It has
recently come to my attention that after six years, my days of living abroad may be
numbered (or they may not, we don’t know yet but we will soon). I’ve already
forgotten so many things about life in Japan
and Switzerland, and I’m
sure that the same thing will happen once we leave Spain. For that reason, I’ve
decided to start writing some posts about cultural differences amongst all the
places I’ve lived. Here is the first.
Street Life
New York City
Obviously
there are plenty of homeless people in NYC and I’d guess that a majority suffer
from some kind of addiction and/or mental illness. A lot of them would like you
to give them money but in general I’ve always found them to be pretty low-key
about it. They usually just plop themselves down on the sidewalk with a
cardboard sign which provides any extra details they wish to give you as to why
they need help. Some with a bit more get-up-and-go will travel the subways,
giving well-rehearsed speeches about their plights, or singing for a bit of
change. Of course there are plenty of ranters as well. However, they’re
generally not asking for money but rather, just raving about something they’d really
like you to know about (i.e. Jesus Christ, the evil symbolism of this year’s
Macy’s Santa Claus´s belt buckle, etc.).
Tokyo, Japan
Relatively
speaking, Tokyo
has very few homeless people and during the three years I lived there, I was
never once asked for a hand-out. I remember one park in Shibuya where several
homeless people had made a small town for themselves out of cardboard boxes.
What struck me the most was how outside several of the shelters, you could see
pairs of shoes which the inhabitants had taken off before entering their boxes.
There were also several brooms propped up beside the doors. One must have
standards after all.
On the
other hand, after 11 pm or so, the streets of Tokyo are absolutely teeming with drunk
Japanese businessmen and office workers. These guys never ask you for money but
they sometimes pinch your bottom or worse, throw up on your feet. Riding on the
metro at that time of night is like being trapped inside an empty can of stale
beer and the stations are full of warning signs depicting cartoon pictures of
unsteady looking men in suits falling onto the train tracks. Oddly, this sort of behavior seems to be perfectly acceptable in Japan. This never seemed fair to me considering that walking around with an exposed bra strap is seen as utterly shameful.
Lausanne, Switzerland
Are there
homeless people in Switzerland?
I never saw one. There was a tidy little group of dope addicts who hung out
near the entrance to the parking garage near the Place de la Riponne but that
was really about it.
Madrid, Spain
The old
center of Madrid
is rife with all sorts of street life. There are pickpockets, gypsies, people with horrible
deformities sitting on the sidewalks with signs asking for money, people who
cover their bodies in silver paint and stand still for hours at a time and so
on and so forth. My neighborhood is about 40 minutes walking from the center and
we still have a fair number of local street characters. Most of them I see on a
daily basis and am familiar enough with them that we’ll frequently exchange
small talk about my kids, the weather etc.
There is one particular gypsy woman whose
beat seems to unfortunately coincide with my daily routine. She always wears stripy socks and I really
don't like her because she curses me (by this I mean she literally puts hexes on me as opposed to just telling me to fuck off) whenever I refuse to give her
money. It doesn't seem to have occurred to her that cursing people is probably not the best way to cement good relations for possible future donations.
On my street we also have several accordion players. They tend to adopt a certain location and
then stick to it religiously (I often wonder about the intricacies of street
musician turf politics). At night when the tapas bars are open, they roam up
and down the street, playing one or two tunes at each spot and then moving on to
the next. Since we live directly upstairs from two bars with outdoor seating, I
can safely say that if given the choice between listening to five minutes of
jack hammering versus yet another accordion rendition of “My Way,” I’d gladly
choose the former.
