Paul Salopek: Yeah, I think my boundaries have shifted because I’m a fairly private person, I’d like to think. And you can’t really be that way when you’re on a project like mine. The way I describe it is I’m like an actor walking on the stage. And that’s, you take attention, you get used to being looked at all the time.

It does. As much as I love to meet with people — that’s also not just my job, but I like people, I like talking to people, listening to their stories, as you do — but after a while you just need a little maybe a cave or a tent or a cheap motel with four walls just to have some quiet space and, if nothing else, to write and do your work.

So occasionally, there have been countries like Georgia in the Caucasus that were so friendly, that for more than a month I was being invited into people’s homes every night, which was lovely. But finally, I had to start taking a hotel room now and then just to kind of have a little private space.

I think what anthropologists tell us is that our species is roughly — as far as we know through data, through genetics and fossil evidence — we’re like 300,000 years old.

And it’s a marvel to me sometimes, walking across continents, that we’ve never had privacy, right? Hunter-gathers, moving bands of a couple dozen, up to 40 or so people, and you’re always together. It’s an extended clan, it’s your cousins, it’s a few strangers, it’s grandma, it’s grandkids. And you often share shelter, whether it’s a rock shelter or a yurt, you don’t have much private space.

I think for the vast majority of human history, I would say well more than 90%, we live and die and play and weep together. And it’s only recently when wealth has accumulated in private hands and family hands that we’ve had the luxury of putting up walls, which we seem to do as soon as we get the ability to do so.

That’s right, Carolyn. I think they maybe started that way with that name back in the ’90s? But they have evolved in Japan into something much more complicated. And that is a private space that you could rent by 30-minute segments, in some places the quarter-hour, to go be by yourself because Japan has some of the most densely packed cities in the world. The collective Tokyo metropolis is 38 million people, some say the largest metropolitan area on the planet. People go to these cybercafes because they have certain amenities, but mainly to rent a little privacy. That was my impression.

Yeah, I don’t know maybe 20 square feet, so maybe you know not much over 3 feet by 6 feet. Like basically the size of maybe a yoga mat.

Yeah, indeed. And basically, you leave your shoes at the door. You barely have a backpack, right? It uses up maybe a sixth or 15% of that space just to put it in the corner. The floor is like a futon, a cushion. So, it’s kind of soft for you to lay on. You sit on it. There’s a little desk space where there’s a big screen. A computer terminal if you want to play games or watch movies or whatnot. And that’s about it. And then outside somewhere in the common area are amenities like showers, laundry and a counter with endless supply of cheap sugary drinks and soft-serve ice cream and whatnot.

Yeah, it’s complicated. That’s why they’re so fascinating. I mean, one social urban anthropologist describes them as exotic homeless shelters because not only budget travelers such as myself — things are expensive in Japan and often ordinary conventional hotels are booked up well in advance. So, beyond the convenience for travelers and also for drunk businessmen who might be caught out after the last train and you don’t have to find a place to sleep, right?

And, I’ll get to this, but they’re like manospheres. You don’t see too many women there. They also function as homeless shelters because they offer cleanliness and anonymity. You go in there, you can even pay cash if you want. Being homeless carries stigma in Japan, just as joblessness does. If you’re an able-bodied man, especially men, you’re a little bit marginalized, you can go there and nobody knows that you’re staying there and getting a night’s sleep.

This is an interesting question, Carolyn, because I think I’m tempted to say yes, but I believe there’s something even deeper that distinguishes people’s thresholds for privacy, and that’s economics. Because whether you’re in northern India, or you’re in China, or indeed in Japan, if you have money, you can buy privacy. If you don’t have money, you don’t.

And so, countries that might have economic challenges, where there’s people who are struggling to make ends meet, do not have the funds to put a wall around themselves, or even a curtain. So, you sleep and eat and your day plays out in a collective space. That has downsides, right? Obviously, but also it has upsides. I think there’s a sense of community that comes with shared space.

And this is kind of the classic village dilemma, where it’s both wonderfully supportive and everybody is taking care of each other’s kids and everybody’s in each other’s houses. On the other side, everybody knows each other’s business down to a tee, so it’s a tradeoff.

Yeah, I would say maybe there might be a surfeit of privacy in wealthy societies. And there’s kind of an ennui that comes with that.

Yeah, let me put it this way, I try to use my privacy well, both for being mindful about my own emotional state, and just kind of relaxing and taking a breather  from always talking to people and interviewing people, etc. But also, to think and read and write. Yeah, it’s precious to me. Absolutely.