Everybody Hearts Bullet Trains

You can tell a lot about a country from its trains. Consider, to stereotype wildly, the Germans (pride in efficiency and punctuality), the Dutch (cheerful utilitarianism), the Polish (working their way from the second world to the first), the Americans (they prefer cars). The same is true for the Japanese.

Most obviously, there's the impressive engineering of the shinkasen (bullet trains). Everybody loves the bullet trains. And the Japanese love to be cutting edge. The bullet trains have achieved engineering fame for Japan for the last fifty years. Cruising along at nearly 200 miles per hour, you may as well be standing still: there is no rocking, no swaying; no jostling or clicking or clacking. 

Which leads us to the most remarkable aspect of riding trains in Japan: QUIET. Not only is there no noticeable train noise on the shinkasen (except when entering or exiting tunnels), but there is absolutely no talking on cell phones. It is a rule that is consistently displayed on all trains - no using mobile phones in the passenger carriages - but so discreetly that I didn't even notice it until half way through our trip. Japan is a rule-following country; following rules demonstrates respect, avoids shame, makes the community look good.  If you're asked not to talk on your phone in the passenger compartments, then you don't talk on your phone in the passenger compartments.  Indeed, I think it might even rise to the level of a taboo, so uniformly was the rule followed.  This fundamentally alters the experience of riding on trains: it is a restful, nay even peaceful, experience.  This quiet is the major reason that I suspect Jeff ranks riding the trains as his very favorite Japanese experience. 

Information overload.

Adding to Jeff's enjoyment (being an engineer and a systems guy) was the train network's precision and maximum efficiency. Trains are never late. And I don't mean more or less on time, I mean to the second. In the busiest stations, trains are spaced as close as a few minutes apart - just long enough for passengers to step on board. To ensure all runs smoothly, stations are full of information (if you know where to look - and how to decipher it) about which train carriage will stop where for a given line, and even what car you want to be on (for local trains) if you are switching at another station. Particularly busy stations have painted lanes on the platform, colored-coded by line, so passengers can queue efficiently for the rapid series of arrivals.

An illustrative example: We found ourselves passing through Osaka's main station at the beginning of a three-day weekend (unbeknown to us at the time). Three-day weekends, you should understand, are a serious matter in Japan; as one Japanese explained to me, Japan has an excessive number of national holidays (15) because the workaholic Japanese would never take vacation otherwise.  Being the weekend of the second Monday in October, the entire country was celebrating Sports Day, which commemorates the 1964 Tokyo Olympics.  (No, really.)  

OK, so here we are, transiting through one of the busiest stations in the country on a particularly busy Saturday morning.  We had missed our connection and couldn't quite figure out our next best option (a question complicated by the sheer variety of local, express, semi-express, limited, quasi-limited, and otherwise highly irregular trains between Osaka and Kyoto).  So we approached someone standing in one of the color-coded lanes and asked. A woman standing in the adjacent color-coded lane weighed in, and soon everyone in multiple color-coded lanes was trying to solve our dilemma (a puzzle based on the ratio of departure time from Osaka to number of stops before Kyoto). Keep in mind, of course, the time pressure, as trains were coming every couple of minutes. 

Kanazawa's train station welcomes you.

Although we will never know if we should have been in the red lane instead of the blue lane for maximum efficiency, the real take away was everyone's helpfulness, which was just another symptom of the entire system's (and country's) operating ethic of professionalism and mutual respect. Train operators wear white gloves and smart hats and point to the clock at they pull out of the station as though to underscore their punctuality. The conductors who check tickets pause to bow to the whole carriage when entering. If you ride to the end of the line, the cleaners stand next to the door so they can bow to the disembarking passengers before getting to their work. It's lovely to be in a place where everyone takes their job seriously.

And like most things in Japan, the trains are easy and efficient to use - once you understand the system. For foreign tourists, that system is the JR Rail Pass. Yes, it's expensive, but trust me: you want one. There are rules and regulations, and you must follow the initial instructions closely (and don't lose it!). But once you are in country, official rail pass in hand, you are a traveling God. 

Walk into just about any station in the country, and the ticket collectors bow and wave you through the turnstiles. In Tokyo, you can take the local trains (like Chicago's 'L') all over the city for free. On shinkasen and other non-local trains, you will want a reserved seat, a service that is free for rail pass holders. JR staff at train stations are helpful, cheerful, and always able to communicate sufficiently in English/sign language to get you a seat assignment within 5-15 minutes (depending on lines). Advance reservations are basically never needed outside of Golden Week, or maybe to ensure you get yourself to Narita in plenty of time to catch your flight home.

The local JR lines in Tokyo.

If only I spoke Japanese, I have a feeling the entire country would operate for me just like the trains. It's all in learning the system.

A logistical note: I highly recommend Hyperdia, which is super easy to use and allows you to plan out your train travel in advance. It also helps calculate the price of your trip so you can weigh whether a rail pass will save you money.