일본 동경에 온지 이제 한 주간이 지났습니다. 동경 다이토구 네기시에서 한 주간을 보내면서 이방인의 눈에 들어온 여러 가지 가운데 하나가 일본은 자전거의 나라라는 것입니다. 이 동네에서는 차 없이 사는 것은 조금도 이상하지 않아도, 자전거 없이 산다는 것은 상상하기 어려울 듯 합니다. 물론 제가 지내는 선교사님의 집에서 매일 한 두 차례 산책을 하는 우에노 공원까지 걷기 때문에 그런 인상을 더 받았을 수도 있습니다. 공원으로 가는 길 2킬로가 채 되지 않는 길은 주로 좁은 골목길이라, 지나가는 자동차보다 수 십 배나 많은 자전거를 만날뿐더러 집집마다 주차된 자동차보다는 더 많은 자전거가 세워져 있었습니다.
세워둔 자전거든지 지나가는 자전거든지 상관없이 단순히 많다는 것뿐만 아니라 참으로 다양하다는 것이 눈에 들어옵니다. 크기나 모양이 다를뿐만 아니라 그 나름의 개성이 있어 보입니다. 그리고 거의 모든 자전거는 타는 사람을 위한 안장 말고도 앞뒤에 뭔가를 실릴 수 있는 바구니(?)가 장착되어 있습니다. 짐을 실릴 수 있는 바구니도 있지만, 어린 아이들을 태울 수 있는 각종 모양의 보조의자가 있다는 것이 유난히 눈에 들어옵니다. 결코 장식용이 아니라는 것이 저녁을 먹고 산책을 나가보면 알 수 있습니다. 물론 주말에는 더 분명히 보입니다. 온 식구들이 자전거를 끌고나옵니다. 아기들은 엄마 아빠가 한 명씩 태우고, 어린이는 자기 자전거를 가지고 부모와 함께 타는 모습을 심심찮게 만납니다.
말하자면 자전거의 나라에서는 자전거만 있는 것이 아니라 가족이 있다는 것이, 가족생활이 있다는 것을 알 수 있습니다. 소위 “저녁이 있는 삶”은 정치가들의 입을 통해서 들리는 것이 아니라 평범한 일본인들의 일상속에 남아있다는 것이 참으로 부러웠습니다. 그것은 아침저녁으로 들르는 우에노 공원에서도 확인되는 현상입니다. 거기에는 여러 국적과 부류의 사람들을 만나지만, 특히 노부부가 함께 걷는 모습들이 자주 보여서 아름다웠습니다. 부부로 만나서 젊은 날부터 늙도록 함께 산다는 것은 특별한 은총입니다. 또 대부분의 유모차에는 아기가 앉아있는 것이 우리와는 달랐고, 혹시 자전거나 유모차에 개가 실렸다면 아이를 실린 유모차와는 다른 수준의 바구니를 보면서, 아직도 사람과 개는 구별이 되고 있구나 하는 생각이 들었습니다. 주인과 함께 공원에 나온 애완견들은 애완견으로 대우를 받고 있었고, 개들끼리 만나면 주인의 입으로 “오하이오~”를 주고 받습니다.
자전거를 통해서만 가족이 보이고, 공원에서만 사람이 보이는 것은 아닙니다. 골목길에서도 사회적 약자들이 활동하는 것이 보였습니다. 뿐만 아니라 심지어는 소위 공사판이라고 불리는 철거현장이나 건축현장에서도 약한 사람들이 보이는 것이 이색적이었습니다. 하긴 공사판이라고 모두 힘좋은 젊은이만 필요로 하는 일들은 아닐 것입니다. 보기에도 조금은 뒤쳐저 보이는 이들뿐만 아니라 연세가 꽤 들어보이는 분들이 작업현장에는 예외없이 보였습니다. 어르신의 연륜과 함께 축적된 지식과 지혜를 젊은이에게 전달하는 모습을 가끔씩 목도합니다. 일본경제가 내려앉고 있다는 전문가의 판단은 일 리가 있겠지만, 아직도 “빨리빨리”의 문화에서 건너온 제 눈에는 건강한 사회의 남아있는 일면처럼 보였습니다. 그것은 답답하리만큼 천천히 움직이는 일본 사회가 갖는 유익이라고 할까요^^ 다음 주간에는 또 무엇이 눈에 들어올지 기다려보겠습니다.
A week has passed since I arrived in Tokyo, Japan. Spending a week here in Negishi, Taito Ward, one of the many things that caught this stranger's eye is that Japan is truly a land of bicycles. In this neighborhood, living without a car is not in the least unusual, yet it seems hard to imagine living without a bicycle. Of course, I may have received that impression even more strongly because I walk every day, once or twice, from the missionary's home where I am staying to Ueno Park for a stroll. The route to the park, less than two kilometers long, consists mostly of narrow alleys, so not only do I encounter dozens of times more bicycles than passing cars, but far more bicycles than cars are parked outside every home.
Whether parked or passing by, what catches the eye is not merely their sheer number, but their incredible variety. They differ not only in size and shape, but each seems to have its own distinct personality. Moreover, almost every bicycle is equipped with baskets—front and back—capable of carrying cargo, in addition to the rider's saddle. While there are baskets meant for groceries and luggage, what particularly stood out to me were the various child seats designed to carry little ones. Taking a walk after dinner, one realizes that these are by no means mere decorations. Naturally, this becomes even more apparent on weekends. Whole families come out wheeling their bicycles. Quite frequently, one sees mothers and fathers carrying a baby each, while older children ride alongside their parents on their own little bikes.
In other words, in this land of bicycles, one discovers not just bicycles, but families—a flourishing family life. What people often call "a life with evenings" was not merely an empty phrase heard from politicians, but something truly alive in the everyday routines of ordinary Japanese people, which made me feel quite envious. This same reality is witnessed in Ueno Park, where I visit morning and evening. There I encounter people of various nationalities and walks of life, but what was particularly heartwarming was seeing elderly couples walking together so frequently. To meet as husband and wife, journeying together from the days of youth into old age, is indeed a singular grace. Furthermore, unlike back home, almost all strollers carried babies; and on the rare occasion a dog was riding in a bicycle basket or stroller, it was placed in a basket distinctly different in grade from a baby's carriage, reminding me that a clear distinction is still maintained between humans and dogs. The pets brought to the park alongside their owners were treated fittingly as pets, and whenever dogs met, their owners exchanged gentle "Ohayō" greetings on their behalf.
It is not only through bicycles that families can be seen, nor only in the park that people are noticed. Even in the narrow back alleys, vulnerable members of society could be seen actively engaged in life. What was even more unusual was seeing older or physically weaker individuals working on demolition sites and construction grounds. To be sure, not every job on a construction site requires vigorous, strong young people. Without exception, one could see at these work sites elderly individuals as well as those who seemed a bit slower or physically frail. Occasionally, I would witness an elder passing down their accumulated knowledge and wisdom, born of long years of experience, to younger workers. While economists' judgments that Japan's economy is declining may hold truth, to my eyes—coming from a hurried "ppalli-ppalli" (hurry-hurry) culture—this appeared to be a remaining glimpse of a healthy society. Perhaps one might call it the quiet blessing of a Japanese society that moves almost frustratingly slow. I look forward with gentle anticipation to seeing what will catch my eye in the coming week.
'n Week het nou verloop sedert ek in Tokio, Japan, aangekom het. Terwyl ek 'n week hier in Negishi, Taito-wyk, deurgebring het, was een van die vele dinge wat hierdie vreemdeling se oog gevang het, dat Japan waarlik 'n land van fietse is. In hierdie buurt is dit glad nie vreemd om sonder 'n motor te leef nie, maar om sonder 'n fiets klaar te kom, lyk byna ondenkbaar. Natuurlik het ek dalk daardie indruk des te sterker gekry omdat ek daagliks een of twee keer vanaf die sendeling se huis waar ek tuisgaan na Ueno-park stap vir 'n wandeling. Die pad na die park, skaars twee kilometer ver, loop hoofsaaklik deur nou systraatjies; daarom kom 'n mens nie net tientalle kere meer fietse teë as verbygaande motors nie, maar by elke huis staan daar ook heelwat meer fietse as motors geparkeer.
Of hulle nou geparkeer staan en of hulle verbyry, dit is nie bloot die getalle wat opval nie, maar die merkwaardige verskeidenheid. Hulle verskil nie net in grootte en vorm nie, maar elkeen lyk asof dit 'n eie karakter het. Boonop is byna elke fiets toegerus met mandjies voor en agter waarin vrag vervoer kan word, buiten die saal vir die ryer. Hoewel daar mandjies vir bagasie en inkopies is, het die verskillende soorte kinderstoeltjies wat gemonteer is om kleuters te vervoer, my veral opgeval. Wanneer 'n mens ná aandete gaan stap, besef jy gou dat dit geensins bloot vir versiering is nie. Oor naweke is dit natuurlik nog duideliker te sien. Hele gesinne kom met hul fietse te voorskyn. 'n Mens sien gereeld hoe ma en pa elkeen 'n babetjie oplaai, terwyl die ouer kinders op hul eie fietsies langs hul ouers trap.
In hierdie land van fietse ontdek 'n mens met ander woorde nie net fietse nie, maar gesinne—'n egte gesinslewe. Die sogenaamde "lewe met rustige aande" is nie iets wat bloot uit die monde van politici weerklink nie, maar iets wat tasbaar voortleef in die daaglikse roetine van gewone Japannese, en dít het my waarlik jaloers gemaak. Dieselfde verskynsel word ook bevestig in Ueno-park, waar ek soggens en saans 'n draai maak. Daar ontmoet 'n mens mense van verskillende nasionaliteite en stande, maar wat veral pragtig was, was om te sien hoe gereeld bejaarde egpare hand aan hand wandel. Om mekaar as man en vrou te vind en van die jeugjare tot in die grysheid saam te lewe, is 'n besondere genade. Verder het die meeste stootwaentjies ware babas vervoer—heel anders as wat ons dikwels tuis sien—en as daar wel 'n hondjie op 'n fiets of in 'n stootwaentjie gelaai was, was dit in 'n heel ander klas mandjie as dié vir 'n kind; dit het my laat besef dat daar steeds 'n duidelike onderskeid tussen mens en dier gehandhaaf word. Troeteldiere wat saam met hul eienaars na die park gebring is, is met respek as diere behandel, en wanneer die honde mekaar ontmoet, wissel die eienaars namens hulle 'n vriendelike "Ohayō" uit.
Dit is nie net deur fietse dat 'n mens gesinne raaksien nie, en ook nie net in die park waar mense opgemerk word nie. Selfs in die nou stegies kon 'n mens sien hoe die kwesbaarder lede van die samelewing aktief besig is. Wat meer is, dit was opvallend om selfs op die sogenaamde bouterreine en afbreekpersele ouer of swakker mense aan die werk te sien. 'n Bouterrein het immers nie net sterk jongelinge nodig nie. Sonder uitsondering kon 'n mens op werksterreine bejaardes sien sowel as diegene wat liggaamlik dalk 'n bietjie stadiger gelyk het. Soms het ek aanskou hoe 'n ouer werker die kennis en wysheid wat oor baie jare opgebou is, geduldig aan die jongeres oordra. Die kenners se oordeel dat die Japannese ekonomie agteruitgaan, mag dalk waar wees, maar in my oë—wat gevorm is deur ons gejaagde "gou-gou"-kultuur—het dit gelyk soos 'n kosbare oorblyfsel van 'n gesonde samelewing. Miskien kan 'n mens dit die seën noem van 'n Japannese samelewing wat byna tergend stadig beweeg. Ek wag met verwagting om te sien wat in die komende week nog my oog sal vang.