Tokyo, a cacophonous fusion of ancient traditions and modern technology, left a lasting impression on me during my three-month stint there this past summer. Working for the architecture firm, Tange Associates, I commuted daily on the city's hyper efficient subway system alongside Japanese business people during rush hour. As a white American, I have never been in the minority in my life ever before.
For context, Tokyo’s population is 98% ethnically Japanese, and the remaining 2% come from all over the world, but are predominantly Chinese, Korean, Taiwanese, Philippine, Australian, British, French, Brazilian, and Peruvian. I sometimes went weeks without seeing another white person. Suffice it to say, even in the complete absence of any deliberate discrimination toward me, it was humbling to experience feeling like no matter where I went and whatever I did, I inevitably stuck out from the crowd. This experience definitely caused me to think more deeply about what my racial identity means as well as race in different societies around the globe.
The metro system, modeled after how slime molds grew between nodes of food representing the city's commercial centers, exemplifies Tokyo's dedication to innovative efficiency. Its intricate lines effortlessly connected commercial hubs, reflecting the city's vibrant energy and interconnectedness.
However, what struck me most was Tokyo's culture of respect. From orderly queues at subway stations to impeccably clean streets, Tokyoites showed a deep reverence for each other and their environment, a sharp contrast to the chaos of Western cities, despite Tokyo's urban population being the world's largest at 39 million.
As an architecture student, American expat, art lover, and film photography enthusiast, Tokyo offered a rich tapestry of experiences. Each day, I marveled at architectural wonders, from Shinjuku's skyscrapers to Asakusa's tranquil temples, fueling my passion for urban planning. I loved how serene ancient shrines could be found adjacent to skyscrapers hundreds of feet tall, with nobody batting an eye about the seemingly ridiculous contrast.
Living in a host family was perhaps my most enriching experience in Tokyo however. The Shinmis gave me invaluable insights into Japanese culture. Mariko-san and Takayuki-san, along with their sons Rik, Kenji, and Takuro, welcomed me warmly, introducing me to Japanese cuisine and customs.
Takayuki-san, a keen architecture and art enthusiast, took me on enlightening tours of the city, exploring heavy hitting districts like Ginza and Omotesando, often stopping along the way for different kinds of street food I ought to try.
Luckily while in Tokyo, I also had a friend from Cornell Architecture, Jay, who is originally from Tokyo. He showed me around quite a bit, and also had an architecture internship at the same time as me. Together, we navigated Tokyo's bustling streets, discovering hidden izakayas (tiny bars that you could practically fit in a shoebox). We often debriefed our long days at work over a beer, or two, or three, laughing about the similarities and differences we experienced.
Japanese work culture definitely took a bit of adjusting to for me. Japan is notorious for having an extremely hierarchical and strict working environment. I was expecting some form of rigidity in my workdays in Tokyo, but exactly how it would manifest itself I was unsure of. To begin, I do not understand Japanese. I can speak it phrasally via phonetic memorization, to say what I need if somebody truly speaks no English, but I cannot respond to questions asked of me.
Luckily at Tange I was working in an international project team in which everybody spoke English. We’d go to lunch together most days, and collaborate on whatever we were working on, always in English. The rest of the office however, did not speak English, including notably the chairman and other higher up members of the firm. Most days, the chairman made his way around the office constantly, pacing around barking at the occasional employee in what was to me unintelligible Japanese.
Sometimes when he came to me he’d similarly erupt with stern Japanese to which I was never quite sure how to respond. I'd Nod, then refocus, lock in and continuing working. Out of respect for all my co-workers, but the non-English speakers especially, I was encouraged to learn Japanese workplace greetings and farewells such as “ohayou-gozaimasu” in the mornings and “otsukaresama deshita'' in the evenings. I similarly learned to bow in varying degrees depending on seniority and the appropriate politeness of the situation. Over time, my non-English speaking coworkers began smiling at me in the mornings and evenings when I wished them hello and goodbye.
Nights in Tokyo were a sensory delight, from the neon-lit streets of Shibuya to the pulsating beats of underground nightclubs like BAIA. Surrounded by friends I had made throughout the summer, and people I’d forgotten lived in Tokyo who I coincidentally ran into, I felt a sense of belonging in Tokyo's vibrant nightlife.
Looking back, my time in Tokyo was an enlightening experience. Through the lens of an architect and explorer, I witnessed the beauty and complexity of Japan's capital, leaving me eager to return.
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