They say that travel broadens the mind. I gave it a chance. Departure from Duesseldorf airport where I was informed that the flight was cancelled. Heavy rain. But the airline had rebooked me on another flight which would allow me to spend some hours unexpectedly at the new airport of Istanbul. This meant loitering about in the departure hall for some time. After a while I noticed a small group of cleaning staff standing around the seat I was sitting on earlier. They were toying with a smartphone and looked at me questioningly. Was it mine? Yes, it must have slipped out of my pocket. I thanked them; they gave it to me without any fuss. Pass the time, still an hour until departure.

Fast forward, two weeks later at Pudong airport in Shanghai. Queuing for baggage drop off first, then health check. Where is your Corona QR code? Smartphone? No? Get out! So, I got out of this que and lined up in front of a machine that generated QR codes assisted by a young lady who was more accommodating than the one who had just sent me out. Name, date of birth, passport number, telephone number of your contact in Shanghai? Well, I’m afraid I don’t have that one. Doesn’t matter she said, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 will do. She handed me a QR code printout, and I went back into the health check line. Then on to passport control. Extremely crowded, the line moved at snail pace, pure torture. And security screening of carry-on luggage and passengers still to come. Hand luggage onto the conveyor belt, computer out of the briefcase, jacket, belt, mobile in the tub and on through the body scanner. The weather was oppressive. I felt like I had to escape, grabbed computer, jacket and briefcase and ran to the lounge for a cup of coffee or tea or whatever. That helped me regain my composure and feel much better for a few minutes until I noticed the absence of my mobile. Hell! The lounge attendant took me to a counter right next to the security, and there it was. Good break.

Next stop Tokyo where I was happy to spend a few weeks on familiar grounds. One day I attended a workshop and gave a talk. Then we all went to a restaurant where we had a great meal and never stopped talking about how to make the world a better place, etc. Exhilarated and completely satisfied, I went home – where (you guessed it) I realized that my phone had once again deserted me. It was late, nothing much I could do, but I knew exactly when and where I had looked at it for the last time. I could only have lost it on one of the two train lines I used afterwards. Early the next morning I went to the stations where I got off and where I changed trains. Nothing. The clerks registered the loss and the telephone number of the office I was visiting. One of them told me not to worry, they collected about a hundred left-behind mobiles every day which typically would be returned to their proprietors promptly. I asked several more times over the next days, to no avail, but eventually an email informed me that a phone that could be mine was at the lost property office of one of the stations.

Thus, I dutifully went there. The office wasn’t in the station, but in another building in the neighbourhood which was unfamiliar to me. I strolled around for a while and then, unable to consult my smartphone, asked someone for directions. The old lady was sweet and said she lived close by. She walked with me to the next corner where she pointed me in the right direction. When I arrived at the lost and found it was 2 minutes before closing time at 7 pm, of which I wasn’t aware. The phone they presented to me was indeed mine. They asked for my ID, gave me the phone, led me out and turned off the lights after a day’s work. Third time ‘s a charm.

Back out on the street, it occurred to me that I would rather ask the old lady for directions back to the station than my recovered smartphone. I also thought about the fact that during the last few days on the subway I was virtually the only passenger not glued to his smartphone. At over 85% the smartphone penetration rate in Japan is high. Only babies and centenarians don’t use them. But I didn’t really miss mine all that much, as I realized now that I had it back.

The old lady wouldn’t track me or demand a reward for telling me where to go. She didn’t collect any data from me for her own profit and was friendly all the same. I asked her for directions because she was the only person around who was not bent over looking down at their hand holding their smartphone and rapidly moving in the direction of text neck. Text neck is the flexed position observed among smartphone users that gives them a pain in the neck. It is a public health problem that has increased drastically wherever mobiles are used, that is, everywhere; a new epidemic, and surely not the only unwelcome spinoff of mobile communication technology. Nomophobia, for instance, the symptom of panicking when your smartphone is out of reach even for a moment.

Alcoholism and drug addictions are not for nothing recognized as diseases. Do we have to tolerate industries that create new diseases? Considering how difficult it is to reign in the tobacco industry decades after the health harms of their product were unequivocally proven, apparently yes. But the least we could do is take a stand and call these devices what they are, dangerous, addictive, socially destructive.

The days in Tokyo where I was, presumably, the only person without a smartphone I thoroughly enjoyed, and against this background a bizarre thought crept up in my mind. Losing my phone three times within as many weeks, what did that mean? Had I perhaps been trying to get rid of the silly thing? Psychologists claim there is such a thing as the subconscious. Was mine working in that direction? Aren’t airports perfect places to dispose of things you don’t want any more? Isn’t the biggest city on earth? – The latter actually not. In Tokyo your chances to get back whatever you lost, even cash, is better than in any other city that size. – But still, aren’t three attempts indicative of something?

I wrote an email to my friend JM who lives in Tokyo to ask whether he had a line account so that I could call him. Yes, he answered, but I hate it. The smartphone is in the drawer. Travel broadens the mind.

Culture, Environment, Identity, Mind