Well, it’s finally warming up a bit today and seems more like spring. The picture here is of the same lake as in my fall foliage photos that you may have seen from the archives. It has a new character for each season. I tried to get up there for the cherry blossoms, too, but every time I set out for the mountains, it started to rain. I had to settle for just the cherry blossoms at the university this year.

If you look closely at the fishermen at the edge of the lake, you can see that they’re sitting crosslegged on small platforms set into the water. It doesn’t look too comfortable to me, but it’s a common way of sitting in Japan. Eating at a traditional low table also requires sitting crosslegged. I can manage it for about three minutes and then have to stretch and find a wall to lean back against.

It’s been unseasonably cold for the last couple of weeks, making me miss California weather all the more. Actually. it’s making me miss my idealized version of California weather. It’s been a little chilly and rainy there recently, too, I hear. The California weather is something I do miss, though, every time I go away.

I went with my friend Yoh to see James Taylor and Carole King at the Budokan last week. Great show. Everything was just excellent. I got chills from Jazz Man and Fire and Rain.

At some point, I realized that James Taylor is 62 now. His voice and his guitar playing were as strong as ever. I checked later and found out that Carole King is 68. She neither looked or acted her age. She seemed decades younger up there on stage.

It was raining when we left the Budokan and the street was extremely crowded and completely covered with umbrellas. I mean covered to the point where all I could see was backs and umbrellas. I had no idea where we were headed. I just moved along with the crowd until we got to the point where people split off for their cars or taxis or trains. Interesting feeling. Someone who was claustrophobic probably wouldn’t agree.

It seemed like one of those situations where if someone fell or panicked, it would be a disaster to be read about in the morning papers. It was the most crowded situation I had ever been in. Until 15 minutes later...

When we got to Ikebukuro and changed trains to catch the one back out to where we live, there was a problem somewhere and several trains had been canceled. We managed to get on the last express headed out into Saitama, but just barely.

When we got to the train, people were already bulging out of the doors. Yoh-san looked at me and dove in and all I could do was try to follow.

I mean, at this point, it looked like there could be absolutely no room at all in the cars. I’ve been in crowded rush hour trains in Tokyo before. One time I had my backpack and guitar with me and had to wait more than an hour for a train to come along with enough room for me to get on. Anther time, I was traveling with a bag and by the time the trip was over, I had been pushed to one end of the car and the bag was on the other. Luckily, a major characteristic of the Japanese is honesty and no one made off with my luggage.

But this one!

The way you get into a car like this is to back in, pushing until enough space somehow appears to accommodate you. It’s not an easy thing to do. I think Americans especially, maybe with the exception of New Yorkers, would always find this hard to do. You just do not push and shove your way into somewhere in the U.S.

It’s very cultural, I know. The Japanese do this because they have to. There is sometimes really just no choice if you want to get where you’re going. I think it’s odd because there is also the cultural norm of not upsetting the social system. For any even minor mistake a Japanese person makes, there are always profuse apologies. Then the next time they see you, they’ll apologize all over again. My theory is that in this case complaining is what upsets the social order, not pushing and shoving.

Yoh-san made it in, as I said, but when I turned around and tried to back in, it was like pushing into a brick wall. There seemed to be no give at all. What could I do? I wasn’t about to spend the night on the train platform. I pushed harder and slowly enough room opened up for me to get inside the doors. I thought as soon as the doors opened again, people would pop out like the Marx Brothers in their ship stateroom in A Night at the Opera. (I know that may be an obscure reference for a lot of you. Look it up.)

Wow, I thought. There isn’t an inch of extra space in here. It’s absolutely, completely, totally full. Not one more person could possibly get on this train. Well, if that was Ed McMahon talking, then Johnny Carson would be saying, “Not so, commuter breath.” (Still maybe a bit obscure.)

As the doors started to close, a guy came running up and backed his way into the car. I was astounded. I was even more astounded as another guy did the same thing and then two more and then two more after that.

The next hour was not one of my most enjoyable cultural experiences, but it was one of the most memorable. It was so crowded in there... How crowded was it? (another Johnny Carson reference)... it was so crowded in there that if I had gotten any closer to the woman in front of me, I would have been behind her. (And there’s Groucho. Full circle.)

When I finally got home, it was 12:30 and starting to snow.

It’s a good thing it was such a good concert. Otherwise it might have been a bad day.