The Tempest, Aftershocks and the House on Stilts

It's really, technically not a tempest, per se.  There's no rain or snow.  There are however, intense and amazing wind gusts.  Continual bands of wind have been blowing all day today.  I just wanted to use the word "tempest" because, well, I just did.

I've written about aftershocks and phantom aftershocks, right?  Aftershocks we experience daily.  Some are big enough to shake whatever we're in, others we barely feel.  Phantom aftershocks are a real phenomenon where our body gets so used to shaking we trick our equilibrium into thinking/feeling there's another quake.  Evidently it has something to do with our ears--the whole equilibrium thing, that is.  So, over the past month I've been experiencing real aftershocks and phantom aftershocks and today, a tempest (minus the rain and snow) with real aftershocks.  That, last one, my dear people, is a pretty hefty combination.

Why?  Let me be specific.  The building we're in, where we eat, sleep and call "base" is built on stilts.  Now, the "stilts" are steel beams, of course, but there is no "first floor" and quite literally, we're perched on top of a parking lot.  All this to say, when real aftershocks hit, the whole building shakes. It's a sound building (or so I'm told) but good grief--this thing really shakes.  Add to this the gales of wind today which shakes the building all the more (and all day).  With all this movement today, phantom aftershocks are the last thing I'm thinking about today.  It's a pretty strange feeling to have the building in an almost perpetual state of movement either from an aftershock or the wind. 

And then there it was.  There was an aftershock that we all felt while the wind was whipping through.  A double-whammy like that means extra and longer swaying of the house-on-stilts.  It's unpleasant.  Walking around in the perpetually swaying building makes me feel just the slightest bit weak in the knees.  Not the whole I-see-my-husband-and-he-kisses-me weak in the knees bit.  I mean walking-on-solid-ground-after-being-out-at-sea-forever weak in the knees.  I'll take the former any day.  The latter, this particular feeling I can honestly do without.

I feel this all the more stronger perhaps because I'm laying down trying to recover from this now-a-full-blown-cold-and-flu thing.  Whatever the reasons, this has turned into a day like nothing else.  Not complaining, mind you.  It's just interesting to feel how much a building can sway when it's not on solid ground, when the wind is blowing every which direction and the aftershocks continue to rumble.  Note, the choice to use the word "interesting" is reminiscent of how my father used it when I was a child.  If someone was "interesting" or something tasted "interesting" it was generally okay to assume this was code for "not all that good."  As such, when I say it's "interesting" to be in a building that sways as much as this, you're welcome to assume and interpret this is not my favorite place to be right now.  This too shall pass.

Something personal

I'm a bit fried tonight.  I'm not exactly sure why but I'm beat.  Maybe it's the sleeping-on-concrete that's getting to me.  I'm not quite sure.

All this to say, I honestly don't have a story for you tonight from people I've spoken to recently but I do have a story from me.  It's not earth-shattering news or anything except to say I'm giving you a heads up. 

Tomorrow is my two week mark.  I've found I have a pattern in my moods and my tolerance for holding things in.  I have four days where I'm fine and then I follow that with a meltdown day.  Today is day four.  I'm scheduled for a meltdown tomorrow.

I've felt it coming on all day.  I've fought back tears multiple times and have been okay not breaking down in public.  I'm not sure I can do that tomorrow.  My heads up is essentially to say I probably won't be writing much tomorrow--I'll need another night where I walk around and cry--or I'll unload onto all of you in a way I can't predict quite yet.

I do have a story.  It's one of those moments I had to hold back and not breakdown.  There are three women from the community we've spoken to over the past several days who have offered to help with the cooking.  We will have 20 people staying in one of the new bases (which I'll move into tomorrow) and we need someone to help cook dinner.  This is meant to be a paid part-time position but these women said they would be willing to volunteer their time.  Their exact words were "we're volunteering so you can volunteer."  Hold back sob, hold back sob, hold back sob.

Then one of the women asks how we're going to bathe.  We say we aren't sure yet (buckets, probably?) as there's no shower facility in the building or hot water.  One of the women says she could offer her bath for us five nights a week.  I almost lose it.  Dirty, smelly volunteers, many of whom are foreign, walking in and out of a stranger's home five nights a week (in shifts, of course)?  This is quite an offer.  People are good.  I'm reminded of that everyday.

Not feeling guilty

I wrote yesterday about daffodils and how they anger me.  I see more today.  Of course.  It's spring.  More flora will bloom in the next several weeks.  I realize it would behoove me to find a way to enjoy nature's beauty and not be constantly angered by the inequality of how it behaves.  I realize this.

It hit me this morning as we were mucking out a man's yard.  Half of his trees were blooming and the other half were dead.  He pointed out his rose bushes and said, "if they soak in salt water long enough evidently they die."  Neither of us knew that.  It's not common knowledge now, is it--except it's not rocket science and once I realize roses aren't meant to be underwater, much less salt water it all seems pretty obvious.  He was lamenting the loss of his bushes and trees when he pointed out his daffodils and tulips.  I now hate tulips as well.  I just do.

My phone rang and it was "the official" (again) and so I walked across the street to get away from the yard to take the call.  My dislike for nature is something to behold.  Again, I'm not proud of it, but I claim it.  Who goes around saying "I don't like nature"?  Right?

I pace as I talk on the phone saying "hai" (yes) a lot.  I thank him for all he's done, say things that he'll like, ask him yet one more favor.  I keep pacing.  Then I look down.  I see them.  More daffodils.  These are daffodils that will clearly not survive.  There are no flowers.  The stalks are yellowing.  These must have been affected by the salt water in a way I can't explain.

If you're a nature lover and you don't like seeing things die then you should probably stop reading here.  I'm not proud of what I did but neither do I feel guilty.  Here it is:  I stomped on them.  If felt good.  It's my one small act of rebellion against beauty that destroys.  It did appease my anger even if it was just for a bit.  I doubt I'll need to do it again.  If I do, I probably won't tell you about it.  There's certainly enough else going on here that I can write about.  I needed to say this to you once:  I am not a nature fan.  I appreciate the beauty but not this time around.  It did too much damage for me to love spring flowers.

Rikuzentakata, again

We needed to go meet with a city hall official in Rikuzentakata today.  We went to City Hall, or rather, the temporary City Hall which is essentially four long trailers made into offices.  The original City Hall is damaged beyond repair.

As we were driving back towards our current base in Ofunato, we drove through what remains of Rikuzentakata.  Again.  I looked out the window to my left and sat it:  Kenritsu Rikuzentakata Byoin.  The main hospital in Rikuzentakata.  It's a four-story structure, white on the outside, rectangular.  It looks like a typical hospital.  There's nothing special about this hospital except that all the windows on the first three floors are blown out.  This is the hospital where the doctors, nurses and able-bodied people ran up to the roof to escape the tsunami.  They had to leave behind those who couldn't escape in order to save themselves.  They heard those die as they fled up to the fourth floor and onto the roof. 

I can only imagine what they must have seen from the roof.  It couldn't have been that far to the rising water below.  Fear and guilt are two potent emotions to combine.  Seeing the building I had read and heard so much about brought it back all over again.  This sucks.

There are two other apartment buildings that I look at every time we go to Rikuzentakata.  These two five-story apartment buildings stand one in front of the other, the first one being closer to the ocean. All of the windows on both buildings are blown out for first four floors.  I can see through the first building to the second one behind.  This means the wave was four stories high and powerful enough to blow through windows, a hall way, another apartment on the other side of the hall way, then go into another building and wreak the same damage all over again.

It's a quiet hell.  There's no fire, burning bodies, pain, blood, screaming and devil-like creatures as I've seen in artwork in museums and books.  This is an entirely different kind of hell.  It's quiet.  There's no one around.  It's mountains of rubble everywhere I look.  Pile after pile of cars, splintered wood, and everything you can imagine inside.

Then as I we're driving, I see it.  Someone put a statue of a Buddha on the side of the road.  This came from someone's home.  Artifacts dot the roadside here and there and I'm at a loss for words all over again.

"I have a responsibility to start over"

The campground I will be moving to shortly also operates as a shelter for 120 people.  One of those staying at the shelter is a city council member.  He was instrumental in pulling strings to get us to the right people to get permission to use the campground as one of our bases.  There's a photo of Hirota Bay hanging in the main hall of one of the campground buildings.  Hirota Bay is where Rikuzentakata is located.  It's this bay that the tsunami came into and then onto Rikuzentakata.  I will find a way to take a photo from a hill so you can get a sense of the extent of the damage in Rikuzentakata.

Hirota Bay is known in Japan for its oysters.  Other areas are known for producing mass quantities of oysters but Hirota Bay provides the gourmet brand sold only in high-end restaurants and hotels in Tokyo.  The entire oyster crop was destroyed.  The city council member who I've now become friends with is also a fisherman, or rather an oyster-man.  He lost everything.  He said it will take him five years to get his first oyster harvest back.

He runs this family business with his three sons.  While all of his family members survived, he lost all of his houses and had to run up the mountain towards the campground to get to higher ground.  He, too, watched the tsunami destroy his homes, Hirota Bay, his oysters and livelihood.  I asked what the local oyster growers were going to do here on out as all of them lost their crop.  He said half would take their allotted payment from the government and retire.  "Not me," he said.  "I have a responsibility to start over.  This is a family business.  I need to have something to pass onto my sons.  They are still young.  If I can live five more years and get them their first harvest after the tsunami I've done my part."

What does one say to this?  I might worry about where my next job is coming from but I have a spouse who has a steady job.  Both of us are employable.  We can move.  The people here don't have that kind of flexibility.  Houses are gone.  Family members are dead or missing.  Livelihoods shot.  Listening to their stories tests my ability to say the right thing at the right time.  So far I have yet to stick my foot in my mouth.  I am careful to dance delicately around the subject of death and destruction as so many have lost so much.  It's not a casual question.  Offering regrets, comfort and words of kindness only go so far.  This is far more complex than I ever imagined.

Volunteers galore

We went to a shelter today to make a spaghetti meal for those who live there.  We made sure to get strawberries and ice cream (what little ice cream we could find in the stores).  It was beautiful standing inside the kitchen and watching people scarf down pasta, salad and a dessert.  Slicing ten pounds of onions was a pain but it was well worth it.  Side note here......I was hoping the onions would make me cry and then I could bawl my eyes out and blame it on the onions......nothing.  I think this is the absolute first time in my life I've sliced into an onion without shedding a tear.  It's not a "Japanese onion" thing either as two nights ago I managed to get a good cry in when slicing the same type of onion bought at the same store.  Go figure.

There are families in this shelter with kids.  I've seen young women volunteering here for the past several days (all volunteers have a duct tape sticker on their arm) and I saw them today and yesterday running around with the children.  People are pitching in all over.  High school students whose schools were damaged do whatever they can.  A young Japanese man who was living in Canada came back here (he's from here) the day after the earthquake and also volunteers with City Hall as well as All Hands.  There's just no hesitation whatsoever.  People are helping.  Everywhere.  That we can cook a meal for them every now and then is a no brainer.  That I didn't cry at all after cutting up 10 pounds of onions?  Serious "brainer".......sorry.  Couldn't resist.  I have to make these little jokes here and there.  There's not a lot of laughter around these days, for obvious reasons.

Devastation first hand

If you know me you know I am not a woman of few words.  If you know me well you know I like to talk.  I have opinions and am not shy about sharing them.  This is important why?  I'm glad you asked.  I took the bus up north and was met by the leader of the volunteer group at the train station/bus stop.  He drove us through Rikuzentakata to get to Ohfunato where the base is. 

I am officially at a loss for words.  I first started seeing the debris up the river 9 miles away from the coast along the riverbeds.  The closer we got into town, the more we saw. 

I've never seen anything like this.  The whole downtown area near the ocean was flattened.  There were gouge marks on the side of one of the few remaining buildings where the water carried the debris 20+ feet high. 

Cars, buses, trucks, large equipment and such were tossed around, upside down, dented and destroyed.  Few buildings remain standing and those that are were hollowed out by the water.  I could see right through them through the curtains that some how stayed behind and were flapping in the wind.  Teddy bears, twisted metal beams, roof tiles, trees, telephone poles, clothing, bicycles and stop lights, you name it, it was strewn all over. 

I have nothing to compare it to other than a quiet hell. 

Then there were the crews.  Men were out shoveling dirt off the side walks that had been cleared by earlier cleaning crews.  The sidewalks had then been swept.  Except for the destroyed buildings on both sides of the street you'd never known just a day ago massive amounts of junk cluttered those same sidewalks.

Things that were washed out from inside buildings had already been sorted.  Appliances were in one area, books in another, wooden beams somewhere else, tatami mats stacked up neatly and placed on the sidewalks.  There is so much order here.  Seeing the devastation is one thing, seeing the patience and care by which this clean up process has already begun is yet another experience altogether.

I guess I'm find words after all.  I will keep sharing my thoughts, observations and feelings. 

A different kind of culture shock

In many ways, Tokyo is home.  This is where I am most comfortable.  Here, I am happy.  I know the rules.  The city recharges my battery.  I love the crowds, trains, and the constant buzz the city offers.  I walked around today and did last minute errands with my colleague as we prepare to head north tonight to Ohfunato.  We will be riding the overnight bus for 10 hours.  The scenery tomorrow will be entirely different than what I see today.  I have no way to prepare to this other than to conjure up the photos I've seen from someone's camera lens.

Seeing the destruction in Ohfunato first-hand will be an entirely different kind of culture shock.  This is a Japan I've never seen.  This is pain, en masse, as I've never experienced it.  Even the disaster relief workers who are there now, those who have seen devastation all over the world are shocked at what they have encountered.  Knowing this, it reinforces the fact I simply can't prepare for what I will see tomorrow.

My Grandmother loved the Serenity Prayer.  This is what I take with me.  Some days I need courage over wisdom, other days I need serenity over courage and at yet other days wisdom over serenity.  For the next two months I will need all three at all times.  Knowing this, I'm humbled all over again.

Fly United!

I'm not allowed to get specific on what United Airlines has done for me to get me to Japan but let's just say I am incredibly touched by their generosity and support.  I got to a United Airlines representative through five friends.  That means, get this, a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of mine made this happen.  Today.  It's Sunday today, you know.  She got this done on her day off.  When she told me what she had done I cried on the phone, and I hate crying in front of strangers.

All this to say, for your next trip please consider flying United Airlines.  There are good people out there and many of them work at United.

Thank you again, United.  You rock.  I'm grateful in ways you can hardly imagine.  Shout out to United!!

Friends of friends

You'll all learn as you read my postings that I really think adding a bit of spice to stories is a great way to keep life interesting.  It also keeps the attention of those to whom I'm telling the story.  In other words, I have a tendency to exaggerate.  Sometimes.  Just a bit.

What I'm about to share with you contains no exaggeration, embellishing, modifying or spicing up.  This is the real deal.  I have a healthy imagination and use it often but this one would be difficult for me to make up.

Let me back up just a bit.  Before the earthquake and tsunami hit Japan earlier this month, I had two business trips planned.  One was to Dubai and another was to Tokyo.  Once I decided to make myself available to go to Japan and got put on multiple standby lists I called both clients and canceled these trips. 

Now, I knew when I bought the tickets these were non-refundable tickets.  I knew if I had to cancel the flights for any reason, I had to eat a $250 (per ticket) change fee.  The tickets were both on United Airlines.   I decided to call United and beg for mercy.  If I'm going to Japan for two months and giving up salary, family, friends and make up then United can eat several thousand dollars.  This was my argument.  I would say it nicely, of course. 

I put out a mass e-mail to anyone who might have contacts at United.  I knew after the first call to United they were sympathetic and supportive but "sorry, we can't change our policy" was what I would continue to hear.  I needed to talk to someone who would actually take on my situation personally.  I needed friends to hit up their friends for a contact at United.

This is where it gets interesting.  I get a call on my cell phone from a number I don't recognize and take it because, well, after I've told people I'm going to Japan I've been getting calls from all over the place.  I take the call and hear this "Hi!" and proceed to "meet" Amy from Washington who's best friend works at United.  Of course she does.  We end the call with "I'll put you in touch with her!"  We exchange e-mails and next thing you know Lili from United is on board.  I'm still a bit confused as to who Amy is and how she found me but I let it go.  These kinds of things have been happening the last several days and I'm just trying to be grateful for the support I'm getting and not necessarily ask delving questions as to who they are.

I'm sharing this story with Miki saying I'm so totally impressed and touched and truly humbled by the support people are showing me and she stops me and says,
"Amy is Jo's friend."  I pause for a minute and say
"Okay, sweetheart.  This means nothing to me." 
"Amy is my Frontierville neighbor.  From Facebook.  Jo's my friend.  Amy's Jo's friend. Lili, the one helping you, is Amy's friend. I don't know Lili and the only reason I know Amy is through Frontierville.  We both needed neighbors and so we connected.  Jo must have contacted Amy after she saw my Facebook posting about you needing a contact at United."

Okay.  I'm not a woman of few words.  I like to talk.  This means I'm very seldom at a loss for words.  When Miki tells me a friend of a friend from a Facebook game got in touch with me to put me in touch with yet another friend to help me--it takes awhile to sink in.  People are good.  (Not everyone, of course.  I'll have a posting on one such person later.)

This is the kind of thing that's been happening for the past 72 hours.  People from all over are calling, writing, and sending things.  I'll write more about the list of things I've gotten and am getting sent to me.  I swear.  I can't make this up. 

How this all began

When the earthquake struck off the coast of Sendai on March 11th, it brought down much of the towns up and down the eastern coast of Honshu.  Then the waves came, washing away people, buildings, cars, houses and more.  We've seen the video clips.  They're horrific.

Then came the news about the damaged Fukushima Nuclear Plant.  All hell broke loose with the world worrying about impending doom.  I'm not trying to make light of how serious a nuclear meltdown can be.  Not at all.  I'm simply trying to outline facts.  For now, at least. 

I started making and getting calls several days after the 11th asking if I could/would be willing to go to Japan to help with the relief efforts.  I'll write more about this particular process later.  Fast forward two weeks after the 11th and I have word I am leaving for Japan on the 31st for two months.  I'm going.  This is real.

I will be working with a Boston-based relief organization called All Hands Volunteers (www.hands.org).  I will be in Rikuzentakata and Ohfunato, two towns essentially wiped out by the tsunami.  I'm going with the realization I don't really know what I'm getting into but that I can contribute to at least some relief. 

This blog will be an ongoing journal of my time in Japan as well as the days leading up to my departure.  I already have a lot to say and assume I will have much to report once I'm there.  I promise to be honest.  I promise to not capitalize on the pain of those I see.  I promise I will not mince words.  I promise I will try to remain objective.  I promise to be grateful as often as I can.

Consider this your cordial invitation to spend the next two months with me as I go through something I cannot possibly prepare for and experience seeing devastation first hand.  My goal is to show you what's really going on in Japan.  In return, I ask for two things:  spread the word and help any way you can.  I have thoughts on both which I will share in subsequent postings.