The gap between Tokyo/Yokohama and Sapporo that I felt during a two-week business trip to Yokohama at age 26.

"Hey, it's only for about two weeks, but could you live in Yokohama where our headquarters is?"

Back at my previous job, when my female boss said this to me, I hesitated for a moment before answering "Yes." I hesitated because I didn't want to leave Sapporo. I have lived in Sapporo my entire life, up until this very day.

"Two weeks, huh."

Even though she said two weeks, I suspected that it would somehow get extended to a few months, and that I would end up being forced to leave Sapporo indefinitely. It felt like those American soldiers who said, "I'll be home by Christmas," but in the end... you know the type.

"So, I'll rent a monthly apartment in Yokohama for you starting in September, so try to get a feel for how work is done in Yokohama and Tokyo."

You know the type of boss I'm talking about, right?

The kind who constantly looks down on regional cities and praises the Tokyo style. I'm sure there's someone like that around you, too. Their catchphrase is always, "The pace in the provinces is just too slow," and it's customary for them to chug beer at an izakaya while shouting, "Ahhh!"


This breed is especially common in venture companies.
And it's always the people like this who aren't even from Tokyo themselves.

While feeling that subtle disdain for the provinces drifting from my boss's words, I thought, "Well, everything is an experience," and felt grateful for the valuable opportunity. And so, my first stay in the Kanto region began.

I remember the day I left.

To get from Sapporo to Yokohama, I had to take a plane. The journey from Sapporo Station to New Chitose Airport. My partner, whom I was dating at the time, and I...

"I'm going to Yokohama for two weeks."

"Oh... f-for two whole weeks..."

"It's okay, it's not like we're saying goodbye forever."

"B-but... two whole weeks..."

"It's not like I'm going to Brazil."

"B-but..."

It's fine, really. It's just two weeks. If I were an elementary school student, I'd understand. If you give an elementary schooler two weeks, their mind and body grow in surprising ways. But I'm an adult. I won't change that much.

My partner came with me to New Chitose Airport to see me off. There is no one as kind as that person. "Wait, am I going off to war now?" I thought. My partner waved until the very end, waving so hard that I thought their hand might fly off and soar right out of New Chitose Airport.

Tokyo/Yokohama and Sapporo.

The difference between a major metropolis and a regional city.

I would like to introduce
six differences that I, at 26 years old, felt at the time.

▶︎1. There are so many people. Too many.

I first felt that difference at Yokohama Station while heading to a business meeting with my boss. There were too many people. I asked,

“Um, is there some kind of festival going on today?”

“No, haha. This is normal.”

“Wow, it’s enough to make my head spin.”

In Sapporo, when a summer festival is held at a park in the city called Nakajima Park, there are times when the crowd is so large it’s overwhelming. Yokohama Station had just as many people. I felt like I could almost hear people shouting “Wasshoi!”

“Is there some kind of festival today?”

I said that with the intention that my boss might be amused. I was being a bit of a little devil.

▶︎2. You don’t make eye contact with the people you pass.

I felt that way while walking through the station.

When you walk through the underground walkways in Sapporo, you pass by all sorts of people. And you make eye contact. It’s not like we’re exchanging greetings or anything, but you make eye contact. But at Yokohama Station, I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. Not a single person. Everyone’s faces looked dead.

I thought that everyone was so desperate to live their own lives that there was no room here to even think about the lives of others.

▶︎3. Being shoved into the train during the morning rush.

They pack us into the train so tightly that it makes you wonder if the station staff even recognize people as human beings. Inside the packed train, a sweaty middle-aged man right in front of me was shaking his shoulders, going “wheeze, wheeze” as he exchanged oxygen and carbon dioxide, and I thought, “I can see why this would break you mentally.”

Furthermore, I witnessed a surprising sight inside that packed train.

In a train overflowing with people, a child was studying.

Seriously?

That's what I thought.

When I spotted that child, I had the sensation that my own eyes were zooming in on them like a camera lens.

Of course, there are people who study on trains in Sapporo, and I was that kind of student too. But seeing a "child" studying in the middle of such a crowded train, I thought,

"No wonder they get into schools like Todai. Kids in Sapporo can't compete with that."

That's what I thought.

▶︎4. Tokyo is Tokyo no matter how far you go.

Sapporo, where I live, is a decent city too. It has a population of 1.97 million, a fair number of buildings, and many tourist spots right in the city center.

However, Tokyo is in a league of its own. No matter how far you go, it's still Tokyo. No matter which station you get off at, Tokyo spreads out before you. In Sapporo, the business district centers around Sapporo Station, but if you ride the train for just 15 minutes, you'll see rural landscapes.

The sky in Tokyo feels narrow.
Even when I look toward the distant horizon, more buildings stretch out. I like large things in the distance, so I found myself saying, "Wow, that's huge!" and I actually like that kind of Tokyo scenery.

▶︎5. Business people are like robots.

I felt this while talking to a representative from a certain company. They prioritize data. They ask if there is even the slightest bit of information that could be beneficial to their company. They ask about pros and cons incessantly. I thought, "There's no need to go that far." There are few people like this in Sapporo.

There is a sense of pride that they are the ones driving the Japanese economy. And there is also an air about them that suggests they recognize they are merely one cog in a machine. Work and private life are completely separated.

▶︎6. The food at izakayas is not good.

I was surprised. This might be because I'm from Hokkaido, but that's how I felt when I ate a sashimi platter. The people from the company took me to an izakaya in Yokohama and said,

"Well, Mr./Ms. XX, you're from Hokkaido, so I don't know if the food will suit your palate, but this place is delicious!"

It was bad.

The rice, the sashimi, and everything else. It all lacked freshness. It was like a plastic food display.

For the sake of politeness, when I ate the red meat sashimi, I chewed with a blank expression and said,
"This is better than in Hokkaido!"

but in my heart, I was thinking,

What is this red meat! Isn't it kind of lukewarm and slimy?

Thinking that, I said,

This is more delicious than in Hokkaido!

When I, a Hokkaido native, said that, the people who took me there looked satisfied. I reflected on whether I should have told the truth.

▶︎Conclusion

Why does everyone go to Tokyo?

That was a question I had since everyone around me started job hunting. Everyone leaves the city where they were born and raised to go to Tokyo. Is there really that much of a return in that city? I don't know.

There is a sense that people from various regions of Japan have gathered to create Tokyo, as if they are saying, 'This is how Tokyo should be.' Perhaps everyone is forcing themselves to create their ideal Tokyo style, seeking something sparkling like Tokyo Love Story. I don't know, though.

I could understand it if it were Japan during the period of high economic growth.
Like, if there were only jobs in Tokyo.

It is the Reiwa era now.

I think there is no need to force yourself to go to Tokyo and get exhausted, but that might be because I don't know the real Tokyo, and perhaps that city has some kind of magic, gravitational pull, or benefits that can only be found there.

However, it is also a fact that friends who got jobs in Tokyo all say in unison,

Ah, I want to go back to Sapporo.
Why am I here?

And every time I hear such words, I am grateful for thecursemy grandmother cast on me.

A curse? Isn't that ominous?
The curse my grandmother cast on me is this.

When I was in junior high school, my beloved grandmother said to me.

Hey, you love your grandmother, right? Then don't go to Tokyo and stay by my side.

These words from my grandmother were a kind of curse cast on me when I was a junior high student, but as instructed, I have remained in Sapporo. The effect of the curse is immediate. My family is close by, and friends who help me when I'm in trouble are also nearby.

With regional areas receiving attention these days, I think this was the right choice for me.

I felt this way after seeing the following article, so in this post, I have summarized my thoughts as someone living in a regional area.

That is all the content is, but when I read this article, what I thought was, 'Ah, I'm glad I didn't go to Tokyo,' and 'That's why I told you so many times that you don't need to go to Tokyo.'

I think that, and justify my own choice. In other words, this article is a




'praise for the regions article' isn't it.

If you get tired, it's okay for everyone to go back to their hometowns; I would like to end this article with the warmest gaze I can muster.

See you again.