Urban Spelunking
The tight, dark space was inviting despite the vague aura of mystery, bordering on danger, that bled forth. Moist, hot, air carried the hint of an aroma that confounded description. Why was I considering risking it, diving in, instead of staying out here in the safety of the familiar? Adventure? Discovery? Sailing oceans and climbing mountains is one thing, but this space – something about it – this space was somehow more exotic than any other environment I had encountered. Despite being, frankly, as common as dirt, ubiquitous from Berlin to Bangkok, every so often I find one that stops me in my tracks, compelling me to linger, delve, explore. It’s not just me, is it?
Of course I’m talking about that functional and necessary byproduct of urban planning, the alleyway. In Ontario, and throughout most of North America, they’re used for little more than utility – back door access, garbage storage, fire escapes, etc. I never really thought much about them before leaving on this adventure. The North American breed of alleyway occasionally offers up a morsel of interest, a chic bar or art scene, but for the most part they lurk, unloved, in the literal background.
So how did I come to be so enamoured of the common urban varietal alleyway? It all started in Tokyo. I arrived there after spending months away from cities while sailing in the Pacific, never surrounded by more than a dozen strangers at once. I got sick of perfect beaches and palm-tree atolls and decided to head north-west to, arguably, the biggest city in the world. With an urban population rivaling that of the entire nation of Canada, Tokyo can’t help but loom large in the imagination. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was getting into but, if anime had taught me anything, at least I could rely on seeing a lot of robots and busty chicks with cat ears. Everything else would be gravy.
Tokyo is big and has lots of people (63% on my Grade 8 Geography quiz). Despite its mind-boggling ~33 million population, the city’s density is only about 6,000/km2, which isn’t particularly notable… in comparison, Toronto has a density of 4,000/km2, and Manila 70,000/km2 (that seemingly-extra zero isn’t a typo). All of this preamble is to say that Tokyo is bustling, but not overflowing with people. The streets are clean and municipal services (garbage collection, road repair, etc.) function like they’re supposed to. You wouldn’t expect so manicured an environment to offer up much in the way of back-alley excitement, but you’d be wrong. The city is dense enough that in most commercial districts, every square foot of street frontage is used for bars, restaurants, shops and shrines. I discovered, to my delight, that this includes the alleyways.
Imagine that you’re strolling, one evening, in a crowd of millions along a street in a commercial district. Neon and LED advertising climbs the sides of buildings up to the eighth floor, washing the scene in a multihue glow. Laughter boils out of little shops where suit-wearing men cram skewers of meat into red-tinged faces while glasses of beer and whisky clink constantly. No one jostles you, but you’re crowded nonetheless. Seeking respite, you pause to peer into the next side-lane you come to; a meter-wide crack leading into gloomy depths lit by a strings of yellowed lights that meld into an infinite perspective, blocks away. Small, incandescent signs hang from both walls, promoting who-knows-what in a language both familiar and alien. Groups of twos and fives all dressed in black huddle in smoky doorways. The asphalt is wet, despite clear weather. You step off the street, and into a new world.
The businesses, for the most part, have no windows; just a door or hanging partition that occludes the interior. Most offer food and booze, though even at midnight you’ll often find a curiously inviting stationery shop or bookstore, if you’re brave enough to pull aside the curtain. There’s a convivial feel that is lacking on the major streets where people are in too much of a hurry to acknowledge each other. Nobody goes down these alleys unless they’re going somewhere specific, and if you’re there too, then you’re part of the club, language barriers or no. Commercial success does not seem dictated by the volume of foot traffic – you’ll find busy bars on the fifth floor of an otherwise-shuttered office building; second-level basement venues may sell comic books, guitars or booze, but a loyal clientele will have kept them in business for decades. It is a commercial environment widely unknown in North America, where only the coolest bars might survive down a petty lane, and once they burn out, the alley returns to its natural state of ignominy and obscurity.
So what’s the appeal? I think that alleyways offer a promise of the unknown which, like cleavage, rarely fails to disappoint. Venturing down a city’s side streets feels like she’s lifted her skirts for you, revealing shapely ankles with a touch of the taboo. I habitually assume that mystery and adventure are enough draw in themselves, but then I look around at the preponderance of corporate restaurants and realize that people gravitate towards the familiar. The fringe nature of alleyway appeal lends exclusivity – a double-edged sword – to these side quests of urban exploration.
Now take this idea and map it onto Beijing, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Osaka, Shanghai… Imagine discovering that your new favourite thing is common for a hundred degrees of longitude west of the international date line. Other than sailing, the most exciting part of my travels has been spelunking through Asia’s alleyways. The joys of discovery are the same, whether I’m anchoring off uninhabited islands or getting an anchor tattoo in an alley in Qingdao. The niche, but recognizable, appeal of alleyways speaks to a simple psychological desire to be different, out of the mainstream. Given the rise of correlated trends in North America – the acceptance of geek culture, hipsterism, nascent anti-consumerism – I wouldn’t be surprised if we start to see alleyway utilization begin to creep east of the date line next. I’ve never been to Portland, but maybe it’s time to go open a back-alley bar there…
Oh, for the record, Tokyo has very few robots and the busty cat-eared girls are rarer than you’d hope.
