ASIAWEEK'S TOP TEN CITIES OF ASIA

Take a closer look. Off the bleak avenues are self-contained neighborhoods with winding streets, lined with surprisingly spacious houses, some boasting small yards where flowers, herbs and bonsai trees grow. The streets are immaculate. Urban crime is so rare that some residents don't lock their doors. Kids play baseball in local parks, and every afternoon at 5:00 speakers blare: "It's time to go home, children." Shops, eateries and bath houses are a stroll away, huddled around the ubiquitous train station. Tokyo truly is a collection of villages, and within these enclaves a small-town sense of community prevails.

To be sure, big-city stress begins the moment Tokyoites board the crowded trains to work. But at least there are lots to choose from; more than 20 private rail lines, not counting subways, serve the metropolis, and they always -- well practically always -- arrive on time. Nor is there a stigma about taking the subway; it is not unusual for the wealthy to hop the train.

Once a city of drab, Ferro-concrete buildings erected in the penurious post- war years, Tokyo is breaking out with splashy new architecture replete with arches, color and crazy angles. Take the Asahi Breweries Ltd. building -- it looks like a frothing glass of beer.

Now that Tokyoites have at long last learned to relax, they have more to do than most Asian urbanites. The city's weekly "what's-on" magazine is a centimeter thick and packed with possibilities. On a given weekend there are more than 100 pop or classical music shows and an equal number of plays, operas and ballets. There are two major zoos, three aquariums, the world's largest indoor ski run, Tokyo Disneyland and museums for every taste. Interested in salt, softball or tapeworms? There are museums dedicated to all three.

"I'm proud of Tokyo. It's clean and I don't have to worry about crime," says Nakamura Matazo, a Tokyo-born kabuki actor. He does have a few complaints. Among them: the dearth of parks and walking trails (Tokyo has about a tenth the green space of New York City).

Nakamura does not mention it, but like all Tokyoites the Next Big One is never far from his thoughts. In 1923 an earthquake flattened his beloved city. Each anniversary of the quake residents rehearse safety procedures. Only in recent years has Tokyo had the confidence to build sky-scrapers. There is constant talk of moving the capital; 1002 of Japan's biggest concerns are based in Tokyo and no one wants prosperity held hostage to another quake. Still, so long as Tokyoites relish being at the center of Japan's political, cultural and business life, Tokyo will remain exactly what it is -- Asia's preeminent city.

-- Reported by Murakami Mutsuko

When people are offered a transfer to Singapore invariably they are gripped by conflicting emotions. Sure, they say, compared to some Asian cities, the place is a lifestyle oasis. Then comes the inevitable question: But will I die of boredom?

Singapore has an image problem that most mayors would raise taxes for. The place ticks like a precision Rolex; not for nothing is it called Asia's Switzerland. Thanks to zealous anti-pollution and car-control policies, you can breathe the air without gagging, drink tap water without boiling it. The place is green; a 12th of the landscape is devoted to parks, playgrounds and nature reserves. Garbage is collected once a day. Call an ambulance and you know it won't get stuck in traffic.

Earlier this year authorities announced that the crime rate had increased slightly. Not that residents were especially fazed. Singapore is still one of the safest cities in Asia. Many people leave their gates unlocked; mail carriers drop packages on the door-step with no worries.

Says Malaysia-born resident Leow Siak Fah: "For the man in the street Singapore comes up tops." He ticks off the benefits: decent accommodation, a clean environment, superb health care and education, efficient transportation, modern communications and daily flights to all the key Southeast Asian cities. Trouble is, that impressive list does not come cheap. Singapore is now one of the most expensive cities in Asia. Owing to the government's drive to keep the city ungridlocked and pollution-free, a Japanese coupe is priced like a German luxury sedan elsewhere. And groceries are twice as expensive as they are in Kuala Lumpur.

Then there is the perceived fun deficit. To be fair, the government has spent millions to develop an arts community and has allowed it to flourish relatively unchecked; in a recent musical the cast stripped down to their underwear. At least a dozen local theater companies mount productions. And Singapore is on the map for major international acts. "There used to be nothing to go to," says Ekachai Uekrongtham, the Thai-born president of Action Theater. "Now I have to choose." For sheer volume and quality of entertainment, Singapore cannot compete with Tokyo, certainly not New York. But then who expected it to?

Indeed, critics who poke fun at the "nanny state" should remember how far Singapore has come in a short time. Novelist Catherine Lim is not one to pull punches when it comes to the government's zeal for micro-managing citizens' lives. "The intellectual climate is not very stimulating," she says. "Nobody, but nobody, can frankly say we have openness in Singapore." Still, Lim recalls what the city was like 30 years ago when she moved there from Malaysia. "I have pride in its achievements," she says. "I relish mixing freely with a mix of cultures." If a critic like Lim can find such nice things to say about Sing-apore, well, anyone can.

-- Reported by Santha Oorjitham

No traffic, no pollution, no income tax -- no wonder Bandar Sri Begawan is one of Asia's most livable cities. Says a businessman living in the capital of Brunei, the tiny country with the outsized oil and gas reserves: "After Bangkok, Jakarta and Manila, this place is paradise. The air is clean, there's good shopping, and if you get three cars lined up that's a traffic jam." If, like most Bruneians, you are a teetotaler, like watching TV (one Brunei station, three Malaysian ones and uncensored satellite Star TV) and enjoy a quiet, uneventful lifestyle, you'll love Bandar.

Others may not, but will rarely admit it. Says an economist: "People in Bandar say they are very happy. The problem is that they would say that even if they were unhappy." No opposition is tolerated; a state of emergency, declared in 1962, remains in force; public criticism of the government -- especially the Sultan -- is taboo.

But Bandar residents seem to have little to complain about. Most citizens get free schooling and health care -- though the Chinese, who make up 16% of Brunei's population, are not considered citizens and are ineligible for such benefits. More than half the workforce is on the government payroll -- the jobs are secure and untaxing.

The most common gripes revolve around the city's poor public transport system and the high price of getting around. (There's $2 on the taxi meter before a driver shifts into first gear). A car is fairly essential. Roads are good, highways are plentiful, and petrol is only about 50 cents a liter. But motoring is not cheap. In 1995, the government raised the purchase tax on cars by 20% to 200% depending on engine size. Says a banker: "It's baffling because you cannot imagine doing anything worse to antagonize the people than to make it more difficult to buy a car." Maybe the government is anticipating -- Singapore-style -- the traffic and pollution to come.

Bandar's wharf is crowded at 5 p.m. when workers catch an outboard that will skim them to their riverine homes on the south bank of the Brunei River. Most will spend the evening at home having dinner and watching TV. A family with a VCR might rent a movie like Striptease or To Die For -- films not usually associated with a traditionalist Islamic state.

As for other diversions, the most notable is Jerudong, an amusement park 25 km outside of town ($30, one-way, by taxi). The new fairground is full of lime-and-pink neon-lit rides, rollerblade rinks, illuminated fountains and junk-food vendors. And it's free -- the perfect price for its principal clientele, the under-17 set.

For more mature Bruneians, entertainment is what they make it -- or what the Sultan provides. Recently that has included appearances by Seal, Whitney Houston -- and, of course, Michael Jackson.

-- Reported by Roger Mitton

Local customs reveal plenty about a city. Osakans like to say "maido" -- that's short for an expression that means roughly, "thank you very much for your patronage." The greeting evokes Osaka's image as a city of sho-nin or merchants -- a no-nonsense town that may lack the glamour and glitz of rival Tokyo but more than makes up for it in other departments.

Osakans say theirs is a far more livable metropolis than Japan's modern capital. And with its numerous bridges, waterways and the graceful castle nestled in a wooded park near downtown, the second city has its own first-rate charms. Not a picture-book Kyoto by any means, but less chaotic than Tokyo.

Nakagawa Katsuhiro, 64, is in a position to compare. He was born in Osaka, but grew up in Tokyo. After the Second World War, he returned to his hometown, where he now runs a juku or cram school and works as a tour guide for English-speaking visitors. "Osaka is so easy to live in," he says. "Tokyo is so big, but Osaka is a reasonable size."

What trait best characterizes Osaka? Honesty, believes Nakagawa. "We speak our minds," he says. That accounts for the reputation of Osaka business people as hard-nosed over-achievers. Prime Minister Hashimoto Ryutaro, for instance, started his career there as a humble salaryman. The Kansai area, which in-cludes Osaka, Kyoto and the port city of Kobe, has long been a powerhouse of Japanese in-dustry, most recently in electronics and high-tech consumer products.

It is not all business; Osakans know how to enjoy life, too. The region is the cradle of some of Japan's most highly prized arts, among them kabuki plays and bunraku puppet shows. No other city in Japan can boast of more annual festivals. Osaka's Shinsaibashi shopping district easily rivals Tokyo's Ginza.

Then there is the food. Eating is such an important part of the local culture that Osaka is often called "Japan's kitchen." The chief attraction: takoyaki, diced octopus in a fried wheat flour ball. Every Osaka man, woman and child has his or her favorite takoyaki shop.

"Jack" Nakagawa likes to take tourists to the Osaka Business Park, adjacent to Osaka Castle. From there they can see the duality that gives the city its edge: an enduring respect for tradition and an eagerness to embrace change.

Osaka is a gateway between Japan and the rest of the world, and its residents are justly proud of their cosmopolitan outlook. Around the clock, airliners arrive and depart from Kansai International Airport, opened in 1994 on a man-made island in Osaka Bay. Last year, city officials proud to showcase Osaka's business clout shut down streets to host the annual APEC ministerial conference. Says Osaka Prefec-ture's flamboyant governor Knock Yok-oyama: "We want a key role in the economy and culture of Asia-Pacific." Osaka may be Japan's second city but its people clearly believe it should be No. 1.

-- Reported by Alejandro Reyes

Kaneko Ryohei, a 56-year-old sales manager for Taisei Corp., moved from Tokyo 28 years ago to run the Sendai office of the mammoth construction company. He never left. He bought a house within walking distance of his office -- something unheard of in Tokyo -- and settled down for a more peaceful way of life. "I can't remember how I endured Tokyo," he says.

Many people willingly trade Tokyo's incomparable culture, varied leisure offerings and the excitement of being the national center for a less stressful, more economical lifestyle in a smaller city. That is one reason Sendai, situated about 300 km north of the capital, is Japan's fastest-growing city. It seems only a year or two away from reaching about 1 million people. But compared with the 30-million conurbation to the south, everything seems to be of a more human scale. A modest house one hour's commute from downtown Tokyo can cost as much as $800,000. A bigger home only 30 minutes from central Sendai goes for about half that sum.

Emerging from the railway station, one immediately senses a different ambiance. From the elevated walkways linking buildings, wide streets lined with tall, neatly trimmed ginko trees can be seen leading off in all directions. There are plenty of cars, but traffic isn't oppressive. The tallest buildings are only 15 stories or so.

Japanese cities are relatively free of major crime, but Sendai is one of the few of its size with little or no yakuza presence. The area is also less prone to major earthquakes -- one reason the city is occasionally touted as an alternative capital. It is the de facto capital of Tohoku, a glorious region of mountains and seashores that covers the northern third of Honshu island. An hour away is breathtakingly scenic Matsushima Bay, dotted with 260 islets.

Tohoku University, rated one of the country's best institutions of higher learning, is the focus of intellectual life and a catalyst for high-tech industries. Sendai is also deepening its cultural life. It has formed a symphony orchestra and sponsored an international young musicians competition. And for those who simply can't do without Tokyo's adrenalin, a fix is only two hours away by bullet train.

-- Reported by Murakami Mutsuko

An early morning stroll through Victoria Park telescopes Hong Kong's startling energy and diversity. In one corner, tai-chi practitioners harmonize their bodies and surroundings in slow-motion grace that is centuries old. Over there a group does aerobics energetically to a Madonna beat as a dance leader belts out instructions. On the park road a roller blader whizzes by a jogger wiggling along a parallel sand path in the trendiest of pink warm-up suits. An old man and his bamboo-caged bird, focused on the new day, barely notice the hubbub.

New and old, fast and slow, bustle and shuffle -- such amalgamations pulse at the heart of Hong Kong. But for some residents, it also represents their exasperation with day-to-day life. Hong Kong is at the same time achingly poky and overbearingly brisk. "It's very stressful," says British marketing executive James Clark, now on his second stint in Hong Kong since first arriving in 1989. "Just maintaining a decent standard of living is such work."

Indeed, Hong Kong is one of Asia's most expensive cities. Living space is costlier than in most world cities, though that is partly because Hong Kongers make enough to pay steep rents and mortgages. Per-capita disposable income, at more than $15,000, trails only those of Japan and Singapore. The income-tax rate is the lowest in Asia outside tax-free Brunei.

Low taxes underpin Hong Kong's renown as a place in which government leaves business alone. The U.S. think-tank Heritage Foundation ranks the city as the freest of all the 140 economies it studies. The laissez-faire approach has expanded Hong Kong's economic importance far beyond its size. It is the world's eighth-largest trader and a regional financial center. Its exports and re-exports last year totaled more than those of Thailand, Malaysia and the Philippines combined.

So why isn't Hong Kong smiling? There's work to be done. Victoria Park's early-morning vivacity soon gives way to knit-browed determination, a mask common among the 6.3 million people. One of the region's most advanced and extensive public transportation networks helps get the busybodies to work on time. And after hours? Hong Kong has more theaters than most Asian cities, plus a vibrant night life, as well as government-subsidized cultural presentations featuring world-class artists.

Its frenetic pace makes it easy to miss the city's beauty. The business district on Hong Kong Island occupies a sliver of land between tall hills and the much photographed Victoria Harbor. Shining like towers of precious metal, the skyscrapers hum with financial and trading enterprises that handle billions of dollars in transactions day in, day out, and into the night, their occupants mere cogs in the machine of global commerce. With all that wealth weighing on their minds, it is no wonder Hong Kongers are sparing with smiles.

-- Reported by Law Siu Lan

The air is polluted. The Klang river is dirty. The flash floods and power outages are inconvenient. Skyscrapers are edging out shophouses. Sidewalks are never where you need them. Taxis are scarce and private cars are everywhere. Cultural offerings are meager. "There has been too much emphasis on the development of the skyline and not enough on human values," says opposition MP Tan Kok Wai.

So what makes Kuala Lumpur one of Asia's top 10 cities? Answer: 30 other places with even less to offer the overworked, traffic-weary urbanite. KL's air is polluted, but not as badly as, say, Bangkok's. Evenings may be barren beyond a meal and a shallow film, but think about a Saturday night in Bandar Seri Begawan. KL has paid a price for its rapid development -- which city hasn't? Fortunately, officials now accept that it takes more than stratospheric buildings to make a city modern. "KL is still maturing," says Ibrahim Saad, deputy minister in the Prime Minister's Department, overseeing federal territories like the capital. "Give us time."

For now consider KL's reasonable rents, low unemployment and easy-going pace. The city is neither sprawling nor crowded. Golf courses, badminton, squash and tennis courts are available and affordable. Enjoying the Lake Gardens is free. You can jog along the twisting roads, row on the lake or turn out a picnic under the tropical trees. KL is cleaner and greener than most other major cities in the region. There is pristine air and jungle walks in nearby Fraser's Hill.

Already reasonably livable, Kuala Lumpur aims to become exceedingly lively too. It boasts a National Museum, Zoo and Library; a national theater and concert hall are on the way. Bangsar is the trendy place to eat, see and be seen; Chow Kit and Petaling Street offer old-city flavors.

Now about those art-of-the-state projects. The world's tallest building, the Petronas Twin Towers, already stands as a monument to Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad's ambition to put Kuala Lumpur on the world map. Currently under construction are a new national administrative capital (see page 48), an international airport and a light-rail system. Also on the drawing board: Linear City, a $4-billion, 12-km development that would include what its backers say would be the world's longest -- yes, longest -- building.

What really sets KL apart is its ethnic richness. Malay, Chinese and Indian cultures rub against each other, and at the very least the interplay makes for great eating. The muezzin's wail, Cantonese opera and Hindi film tunes resonate through the city, creating harmony in both sounds and souls. Politicians may worry about balancing the three communities, but for KL, the mix is a source of both greatness and delight.

-- Reported by Roger Mitton

The all-year summer sun is out but a breeze rustles through mango trees dotting hills that roll into the sea. Another day in Cebu, central Philippines. "The pace is more leisurely here," says Mayor Alvin Garcia whose life is witness to this. One day he might be meeting with investment bankers about a new $19-million city government bond offering, settling a dispute with market vendors, and talking with property developers about new projects. The same day Garcia, 50, might also take a break from city hall at noon, hit the fairways of the Cebu Country Club, and go back to his desk by 5 pm.

Twice a week, he and his vice-mayor, Renato Osmea (both 17 handicappers), make it a point to join friends for a round of golf. Japanese tourists also enjoy Cebu's three courses, flying in just to play. Even with plane fare and hotels it is still much cheaper than doing a full 18 holes at home. And compared with Manila, green fees and other club costs are about 30% lower. Tourists also come for the beaches of this small island (250 km long and 45 km at its widest). Over 50 resorts, from five-star to one-hut operations, are about 30 minutes to three hours drive from the city.

But don't let the diversions make you think Cebu is all frivolity and frolic. The land that killed the explorer Ferdinand Magellan and repulsed his soldiers in 1521 welcomed many ethnic Chinese business people -- and has prospered because of it. Called "Ce-boom" for its unrelenting double-digit growth, the city is a centuries-old bastion of entrepreneurship. No less than seven leading Filipino Chinese tycoons, including Lucio Tan, Henry Sy and John Gokongwei, spent their boyhood in Cebu.

Sophisticated balancing scales found by Magellan's crew prompted his chronicler Pigafetta to write about how "scrupulous these people are in their dealings." Today, traders still come in from neighboring islands. The strategic location makes Cebu an ideal hub for commerce and transportation. Most of the major national shipping lines are headquartered there, and at least 56 international flights serve the city.

An industrial zone near the international airport on nearby Mactan island hosts some 120 companies including the likes of NEC, camera manufacturer Asahi Pentax and international furniture label Maitland-Smith. On top of prosperity, Cebu offers streets with much less crime than Manila's. The semi-governmental Cebu Investment Promotions Center handles enquiries from prospective investors. Its letterhead features a little tiger on the corner with the words: "Next in Asia." It's about time.

-- Reported by Antonio Lopez

To Thais it is the Rose of the North. And over the past five years or so Chiang Mai has truly blossomed. Long dismissed by Bangkok folk as a sleepy old town with ambitions way above its station in life, it is now one of Thailand's most remarkable success stories. Seven centuries after it was founded by King Mangrai the Great, Chiang Mai has the look of a city in the grip of a gold rush. Buildings are springing up alongside old temples and wooden houses. And gleaming Mercedes sedans and Toyota pick-ups compete with buses on the narrow, bustling streets.

Driving the changes is a growing recognition that the city of 415,000 represents a genuine alternative to Bangkok as a business center. It could become a major gateway to China, Laos and Myanmar, once the roads and rail links are in place. As manager of Chiang Mai's largest shopping plaza, Chaiwat Marusuwan takes a sharp interest in the growth of the moneyed middle class. "A number of companies are moving in," he observes. "Not big ones, but largely import and export concerns. Some of this is in preparation for what is to come." New companies get help from a variety of sources, including the Board of Investment, the Department of Exports and the Chamber of Commerce.

Hannarong Fongsanoh, a department manager with Advanced Info Service's mobile-phone operation, arrived six months ago. "The first thing that struck me was the weather, the fresh air," says the executive, who was born in Thailand's northeast. Having worked in Bangkok and Surat Thani in the south, Hannarong knows a thing or two about Thai urban living. He finds Chiang Mai to be "a good place, a big city with many of the things I want -- especially the environment, the atmosphere, the people, the shopping malls." Housing is less expensive than in Bangkok, though, given the economic growth, that may not be the case for long. Leisure facilities like golf courses and tennis courts are more easily available.

Chiang Mai sits at an altitude of 300 meters, in the Doi Suthep foothills. That and its northern latitude gives it relatively pleasant weather. Average temperatures hover around 25 degrees Celsius, with a distinct chill in the cool season from October to February. The wettest month, August, can bring spectacular storms. Watching the rain beat down, you understand why the forests adorning the surrounding hills are so luxuriant.

As bustling and go-ahead as Chiang Mai is, it has not severed its links with the past. A moat and stone wall run around most of the old town. Inside the ramparts, temples and fine old buildings abound. This and the appeal of the nearby mountains make Chiang Mai a major draw for tourists. Up to 6,000 arrive each day.

Growth has also brought its frustrations. Traffic congestion, while nowhere near the scale of Bangkok's, has become a problem that cannot be ignored much longer. Inadequate garbage disposal is also an embarrassment, and locals grumble that city hall has to find a way to rein in wildcat developers. None of these irritants is insoluble, though. And any local will tell you that they are far outweighed by the Rose of the North's attractions.

-- Reported by Julian Gearing

Gold coins fired into the jungle was the legendary seed that brought forth Georgetown. That was how an 18th-century English adventurer named Francis Light supposedly induced locals to clear the vegetation. Hence, it might have been appropriate if the capital of Penang state, 400 km northwest of Kuala Lumpur, were a frenetic, money-driven metropolis in the Hong Kong image. Yet what strikes a visitor to Georgetown is its old-world, small-town air, bustling yet agreeably laid-back.

Some credit the red terra-cotta-roofed houses, others the grand Eastern and Oriental Hotel or the narrow, quaint alleyways. Whatever it is, a charming sense of history and culture pervades this town of 400,000. According to Penang State Executive Councillor Kee Phaik Cheen, Georgetown has the largest collection of pre-war buildings among Southeast Asian cities. The ambiance makes the city pleasant to walk around and live in.

Food adds the dimensions of smell and taste to the sights. Ask a Singaporean why he visits, says Kee, and he will likely serve up a gastronomical reason. Georgetown's ethnic mosaic -- Malay, Chinese, Indian, Western -- has colored its culinary creations, many beckoning from hawker stalls. Preserving such character amid modernity has been the challenge. There is some success. Penang is the high-tech center of Malaysia, with one of Asia's largest concentrations of electronics factories. But the town doesn't wind down after six, least of all the nightspots set up in old Chinese mansions.

What's the downside? Public transport falls short. People make do with chronically late buses and hard-to-hail taxis where there ought to be mass transit, planned for 2005. The buses ply only main roads; taxi stands are few and far between. Many cab drivers insist on haggling over the fare instead of using their meters (though taxis are still relatively cheap). Many residents prefer their own cars; there are now close to two per household, hardly helping the traffic.

Ex-Georgetowner and social activist Chandra Muzaffar complains that the city's artistic barrenness matches that of the inhabitants. "Talk to any Penangite," he says. "After the second sentence, the topic is about food, where the latest char koay teow [noodles] stall is." Chief Minister Koh Tsu Koon counters: "It's not that we are not artistic. It's just not economically viable yet. We don't have a big base of upper- and medium-income groups. Until we do, let us enjoy the food." Bon appetit!

-- Reported by Jessica Chan