Going from western Tokyo to Narita International Airport at 7:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning can be interesting. The train, as is typically the case when traveling toward downtown Tokyo, was full and nearly audible groans greet travelers with anything more than a daypack or briefcase. Crammed into the morning rush of suited businesspeople and office workers the thought of the beach you will soon be on is enough to forget that elbow jammed into your kidney.
The flight on Garuda Indonesia (named for the mythical bird that spirited kings and warriors around the archipelago) was pleasant, a fact at least partially attributed to being bumped to business class. The plane touched down seven and a half hours later, just in time to reach the hotel before sunset.
The best dinners can be taken in small open-air restaurants along any of the numerous side streets. All told a dinner for two with beers, curries, rice, sate (grilled meat on a stick served with peanut sauce) runs no more than US$10, and sometimes less. Strolling through the streets after dinner, offers of a number of things were made by the lounging taxi drivers: You want marijuana? cocaine? ecstasy? woman? man? (and as though it were an afterthought) transportation?
In the heart of what used to be Bali’s nightlife scene stands a memorial wall to those that lost their lives in the dual bombings on October 12, 2002. The memorial stands with its back to what was once the wall of the Sari club, where the second, more powerful and deadly explosion occurred. Flanking the sides of the white marble wall are flagpoles, enough to represent each country whose citizens were lost. Short sets of stairs lead up to the base of the stone wall etched with the names of the deceased, divided by country of origin. Australia’s list extends for two columns and a half, Indonesia’s, the second longest, rounds out the final column. A handful of tourists and a couple of locals scan the face of the memorial, perhaps recognizing names, perhaps simply paying respect to fellow travelers and lives lost.
A hundred meters on from the memorial, just across the road from the bar targeted in the first bombing, shines a large open-air club, full of western tourists drinking and dancing the night away. Security around the island increased in the wake of the bombings, but is really only most evident at the larger, more expensive hotels. At the club the security was limited to a couple of bouncers at the gate with hand-held metal detectors, who checked only the Indonesians who wished to gain entry.
Further down a darkened alley sits another large open-air club, built to look like a pirate’s ship, the deck open for dancing and a fishpond circling the bottom. A few more bars line the street, but it is obvious that much of the nightlife has left this area, moved on to the next big area a few minutes away, where the recent past is less visible and the way things used to be still reigns.
The Seminyak area, and in particular Jalan Abimanyu, is now the home of Bali’s night. The street is lined with bars and clubs of every imaginable variety – bars that would look more appropriate in New York City than a beach town, with leather seats and modern décor, open-air bars with live bands playing classic rock at one place and Latin-American ballads in another, a bar named for, and serving almost exclusively, Absolute vodka. As the night begins to wane, the party moves toward the beach.
Along most of the beach in Kuta and Legian four and five-star resorts dominate the land, but a bit further up a couple of clubs hold their own. The newly opened Amnesia is a large multi-tiered, open-faced building looking out over the beach. Its opening night party was still going strong at 4:00 a.m., but was not what could be called a grand event. The bars were nearly devoid of bottles, the bartenders completely overwhelmed by the crowd and beers that one suspects had never, since their inception, been near a cooling device. The crowd was up nonetheless, and one might suspect that was a result of the whispered offer of ‘marijuana, cocaine, ecstasy’ by the guys standing by the bar.
Next-door is one of Bali’s better-known institutions, Double 6. Open and facing the beach, the club doesn’t start happening until two or three o’clock and rocks on until dawn. Incorporated into one side of the club grounds is a pool overlooked by a forty-five foot bungee tower for those who need a little adrenaline rush and a video to prove it.
Bali has long been known as a surfers’ paradise, a place of big waves, long beaches. The beaches are clean, the water warm and people trying to sell you something, anything, everything, are an omnipresent force. Lounging under a rented umbrella, on rented beach chairs there is a constant parade of hawkers and the persistent buzz of their pitches. Perhaps, as the hawkers often lament, it is harder for them to make a living now that many tourists have been scared away from Indonesia. They are an aggressive breed of beach vender and will reduce to near begging, or a form of bribery, or try to instill and then prey upon a guilty conscience of the rich, generous tourist.
They will begin subtly, offering a kind ‘hello’ and displaying their wares – fake tattoos, cheap bracelets, necklaces, sarongs, paintings, fruit, offers to drive you to a seafood restaurant down the beach, massages, pedicures, manicures. To ask how much the good or service costs is to enter into negotiation, and eventual purchase. They are skilled bargainers and know the tricks of selling well. They will befriend you, chat with you, and seemingly accept rejection at first, but they will be back. Each time they return a little more persistent, a little more aggressive. And to purchase from one is to purchase from them all. That is to say, you had better purchase from them all or you will be left with the oft repeated phrase ringing in your ears: Remember I talked to you first, you said later, why don’t you like me now? Why you don’t give me good luck? OK, you buy little one from me and I’ll go away.
Eventually the sun sets, the beach clears and becomes peaceful and the tourists head back to their hotels for a shower before the nightlife begins.
Friday, October 31, 2003
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Are we there yet?
The end of October has always been a mark of the coming winter, when ski resorts pumped thousands of gallons of water through their snow makers to beat each other in opening that one little run first, and the anticipation of a Halloween snow. There is no such race here, and little notice is given to Halloween, unless you count a handful of parties and bars attended by costumed foreigners. And there is no hope that can be seen of a Halloween snow blanketing Tokyo. There are still typhoons, however.
Numbers 18 and 19, as they are creatively called, are churning their way toward the archipelago and should arrive just in time to ruin another weekend. In fact, their farthest arms are now soaking Tokyo’s gray streets and making 3:00 pm look more like 7:30. It is times like these when one looks toward the unknown, far off playgrounds of tropical islands and clear waters. The distraction worsens still more when an actual trip is on the horizon; in this case, rising with the sun, which, as previously mentioned, seems to have taken its leave earlier than usual, perhaps in its own anticipation of shining down on sun-drenched beaches and sunburning tourists.
But heading to Bali has not only fevered anticipation, but also apprehension. Here apprehension is not meant to suggest a fear or terrorist action, though that is, of course, not something that is taken lightly. Rather, the apprehension is more caused by the other annoyances of preparing to travel to a place that has become a ‘paradise’ for the western tourist.
Pouring through information and comments from official tourist sites, travel sites and comments from other travelers, those that have been there before, or in some cases are there now, it is possible to begin to prematurely tire of the tedium of such places. The official sites extol the grandness, beauty and idyllic attributes of the destination. The tourist sites offer more of the same – for a price. So far it is hard to imagine how anything can go wrong in a place were every beach is clean, every sunset ‘romantic’, every pool/garden/suite overlooks the beach and the beers are cold, the fruity cocktails fresh, the food delicious.
Then come the comments from those who have been there before, and return for more. Bali has a cult following, particularly among Australians. Entire sites* are dedicated to sharing their views and camaraderie with the world, or that portion of it that is inclined to seek it, anyway. This, it has come to pass, has been the best source of information, even while not always unbiased and at times inaccurate. But, then again, this is true of the sites of officials who know the industry is vital to the economy as a whole and the tourist sites that are more directly linked to it.
It is from the travelers’ comments that the apprehension grows as stories, though humorous and informative (at times), claw away at that idyllic vision that has been so carefully (and no doubt expensively) promoted and ingrained into the mind. It is not all negative; they, too, expound upon the beauty, friendliness and sincerity of their island hosts. At the same time they have a never-ending supply of tales of woe. Tales abound of con artists, time-share salespeople, pickpockets, dirty moneychangers, credit card fraud, taxi drivers that take you to every store that pays commission but not where you want to go, and trinket mongers. There is no need to repeat details here and now. Suffice it to say that it is these tales that raise the specter of holidays ruined and cast a shadow of doubt on the accuracy of their statements about their kind, sincere hosts.
But perhaps it is the weather here today – a cold, grey prelude to the coming storm – that has caused these tales, along with other personal experiences of similar nature in another ‘paradise’, to raise that apprehension of annoyance at being in paradise. It is perhaps, and it is hoped likely, that tomorrow, as the sun sinks into the warm ocean and casts its final pink rays across a white sand beach, that all of these little annoyances will not have materialized and it may just feel like paradise.
*http://www.balitravelforum.com
Numbers 18 and 19, as they are creatively called, are churning their way toward the archipelago and should arrive just in time to ruin another weekend. In fact, their farthest arms are now soaking Tokyo’s gray streets and making 3:00 pm look more like 7:30. It is times like these when one looks toward the unknown, far off playgrounds of tropical islands and clear waters. The distraction worsens still more when an actual trip is on the horizon; in this case, rising with the sun, which, as previously mentioned, seems to have taken its leave earlier than usual, perhaps in its own anticipation of shining down on sun-drenched beaches and sunburning tourists.
But heading to Bali has not only fevered anticipation, but also apprehension. Here apprehension is not meant to suggest a fear or terrorist action, though that is, of course, not something that is taken lightly. Rather, the apprehension is more caused by the other annoyances of preparing to travel to a place that has become a ‘paradise’ for the western tourist.
Pouring through information and comments from official tourist sites, travel sites and comments from other travelers, those that have been there before, or in some cases are there now, it is possible to begin to prematurely tire of the tedium of such places. The official sites extol the grandness, beauty and idyllic attributes of the destination. The tourist sites offer more of the same – for a price. So far it is hard to imagine how anything can go wrong in a place were every beach is clean, every sunset ‘romantic’, every pool/garden/suite overlooks the beach and the beers are cold, the fruity cocktails fresh, the food delicious.
Then come the comments from those who have been there before, and return for more. Bali has a cult following, particularly among Australians. Entire sites* are dedicated to sharing their views and camaraderie with the world, or that portion of it that is inclined to seek it, anyway. This, it has come to pass, has been the best source of information, even while not always unbiased and at times inaccurate. But, then again, this is true of the sites of officials who know the industry is vital to the economy as a whole and the tourist sites that are more directly linked to it.
It is from the travelers’ comments that the apprehension grows as stories, though humorous and informative (at times), claw away at that idyllic vision that has been so carefully (and no doubt expensively) promoted and ingrained into the mind. It is not all negative; they, too, expound upon the beauty, friendliness and sincerity of their island hosts. At the same time they have a never-ending supply of tales of woe. Tales abound of con artists, time-share salespeople, pickpockets, dirty moneychangers, credit card fraud, taxi drivers that take you to every store that pays commission but not where you want to go, and trinket mongers. There is no need to repeat details here and now. Suffice it to say that it is these tales that raise the specter of holidays ruined and cast a shadow of doubt on the accuracy of their statements about their kind, sincere hosts.
But perhaps it is the weather here today – a cold, grey prelude to the coming storm – that has caused these tales, along with other personal experiences of similar nature in another ‘paradise’, to raise that apprehension of annoyance at being in paradise. It is perhaps, and it is hoped likely, that tomorrow, as the sun sinks into the warm ocean and casts its final pink rays across a white sand beach, that all of these little annoyances will not have materialized and it may just feel like paradise.
*http://www.balitravelforum.com
Friday, October 10, 2003
Natural selection
A new study* to be published next week has found a correlation between the birthrate of males and the economy – at least in East Germany, in 1991. A similar phenomenon is witnessed in the populations of herd animals in times of drought or famine. Now, although the authors of the study cautioned against generalizing the findings, does this mean that humans are herd animals? The short answer is yes.
For proof that humans are indeed herd animals one has to look no further than certain economic indicators that may, if this theory holds true, actually contribute to a lower male birth rate – the economy. Or parts of it anyway. Stock markets are excellent, and oft overused, examples of herd instinct in humans. As a stock market starts to show signs of trouble, large investors begin to move off. They are the lead animals of the herd, and the rest of the herd turns and runs behind them, leaving the weak to parish.
Another prime example of people as herd animals is Tokyo, and in particular the shopping districts. Fashion, the coloration of the human herd, is nowhere more evident than, say, Shinjuku. It is easy to spot members of the various herds, but for now we’ll focus on one particular herd, the Louis Vuitton herd. This is perhaps the most populous of the Tokyo herds (a recent census** concluded an approximate 20% of humans in Shinjuku are members of the LV herd), and easily identifiable by the brown, gold-lettered Louis Vuitton bags they carry prominently around.
Being populous and highly visible makes it easy to track this herd as the members go about their Shinjuku boutique grazing. Anecdotal to the study on male birth numbers, the number of male members of the LV herd is significantly lower than the number of females. Given Japan’s prolonged economic problems, this is probably not surprising to researchers. Even superficial observation of the LV herd will reveal much of the behavior normally associated with herd animals. First, they tend to clump together in groups as they travel, particularly when there is danger of being approached by the ever-present Shinjuku Tout Hyenas. Another noticeable thing about the LV herd is that, through natural selection, they begin to assume other similarities in appearance. As the herd leaders establish preferred boutique grazing grounds, the smaller groups within the herd begin to follow suit, thus altering the outward appearance of the herd members and reducing the variations found within the group.
So, what does all of this prove? Admittedly, very little.
--------------
* Ralph Catalano, in the journal Human Reproduction
**conducted by a guy sitting outside the station, counting the number of bag bearers that passed by in a 20 minute span.
For proof that humans are indeed herd animals one has to look no further than certain economic indicators that may, if this theory holds true, actually contribute to a lower male birth rate – the economy. Or parts of it anyway. Stock markets are excellent, and oft overused, examples of herd instinct in humans. As a stock market starts to show signs of trouble, large investors begin to move off. They are the lead animals of the herd, and the rest of the herd turns and runs behind them, leaving the weak to parish.
Another prime example of people as herd animals is Tokyo, and in particular the shopping districts. Fashion, the coloration of the human herd, is nowhere more evident than, say, Shinjuku. It is easy to spot members of the various herds, but for now we’ll focus on one particular herd, the Louis Vuitton herd. This is perhaps the most populous of the Tokyo herds (a recent census** concluded an approximate 20% of humans in Shinjuku are members of the LV herd), and easily identifiable by the brown, gold-lettered Louis Vuitton bags they carry prominently around.
Being populous and highly visible makes it easy to track this herd as the members go about their Shinjuku boutique grazing. Anecdotal to the study on male birth numbers, the number of male members of the LV herd is significantly lower than the number of females. Given Japan’s prolonged economic problems, this is probably not surprising to researchers. Even superficial observation of the LV herd will reveal much of the behavior normally associated with herd animals. First, they tend to clump together in groups as they travel, particularly when there is danger of being approached by the ever-present Shinjuku Tout Hyenas. Another noticeable thing about the LV herd is that, through natural selection, they begin to assume other similarities in appearance. As the herd leaders establish preferred boutique grazing grounds, the smaller groups within the herd begin to follow suit, thus altering the outward appearance of the herd members and reducing the variations found within the group.
So, what does all of this prove? Admittedly, very little.
--------------
* Ralph Catalano, in the journal Human Reproduction
**conducted by a guy sitting outside the station, counting the number of bag bearers that passed by in a 20 minute span.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Beer evolution?
There is little doubt that Japan is a beer-loving country. There is also little doubt that the beer industry has been hard hit by Japan’s prolonged economic woes. A few years ago the big producers here began offering low-malt alternatives to their traditional brews. These new products exploded in popularity thanks in large part to a provision in the law which taxed beer. The tax was applied based on the malt content of the beer. Therefore, lower malt content meant lower taxes and thus lower expense for the consumer.
The beer market had been fairly stable up to this point, with strong brand loyalty maintaining fairly stable market shares. The new, cheap brews, however, changed this and that the beer producers started chasing new consumers with renewed energy and promotional blitzes. So successful were these new, cheaper alternatives that at one point sales of hopposhu, as they are known, out did traditional beer sales.
Then the tax authorities realized they were being denied revenue and upped the tax on hopposhu. It now appears that the beer-producing giants are looking for new ways to stimulate sales growth. And the results have been interesting to say the least.
One area of new product introduction that has come about is the non-alcoholic beer. This may also be a partial response to the recent stiffening of penalties for driving under the influence. Advertising campaigns were launched, and free non-alcoholic beers were given away with pizza deliveries. The brews come with enticing names like Beer Squash, Buckler and Fine Brew. The latter features a television commercial showing a middle-aged man of doubtful sobriety in his office, jacket off, spinning madly in a chair, saying, “’How are you?’ ‘I’m fine. Brew?’” and laughing hysterically at his own joke.
However, the real battle for market seems to be more with the alcoholic varieties. Here there have been even more variations on the traditional beer. Take, for example, the hopposhu varieties Fiber and Half&Herb from Sapporo. Kirin has gone for other variations, introducing seasonal offerings for fall, winter, and even one named for August made with New Zealand hops. Asahi has entered the fray with a brew containing rice extract, and a hopposhu called Sparks, for the “superlight” market, no doubt to contest the other ‘diet’ brews on the market. Asahi’s normal hopposhu uses deep-sea water to get its unique taste.
How well this translates into revenue for the companies involved remains to be seen. So far, at least, it doesn’t seem to be helping. August beer sales were down nearly 10%, blamed on an unusually cool summer. Kirin has reported an overall drop of 2% in the sales of beer, but a slight upturn in the hopposhu market.
The next few months will prove interesting to watch as the results begin to take shape and the companies continue to churn out new products to satisfy the varied tastes of the consumer. So grab a diet-fiber-herb-rice pseudo-beer and enjoy the show.
The beer market had been fairly stable up to this point, with strong brand loyalty maintaining fairly stable market shares. The new, cheap brews, however, changed this and that the beer producers started chasing new consumers with renewed energy and promotional blitzes. So successful were these new, cheaper alternatives that at one point sales of hopposhu, as they are known, out did traditional beer sales.
Then the tax authorities realized they were being denied revenue and upped the tax on hopposhu. It now appears that the beer-producing giants are looking for new ways to stimulate sales growth. And the results have been interesting to say the least.
One area of new product introduction that has come about is the non-alcoholic beer. This may also be a partial response to the recent stiffening of penalties for driving under the influence. Advertising campaigns were launched, and free non-alcoholic beers were given away with pizza deliveries. The brews come with enticing names like Beer Squash, Buckler and Fine Brew. The latter features a television commercial showing a middle-aged man of doubtful sobriety in his office, jacket off, spinning madly in a chair, saying, “’How are you?’ ‘I’m fine. Brew?’” and laughing hysterically at his own joke.
However, the real battle for market seems to be more with the alcoholic varieties. Here there have been even more variations on the traditional beer. Take, for example, the hopposhu varieties Fiber and Half&Herb from Sapporo. Kirin has gone for other variations, introducing seasonal offerings for fall, winter, and even one named for August made with New Zealand hops. Asahi has entered the fray with a brew containing rice extract, and a hopposhu called Sparks, for the “superlight” market, no doubt to contest the other ‘diet’ brews on the market. Asahi’s normal hopposhu uses deep-sea water to get its unique taste.
How well this translates into revenue for the companies involved remains to be seen. So far, at least, it doesn’t seem to be helping. August beer sales were down nearly 10%, blamed on an unusually cool summer. Kirin has reported an overall drop of 2% in the sales of beer, but a slight upturn in the hopposhu market.
The next few months will prove interesting to watch as the results begin to take shape and the companies continue to churn out new products to satisfy the varied tastes of the consumer. So grab a diet-fiber-herb-rice pseudo-beer and enjoy the show.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Weekend release
For cubicle dwelling mammals there is nothing quite like the release of the weekend. And for cubicle-dwelling-foreign-city-living mammals, this seems even truer. Friday afternoons usually contain the following conversation, or something akin to it:
‘What’re you up to tonight?’
‘Nothing, just taking it easy. Maybe grab a quick beer before heading home. Wanna go?’
‘Yeah, sounds good, but just one.’ And right there the night is sealed and there will be more than one beer consumed, more than one bar visited, and probably more than one puzzling question present when you wake.
Take, for example, last Friday night. A former colleague had a bit of a get together to celebrate his new position. The evening started innocuously enough with a simple champagne toast to his future endeavors. A couple more complementary drinks flowed from the bar and the clock seemed to speed up. The party changed shape as new arrivals came in and others departed.
Eventually, the drinks at the party stopped flowing and we staggered into the streets. Around the darkened streets we walked in search of more liquid fortification until we found a well-known bar with a friendly pour. At this point the party was down to two of us – myself and another colleague. He was, to put it somewhat mildly, in worse shape than I was.
He had reached his limit and needed to head into the awful sleep that comes after champagne, beer, wine and beer have been ingested. So we wandered from the confines of the bar toward the closed train station. Hours were left before the trains would run, but taxis abounded. On the way was also, thankfully, a public toilet was to be found.
As I used the surprisingly clean, but by no means spotless facilities, I heard behind me the curious clamor of climbing. I turned to see my colleague peering over the locked door of a stall. He had mounted himself rather precariously over the door and was extending an arm downward. I watched with no small amount of bemusement as he pulled up a large plastic bag.
He hauled his newfound prize over the top of the door, tugging hard as it squeezed between the ceiling and the door’s top edge. Once it was free, he swung the bag of ill-gotten goodies over his shoulder and headed out into the night. He hailed a cab and clutched his bounty in his lap, telling the driver which way was home.
Then this morning I received this email, which said it all about the weekend of a cubicle-dweller in Tokyo: I've got more toilet paper than a supermarket at my place! Totally wasted last Friday. What happened??
‘What’re you up to tonight?’
‘Nothing, just taking it easy. Maybe grab a quick beer before heading home. Wanna go?’
‘Yeah, sounds good, but just one.’ And right there the night is sealed and there will be more than one beer consumed, more than one bar visited, and probably more than one puzzling question present when you wake.
Take, for example, last Friday night. A former colleague had a bit of a get together to celebrate his new position. The evening started innocuously enough with a simple champagne toast to his future endeavors. A couple more complementary drinks flowed from the bar and the clock seemed to speed up. The party changed shape as new arrivals came in and others departed.
Eventually, the drinks at the party stopped flowing and we staggered into the streets. Around the darkened streets we walked in search of more liquid fortification until we found a well-known bar with a friendly pour. At this point the party was down to two of us – myself and another colleague. He was, to put it somewhat mildly, in worse shape than I was.
He had reached his limit and needed to head into the awful sleep that comes after champagne, beer, wine and beer have been ingested. So we wandered from the confines of the bar toward the closed train station. Hours were left before the trains would run, but taxis abounded. On the way was also, thankfully, a public toilet was to be found.
As I used the surprisingly clean, but by no means spotless facilities, I heard behind me the curious clamor of climbing. I turned to see my colleague peering over the locked door of a stall. He had mounted himself rather precariously over the door and was extending an arm downward. I watched with no small amount of bemusement as he pulled up a large plastic bag.
He hauled his newfound prize over the top of the door, tugging hard as it squeezed between the ceiling and the door’s top edge. Once it was free, he swung the bag of ill-gotten goodies over his shoulder and headed out into the night. He hailed a cab and clutched his bounty in his lap, telling the driver which way was home.
Then this morning I received this email, which said it all about the weekend of a cubicle-dweller in Tokyo: I've got more toilet paper than a supermarket at my place! Totally wasted last Friday. What happened??
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Bold banking reforms
Japan is a country that has thoroughly embraced the comforts and convenience which modern life and technology provide. Everyone has at least one mobile phone, with email and internet browsing capabilities to keep in constant contact. Every block in the bigger cities has at least one convenience store, and if they don't, there is at least one vending machine. Trains, though overcrowded to a bone-crushing degree during the morning rush, run every few minutes and go nearly everywhere. This is why ATMs are so confusing.
ATMs in Japan are everywhere, making their access convenient. However, unlike the all night convenience store in which you will almost inevitably find an ATM, the machines shut down from time to time. The downtime is not caused by a computer or mechanical malfunction, but rather because that is the way the banks operate them. ATMs also have holidays off. To their credit the banks have managed to keep their ATMs open past the normal 9-3 banking hours, though some of the normal functions of the machines are restricted. The lack of service on holidays, according to one bank employee, is in case their is a chance of the ATM malfunctioning, leaving the impression that there is normally a crack squad of ATM service technicians on standby, waiting nervously to receive a call that an ATM is down and in need of immediate assistance -- but only during normal hours.
One bank is throwing such caution to the wind and has launched an aggressive ad campaign promoting a revolutionary service in Japanese banking -- the 24-hour ATM. This is a giant step forward for banking here. Unfortunately, the service is only available to this particular bank's customers. There is no system, such as one might expect from ATMs that can be used (during normal banking hours) to do everything from cawithdrawalswls to restructuring government debt, to allow customers of other banks to use the facilities. This will doubtless only be overcome after years of research and debate regarding how to get the other banks' ATMs to stay awake all night. During the day (except holidays) transferring funds between banks using only one ATM card and one machine can be accomplished relatively easy, and the ATMs in convenience stores accept just about every bank's card. But the machines get tired and have to rest at night and on holidays.
Perhaps this singular bank has launched this bold new service in an attempt to attract customers who may find it convenient to be able to access cash after 8:00 p.m. Or perhaps it is a reflection of their customers expressing their desires and having the bank respond to them. Or perhaps this new service is simply an indication that these particular ATMs don't have quite the union the others do.
ATMs in Japan are everywhere, making their access convenient. However, unlike the all night convenience store in which you will almost inevitably find an ATM, the machines shut down from time to time. The downtime is not caused by a computer or mechanical malfunction, but rather because that is the way the banks operate them. ATMs also have holidays off. To their credit the banks have managed to keep their ATMs open past the normal 9-3 banking hours, though some of the normal functions of the machines are restricted. The lack of service on holidays, according to one bank employee, is in case their is a chance of the ATM malfunctioning, leaving the impression that there is normally a crack squad of ATM service technicians on standby, waiting nervously to receive a call that an ATM is down and in need of immediate assistance -- but only during normal hours.
One bank is throwing such caution to the wind and has launched an aggressive ad campaign promoting a revolutionary service in Japanese banking -- the 24-hour ATM. This is a giant step forward for banking here. Unfortunately, the service is only available to this particular bank's customers. There is no system, such as one might expect from ATMs that can be used (during normal banking hours) to do everything from cawithdrawalswls to restructuring government debt, to allow customers of other banks to use the facilities. This will doubtless only be overcome after years of research and debate regarding how to get the other banks' ATMs to stay awake all night. During the day (except holidays) transferring funds between banks using only one ATM card and one machine can be accomplished relatively easy, and the ATMs in convenience stores accept just about every bank's card. But the machines get tired and have to rest at night and on holidays.
Perhaps this singular bank has launched this bold new service in an attempt to attract customers who may find it convenient to be able to access cash after 8:00 p.m. Or perhaps it is a reflection of their customers expressing their desires and having the bank respond to them. Or perhaps this new service is simply an indication that these particular ATMs don't have quite the union the others do.
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