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

I had to take a second look, and a third. I'm not a morning person and I usually travel to work in a state of semiconsciousness, so I had to be sure. But I wasn't dreaming, there was no mistake, there she was again: A young woman with orange hair -- I think it was meant to be brown, but something had obviously gone missing in translation -- on an Odakyu Line train at 8:20 heading for Shinjuku styling her hair with a pair of heated curling tongs.

Of course I'd seen women putting on their makeup on the train before -- eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, even a touch of foundation -- but this was a complete makeover, a before and after job. I thought she was taking a risk when she brought out the false eyelashes and glue just outside Umegaoka. As the train leaves the station and joins the main line there's a sudden stiff jolt, and I expected her to end up looking like a demented Mr. Potato Head, with one eyelash on her cheek and one on her forehead. But everything went where it was supposed to and I thought she would be satisfied with that until just before we got to Higashi-Kitazawa, when she plunged into her voluminous makeup bag and pulled out the curling tongs.

And then I realized: She had found the answer.

My journey to work takes about one hour. I know that is nothing compared to what some people have to endure. When I worked in London it was 90 minutes spent on two buses and two tube (subway) trains. During a working life of more than 20 years I have wasted so much time because I have never been able to find anything worthwhile to do while commuting.

Strap-hanging on a crowded train or standing on a bus swaying through traffic and reading don't really go together, especially as no one in Japan has had the common-sense to produce a tabloid English-language daily newspaper. And I would never dream of imposing my eclectic taste in music -- Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman, Django Reinhardt, the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, Puccini -- on anyone else. You know there really is no such thing as a personal stereo.

Perhaps I should take a leaf out of that young woman's book and use the train as an extension of home, although I'm not sure how my fellow travelers would react if I suddenly whipped out my Braun electric toothbrush and shaver. Or as I never have time for breakfast at home, perhaps I could eat on the move.

I remember once watching a couple tucking into a Chinese takeout meal that smelled like beef chow mein and special fried rice on the Piccadilly Line in London (it goes through the Leicester Square area where the capital's Chinatown is situated), and although I've never seen anything like that while commuting in Japan -- just the odd onigiri or pan in the morning and some McDonald's fries and a sneaky beer in the evening -- perhaps a surreptitious slice of toast wouldn't raise too many eyebrows.

Or perhaps I could spend the journey writing this column.

This is the 50th and final Sleepless in Setagaya. Changes are coming to the Weekly and sadly there won't be space for Sleepless. I do hope at least some of you have enjoyed reading these musings about my life in Japan. I am leaving the Weekly, but I trust that your interests will continue to be the No. 1 priority of the new editorial team.

The Japan Times Weekly: Dec. 11, 2004
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