Let's walk on the right!

It's been nearly two years since I was last in Korea, in October 2008.  I noticed something different on my first day in Seoul.  It was this sign, on a stairway in the Seoul Metro:

(Top: Korean, written in the Korean alphabet.  Bottom left: English, written in the Roman alphabet.  Bottom middle: Korean, written in Chinese characters.  Bottom right: Japanese, written in Chinese characters.)

If you travel, you learn pretty quickly that different countries have different walking habits, and these are generally independent of the side of the road that one drives on.  (Sometimes different cities have different habits.  I learned that when riding escalators, residents of Tokyo and Osaka stand on different sides, leaving the other side clear for those who prefer to walk on the escalator.)  Korea has been a walk-on-the-left culture.  But now, suddenly, there were signs and arrows stuck onto every pathway and staircase—not just in the Metro, but in parks, office buildings, nearly any public or semi-public space—urging people to walk on the right.  What was going on?

Over the next few days, I gradually realized that a full-scale public campaign was going on.  Posters were plastered all over the subway stations, posters like this one:

It says: "Convenient and safe walking on the right!  It's the world's, and our, walking culture."  Look at all the happy people from around the world, all walking on the right!  Say, is that Einstein?  I think it is.  He's walking on the right too!  The man's a genius!

Here's a lovely Korean family making their life a paradise by walking on the right:

What was going on?  We believed we'd solved the mystery when we learned that the next G20 meeting is to be held in Seoul.  Some government bureaucrat must have woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, contemplating the image of the French ambassador running up the steps out of the Seoul Metro station, late for an important G20 conference on tarrifs, and colliding head-on with a clean-cut Korean family walking on the left.   Sacré bleu, would think the Frenchman, these Coréens, they are backward barbarians, unfit for membership in the civilized world.

Could Korea become a civilized nation in only a few months, and be spared the humility of becoming the left-walking laughingstock of the G20?  Yes, says the Korean government, Yes we can!

"The Republic of Korea, and the world, both walk on the right!"  Note Korea proudly leading the way, with USA, Spain, Canada, France, and all other right-walking nations not far behind.

The funny thing is, of course, that the side one walks on is completely arbitrary.   The sign below yet again proclaims that walking on the right is convenient and safe -- but surely walking on the left is also convenient and safe?

Korea is a highly advanced country, with something like the 11th-largest economy in the world. It is a member of the G20.  Yet it is still plagued by something of an inferiority complex.  Will Korea be taken seriously?  Does anyone even know we exist?  How can we impress everyone when hosting the G20?  The obvious answer is to walk on the right, dammit!

Can you imagine the British engaging in a campaign like this?

Matsuyama cyclists

Matsuyama residents are masterful cyclists. They appear to be born to their bicycles, like Mongolians on horseback.

They ride on crowded sidewalks among pedestrians, down narrow side streets against car traffic, through shopping malls, over trolley tracks. Old and young, businessmen in suits, college students after class, parents doing errands: everyone, it seems, is on a bike. Despite the close quarters in which they frequently maneuver, I did not once see a collision.

Matsuyamans frequently bike with just one hand, the other being used to hold a bag, an umbrella, or a drink. I once saw a guy biking while holding an umbrella in one hand and an open can of beer in the other.

The bicycles themselves are not at all fancy. On the contrary, they are starkly utilitarian.

Most have baskets in front. The placement of the headlamp is almost always down beside the front wheel.

I like the way the basket support post wraps around the light. This placement of the headlamp is superior to placement on the handlebars the way we do it in the US. First, the light isn't blocked by the basket or its contents.  Second, proximity to the road surface means better illumination. Third, the low placement prevents the light from shining in the eyes of oncoming bicycle, car, or pedestrian traffic.

To support all of this biking, a lot of parking infrastructure is needed.  This is one of the parking areas on Ehime University campus.

Here's the covered mall in downtown Matsuyama.  Actually, I think that parking here might be illegal.

You're supposed to park your bike in one of these parking areas inside the mall, which are patrolled by guards to prevent theft.

A block away from the covered mall is this bicycle and scooter parking garage.  Note the moral monkeys, who are helpfully protecting the environment.

The moral monkeys have created a memorable acronym.  (Okaido is the name of the big street in the downtown area.)

Almost everywhere you go you can always find a few bikes parked.

This is a typical bike lock: simple and small.  It won't prevent someone from physically removing the bike, but it does make it unrideable, which is usually deterrent enough.

During the rainy season, many Matsuyama residents tuck an umbrella along the rear wheel.

Here are a few (blurry) pictures of Matsuyama bikers carrying umbrellas in the rain as they ride.

If I'd planned to stay longer, I would have bought, borrowed, or rented a bicycle.

Breakfast-o-rama

Ehime University Faculty Guesthouse breakfasts:

June 13

June 14

June 15

June 18

June 26, Taoyuan Airport, Taipei. I was trying to use up my remaining New Taiwan Dollars change, about 70 NTD (a bit over two dollars). The cheapest item available for purchase in the entire airport was a tea egg at 10 NTD, or about 30 cents.  The item on the left is a red-bean-paste-filled steamed bun.

June 29 (omu-rice)

July 8 (cha-han)

July 9 (curry rice)

July 12: Japanese breakfast at the Keikan Hotel, Kyoto (this is the plastic model)

July 13: Buffet breakfast at the Keikan Hotel, Kyoto

July 16: Buffet breakfast at the Tokyu Inn, Matsuyama

July 17: Breakfast at bed-and-breakfast on Hakatajima

Bento-rama

After you've finished eating your bento, you have to dispose of the container properly. The container is made from a pressed styrofoam; to keep the food from soaking into it, the styrofoam is coated with a thin layer of plastic. Styrofoam and plastic coating must be recycled separately. Instructions are printed on the inside of the container.

Peel:

Then you take both pieces outside to this bewildering array of recycling bins.  Plastic in one, styrofoam in another:

Just as I have a favorite vending machine, I also have a favorite recycling machine.  Perhaps not coincidentally, it is always found next to a vending machine.  It's for recycling the paper cups.

You can pour any leftover liquid into the bin on the left.  Then you push a button to pop this lid open:

Empty cup goes upside down onto the exposed plastic post:

You close the lid, there is a whirring sound as the cup is, presumably, broken down into its component molecules, which are then sorted and distributed to appropriate locations around the country.

A shiny 10-yen coin (about 10 cents US) is your reward.  That's a significant discount on the price of the vending machine coffee.

I never did figure out all of the recycling and garbage categories in Japan.  This is the largest array of disposal bins I saw during my time there.  I think it was at a freeway rest stop on the Shimanami Kaidō.

Kushikatsu

I presented a paper at Kansai University in Osaka soon after Erma's arrival in Japan. We took advantage of the occasion to do some sightseeing in Osaka and Kyoto.

Our hotel in Osaka, the Granvia by one of the main train stations, was pretty fancy. It's the first time I've ever seen the toilet's control panel in the bathroom wall instead of on the arm of the toilet.

I also really liked the heated mirror, which kept the central area clear no matter how steamy the bathroom got.

Our first destination was Tsūtenkaku Tower:

The area around the tower is a seedy but vibrant neighborhood, where tourists and locals mix and aggressive restaurant owners troll for business.

There were lots of oversized statues and models adorning the shops and restaurants.

The most prominent was the mysterious Billiken. He's the one in the middle:

Web searches reveal that the Billiken ("The God of Things As They Ought to Be") was created in 1906 and eventually became a mascot for St. Louis University; it somehow became adapted as a symbol of Osaka, for reasons that remain murky.  Suffice to say that the guy was everywhere.

As we waited in a long line inside the tower for the elevator that would take us up to the top, we snaked past various amusements designed to distract us from the tedium of the wait.  Most of them involved the Billiken.

I am a Billiken.  Erma is not a peanut. The reason not-a-peanut Erma is saying "No double-dipping!" will become apparent soon.

After we'd taken in the views of Osaka from the top of the tower, and were ready to go back down, we noticed a huge crowd gathered around the elevators. After a few moments we realized that they weren't waiting to go down; rather, they were waiting for someone to come up. Most had cameras or cell phones at the ready.  When the elevator doors opened, bright lights seemed to erupt from nowhere, the crowd surged forward in excitement, and an entourage emerged.  It was nearly impossible to tell what was going on, or to get a good view of the presumed celebrity.  I managed these two photos:

I think, but I'm not sure, that it's the short older man who is the center of attention.  Can anyone identify him by looking at the back of his head?

Back out on the street, it was time for dinner.  The local specialty is kushikatsu (串カツ), deep-fried skewered food.  Kushikatsu look more or less like this, only thousands of times smaller:

Almost anything can be cooked as kushikatsu: chicken, fish, mushrooms, and so on. They're greasy and heavy, not at all like tempura.

Not-a-peanut Erma was in fact a kushikatsu. Kushikatsu are dipped in sauce before they are eaten. At the restaurants in the area, giant communal vats of sauce are left at the tables or on the counters. This is the reason for the oft-encountered no double-dipping admonition.

I have to say, well-behaved Japanese people or no, I found the whole system disturbingly unhygienic. Who knows what's gotten into those vats? Who knows when they were last cleaned and filled with fresh sauce? Ugh.

Two pictures from the Dōtonbori of Osaka the next day.  I like the way the color of Erma's umbrella matches the color of the giant moving crab.

Look! It's Kang and Kodos.  In Osaka!