Last time in Part I of this series, we explored the rail corridor between Osaka and Kobe, uncovering why it is so cheap and reliable compared to those in other countries [find the story link below if you’ve not yet read it].
This time we hop on the Hankyu line train together for a short ride. Very short, because the train is not the main dish this time. What is the main dish? It is named Jūsō, and beware, it is the kind of glorious ‘suburb’ that might give Western urban planners — and car companies — nightmares.
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We board the Hankyu Limited Express train in Osaka. This train runs every ten minutes, skipping a majority of the stops en-route to Kobe and beyond.
Many people on this train are going to Kobe. Let’s not do that.
Instead, I want us to explore one of the normal, everyday ‘suburban’ neighborhoods served by this train line — the kind of place that everyone passes by on the way to Kobe, and yet few have occasion to stop at unless they live or have business there. Note that we say ‘suburban’ here to mean an area outside the central business districts, one that might include single family homes, albeit, not of the kind most Americans and Europeans would recognize. [If you are curious what that means, check out the radical difference in how 20-meters of street is used in America and Japan.]
Pulling out of Hankyu Umeda station, the train clicks and clanks across the Yodo River. What a grand view of the city we get from here. Every time I take this ride, as the skyscrapers shrink in the distance and the calm expanse of water underneath the causeway takes over the view, a strange combination of melancholy and peace takes over. Riding this train is like a meditation of sorts.
This time however, after a short two minutes train meditation, suddenly we are at Jūsō.
We alight here and exit directly into the West side neighborhood. This is a normal scene to most Japanese urbanites, but somehow, excitement wells up inside of me. Excitement because, even within that somewhat standardized framework of urban Japan, there are so many interesting alterations and surprises that make me wonder — in a good way — what the city planners here are smoking.
AN EMPIRE OF PEDESTRIANS
The first thing we notice outside the station is the absence of cars.
There is no curbside pickup and dropoff area. There are no parking spots because there is no car access. What there are however, are pedestrian arcades filled with shops, restaurants, homes, and many many people buzzing in and around an in between all of it, on foot, on bicycle, in electric wheelchairs, with walkers.
You know how I love maps. So I took the liberty of mapping this pedestrian empire for you. In doing so, I was reminded how well connected the station is with pedestrian pathways — most of which are covered shopping or dining streets — and also, just how wide the vehicle streets on the periphery of this station neighborhood are. One length of street with a few dozen cars on it is as wide as an entire shopping block that might contain a hundred shops!
I realize a problem though. Not a problem with this place, but a personal problem. After getting my bearings, it seems that I actually meant to exit on the East side of the station.
How to get there from here?
Follow the flow of pedestrians under the tracks, through a narrow underpass, and emerge some seconds later at another, different shopping arcade.
As I walk to the East Side exit, the rush of life and vitality of an entire neighborhood feels as if it is swirling around me, yet it does not feel chaotic or stressful. It feels absolutely comfortable. Trains pull in, airing their breaks, schoolkids laugh and play with each other on their way home, an elderly couple meets on the bench under the trees in front of the station, and I meet two friends here as we prepare to walk into the neighborhood.
As we walk together I notice there is an uncovered space between the covered street and the station. This space signals something else going on — cars are allowed on this side of the station.
They are allowed. But somehow we don’t see any.
Another way to say it in this case is that cars are tolerated to approach this entrance to the station. People still rule the streets, and cars are allowed, slowly, carefully, somewhat awkwardly through a narrow, single-lane street that bends around a corner in between the station and the neighborhood.
There is no main motor vehicle thoroughfare here. Yet there are people. A lot of them, of all ages, moving freely and comfortably. It feels strange to say this, but in this moment the absence of a car suddenly feels like a fullness.
URBAN PLANNING THAT VALUES HUMAN LIFE?
All of these observations reveal something important and very intentional about how the role of the car is managed here. Driving a car in a place like this must feel awkward.
It must, because making people feel comfortable in an urban space means making cars feel awkward. Making people feel safe, means forcing cars to move slowly and carefully. Not suggesting cars to move slowly by signage and markings, not coercing cars to move carefully by threat of legal action or fines, but forcing them, by design, to be polite guests in a space.
There is no stop sign here. There are no speed bumps. One does not see a ‘drive careful’ sign, nor a painted crosswalk, nor crossing guards, flashing lights, or day-glo vests and flags for pedestrians to wave vigorously in hope that a distracted or otherwise incapacitated driver would suddenly see them. The simple act of making drivers feel awkward, by constricting their space — and ensuring steady, dense flows of pedestrians — renders all of these other ‘instruments’ absolutely unnecessary.
The idea that every city and every street in every neighborhood should be built to accommodate multiple lanes of traffic and street parking is not only outdated, it was probably never a good idea in the first place. Our continued addiction to that idea necessitates all the previously mentioned interventions.
It also necessitates something more sinister.
Do you know by chance, what the leading cause of death is for people under 30 years old in the world? I think you will have guessed it.
Motor vehicles are responsible for the deaths of more children and young adults (ages 5-29) than any other cause, according to the WHO. Further, in the United States, 18-percent of these deaths are not drivers or passengers, but pedestrians. That, and despite our Vision Zero campaigns, pedestrian deaths have gone up 77-percent in the past 10 years.
A pedestrian empire does not have these problems.
Thus, Jūsō Station — and perhaps some thousand other stations in Japan too — might be proof that we can change this statistic. They are certainly proof that pedestrian-centric neighborhoods interconnected with mass transit are possible and desirable for countless reasons, not the least of which are increased safety and livability.
However, if we do value safety and livability, one could well make the argument that rail stations connected directly to pedestrian neighborhoods without wide vehicular streets dividing one from the other, would be a reasonable default planning option.
It is also a pretty good option for people who like trains.
Whatever these Japanese urban planners are smoking, they should share it with others.
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As it is, we are not done with Jūsō just yet.
Next time, we will walk a bit further into the neighborhood. I don’t know if I’ll have the time and energy for another map, but get ready for the strange and wonderful world of air conditioner art, impossible street gardens where no space for gardening exists, and maybe … a Samurai or two?
How lovely! Living in East Asia is quite a different experience from living in the States that's for sure. Haven't spent much time in Japan myself, but now I want to! This is also giving me ideas for world-building...