The Great Divide



Tentatively this splotch that looks like a shrink's flash card is a link to a pretty shoddy map I put together of the intersection I've decided to call the "serpent" which is a block away from Keio University. When my tech skills get on par I'll give a go at trying to fix it. This installment of the first assignment fulfills part two of the final day of my interaction with the Minato-ku neighborhood Mita. Now, I know that as an objective observer I am not supposed to make assumptions about behavior but the patterns in the flow of foot traffic were irresistible. On the weekends the people walking around vary of age and nothing about their strolls along the walkways indicate a purposeful duty. Return on an early weekday morning and you can expect to find a completely different public design. It looks as if the division that Sakurada Dori pierces through the neighborhood demographically also extends sociologically as well. As I later learned, the relationship between an adult and a student in Tokyo is one of disregard for the younger generation. This information helps explain why the main street parts the sidewalks into separate herds of distinct dress. On one side there are packs of students meandering their way to their classes and on the opposite side of the street are the shuffling suits and dresses of the morning commuters. Like oil and water they exist naturally separate from each other. If you haven't guessed from the legend on the map, the times indicate the length of the cycles of each traffic light in alphabetical sequence. After the observational part of the assignment I noticed that the commuters had all chosen to use the apparently burdensome "serpent" crossing over the crossing at the entrance of Keio University. After several experiments timing the lights and walking back and forth between them at different interval changes, I concluded that the "serpent" crossing is surprisingly more convenient. Between both intersections the "serpent" has a waiting time two seconds less than the Keio crossing. At the longest possible wait at the Keio crossing (approaching just as it turned red), walking at an average 3.5 miles per hour towards the "serpent" crossing measured an average 79 seconds and arriving to an expected 12 second light change in waiting time. In total the most a pedestrian can save by crossing at the "serpent" is 19 seconds. That's the difference between getting a can of coffee at the vending machine versus receiving reprimand at a meeting for yawning. Have the morning commuters over the years discovered this crosswalk phenomenon or has the natural parting of the classes coincidentally worked in favor of the salaryman? Further, could it be a grand design of the city's planners?