Air, Hotel and Car Rental deals at HopJet.com
Air, Hotel and Car Rental deals at HopJet.com
By Richard Morochove
First published June 3, 1999
TOKYO - There isn't anywhere in the world quite like Akihabara, the Electric Town shopping district of downtown Tokyo. If you draw a circle half a kilometre in radius from the Akihabara train station, within it you'll find just about any electronic gadget or appliance you could imagine.
From the latest ultraportable notebook computers, to handheld organizers to
ink jet printers, they're all here, along with more prosaic appliances such as
washers, air conditioners and refrigerators. You'll find them in seven-story
neon-lit discount emporiums like Ishimaru Denki and underneath the elevated
train tracks in dark little stalls.
You won't find many bargains in Akihabara. Prices of even Japanese-made electronic products are cheaper in Hong Kong and Singapore. However, you will find some things here you won't see anywhere else.
Japanese manufacturers use their domestic market to test out new product ideas. Those that prove successful are released to North America and the rest of the world six months or more later. However, many experimental products don't make the cut and are quietly discontinued.
One shopkeeper shooed me away when I tried to snap a photo of the Sharp Zaurus Icruise, a handheld organizer that also lets you surf the Internet on the run. The Icruise comes with a bright colour liquid crystal display, Internet browser software, 33.6 Kbps data/fax modem and a connection for a PHS phone, all for the equivalent of $340.
The PHS, or Personal Handyphone System, is a type of cellular phone service used only in Japan. It's a low-power service, available only in the cities. This allows for some astonishingly small telephones.
If it's small and cute, the Japanese love it. Mix in some Disney magic and you have a hit like the Mickey Mouse PHS phone for kids, selling for under $100.
There's a host of PHS kiddie phones, in all the colours of the rainbow. Phone accessories include antenna tips that flash to announce an incoming call and teddy bear wrist straps.
Some of the simpler phones are aimed at kids too young to know how to dial numbers. One model has three buttons emblazoned with colourful icons which can be pre-programmed to call home, dad's workplace and grandma with just a single tap of a little finger.
Another gadget facilitates private television viewing in small Japanese apartments. These "Trekker" goggles from Sony and other manufacturers feature two mini liquid crystal displays, one under each eyepiece, and dual earphones, all hooked up to a special tuner. Although the displays are small, they provide a view that's the equivalent of a large projection TV, since they're literally perched on the tip of your nose. I can see this appealing to computer gamers who really want to get close to the action. Price is about $720 and up.
Small digital audio recorders no bigger than a small cigarette lighter let you capture voice or music with excellent fidelity. These devices have no moving parts. You record the sound, not on tape, but on memory sticks that resemble a stick of chewing gum. While they may look like gum, the memory sticks cost quite a bit more, almost $80 for one 16-megabyte stick.
Car audio systems are old hat in Japan. The latest in mobile gear is a combination navigational computer and DVD player. These devices, such as the Carrozzeria Driving Brain from Pioneer, include an LCD screen that displays a map of your current location along with a voice that gives directions to your destination. Prices start around $2,500. Yes, they also play audio CDs.
Akihabara isn't always about selling the latest, expensive technology. Once you move away from the big stores on wide Chuo-dori Avenue, which turns into a pedestrian mall on Sundays, there's another world of small-time parts suppliers and hobby shops.
I found myself wending my way through narrow passageways between tiny stalls and crouching to avoid hitting my head on the ceiling-mounted air conditioners. Each stall, some no more than one meter wide by two meters long, had its own specialty. Some sold only cables, others traded in resistors, capacitors or antique radio equipment. One of the busiest sold nothing but computer memory chips.
My favourite was a busy little shop that seemed to break the specialist rule by stocking an eclectic assortment of batteries, LEDs (light emitting diodes), hobby kits in plastic bags stuffed with circuit boards and parts and just about any electronic component you could imagine. All were arranged in little boxes piled from the floor to the ceiling and spilling out onto the road.
There was a lineup to get into this place, which couldn't hold more than a dozen customers. Once inside, each customer was handed a palm-sized plastic basket to carry the precious electronic parts. I counted eight clerks crammed into this shop no bigger than a bedroom, tallying up the purchases and helping customers find that special component.
The shop symbolized the essence of Akihabara, the town where you can get anything you want, as long as it runs on electricity. CW
Richard Morochove, FCA, is a Toronto-based computer consultant.
Copyright ©1999 by Morochove & Associates Inc. All rights reserved. This work may not be copied or distributed by any means without our prior written permission.
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