03.14.07
The Glass Prison
Today I taught my first class out at Canon, located in a pristine—I don’t know about the air, but certainly the lawns, hedges and trees were very well manicured—industrial park on the outskirts of Utsunomiya (the city where I live). You’d have to see it for yourself. Broad tree-lined boulevards would seem to belie the fact that one is in Japan.
I mean, prior to moving to Japan, my image of this island nation was that it was one crowded place. The truth is that, sure, the cities are dense and crowded; it can be hard to locate the sky in Tokyo. But there is a lot of open space in the suburbs and countryside, and I read somewhere that Japan is in fact 70% forested. I don’t find this too surprising. When it comes to domestic paper and wood requirements, Japan’s policy seems to be to let other countries denude their own hills.
Which reminds me, it’s funny there’s so much fuss in the newspapers about the aging population and the declining birthrate. When I was younger, I often heard it said that one of Japan’s demerits was its densely populated landscape. But yet (I don’t care if this construction sounds redundant, I like it) now they’re complaining about there not being enough people—because they’re worried about the effects that a shrinking workforce will exert on the economy. Just goes to show you people are never happy.
Anyhow, back to Canon. Tonight was the first night, and I had four students. They were all very pleasant people. And they seem pretty darn well educated, too (I know at least two of them have Masters degrees in science). The thing about the place I work, you have to see it to believe it.
It’s a two- or three-year-old building, but it looks brand-spanking new. Huge glass windows and an oversize staircase. Ironically, the classroom was small and cramped, with most of the space used up by an unnecessarily (at least for our purposes) large table. There are no garbage cans, so I have to either take my garbage home with me or else leave it on the table after class. I ended up taking home my dirty tissues but left behind an empty can of vegetable juice. I am familiar with the no-garbage-can policy because I experienced the same deal at the Nissan R&D center, but I wasn’t prepared for the next surprise.
There are no bathrooms I can access publicly. If I want to use the can, I have to ask my student to use his electronic ID card to unlock the door leading to the office area (I guess where the research is done) so that I can use the employee bathroom.
I had already asked my students once to let me use the can. After class ended, and they had gone, I realized I needed to go again. There were other people I could have asked, but at this point I just couldn’t be bothered with all the pomp and ceremony.
So a few hundred meters down the road from the gate, I pulled over in the dark. And unceremoniously took a quick leak by the side of the road. It was good for my confidence. I sometimes have trouble peeing when I’m being observed, as in a busy public bathroom. But the headlights approaching from behind only seemed to bolster my bladder, and I felt a giddy excitement as my urine leached onto the concrete.
Now maybe you can see why I called this place a glass prison.
