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We landed in Hokkaido yesterday. And when we got out of the airport, it was snowing. The first thing we did was stop in Sapporo for lunch and, while we were there, it continued to snow.
After lunch, we drove west to Niseko, and for almost the entire 2-hour drive, it was whiteout conditions. It was the first time I had ever seen a place use flashing red arrows hung above the road to indicate the edge of the outer lane.
This, I quickly learned, is invaluable in a place like Hokkaido; it's so that both drivers and snowplows know where they're going and know their limits. But to be honest, many other places should probably adopt it as well.
We are now on day two and it's still snowing. The stats do not lie: this is one very snowy place. As I understand it, the main reason for this is its location, and not its elevation. I'm sitting at ~280 meters right now (whereas Park City is over 2,000 meters up).
But it does have mountains.
And when warm air from the Sea of Japan mixes with cold fronts from Siberia, and then intersects these mountains, it produces beautiful dry powder snow, and lots of it. "Japow" is no joke, as you can tell from the above photos.
One of the truly remarkable things about Tokyo is that it manages to be both the largest metropolitan area in the world and one of the most livable cities in the world. That's quite an accomplishment. And one of the key ingredients has to be its heavy reliance on rail for mobility. Look at any list of the busiest train stations in the world and you'll find that the majority of them are in Japan.
But what does this mean for the average person living in a city like Tokyo? Well, every 10 years Tokyo does a "person trip survey" that looks at how people get around. And if you look at the last set of results from 2018, you'll find the following modal splits:
33% railway
27% private car
23% walking
13% bicycle
4% other (bus and motorcycle)
This is a big deal. Supposedly this is the highest railway split in the world. But the numbers may be even better than this. According to a recent book by Daniel Knowles, who is a correspondent for The Economist, only about 12% of trips in Tokyo are done with a car, giving the city one of the lowest driving rates in the world. Bike usage is also higher than the above at 17%.
Whatever the exact numbers are, it is clear that there's a heavy bias toward rail and other forms of non-car mobility. And you feel that in the city. You feel it in the lack of traffic congestion (which incidentally makes the city feel generally quieter and calmer) and you feel it in the way that density and pedestrian traffic is obviously concentrated around stations.
In the span of a 10 minute walk, you can go from feeling like you are, in fact, in a giant megacity, to feeling like you're in a tranquil community where grade-separated sidewalks aren't even needed because the cars, if any, all drive so slowly. It's an interesting dichotomy that is the result of true transit-oriented development.
On-street parking is also virtually non-existent. According to Knowles, 95% of streets in Japan do not allow it, either day or night.
At the same time, this approach makes it easier to get around by car. We have taken a handful of Ubers on this trip, and they always arrived in a few minutes, and we have yet to be stuck in soul-crushing traffic. It's perhaps ironic that in a city many multiples larger than Toronto, it feels easier to move around. Or maybe it just goes to show you that it's not about how much urban space you have, it's about how efficiently you use it.
One of the trademarks of Tokyo's urban landscape is a lot of exterior exit stairs. For example, our hotel is almost 20 storeys and it has two exit stairs, both of which sit outside of the building. Here's a photo taken from the corridor. You can also see other buildings in the background with similar exit stair configurations.
Oftentimes these stairs will also be positioned on a building's primary elevation, making them form part of the overall architectural expression. There's no shame in doing that here. This is curious to me because it means that, on tight urban sites, you're giving up part of your frontage to egress. The alternative would be to burry it in the middle of the building and have it transfer over at some point.
In any event, my first thought when I see a lot of exterior circulation is usually that the place must have a mild climate. And indeed, this is true of Tokyo. The average January and February lows and highs are 10 degrees and 5 degrees, respectively. Snow is extremely rare here. But that doesn't seem to be what's driving this egress approach.
Because if you go up north to Sapporo, where they get upwards of 500cm of snow each year, it too has exterior exit stairs. Closer to home, there's also the example of Montreal, which is similarly known for its exterior stairs (both in its older housing stock and in some of its newer housing stock). So it can't just be a weather thing.
The more likely hypothesis is that it's simply cheaper and easier to build this way. There may also be local regulations that either directly or indirectly encourage it, beyond it just being more cost effective. Interestingly enough, though, exterior stairs don't seem to be as common in newer buildings (but this is just my anecdotal observation from the last few days).
We talk a lot these days about single-stair buildings. And I think it's clear that we need to start allowing this for larger infill projects. But Tokyo also has me wondering if we should be having a parallel conversation about more open-air exit stairs and corridors. Climate is clearly no excuse. If it can help bring down the cost of building, then it's something to consider.