Land of Noise

The chorus of living things provides an almost white-noise of sound at 10 p.m. on a warm spring evening in a countryside corner of Japan. Thousands of tiny newly-minted frogs compete with hordes of noise-generating insects in an insane chorus that sounds like 10,000 mini-747s all taking off at the same time.

But that doesn’t compare with the man-made cacophony that greets a traveller to Japan. Inside the airport, things begin talking, singing and beeping from the moment you exit the aircraft. An escalator tells you to be sure to hold onto the handrail and be careful of the last step. The robot trolley-car that ferries you from one terminal to the next tells you first when it’s about to arrive. Then it tells you where you’re going once you’re on it.

Trucks run to and fro during daylight hours everywhere in Japan yelling on loudspeakers about everything from elections to gummy rice. Supermarkets blare the supermarket theme and food hawkers yell at you to come try their wares.

But it’s twilight near a rice field where you find tranquillity.

This is why you reluctantly come to terms with Japan.