Building wrap

In one of my first posts, I touched on the fact that our apartment building is undergoing renovation, and that the part being worked on is all wrapped in a barrier that prevents anyone from seeing the construction taking place. The building in blue in the picture below is another example. In the weeks since, I've noticed that this seems to be a Tokyo-wide phenomenon: building renovation, demolition, or construction only takes place behind curtains.


One reason this makes sense is that buildings are crowded so closely together. The dust and paint from a project would threaten nearby structures and public areas. And this is a city that washes its sidewalks by hand.

Something else must be at play here, hoewever. Even large building projects, set off by themselves, are completely wrapped until finished, apparently. For example, we passed this site on the train the other week. Imagine the additional expense this cocooning involved.


Maybe the construction wrapping is as much a bow to visual aesthetics as anything else. Rather than show something to the world that is unfinished, messy, or unsightly, they present a barrier that sends an acceptable signal: work in progress.

Thinking about this, I remember my experience bringing gifts to my co-workers when I first came here (an important ritual). I was told that the wrapping was as important as the gift itself. Thank goodness I had Cindy's help. Sure enough, when the gifts were passed out, there was much admiration of the paper, and how each present was wrapped.

So, maybe building wrap in Tokyo is more than just a dust shield, and more than just a visual screen. Perhaps it even functions to heighten the anticipation of something new--like a present under the Christmas tree.

Edifice of the Week: DoCoMo Tower

This week we salute the DoCoMo Tower in Shinjuku. It rises to 492 feet. To put this in context, it is only about a third of the height of the Empire State Building. Still, it is one of the five tallest buildings in Tokyo, and towers over the other skyscrapers in its neighborhood. Aside from its height, this building has a number of features which make it memorable.

I see this building every day at work from this vantage point (the south). When I first viewed it, I thought something looked odd, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Later, I realized that for such a large building, it had very few windows. A colleague told me that the reason for this is that very few people work in the building--much of it is filled with computers and machinery. NTT DoCoMo, the building's owner, is the largest cell phone company in Japan. The entire top part of the structure is a cell phone tower.

From the north side, the building looks down on Shinjuku station, the busiest train station in the world. Every day 3.5 million people commute through it. A few years ago, DoCoMo installed a large clock near the top of the north side of the tower, so commuters could easily see the the time. The clock face has a radius of about 60 feet. When the clock was installed, the structure became the tallest clock tower in the world.

I understand that there is a lighting system that tells commuters whether or not they'll need an umbrella when they leave work--you just look to see what color the lights are on the top. I've just heard about this, and haven't yet got the hang of which lights represent which conditions.

Sign of the Week: Don't Cross Against the Light

This sign is at a busy pedestrian crossing at one of the major Tokyo streets, the Meiji-dori. I've mentioned before the distinct absence of jaywalkers, and attributed it to public virtue. At this intersection, at least, maybe people just don't want to get killed. The car in my photo helps make the point.

I'm not sure if the lightning bolts emanating from the car in the picture represent a blaring horn, squealing brakes, or just the sheer power of the car's momentum. There's no mistaking the look on the hapless jaywalker's face, however. He knows he's a goner. If only he hadn't been so impatient! Notice further the little beads of sweat springing from the car. The driver is panicking: "Where did that little man come from? I'll never be able to stop in time!" When you cross against the light, you are not only hurting yourself, you're playing havoc with the lives of unsuspecting drivers. So please--it's just not worth it. Even if you don't care about yourself, wait for the light.

Vehicle of the Week: the Yakimo truck

Some vehicles are fast. Some are sporty. Some are roomy. Some are luxurious. Some are tiny. But only one in our neighborhood can make your mouth water before it's even in sight. It's the pick-up truck that belongs to the yakiimo man.


In the bed of the truck is a wood-burning oven. No kidding--in the picture, you can see the firewood stacked next to it. The white pipe is the chimney.

Yakiimo are roasted sweet potatoes. While they get piping hot in the oven, the yakiimo man slowly cruises the neighborhood, stopping now and then to make a sale, or tend to the taters.

The first hint the yakiimo man is nearby is the distinctive cry "yaki-iiiiiiii-mooooo," delivered in a slow, deep-register sing-song. Speakers atop the truck's cab broadcast the welcome news. The second clue--if the wind is right--is the delicious aroma. C.J. can testify that I have, on occasion, altered course while out on a walk in order to intercept this vehicle.

Buy a yakiimo, and it's too hot to hold. The vendor puts it in a bag for you. A little salt, a little butter, and there's not much better, particularly on a chilly night. And the nights are starting to get chilly. So, for this week, hats off to the yakiimo truck!

Edifice of the Week: Azabu Tower

For the first installment of Edifice of the Week, I've chosen a building just a couple of blocks from our residence. It's called Azabu Tower.


Since much of the city was destroyed in WW II (the neighborhood we live in now was totally demolished) few buildings are over fifty years old. Some (like Azabu Tower) seem to have been built with a sense of whimsy. I was going to say it is incongruous with the rest of the neighborhood, but I haven't really noticed a prevailing style among these newer buildings. Maybe doing things differently is the aesthetic. Regardless, it obviously takes great engineering to build something like this.

Vehicle of the Week: Toyota Ractis

Welcome to the first edition of Vehicle of the Week. There are plenty of cars in the city I've never seen before. Some are just variations of vehicles the Japanese companies make for the American market. Others you can only get here or in other parts of Asia. They tend toward smaller models than we're used to, which makes sense because the streets can be tiny, and the people who drive the cars are smaller than most Americans.



This model is the Toyota Ractis, and you can only get it in Asia right now. There are lots of teensy SUV style types around; I think this is the most sporty-looking. Note the location of the rear wheels. They drive on the left here, so the steering wheel location is the reverse of ours.

Sign of the Week: Watch where you sit!

This week we'll begin posting items of the week. The first is the Sign of the Week. The only qualifications are that the sign be different from what we were used to in the U.S., and entertaining in some way.

In that spirit, here is a sign from the town square of Azabu Juban, just down the street from us. A translation? It seems to say something about the "time of the berries." OK, I don't really know, but you'll probably get the gist of it easily enough.



We'll post the Sign of the Week each Monday. Join us tomorrow for the Vehicle of the Week.