Linguistic Landscape: Koganei and Akihabara
For this assignment I chose to focus on Koganei Park and Akihabara. Although they are not so far apart by train, they are quite different atmospherically. I chose these two locations for their extreme oppositeness, but also because the time it takes me to get there from ICU is fairly similar, surprisingly. Therefore, the journey to arrive at these location from when I’ve started the ritual is the same, but the results of output in the different locations is very different.
Arriving in Koganei Park is like walking onto an early morning train. It’s cheerfully quiet and the sun is warmly shining. Many of the locals are out and about running, having a picnic, biking, practicing tai chi, walk their dog, playing with their kids. Everyone is doing their own thing in their own space. If I am in the path of a runner who has to adjust around me, I’ve changed her ritual for the day, or perhaps even longer.
Coming out of the Akihabara train station is like entering an anime fairy tale world. It is filled with the sounds, colors, smells and sights of every video game, manga, and anime ever. The people are quite colorful; many are actually colorful in hair and dress, but others are colorful in personality. It’s as if the societal mold in which all of these Japanese people grew up in has been momentarily cast aside. Besides the locals (who are the true fans), foreigners tour around the area to gawk at the extremeness of everything. Similar to the freedom of entering Harajuku, the people in Akihabara are free to be whomever they want to be, whether that be extreme otaku or beginning Pokémon trainer.
Koganei is distinctly lacking a linguistic landscape. It is a bit of a blank in order to allow for one’s own ritual to take precedence. The only words are for the safety of oneself or others, for the safety of the natural area, or for the upmost important rules of the area. There is also a very tiny welcome sign, letting one enter the space as they will. The utter lack of words makes me curious as to how Japanese newcomers first respond to the area (and perhaps what it is), or how they first enter the space.
Akihabara’s very wordy welcome is unique to its purpose. The words that can be see inform, but also excite. Even if one is not a fan of maid cafes, words on the side of a building advertising a nearby café or the shouted word from an advertising maid on a street corner may be all the linguistic information needed to excite an avid fan of electronics. Or perhaps the symbol of a taiyaki treat seen from afar will immediately bring to mind a taste and a smell that is distinctly unique to one shop on one corner of Akihabara.
In the spring, I hope to continue to explore the idea of an equal journey resulting in a very different experience in the end, and how this idea relates to the idea of utopia. Although I was a little surprised by the extreme amount of words on the buildings in Akihabara, I think it will make a particularly excellent contrast to the absence of words to be found in Koganei.
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