White noise in Tokyo
It had been 20 years since she'd ventured so far from her countryside home town, but the imminent arrival of her daughter's baby and the curiosity of seeing how she lived had compelled her to come. The very fast journey by Shinkansen had caused a mild panic attack, as it seemed to her that surely such a mass of steel going at such a speed would go flying off the track at any moment. Closing her eyes helped, but her youngest son, who had also come along, had been very excited on the train, it being his first time to travel on the bullet. He kept tugging at her arm to look out the window to see something he had seen, and when she did all she saw was a blur of sickening motion.
When they arrived at Tokyo station, she couldn't see her daughter and husband on the platform, which caused her to begin sweating and wondering if they had had an accident on the way. Then she got a keitrai message from them, saying they'd just got to the station and would be there in a minute. So, not dead after all.
She was happy to see them both, but found it difficult to express it, seeing as the platform was swarming with far too many people, all jostling to either get off trains or get onto trains. It was chaotic, and she wished they'd all just go away.
They managed to navigate through the throng, down some extremely long escalators and then onto another busy platform to take them from Tokyo to Ebisu, where her daughter lived. "It'll take about 20 minutes, mum." The daughter said. 20 minutes, my god, that's like a life time. The seats on the train all faced inwards, and sitting like that, travelling sideways, made her immediately feel nauseous. So she turned her body awkwardly sideways, so that she was facing forwards, which felt a bit better.
The music chimed as they disembarked from the train, lending the whole scenario a dreamlike quality which she quite enjoyed. It reminded her of when she was at kindergarten and the teacher used to get all the children to play musical chairs. The anticipation of the music stopping always sent butterflies fluttering wildly in her tummy.
Out of the station and people kept zigging and zagging all around her. Some looked miserable and very tired, dressed in dark suits and carrying large briefcases. She saw a group of girls all wearing skirts that surely should be illegal, as they left absolutely nothing left to the imagination. And how could they wear them in the middle of winter? Then she saw a young man wearing a skirt, with a nail piercing out from under his lower lip. He also wore lots of dark make-up. Was this Tokyo, or some sort of dream world that she'd suddenly stepped into, maybe pied pipered in by the soothing station music?
It was much warmer here than in the countryside. With her heavy down jacket on, she felt like she was going to over heat. It didn't help matters that to get to her daughter's place, they had to climb a hill, which left her exhausted. If this was what living in Tokyo was all about, then there was absolutely no danger of her ever living here. Give her the wide open fields and the uncrowded roads any time of the day - yes please!
But there ahead of her stood her daughter, holding her husband's hand and turning in her stride to smile back at her. And she noticed then the bulge of her stomach, and what it contained inside, the thought of it, made her forget all her stress. Well, at least until the next train journey.
When they arrived at Tokyo station, she couldn't see her daughter and husband on the platform, which caused her to begin sweating and wondering if they had had an accident on the way. Then she got a keitrai message from them, saying they'd just got to the station and would be there in a minute. So, not dead after all.
She was happy to see them both, but found it difficult to express it, seeing as the platform was swarming with far too many people, all jostling to either get off trains or get onto trains. It was chaotic, and she wished they'd all just go away.
They managed to navigate through the throng, down some extremely long escalators and then onto another busy platform to take them from Tokyo to Ebisu, where her daughter lived. "It'll take about 20 minutes, mum." The daughter said. 20 minutes, my god, that's like a life time. The seats on the train all faced inwards, and sitting like that, travelling sideways, made her immediately feel nauseous. So she turned her body awkwardly sideways, so that she was facing forwards, which felt a bit better.
The music chimed as they disembarked from the train, lending the whole scenario a dreamlike quality which she quite enjoyed. It reminded her of when she was at kindergarten and the teacher used to get all the children to play musical chairs. The anticipation of the music stopping always sent butterflies fluttering wildly in her tummy.
Out of the station and people kept zigging and zagging all around her. Some looked miserable and very tired, dressed in dark suits and carrying large briefcases. She saw a group of girls all wearing skirts that surely should be illegal, as they left absolutely nothing left to the imagination. And how could they wear them in the middle of winter? Then she saw a young man wearing a skirt, with a nail piercing out from under his lower lip. He also wore lots of dark make-up. Was this Tokyo, or some sort of dream world that she'd suddenly stepped into, maybe pied pipered in by the soothing station music?
It was much warmer here than in the countryside. With her heavy down jacket on, she felt like she was going to over heat. It didn't help matters that to get to her daughter's place, they had to climb a hill, which left her exhausted. If this was what living in Tokyo was all about, then there was absolutely no danger of her ever living here. Give her the wide open fields and the uncrowded roads any time of the day - yes please!
But there ahead of her stood her daughter, holding her husband's hand and turning in her stride to smile back at her. And she noticed then the bulge of her stomach, and what it contained inside, the thought of it, made her forget all her stress. Well, at least until the next train journey.
posted by TOK at 10:24 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home