新幹線

It pains me sometimes how beautiful Japan is. I can’t stand the thought that one day this part of my life will be over. To explain this, I want to share a habit I've developed. For me, there is no comparable joy in the world to simply staring out the window watching Japan pass by on a train. Nor is there an experience quite as symbolic in Japan as the Shinkansen; history and modernity combined in a way I have always found attractive.

The history of bullet trains in Japan spans back to the 1960s which means by now the technology has blended seamlessly into society. While some of the novelty has worn off, the convenience and efficiency has not. The cost per ticket is quite high, but not when you factor in the time spent getting to airports hours away from city centers where Shinkansen punctually glide to a stop every couple of minutes. Add to this the fact you aren’t treated like prisoners when boarding; gone is the need to show up two hours early. Five minute—no, three minutes—is more than enough. Ample leg room; a smooth, quiet ride; and a view of Japan that is breathtaking makes the Shinkansen a travel destination in-and-of itself.

The technical specs are astonishing. Think about this: Throughout 2005 on the Tokaido line all Shinkansen were only late an average of an astounding 12 seconds. The top speed reached on commercial lines is 300 km/h (reached south of Tokyo) though a more normal cruising speed is a—still respectable—260 km/h. The Shinkansen are no longer the fastest trains in the world, with trains in France and China just slightly edging out the Shinkansen in top speed. However, the finite limit has not been reached yet, with these same commercial Shinkansen in private experimental tests reaching speeds of 443 km/h. But enough dazzling the reader with numbers.

A basic element of the Shinkansen design is that the track is elevated throughout most of the country. Functionally, this means there are no controlled crossings. As you can imagine, a vehicle collision with a Shinkansen at 300 km/h would mean the end of the program. Also, because so much of where the Shinkansen goes is through densely populated areas, the speed, danger and, most importantly, noise, is raised far above people’s heads. Elevated tracks cutting swaths through town and country alike may seem like a urban design guru’s nightmare, but when living here the kind of visual clutter than comes with high population density becomes an oddly normal and comforting backdrop to daily life. Of course to me, the value I draw from the elevated tracks is the view; fit for an king.

I’m old enough now to respect that not everyone’s going to appreciate the joy I get from cruising across Japan staring out a window. Maybe some will take solace in the train’s smooth and quiet ride. I believe the view from a Shinkansen has no equal. Some of it is due to my love of architecture; observing the sprawling urban design that textbooks can never seem to anticipate. I also appreciate that some of the views can never be captured—a city confidently crawling its way up the side of a mountain; endless apartment buildings as far as the eye can see lit in the low golden angle of the setting sun—blink… and the views are gone. Try all you want, search forever, the scenes can’t be duplicated. It shares this same fleeting quality with live music; when even the record can’t capture how you remember it or why you thought it was great. I guess somehow I’m deeply content with the transient nature of the experience.

So much of what happens in Japan is intangible, but I want to try make the reader understand. One of the greatest experiences I have had yet in Japan is seeing Mount Fuji from the Shinkansen. Again drawing on the theme of old and new, it continues to blend those two disparate elements. I remember waiting for what seemed to be the longest tunnel ever to finish while listening to The Hives’ “Hate to Say I Told You So.” Suddenly, the train bursts into the morning sunlight again, and though I have never laid eyes on Fuji-san before, I knew immediately I was looking at the legendry Mount Fuji. It was a poignant moment; me wrapped in a technological bubble, viewing something scared.

I have this ideal image of the Shinkansen seen from a distance, raised above a perfectly green carpet, moving effortlessly at a great speed. All I can compare it to is like a white dragon flying across emerald green fields; and so gracefully as to be nearly unbearable. The idea of me inside the belly of this beast has always enamored me. I hope others heed my advice and skip Tokyo Disney to by tickets for the Shinkansen.

I have uploaded some images of my experience, some of which have been here posted previously, but these can be opened to a larger size if clicked.