been plunged right into the abundance and affluence of America from war-torn and congested Japan, the contrast was indeed striking. I could hardly believe my eyes. Yet, as I thought, I realized that I too had been part and parcel of this beautiful city and of that fast-moving motor traffic a decade ago!
Walking through downtown San Francisco I was amazed at the number of elderly men and women I met everywhere—in parks, stores, and restaurants. In my country we seldom come across elderly persons in such places. Especially in the principal thoroughfares, like the Ginza in Tokyo, we see among the crowd no one but young children and youthful men and women, who parade on the street as though rejoicing in their exuberant youthfulness. Japan is preponderantly a nation of youth. The birth of a million and a half babies each year maintains this disproportion of youngsters. On the other hand I was immediately impressed by the extraordinary longevity of Americans compared with a decade ago, when I had walked or motored about the United States. Are the advances in medicine and nutrition responsible? We Japanese age rather quickly because of severe living conditions, and for many reasons old people seldom have enough courage to come out in public and mingle freely with younger folks.
We had heard so much about the New York subways during the morning and evening rush hours: how the passengers were "jammed like sardines" into the trains. All members of my group took immense delight in riding the subways both in Chicago and New York. One evening at about 5:30 we happened to be in the heart of downtown Chicago and saw thousands of office workers making for Randolph Station. Apparently it was the same crowd of commuters that we see in Tokyo in the evening, eager to board the trains to get to their suburban homes, following their pigeon-like homing instinct. The prospective passengers came from all directions in the neighborhood, and the huge subway station seemed to be hardly able to absorb this ever-increasing crowd. I had fully expected that the trains would be filled to capacity and that I would be lucky if I could find a strap to hang onto in the car. What a surprise I had when I boarded the train and found that nearly everyone had a seat and that the train departed with only a few passengers standing.
New York subways were of course more crowded, but how comfortably I could travel even at the height of the rush hour, compared with what we were forced to go through in the Tokyo and Osaka subways. Our subway trains are so jammed that the proverbial American sardines applied to Japanese conditions is a decided understatement. You have to fight your way into a Japanese car. Waiting for the next train is no solution, as an even bigger crowd will be found both on the train and on the platform, and the situation becomes worse the longer you wait. Station crews on the platforms are often seen pushing people from behind into the car, just as the automatic electric door is about to close! Young children are often trampled down and many start crying and groaning, but no one can possibly pay any attention. Passengers tread on your toes. Your shoes are often ruined. All are jostled about. Breathing is hard in the jammed car, so permeated with indescribably foul, warm air. It is an infernal sight. As a matter of fact, the Japanese refer to this state of affairs as kotsu-jigoku, or "transportation hell." Though the situation has greatly improved since the end of the war, such extreme congestion still occurs during the rush hours, especially with the rapid increase in urban population.
The average Japanese seems to be under the impression that all Americans go about very fashionably dressed. In the postwar craze to copy everything American, our people go to great lengths to imitate American styles and dress and do so rather ostentatiously. We were therefore quite bewildered to find that both American men and women were not particularly fussy about their clothes and that they were rather modestly dressed. How this contrasts with the Japanese situation, where many of us even go broke in our eagerness to be fashionably dressed; our vanity seems to know no bounds in this respect!
In the matter of eating, too, the average American is more sensible and budget-conscious. Many Japanese visitors to the United States since the war, despite the thinness of their pocketbooks, wish to dine at the very best restaurants. Not knowing Duncan Hines, they merely go to the most expensive hotels in the hope of getting an epicurean meal. They were in many cases frankly disappointed. Ubiquitous self-service cafeterias are a unique American institution. One member of my group wondered if a similar cafeteria system introduced into Japan might not be a success. I expressed my opinion against such a venture. In a country like ours, where labor is cheap and plentiful, the people would rather be waited on in restaurants than stand in a "chow line." Moreover, the standard of living being so much lower in Japan makes it impossible for us to prepare or display as many dishes to choose from as are shown in American cafeterias. In point of fact, no one in my country, in spite of the widespread craze for things American, has to date introduced an American-style cafeteria, let alone an automat. However, we do have laundromats, though not many.
Although gone only half as long as the great New Yorkei, I was a real Rip van Winkle in the sense that in coming from war-ravaged and impoverished Japan, coupled with a decade's absence, I rediscovered America—so gigantic, so prosperous, and so dynamic! It was this contrast which struck me more than anything else. Everything in this earthly world is relative, however. I remembered that five years before, when I returned to Japan from Soviet Russia, I was agreeably astonished to find Tokyo so very modern compared with Moscow, though Tokyo was a badly-battered city then. As I gradually readjusted myself to the new environment of America, I came to the conclusion that America had not changed very much during the last ten years, as far as its physical aspect was concerned. New York was pretty much the same as when I last saw it nearly ten years before. I could not see any salient changes other than that Sixth Avenue had been renamed the Avenue of the Americas; that a TV station had been installed on the tower of the Empire State Building; and that the U.N. Headquarters building had been completed on the East River embankment, where it rises imposingly.
Washington, D.C. may have changed perhaps a little more. I noticed that almost every section, except the N.W., is now being inhabited by colored people. As for automobile congestion, one cannot park his car anywhere on any street without the risk of getting a ticket! Changes such as these, however, are not necessarily confined to the capital city, for we observed them elsewhere. Except for the phenomenal growth of suburban housing areas in many cities we visited, there is no building change throughout the United States comparable to that taking place in my country, for the reconstruction of bombed-out cities of ashes and rubble has to be lived through to be believed.
On the other hand, I observed the tremendous social changes which have taken place among the American people during the last decade. I noticed a profound change in their outlook on life and even in their philosophy. Isolationism is definitely a thing of the past, even in the remote midwestern states. Americans are thinking of the defense of their land in terms of Berlin and Korea. They are keenly alive to their responsibilities as the leaders of the Western democracies.
Millions of Americans must have visited Europe and Asia both during the war and in postwar years, either on tours of duty as servicemen or in other capacities. This visiting is a very significant fact. I noticed in most bookstores throughout the country "self-teaching" books on French, Spanish, or German, and even Russian and Asiatic languages, prominently displayed for sale. Such an array was not in evidence in prewar days, as far as I can remember. Americans today are more tolerant and more understanding of the problems of other peoples of the world. As for my own country, I reckon that no fewer than half a million Americans have either visited or stayed in the country since the end of the war. Members of my mission were often agreeably surprised at being "accosted" in Japanese by strangers in remote country places. They were friendly, hospitable, and helpful people and explained that they had been on Occupation duty in Japan. I began to think it was not safe to swear in my own language anywhere in the States!
A certain famous French writer once said that "we cannot hate the man whom we know." I believe there is much truth in that statement. I have in the past twenty years resided in many different countries of the world. Once I was assigned, against my wishes, to a country for which I had no particular liking. Perhaps I had a prejudice against the people and did not enjoy my sojourn in that country. However, after I left, and the years rolled by, the unpleasant impressions I had gradually faded. I now have only fond memories of that country and its people. This philosophizing is perhaps human nature. This type of reaction is the same, I should venture to say, with many Americans in regard to my country.
To know the people and to study their