I don’t go on holiday expecting revelations.
But if you go to a country like Japan, spend a while wandering, observing, interacting and doing, you’re bound to be sensitive to difference, and open to possibility. I spent 3 weeks in Tokyo, Kyoto and Hiroshima, yes, doing the touristy stuff, but also taking my time, walking the boundaries, exploring the domestic, as well as the spectacular.
I’d spent the afternoon touring the zen buddhist temples of Daitoku-ji – I enjoyed these more than most of the larger, grander temples of Kyoto – however the revelation wasn’t here. It was catching the bus back into the centre of town, when I saw this bus stop. It shows when the buses will arrive, nothing more, nothing less. It’s a perfect example of tasteful ubicomp; clear, direct, single purpose, useful, and 100% reliable. What clicked with me is that it wasn’t electronic; no scrolling messages or LEDs. It was just there, in the background. And it worked – in other words, the complete opposite of the London Countdown system; ubiquitously signaling, minimally accurate. It was technology dissolved in the city, changing the experience for the better. I wonder if anything ‘electronic’ – screens, lights, buttons – will seem natural. It’s a choice we can make. Probably industry has or will force it to be – the Blade Runner future of screens everywhere – but it will take 50, 100 years to inter that as a natural part of the environment (the last technology to do so was probably the fixed-line telephone).
For just over a week I didn’t have a good reliable Internet connection. Not strictly true; I had my phone, and was perfectly able to get online if neccessary, but I was aware that someone would end up paying, at least. Two days were self-imposed removal, no laptop. Occasional access to the social Internet, through gmail, twitter and flickr on phone, but no useful Internet. Now, I know I’m not a normal tourist – I’m a planner by heart – I believe knowledge is power, and you can get so much more from knowing a little about your environment. So, I’d digested 3 guidebooks before the holiday. What struck me is that I’ve got in a mode of asking a lot of questions to make the now- and very-next better. When does the sun set today? What’s the weather forecast for the next 3 hours? Will I get sunburnt? Where’s the best place for sushi? What’s the special menu at the restaurant? What’s Plan B? and C? How do I get there? What’s it near? When does the store open? Does it take credit cards? Where are the monkeys? WHERE ARE THE MONKEYS? Not fluidtime, but fluidholiday. I could chop and change what I did, when I did it, but also seem ‘in the know’: the experience whilst experienced was maximised, and without the Internet, I felt dumb, I felt as though what I needed to know at any time was unrememorable, fuzzy.
Another huge change is the blue flashing ‘you are here’ dot in Google Maps Mobile. I can’t read Japanese maps, on paper or on phone, but being able to moderately precisely geolocate, and position myself on other hand-scrawled maps was invaluable, especially when leaving a railway station with 50 exits – the big new feature of Japanese mobile phone navigation is to guide you through all the stations. The big difference in Japan (and other Asian countries) is that it’s truly 3d cities – shops, bars, restaurants may be 5 floors below in the basement, or 110 stories up. Stairs, stairs everywhere, metro stations resemble 6 sided cube labyrinths. And, everyone seems lost. All the time. People carry and stare at files of addresses and maps. It’s unclear how many use the (pay-per-play) mobile phone navigation. With a universal ideolocator, and mobile email, I’m already forgetting to print off maps before I leave for somewhere (not even looking where I’m going if I think I have the address stored somewhere). It’s a lot of reliance on technology that is still very fallible, but it really makes me think it will change the way the world works, more so than the last 6-20 years we’ve been talking about it.
Japan is a land of happy. Aggressively loud happy. Moving cranes sing at you, the metro stations play their quirky tunes, Shibuya streets sound like Mario. Places thank you. Signs wear bowties. Meanwhile, a friend had met Toshiwa Iwai, who said “let’s all make happy interfaces” – to which another friend thought “[he] has precisely the wrong idea”. I stand in the middle. I’m a bit sick of plain utility, to be honest. I certainly want more politeness in technology, but if there’s an opportunity to mix in some happy, I’m unsure if that’s bad. It’s happy as in power moves, cheat codes, easter eggs, winking, delight, maybe even just plain working obsequiously and doing the right thing, flow.
Unplaceable – gyoza stadium, noh, raumen museum, visible dog, more pork, firewalking, moss the interrupter, random tv, nightingale floors, mr young men, penguin hobbling hour, more penguins, shoes from the future, sky gardens, always North, kitchen knife blacksmith since 1560, royal milk tea, songs from the 63rd floor.
Well, as the “precisely the wrong idea” guy, let me contextualize that a little bit. Because, as it happens, I’ve moved quite a bit down the road from pure functionality myself…in most cases.
I think that for a designer to presume what “happy” is and means, and to impose that on a user no matter that user’s current mental or affective state, is terribly limiting. And ultimately, I think, depressing – or, at least, that’s the effect that Japan’s sensurround gleecore began to have on me after about five months of living there.
You know – you know – I think interfaces are most efficient when they’re both polite (à la Dopplr), thoughtful (Google’s “Did you mean…?”) and delightful (iPhone). But I’m not at all convinced that what a competent, self-possessed adult user needs in most contexts is an introjection of “happy.”
More on point: I think N. and I might learn a thing or two from your approach to traveling. We have an interesting division of labor (she does most of the research and planning, I’m responsible for navigation and execution), and it makes us great travel buddies, but I think there’s something beautiful about your propensity to ask questions. We’re both a little timid in that department.
At any rate, I’m delighted you had such a good time in Japan, which really is at its splendid best when one visits for the space of a leisurely two or three weeks.
Great stuff, insights.
My most fascinating urban wayfinding has happened in Japan, including a spectacularly naive solo trip to Keio and the startling realization that all Romanji fades quite quickly just a stop outside of Tokyo. And, did my scrap of paper with “2 Bus” mean the 2nd bus in the queue, or the bus with a “2” on its sign?
My first trip to Tokyo a few years ago was accompanied by a hacked GPS that had a Tokyo map flashed to it. It helped immensely. Any trip into the city usually requires (for my geospatially hobbled brain) about 40 minutes of pre-planning in the hotel room with my Tokyo map “bible” and a few postit flags.
— Julian Bleecker 24.05.08 #
Hi Chris,
I loved reading this as I did the same trip a few years ago and have the same recollections. It was the 3D city thing that baffled me. At one point I thought I was going to be trapped in Osaka Station forever.
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