* This essay column is written by a longtime foreign resident of Japan.

The truism, "As different as night and day" is particularly apt in reference to the decibel level in Doshi, a village in Yamanashi Prefecture where I've lived with my wife, sons and mother-in-law since 1991.

In newspapers and magazines, one reads about how the government pours money into construction projects around the nation. In Doshi, one can see at firsthand the concrete results, if you'll pardon the pun, of such expenditure. Noise travels well in the countryside, so in the daytime you can often hear chain saws, electric saws, jackhammers, power shovels or trucks being used.

Two years ago, four such projects were within earshot or sight of our house. Between us and the main road the final stages of an access roadway to the neighboring graveyard were under way while down at Route 413 new concrete drainage channels were being installed alongside the road. Visible, and very audible, across Doshi River, a road and big bridge were being built -- albeit leading to nowhere in particular. And a forest track was (and is) being extended across the hillside above our house, necessitating the frequent use of chain saws and power shovels.

I point out to my fellow villagers that the most popular things in Doshi aren't ABC but BCD, for besso, camp-jo and doro; all of which cause some destruction to the natural surroundings. The campsite "boom" is about played out, but that land is being covered by holiday homes.

Roadways, however, are perennially popular projects, the most infamous of which was exposed in the vernacular Yamanashi Shimbun as going absolutely nowhere. For that matter, it starts nowhere special in some fields, runs parallel to the river, then stops 100 meters or so short of a bridge and the narrow road that crosses it. And, to add insult to injury, a holiday home has been built between the new roadway and the river.

Plus some of the construction is not particularly well thought out. Although the concrete roadway next to us does allow access to the graveyard, the road surface slopes away from the drainage channels, initially diverting rainwater onto our property. At one stage, I mixed some concrete, built plywood forms then rectified a design fault in a drain that would have diverted water across our property boundary whenever it rained.

I thus find many of the construction projects in Doshi annoying not just for the racket they produce but for their lack of purpose and planning, plus waste of taxpayers' money. Mind you, they do help the employment situation.

While noisy, the villagewide public address system is undoubtedly beneficial. As well as broadcasting chimes twice a day at noon and 5 p.m. for those working in the fields without watches, the strategically located speakers inform us of upcoming or canceled events, that the school bus will be 20 minutes late due to the snow or to drive carefully because the police are operating a speed trap on the main road!

But the nights are quiet and offer a welcome respite from any din during the days; the principal exceptions being fireworks and noisy devices to scare nocturnal predators away from crops in the fields.

Summertime campers don't seem to appreciate how well noise travels and that in the countryside the rule of early to bed, early to rise tends to prevail. And while farmers are welcome to protect their crops from the predations of deer or wild boar, devices giving off loud bangs at frequent intervals during the hours of darkness might not be the most convivial approach.

No, the night should be a time for the hoots of owls, the chittering of flying squirrels, the melancholy plaints of night birds, the shrieks of foxes or the rustling of dormice in our house walls in winter. Being a very light sleeper, the traffic-filled city night is not for me: In Tokyo, I certainly would be sleepless in Setagaya!

If you have any comments please e-mail me
at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp.

The Japan Times Weekly: May 10, 2003
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