldn't use it, not when it is exposed to several hundred thousand people a day. Bottled water, and clean sanitation, are solved with the sterile, plastic goodness delivered with a vending machine.
Case #3: The question of Convenience. Tokyo is in a rush. Everyone is a slave to work and train schedules, so time is of the essence. Like a lot of cities, most jobs are in Tokyo, but few actually live there, but only on a much larger scale than say Boston. Vending machines fill in this time crunch. Work hard, travel hard, refresh hard from one of many many choices in food and drink.
Case #4: The question of Social Acceptance. Vending machines can only be ubiquitous, located in every remote and lonely corner only because society allows them to be. Vandalism, for instance, is not a problem as it is in the States. If I put a Coke machine in Harvard Square, I guarantee you that it would last maybe half a day before being covered in graphitti or drug down the road with chains. I propose this says something about the social structure of Tokyo: respectful and collective, as opposed to violent and fiercely independent.
And there you have it. Four questions that when thought through, reveal a lot about life in one of the most ridiculous, fun, and safe cities in the world.
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