One year ago to the day, my sister and I experienced something truly horrifying in a place we love with all our hearts. I am going to be writing about those memories of the March 11, 2011 disaster in Japan now, though you can read two of my journal entries about it back when it actually happened. One here and one here. They are public and were written right after the day of the disaster,

I write about a lot of my adventures in Japan, and most all of them, if not happy, are at the very least quite emotional. I have always said it, but Japan truly is a place where I feel "alive." It's the only place that has ever given me that feeling, and I expect it always will be. I've been to England, France, Germany, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands, Austria, Switzerland, Canada, and other parts of the US, and as much as I loved and enjoyed them, even there I could not feel the way I do for Japan.

So when the disaster hit there last year on March 11, I think some part of myself had felt too naive to really believe that it could happen to such a gorgeous country. Such a...perfect country, in some sense. There are many wrongs in Japan, just as there are many wrongs in any place in the world, but it is truly a country with a high standard of living, a very high quality of life, and even the most "boring" days there felt meaningful, at least for me.

The night before the earthquake, I'd had a horrible nightmare, one from which I had woken the following morning with actual tears streaming down my face. The nightmare itself was not scary enough or horrible enough, I thought, to warrant those kinds of tears, but I figured then that it had to be the result of some deep-rooted anxiety or agitation that caused it all. In fact, I never even thought about the nightmare in relation to the earthquake until some time later, when I went back through my journal entries and noticed that the nightmare had taken place right before the disaster had occurred. Curious how our minds, perhaps especially when we least expect it or think it's impossible, have a way of predicting the future, even if only instinctively.

Well, I won't go into predictions and things like that. I don't think I had any prediction of what was to come at all. That nightmare for me, I think, was just unfortunate irony.

The day of the quake began like any other. It was morning, a sunny day...Alex and I got up to get ready to go to our school and get some work done. We were walking through our neighborhood just enjoying the weather, listening to some of our favorite music, and when we got to the main area of Nakano, not so far from the station, that was when the quake hit.

Alex and I hadn't noticed it at first. We hadn't noticed a thing.

Except for a family, drawing back from the street looking cautious, alarmed. Some part of me wondered why they were looking that way, and some part of me even thought I had heard what sounded like a scream behind the music blasting from my mp3 player, but I didn't understand. I didn't think of it, didn't want to pry. No, even that's not right. I can still picture the family with their young child in her stroller, those looks of horror on their faces as they drew away from the street.

Alex and I kept walking. The light had turned red for the cars, so it was our turn to cross the street. Curiously, though we didn't notice this then, no one else was crossing, only us.

And then everything slowly, very slowly, became apparent to me.

First, the street pole on the other side of the street, the one we were crossing to, was spinning. I don't know how else to describe it, because that's exactly how it looked, as though it were spinning from the base up, like a nail being rapidly unwound from a hole. The wires connected to the pole looked as though they were going mad, shaking back and forth, this way and that, and stupid me, seeing them and unable to fully comprehend what I was seeing, thought, Is the wind that bad? But I don't even feel any wind!

I had turned to Alex to relay these thoughts, shocked, not entirely sure what was happening, but by the time we reached the other side of the street................we knew.

"Oh my God, it's an Earthquake, a really big one." 

By that point, standing still on the other side of the street, the stupid music finally out of our ears, we felt it. I still think of it like a feeling of being on a very rocky boat. Alex and I had been in other earthquakes before in Japan, but none of them could have--of course--matched this one. Alex and I didn't duck--we remained standing--the ground below us unsteady, rocking like a boat in a storm, shaking our entire skeletal frames.

A lightbulb burst overhead, the bottles of a wine shop across the street from us all fell from their shelves, crashing to the floor. People were running out from the buildings around us; one man sought shelter under an awning, raising his briefcase protectively over his head, a whole building of people from the street side we had just crossed from were huddled, ducking, crying out, and trying to keep as far from the building itself as they could go without being in the street. Beside us, Alex and I watched two mothers with their babies duck down, covering their babies, lovingly protecting them, screaming.

Alex and I had felt at a loss then. Our Japanese was not so good enough that we could even try to say something that would have helped the others. But even then, what could one say? I thank God we hadn't been alone when it happened, that there were people all around us, but I do regret that we hadn't been able to say more to help.

And then, in the midst of all the chaos, a little old Japanese woman walked by with her bike. She was like something from a dream, totally unfazed by the terrible quake, a calm, loving, but perhaps sad smile on her face as she came up to Alex and me and asked us if it was our first quake.

We told her no, but that it was the biggest we had ever faced yet.

She was very calm, indeed. She regarded us with that interesting smile and told us assuredly that we would be just fine. And then she went off, as if in a dream, down the street with her bike, past all of us who had remained still as the shaking went on, crouched or standing or otherwise just frozen in shock where we were.

The earthquake seemed to last forever, but it ended. Of course it did, though for days to come, even when there were no quakes at all, the ground seemed to be unsteady or shaking. Whether this was for real or by imagination alone, I guess we'll never know. And when Alex and I felt sure it was safe to move once more, we asked the women with the babies if they were all right, then sought shelter in Nakano Broadway.

Another large quake, the first of many many aftershocks, struck while we had entered into the mall. The lights overhead had begun swinging dangerously, and seeing that the station had been closed, the train looking eerily as though it were about to fall off the rails, Alex and I knew we wouldn't be making any trips to our school. We stepped inside one of our favorite cafes, then, sitting down and trying to relax with a drink, still in the midst of all kinds of confused feelings we--and perhaps many of our Japanese friends around us--could not, by that point, fully understand.

There was so much misunderstanding at that time.

In the cafe, there was no calm either. The aftershocks went on, sending customers rushing in and out of the cafe in shock, the rest of us remaining inside, sitting where we were or ducking under tables or under the main shop counter.... Behind my head, where I was sitting, there was a beautiful painting. One worker at the cafe, a young girl, was very kind. She told me to be careful for the painting since it, like the rest of the cafe, was quivering.

Alex and I spent a long time in that shop. I feel now like some part of us didn't want to leave, but after a while there, talking with other Japanese people who seemed unsure and scared about what was going on, it seemed best not to take away seats from other potential customers, even if "business" was hardly the topic all of us had on our minds by that point.

We went home not really knowing what to think. Our neighbor from Russia seemed fairly unfazed by it all. He greeted us with a warm smile when we ran into each other back at the apartment building, and the three of us laughed nervously. I think this was more because we could see that we were all okay and not too shaken--even if, in some sense, we were deep inside. It was one of those points in human life where there are no words or emotions that can quite convey what one is feeling. By that point, our neighbor was the only other person living in the building with us--it was otherwise empty. 

Inside our room, nothing had been too messed up. Doors had been flung open and a few things tossed around, but nothing was terribly displaced. Even the TV, which is on a high, very unstable shelf, had remained where it was. Granted, our room was on the ground floor then, so it probably hadn't shook as much as the higher floors had.

Alex and I were still fairly shaken, but we hadn't felt the very real and extreme anguish we would come to feel....until we turned on the TV.

Every channel was about the disaster. It had come so quickly. And as we watched, our eyes glued to the screen, seeing what had happened to this country we so loved, our hearts sank and sank and sank. The tsunami, crossing the waters and the land and destroying Miyagi without the slightest hesitation, a true indicator that nature does as she pleases.

Hours tolled by, and we felt very alone. It was daytime in Japan. It meant that in America, it was the night--the middle of the night--and no one there would yet know what had happened. As the hours tolled by, the news on the TV got worse. Fire broke out across the tsunami-affected shores of the Tohoku region. Fire combined with water and even, scarily enough, snow. The true marks of a disaster, of nature taking its toll on a place and a people who our hearts knew did not deserve it. It was around this time that the news about the nuclear reactors came to light. The disasters, on top of the death tolls, continued piling up.

By the time we were able to reach home, things had become chaos in the news everywhere. Our friends here in America, especially Qian, and of course our family, had been so grateful to know we were all right. We had gotten a flood of messages, on Facebook, in our emails, on Twitter, everywhere from loving, concerned people. We knew we weren't alone, but the thought that we were powerless to stop this, powerless enough that all we could do was watch, watch what was happening to the people and place we loved............it was too much.

It became lonely and sad in our room in Nakano. The once magical, happy memories of the place diminished following the disaster. Alex and I spent the nights after worrying about if another quake would happen, destroy the land and the people as swiftly and cruelly as the first quake and resulting tsunami had. The threat of meltdowns from the affected Fukushima nuclear reactors loomed over everything else, too. Alex and I developed escape plans from our room, even set up an area in one corner where one of us could hide under the table and the other could duck under the thick mattress of the futon in the worst case scenario. We tried our best to stock up on emergency supply foods, going to the markets to find that most everything was out of stock, but that the Japanese people--unlike how it has happened during disasters in America--were very patient, waiting their turns in line and buying what they needed properly. There was very very little panic stealing in Tokyo--I think only three cases total. Everyone in our area of Nakano at least was calm, even if they were scared. 

Warnings went out on the loudspeakers across the town at one point. Alex and I went out to listen with one of our Japanese neighbors. (An elderly man. Later on, he was kind enough to talk to us about the whole situation.) It felt like we were in the midst of some kind of war, under attack. But the saddest part of all was that if this was some kind of war, it was a one-sided one. There was nothing the people could do to win back all the lives and land lost to nature's brute force. But there was even the smallest glimmer of hope throughout it all, and that hope that existed in the Japanese people and those of us from overseas, the ones who stayed, was what I feel got Japan through the worst.

Before the worst of the panic was over, we had been talking to another American friend about what was happening. She said she wanted to leave Tokyo for a while, as there had become a panicked prediction that another quake, a level 7, was expected to hit Tokyo only four days after the initial level 9. A level 7 aftershock, it had been supposed.

We had invited the friend down to our room in Nakano and spent the whole night up getting dressed and talking to people back home about our plans. The three of us decided to evacuate to Kyoto together before things became too chaotic in the city. By that point, traces of cesium had been found in the water, and there even were warnings about covering up one's skin in the event of rain, as radiation was said to travel. The aftershocks came steadily as well. Kyoto had always been a very happy place for us--evacuating there at our family and friends' suggestion seemed like a fine choice.

The day we left for Kyoto....well, it had only been about four days since the disaster had occurred, but it felt like far far more. Even down south, we could still feel the endless shaking from the aftershocks, and the three of us--Alex, our friend, and myself--went through a period where all we could do was cry. We planned ways we could go up north to help or figure out what parts we could play to alleviate the problem somehow, all the while maintaining this deeply depressing understanding that something beyond imagination, something too cruel for words, had hit a place the three of us loved and refused to abandon. I still remember the phone call from my mother. She told Alex, our friend, and me that the three of us were very brave for willingly remaining behind in Japan when so many other foreign visitors had quickly (and of course understandably) gone home.

I didn't think we were brave. I don't think any of us did. I think all three of us were scared, shell-shocked--brave's total opposites. But I do think we had hope, however small it was then. I do think we had love, love for a place that we had, all three of us, come to call home and come to love so deeply that perhaps no one else could fully understand.

After all the blessings Japan had bestowed our ways, in our hearts, leaving her behind when she needed as much support as she could get was tantamount to a very dark kind of betrayal. We stayed because we wanted to, because we owed Japan something in return for all she had given us.

Even now, when I think about it, I have tears in my eyes. I just don't understand how such a thing could have happened to such a beautiful country in Japan. Some part of me wonders if this is like retribution, retribution for a country which is too perfect. After all, if a place is better than any other in the world, if a place is magical and wonderful, a real heaven on earth, then there has to be something wrong with it, right? Such a perfect world within the world cannot exist, can it?

Despite that, I know I would live in Japan my whole life, if given the chance. Earthquakes, tsunamis...they may be inevitable, and a place like Japan does not deserve them at all. But with or without them, I would live in that country.

In the end, I stand by that belief--that Japan is strong. Bit by bit, the people found their hope for life again and pushed on with it. Months passed after the disaster, and life went on. It lives as a memory I think none of us will ever forget, but it brought all of us closer together again, reminded us that life is beautiful, but fragile, and should always be cherished. It reminded us that standing together, we are all strong.

Japan will do well because of this kind of strength. And I do believe that all the love and support from the rest of the world served as a great aid to the country during the worst of times. I was working at a cafe perhaps a little shorter than a month after the disaster had occurred, and I recall so many of my customers (I was a hostess and a conversationalist for English language there) telling me that they had been so surprised by how many countries outside of Japan had shown their loving support.

I had assured them that it was because Japan was loved and respected by many people and places around the world. And I know that's true.

I can admit that as the months went on, while the memory of the earthquake remained, things became calmer. Life began to pick up as it always had, the days going by, the nights too, people learning to smile once more, working hard and aspiring and dreaming and doing all the magical, wonderful things that the people of Japan had always done. I know many other countries throughout the world admired Japan for this strength and love, and I do too. I was there firsthand to experience it, and--proudly--to be a part of it.

I'm going to include a song by my absolute favorite J-Pop music group, AAA. This song came out shortly after the disaster. It was essentially a message of love and support to fans, but I think the lyrics fit this situation, too. When I went to the band's concert a few months after the disaster and this song played, I had real tears of understanding in my eyes.

 

3/11 -- We Will Never Forget

 

It's the day after the disastrous earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan. All of us in Tokyo are quite safe, though we have been warned of power outages tonight in order to conserve energy here in Tokyo. Because of that and a still lingering threat of coming quakes, my sister and I prepared an emergency bag. I will post a picture of some of our stuff below.

Right now, I feel kind of weird. Even though I have so much work to do, I feel that I cannot do it because it just doesn't feel right, and yet at the same time, there is not yet anything I can do to help the people in the BIGGEST affected prefectures. Other people in Tokyo today went out into an otherwise BEAUTIFUL sunny sky and went on with their business. But there was a kind of heavy atmosphere looming over us all, as though we we were just pretending to be okay, when of course, in reality, we all know what really happened not so far away and what happened yesterday in our own towns.

Even one of the many stray cats in our town was disoriented today, walking left and right uneasily as if he were drunk and unstable. Later he was sitting on my neighbor's fence, his head down, looking very much as though he was lost, his eyes closed in a pained way. I couldn't tell if he was one of our favorite stray cats here in Nakano-ku, but I pray he was okay, because that particular cat may have had a baby to care for. The earthquake affected all forms of life...

Likewise, Tokyo is still getting tremors and other earthquakes have hit as aftershocks to the first big one in places where my friends are living.

This feels like a kind of quiet warzone in a place that is a home to me. My family wants me to come back home, but they also understand how much I love this place, and I feel as though I could never abandon it, especially not now.

Here is the emergency bag we've packed:

Alex already wrote about this and my hands are kind of shaking still, but I wanted to write about today as well, because it's the day of another disaster in the world. Though maybe it's not even today anymore, because it happened yesterday afternoon. It only feels like the same day because Alex and I have been up the entire time, from when the earthquake hit to now, when tremors are still going.

This is what you see on the Japanese news right now:




And then one of my friends living out here in Tokyo with me tweeted these images from the earthquake and resulting tsunami: { click here }

Alex and I had been heading to school in Chiyoda-ku when we got struck with the quake. We were crossing a street in Nakano, close to the station, when it happened. In fact, we'd seen an older woman with her daughter and her granddaughter backing away from the crosswalk with terrified looks on their faces, but we both didn't understand why they looked that way until we were crossing the street itself.

I was only at the beginning of the crosswalk when I saw a lamppost swinging around, almost as though it was stuck in some kind of invisible tornado. The attached wires were going haywire and a nearby tree was swinging madly too.

Then there were screams, people running and ducking, the sound of many things breaking, and it suddenly dawned on my stupid brain what was happening, because in the back of my mind I'd just been about to ask Alex if some kind of terrible windstorm had hit and if she even felt the wind.

But all of us in the middle of that quake stuck together, and an old woman even came up to Alex and me very calmly and asked us if we were okay and if it was our first earthquake. In fact, it's not. We've been through others during our stay here (one year so far) but none like that. And after it was all over, we asked two women nearby who had been screaming and ducking to protect their children if they were okay, and they said they were. People had run out of the nearby office buildings, were hiding under awnings or somewhere protective in their shops....even later on when we would head home hours later, those people would still be trying to clean up the mess made by the earthquake.

But we were one of the lucky ones, thanks to the trains being stopped, because we didn't end up getting to Chiyoda-ku, one of the places the earthquake is said to have hit worst in Tokyo. I do think our God was watching over us. And we were safe because we stayed with other Japanese people in the Excelsior Cafe in Nakano after the biggest quake hit. The workers there were scared too, even as more quakes hit (another tremor that hit us registered as a 7!!!), but we all ducked under counters or tables or our trays, and we were fine. We really all looked out for each other.

Alex and I are home now and the aftershocks are still going, there is even a warning from Edano on NHK that we might get an aftershock as big as the initial quake itself, so to be prepared, but we are otherwise okay. And we will keep praying.

Right now I wanna cry because the people in Sendai, Miyagi, are going through a kind of horror that I can't even imagine. Looking at the footage on TV, it's absolutely horrifying, and I get tears in my eyes every time I see it. The death toll just keeps rising. No matter how many times I say it, it will never be enough. God be with the Japanese people! Watch over all of us, but most of all, keep watch over the people in Miyagi Prefecture. They need your love and support!

When I can type a little more securely, I'll write another journal entry. Just teary and shaking right now.

We're off to AAA's Heart to <3 Tour Concert!!!! We'll post pics when we're back home, then try to begin working on our review!!!! EXCITEMENT!!!!!! >.

.....is off to Japan!

Next time I talk to you all, it will be from the land of the amazing! ^0^ Bye for now!