The Aftermath by David Graham

             “Well, at least you can say you were there. You were a part of history.”

This is the sort of comment Sarah and I have heard a lot since we’ve been back. Some other popular comments “Aren’t you glad to be back?” “How close were you?” “You made it through it,” “What was it like?” and finally; “You should write about it.” That last one was first said by my father, but I continue to hear it. They suggest I write it sooner rather than later, while its still ‘fresh in my mind, while I can remember every single detail.’ I think they are afraid that I might forget it somehow. Right now, I don’t see how that’s possible. For the past few weeks I’ve been dwelling on it and if it’s not my primary focus it’s still there sitting on the periphery of my mind.

So I guess it probably is the best time to write about it maybe not because of its freshness but as a form of catharsis. The hope is to move it from my mind’s periphery to someplace more manageable. The sounds, the panic, the fear, the smell of toast (I was making toast when it happened) are indeed still fresh memories but I would like them to start to go stale.   

I’m not sure the best way to go this. The easiest way, I guess, is to address some of the more popular comments we’ve heard starting with “What was it like?”

What is was like:

 That’s easy; scary. It was scary. Not the benign, fun sort of scary either. Not the ‘I just watched five minute of Ringu and can’t sleep’ sort, nor was it the ‘about to jump off the high dive’ sort of fear. It wasn’t the ‘I got a detention at school, what am I going to tell my parents’ type of fear and it wasn’t the ‘there was a test today and I had no idea’ kind either. For me, it was a brand new sort fear, not the kind promised by movies ads but the kind where conscious thought is entirely replaced by instinct and adrenaline.

Sarah’s mom, Laura, had been visiting us so for the week and I had been staying at my apartment in Imaichi while Sarah and her mom were in Utsunomiya. The apartment was far too small for the three us to fit comfortably. It was built for one person but Sarah and I made it work with two. That whole week was scheduling nightmare. Sarah and I still had work which meant her mom was left to go sightseeing mostly on her own. The three of us had only been in the same place for about 5 or so hours that whole week. Somehow, that afternoon we all managed to be at our apartment in Utsunomiya. Sarah and her mom were returning from doing touristy things around the city and I was on my way to work. Usually I taught exclusively in Imaichi, a town about 30 minutes north of Utsunomiya but I was covering for someone down in the city.

We met at the train station and decided to go back to the apartment before we all separated for the rest of the day. Sarah and I were going to go to work and Sarah’s mom was going to do some more sightseeing but first we all went back to the apartment.  So, somehow, we were all together.

The shaking started at 2:46, 34 minutes before I was going to catch a bus, around 40 minutes before Sarah was to catch a train and the precise moment I was about to butter toast. I had the knife in my hand, the butter was out and the toast was toasted.  Frankly, I was really looking for to it. I hadn’t had much to eat that day and I wanted a snack. That’s when it started. The world and everything in it began to shake. It didn’t start strong. It felt like all the earthquakes we had experienced up until that point. After living in Japan for a few months we thought we were used to them, in fact that morning I was dismissive about one that happened while I was talking to my parents on Skype. The one that afternoon was different. It didn’t stop after 10 seconds. It didn’t peter out. It only got stronger.

We had been told what to do in case of a big earthquake; first you open the door, and as the shakes grew stronger one of us suggested we do just that. By the time we were at the door, we knew it was time to follow the next step; if possible, get out of the building. I shouted that we needed to get out; Sarah mentioned something about keys and locking the door and then said something about forgetting about the keys and getting the hell out. I’m not sure what was said exactly and I don’t think it’s because I’ve forgotten, but more because I wasn’t really there listening. At this point I was no longer David but instead I was a ball of instinct and adrenaline. I didn’t think about my following actions and don’t even think it I could claim that I did them. Things just happened. We got down stairs. We stayed together. We tried to stay out from under the power lines. We held onto each other. We stayed standing.

It lasted 6 minutes.

During the earthquake we were joined by some elderly Japanese women. They were terrified. We were always told that when you see the Japanese scared during an earthquake that something was wrong.

At the epicenter the quake was measured 9.0, the largest one to ever to be recorded in Japan. Japan Meteorological Agency seismic intensity scale, which measures the amount things shake on the ground, rated the shaking in Sendai, the closest large city to the epicenter, a 7. In Utsunomiya it was a 6+. The scale only goes to 7.

We didn’t know the scale of the damage until the next day. Right after the quake we walked over to our company’s regional office, which was about a block away from the apartment. At this point Sarah and I were still worried about getting to school on time. We spent the next few minutes and aftershocks talking to the ladies from the office. Soon the street was filled with the office workers that emptied out of the nearby buildings.

            It’s not really appropriate to describe the scene as tense. It was more uneven. Sure, there were still scared people but there were people laughing. Some of the office workers looked like they had just gone on break.  To my right there was a man casually smoking. We were chatting to the ladies from the office, practicing our Japanese, introducing Sarah’s mom and talking calmly about what happened. Of course every time there was an aftershock a tense and scared air rolled over the crowd. 

            At one point I wondered aloud about catching my bus and the regional manager looked at me bemused and said “There won’t be any classes. Classes today are cancelled.” We realized that the situation was more serious than that unevenly calm crowd made it seem. Classes were never cancelled.

            After awhile we went back to the apartment to assess the damage. At the time everything seemed like it could go back to normal. As we approached our building the postman delivered a letter from Sarah’s Grandmother. We thanked him in Japanese but he didn’t respond. He was visibly shaken and delivering the mail was normal. He wanted everything to be normal, but of course it wasn’t.

            Up the stairs in our apartment we were met with a scene of minor devastation, some cooking oil fell in the entrance way, dishes were broken on the floor, our microwave and toaster oven lay shattered in front of the fridge on top of two pieces of bread. My toast was ruined.

            For the rest of that day and the first half of the next, Sarah, her mom and I were in a sort of haze. Put simply we were lost and confused. We had no power at the apartment which meant no internet, our primary source of information. Our phones could basic TV channels, all of which were covering the disaster. They were of little use; our Japanese was never quite good enough to understand a newscast. Beyond that they barely worked, calls wouldn’t go through and texts and emails were spotty at best.

            We didn’t know what was going on and were perhaps in denial; the news on our phones showed rushing water, people surrounded and stuck on top of parking garages. Our denial suggested that maybe a dam had broken. Of course it was really the tsunami.

            That night we tried to make things as normal and possible. We had dinner, some wine and went to bed. Sarah and her mom had bought some clams earlier in the day and turned them into a pasta dish. However hard we tried it simply felt absurd. Quakes were still happening every hour, we had no electricity and no idea what was happening. What made the whole even more ridiculous was that we didn’t have a real flashlight or candles. Before coming to Japan my dad, who watches all the natural disaster shows on TV, gave us an earthquake kit. We left it in Imaichi, in my apartment. All we had was a tiny Buzz light year flashlight and a little book light. That’s how we went about our business that night.

            We hung buzz above the stove in the kitchen, Sarah and her mom went about cooking; boiling the water, cooking the clams, making a sauce and putting together a salad. I sat in the other room, trying to occupy myself, checking the news on my phone every 5 minutes and not understanding what was going on.

            That night the three of us lied down to sleep in an apartment built build for one person. Sarah and I shared a futon, again made for one person, and failed to get any sleep. The aftershocks went on all night long. Every time we succeeded to doze off went we were awoken not necessarily by the shaking of the earth but when it stopped.

            The next day walked to the other side of town. We lived on the east side of the train station, where the power was out, but there was power on the west side. We settled in a coffee shop that had internet and found out exactly what was going on.

How close we were:

            Utsunomiya is the largest city in Tochigi-ken, a prefecture north of greater Tokyo. To the west are the prefectures of Nagano and Niigata. East of us is Ibaraki, north is Fukushima and Miyagi. Tochigi is landlocked and is considered a gateway to the mountains, a stopping point for tourists from Tokyo. The Fukushima, Ibaraki and Miyagi prefectures were the hardest hit by the quake and the resulting tsunami. Sendai, Miyagi’s capitol, is 126 miles away. The bullet train goes from Utsunomiya to Fukushima city in about 45 or so minutes. That’s how close we were in terms of distance.

            We were of course close in other ways. All of us had been to Sendai; Sarah’s mom was there a couple days before the quake. I had taught in both Sendai and Fukushima. In January Sarah and I spent three days in Sendai, toured the city and the surrounding area. We took a sightseeing cruise in Matsushima, an area made famous for awe inspiring islands. We walked about the town in the snow, visited the temple and shrine there, saw ancient carvings in the cliff side and were made speechless by its beauty. We were charmed by everything the town. The train station seemed to be carved into the cliffs. Sarah had some sort of pickled clam or oyster or something that I didn’t try.

            Matsushima and Sendai were some of our favorite places in Japan. We planned to go back in the summer. The epicenter of the earthquake was off the coast near Sendai and Matsushima. What we saw, what we fell in love with may not be there anymore. Frankly, it’s hard to think about.

            Beyond that, Utsunomiya is on margins of the most affected areas. To the east and north there was devastation, but where we were there was little. Few buildings were damaged, few people were hurt. The city had a strange aura about it the first couple of days after the quake. What it felt like exactly is hard to put into words. Certain metaphors come to mind; ‘It was a close call,’ ‘we had a close shave,’ ‘we dodged a bullet.’ None of them seem to fit however. We weren’t spared by the disaster, but we weren’t devastated.

            Everyone around us, the salary men, and the construction workers, the students were all trying to get back to their normal lives but the trains weren’t running. And that’s really the best metaphor I can come up. The trains weren’t running literally either but the metaphor extends beyond that. Trains are more than essential. They are a part of how I define Japan; a country of people and places connected by long steels rails. Everyone takes trains, they are a constant, and they are supposed to be there and running. They are the veins of the country and the disaster put on a tourniquet that crippled half of Japan. But for days they sat unmoving in the station. I don’t know, maybe it’s not much of a metaphor but it’s all I can come up with.

            Of course people did their best to go about their lives but on the other hand it was obvious what had happened. An example being that 711 was still open but the power was out. In fact it was the only thing open that first day and there was a line out the door. In the days after the quake people tried to go back work and their lives but the emergency supplies disappeared from shelves of stores that somehow managed to open. There were lines for gas around the block. People went back out clothes shopping. Bottled water and instant ramen became hard items to find. Arcades were full of children. People tried their hardest to go to work but the trains weren’t working.

            Yeah, it’s not a very good metaphor.

We made it through:

            Every time I hear someone say this I think of a Mighty Mighty Bosstones song from 1997; the really popular one. It starts something like this:

                       

                        Have you ever been close to tragedy?

                        Or been close to folks who have?

                        Have you ever felt the pain so powerful

                        So heavy you collapse?

Right after I think about the song I feel silly. The Bosstones, being a ska band, aren’t exactly known for the depth of their lyrics and I never expected to feel so connected to them. Other Bosstones’ songs involve talking about cool hats, not knowing how to ‘party’ and something called royal oil. After the silliness subsides I begin to earnestly wonder about those lyrics and how they relate to me. Have I been close to tragedy? Sort of. Have I been close to folks who have? In a way I guess. I didn’t really know anyone in Sendai, or anyone who lost someone in the disaster, but I did see them on the street on the phone, desperate to get the person on the other end to answer. Have I ever felt the pain so powerful so heavy I collapsed? Not yet, that I know of.

            I then wonder about what it means to make it through something and whether or not my experience qualifies. Was I ever in any real danger where I was? If I was what exactly was the danger?  Did I make it through it? What does it mean to make it through whatever it was I experienced?

            Then there are the ‘what ifs,’ those terrifying thoughts that plague me day to day. We had been to places that are no longer there, or at least not in the way we knew them. What if I was there when it all happened? Sarah’s Mom was there days before, what if… She was talking about going back that day, what if…

            Those sorts of questions never seem to end. Does that bring me close to tragedy? I really don’t know.

            The song continues:

                       

                        I’m not a coward; I’ve just never been tested.

                        I’d like to think that if I was I would pass.

                        Look at the tested and think there

But for the grace go I.

            And I just have more questions.

Am I glad we are back in the US:

            No.

            And of course I am.

            When Sarah and I moved to Japan it quickly became our home. This might be because we were living a sort of transient life for the few months before that. We were in the process of moving from Maine to Japan but first we had to move everything we owned to storage in Colorado and attended weddings on opposite sides of the country. So when we finally settled in Japan we settled firmly. It was home.

            I thought about how much I loved living there every time I took the train to Imaichi from Utsunomiya, every time in went into an electronics store, whenever I managed to have any sort of conversation in Japanese and finally on the bullet train to Narita with whatever possessions we could fit into our suitcases.

            It wasn’t the quake or tsunami that caused us to leave but the radiation from the plant. We were simply too close and watching the news since we’ve been back has certainly validated our quick departure. I just wish it never happened.

            It is good to be home and safe; and we did very much miss Colorado and our families. The nicest part of being home is not being afraid anymore. The days after the quake, while we were still there, every little thing caused us to seize up in terror. The earth never seemed to quit shaking, and while it’s true that there were many aftershocks we were also afraid when a truck went by. When the nuclear plant continued to fail, as the scare turned into a crisis, we had something more to worry about. How could we be certain that the food we were eating was safe? The water we were drinking? We were in a constant state of unease, we were uncertain of our future, safety and the stability of the earth below us.

            Since we’ve been back I can’t really say the fear is gone, the unease has dissipated, that we are certain about our safety at all times but it is getting better. Now every time the wind causes something to shake we only freeze in terror every other time. When someone steps heavily and the floor seems to move, we don’t panic as fully. We are starting to relax.

            But while I’m starting to feel safe, calm and relaxed, I still feel like I want to go home.

At least you can say that you were there, that you were a part of history.

            Small talk has gotten easier that’s for sure. We have a story to tell on why we are home, everyone we talk to is eager to know exactly what happened and how but I think that’s the only real benefit. I don’t have to come up with something to talk about.  I know all the questions, I have all my answers prepared and I know exactly how they are going to respond. Each new conversation has already been plotted.

            Beyond that I’m not sure there is anything good about what happened. I can’t imagine thinking any sort of ‘at least’ beyond ‘at least we were lucky, at least we survived.’ But honestly even that thought doesn’t feel right, I’m still not sure I was ever in any real danger. So I can’t even say I was really a part of it, I don’t feel a part of it. Yes, I was there. Yes, I was close to the most affected areas. But still feel like a bystander, like someone who just saw the disaster on TV, because while I was close to the worst of it, I wasn’t there.

            Of course this feeling is hard to explain, it’s hard to describe what it’s like to be on the periphery of disaster. So, when I hear ‘at least you can say you were there, that you were a part of history,’ I can only respond with a shrug and an entirely empty ‘yeah.’

We are Safe!

I know I have posted in months, but I just wanted everyone to know that David, my mom (who is visiting) and I are all safe.  We are far enough away from the coast and the nuclear power plants to be mostly unaffected (other than the sheer terror of an earthquake that big).  Our city is fine and after 24 hours things are starting to return to normal.  If there is anything to update I will try to post something here as well as Facebook.

Ghostly Japan

Here is the long awaited Halloween post from David! Enjoy!

They say Japan is haunted. The entirety of it, tip to tip. Ghosts are everywhere, demons are numerous and spirits are plentiful. We`ve heard tale of random disappearances, spectral sightings and other incidents that require the attention of Harold Ramis, Ernie Hudson, Dan Akroyd and Bill Murry (Yeah, those were the Ghostbusters). Ask anyone one on the street here and they will likely say that Japan is the most haunted series of islands on earth. They might be right but I have yet to see any proof. And I have been looking.

I`ve heard the ‘most haunted’ claim before. When I lived in Hawaii all my friends told ghost stories, many of which they said happened to them first hand. Stories about something unseen sitting of their chest while they sleep, stories about long dead Hawaiian Kings and the tribes they forced off cliffs, stories about the volcano goddess randomly appearing in cars and causing them to crash. In addition to being fun to listen to, these stories always had an air of validity about them. This is mostly because the island of Oahu actually feels haunted. Not all of it of course, the beach resorts, the giant shopping malls, the countless ABC stores don`t. But away from the tourist areas things can feel a little eerie. The old Pali highway is a prime example. It`s also called the Nuʻuanu Pali, and there are some strange stories about traversing it and some dark tales from its past.

The road is ancient and has been heavily used for it is nice and low, easy traversable pass connecting two sides of the island. It`s history is surprising sordid considering no one thinks of Hawaii as a place where horrific bloody battles took place, but the Nuʻuanu Pali was the site where King Kamehameha, the king who unified the Hawaiian islands and created the Kingdom of Hawaii, finished his conquest of Oahu. He also made 400 enemy troops walk off a cliff to their deaths. Not something one tends to think about while enjoying the view off the Pali lookout. Later, when the highway was built it said that the workers found some 800 skulls.

I lived right near where all this happened.

In addition to the history of the Old Pali, there are also the ghost stories that are told by the travelers over it. Stories about beautiful women leading men to their deaths and the Goddess Pele smiting those who dare to bring pork travelling on the road. My friend didn`t know that bring pork over the Pali offended Pele but then his car broke down and then his radio and then series of unlucky coincidental occurrences caused him, at the suggestion of our Hawaiian friend, to perform some sort of redemption ritual off the side of the Pali. Now I`m not saying I believed Pele was the cause of his unlucky streak, the kid seemed to bring misfortune on himself, but I did go along to watch. How many chances would I have to see an ancient Hawaiian ritual performed because someone was eating a pork sandwich while driving?

Again, I lived right near here; I had to take this road almost every day. Things felt slightly eerie. The ghost stories, whether I believed them or not felt appropriate, they fit the surroundings, the creeping feelings of terror one felt while waiting for the bus on a foggy dark road felt justified. There is a similar feel about Japan.

If you are familiar with Japanese history you know how bloody it is. That might be the reason why there are so many Japanese ghost stories. And these stories are common. Just look at some of the films Japan has exported over the past few years. Ringu and Ju-on may have been remade into The Ring and The Grudge and tailored for American audiences but they are inherently Japanese stories. The American versions of these are terrifying, they are the sort of movies that can keep you up for days, psychologically scare you and cause you to never watch a VHS tape or move into a new house. The original Japanese versions of these movies are even scarier. Ringu, which is based on a book by the same name which is in turn drawn from Banchō Sarayashiki and stories of the woman in the well; an old Japanese folktales from the Edo period. There are thousands of stories just like this throughout the county. On top of this Japan has embraced these ghost stories, the woman in the well has made an appearance in a number of literary works and a few plays, not only in Ringu.

Beyond the stories and culture, many places in Japan just feel haunted.

The town of Imaichi, where my apartment is, is technically a part the City of Nikko, Japan. It`s considered a great tourist town and has been for 400 or so years. There are Japanese Onsens, or hot springs baths, amazing hiking trails and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is also the burial place of Tokugawa Ieyasu, who was one of the unifiers of Japan. He helped end years civil war and found the Tokugawa shogunate. He`s also considered something of a murderous tyrant. He attacked the husband of his granddaughter, forced him and his mother to commit seppuku and then burned his castle down. Ieyasu died a year later. This was one of his last acts on his long and bloody road to power. He`s just up the road from me. A long old road lined with ancient cedars. I often walk along this road on my way to and from work.

It`s very easy to imagine ghost walking along this road at night. The trees tower above you, block out any light from stars or the moon. An ancient rock wall lines it on both sides. And when it`s past a certain hour, there next no cars or people using but me. Beyond that there is a long partially lit pathway. The train tracks run alongside it. There are three light poles bunched all together. Their light only goes so far and once one walks past it they make long shadows out of everything. The next set of lights is at the railway crossing, which is at the end of the path. Those lights are red and only on when a train is coming and that’s rare. Once or twice an hour. Fields of rice mirror the tracks on the other side of the path. The rice fields are deep; the earth seems to sink down a foot or so. Where the rice meets the soil is lower than where my feet meet pavement. Frankly, it looks like a perfect place to hide. During the day this is perfectly peaceful walk, at night it can be a bit unsettling.

As a tourist town, Nikko has its fair share of hotels. The first one I see when getting off the train is four stories tall, boasts the Sakura Café, has a rooftop garden and a large parking lot. It is also completely empty. The first time I passed it I felt uneasy but I didn’t realize that there was no one inside it until after a month or so of living here. It took me a while to put all the signs together and realize it`s closed. All the curtains and blinds are drawn and have been for long time and there has never been a car in the parking lot, which has a long chain running across its entrance. The rooftop garden has grown wild.

Oh, and the front doors are locked.

They are the large glass automatic type. When I went to check them I could see into the hotel lobby. It was dark and devoid of life but it was hardly empty. It has all the things a hotel lobby needs, front desk, chairs, a coffee table. They were all just a little out of date, a little out of fashion. When peering through the blinds of the café I found a similar sight. It looks like it was closed in a hurry. And there is only one explanation for it; it`s believed to be haunted.

Now, I know there are other possible reasons the hotel is the way it is. It could have closed because there weren`t enough guests, the hotel went bankrupt and many other logical excuses. But anyone who rides on the weekend train can see there are more than enough tourists to fill it. Beyond that, the hotel a block or so down always has a full parking lot. And why hasn`t it been sold? Why is there no sign trying to sell it? There`s not even a sign indicating that it`s closed.

While the hotel is a bit eerie, there is an old house in the city that is simply frightening. Sarah`s apartment is a few blocks from Utsunomiya station, a major train hub for the region. There are a large number of bars, restaurants and clubs within a five minute walk from her front door, not to mention the countless office and apartment buildings. This house does not belong in this sort of neighborhood.

It`s on the same block as Sarah`s building. It would be a great place if it wasn`t falling apart, and possible filled with vengeful spirits. The first thing I noticed about it was the vending machine out front. It`s an old Pepsi machine. But it`s unlike the countless other machines I`ve seen throughout the country. First off, it only has four selections; most have at least 8 if not more. Secondly, the prices are the lowest I`ve seen. The largest differences are that it`s empty, unplugged and encased in ivy. It`s actually easy to miss when strolling by, leaves cover at least three quarters of it.

The house it sits in front of, from all appearances, is abandoned. It has two floors, three large garage doors that when opened would expose what used to be a shop of some sort. One of which has a large dent in it making it impossible to open. The peach color of the house seems to have been rubbed away in places and has been replaced with a dark grey color. Perched atop the house is an ancient TV antenna, slowly rusting and aging with the house. Plants grow around it, weeds gone unchecked surround the only visible door, which has no knob. As far as I can tell there is no actual way into the house. On top of it all, as Sarah pointed out to me, there is a strange smell that hangs about the place.

The scariest bit about the house, worse than the fact that it has no entrance, is that there are still curtains hanging in the windows on the second floor. They are not drawn or fully open but somewhere in between. They are placed just so, when passing, you can see just enough of the inside, which is just as decrepit as the outside. I`m reluctant to use the phrase ‘sinister aura’ here, but at risk of sounding like a one of those awful medium shows, there is a strong sinister aura about the place. I always look up through the second floor windows expecting some sort of spectral vision to peer back at me through the curtains.

Of course similar arguments that applied to the hotel apply here as well. The owner went bankrupt, lost the house or there was a fire or something along those lines. However, this is Japan, the country where they are tearing down an old beloved Kabuki theater to make way for a new Kabuki theater/office tower. Someone would have bought it, leveled it and turned it into something else except for the fact that it`s haunted and everyone knows that if you tear down a haunted building and replace it with something new, the new structure is just as haunted or more so than the first one.

Now, I know I just spent a great deal of time insinuating that these places I described are haunted, if not outright claiming so but I don`t think it`s really all that important if they are or not. What is important is that they feel haunted. They are creepy, they make the hair on the back of your neck stand up and they you fill you with a sense of unease. It doesn`t matter if ghosts or spirits or whatever lurk unseen in these places, beyond that, it doesn`t even matter whether or not these things are in fact real. Haunted buildings and ghost stories have very little to do with reality. It`s about the feeling they give you, they way they can take hold of your imagination.

So, is Japan the most haunted country on earth? Well, maybe. I haven`t seen any ghosts or anything but it certainly feels like it should be haunted. The ghost stories feel appropriate and there is an abundance of places that fill a person with ‘the creeps,’ and that certainly helps Japan`s reputation as the most haunted series of islands in the world.

David A. Graham

Lost in Translation

One of my favorite movies of all time is Lost in Translation.  For those of you who have never seen it, please watch it as soon as possible.  It's a beautiful film by Sofia Coppola starring Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray.  David and I share a love of this movie for many reasons.  It's about finding yourself in Japan and getting lost along the way.  It's about cultural and generational differences and similarities.  It's also a beautiful portrait of an amazing city.  David and I spent last weekend in Tokyo and it was everything Lost in Translation led me to believe it would be.  Fast paced and energetic, slow and meditative, enormous and exciting.  Tokyo was everything a city can be.  Suffice to say, David and I had a wonderful time.  Unfortunately, I forgot my SD card for my camera, so I was only able to take pictures after a stop to Akihabara to get a new one.  However, the pictures I did get turned out pretty well.  Click here for all the photos from the trip.  Of all the wonderful things we did on the trip, the best was discovering how close we are to Tokyo, how cheap it is to get there and realizing we would be back soon and often. A 90 minute train ride from Utsunomiya found us in Ueno Terminal in the north of Tokyo.  A short subway ride later we were at our hotel in Akasaka, a trendy upscale neighborhood.  We spent most of our first day lamenting the missing SD card and looking for a camera shop. We were mostly unsuccessful in finding a camera shop, but wandered around the side streets of various neighborhoods and ended up stumbling on what looked like the entrance to a magical forest in the middle of the largest city in the world.  It ended up being just that.  Meiji Shrine is one of the largest shrines in Tokyo and is located at the heart of a densely wooded are of Yoyogi Park.  The Canopy of the trees blocked out the sun and gave a chill to the air.  The path was wide enough for a crowds of thousands to make their way to the shrine, which the occasionally do.  However, there were very few people in the shrine grounds on the day we were there.  Yet, as open as the path before us was, the enormity of the trees around us gave the forest an intimate feeling.  Rays of sun would occasionally peek through the branches and leaves, making me swear I had seen something out of the corner of my eye. In the very center of the park, two paths cross and there are no trees for a hundred feet, letting you see the sky for a moment before walking back into the cool darkness of the forest on the other side.  The entrances and exits of the shrine grounds are marked by torii gates, traditional Japanese Shinto gates like this one.

This is a torii in Utsunomiya.  The torii at the Meiji Shrine, however, were hundreds of feet tall.  Passing through these massive gateways truly made it feel as though were entering another world. At the other end of the park, we left the forest to find ourselves in the middle of Harajuku, the fashion capital of Japan.  Going from this natural sanctuary to the hustle and bustle of a busy urban street was jarring, but is the essence of Tokyo.  High rises and shrines nestled side by side.  Women in suits ride the subway sitting next to women in kimonos.  

After our adventures wandering through Yoyogi and Harajuku, we decided to head to Akihabara where we would be sure to find an SD card.  Akihabara, also known as Electric Town, was once the post-WWII black market for radio parts.  It has now become THE place to buy any kind of electronics.  From huge department stores to tiny shops down side alleys, you can buy anything you need to build your own computer, robot or anything electronic you can think of. Akihabara is also the otaku district.  Otaku is the Japanese word for nerd or shut-in.  Here in Japan, just as in America, the word nerd has been reclaimed - people are proud to be geeky.  So, you can also find any anime or video game related item you can think of.  There are even themed cafes centered around various shows and games.

The next day in Tokyo saw my dreams of seeing traditional Japanese theatre come true.  David and I saw two Kabuki plays at the National Theatre of Japan.  It was fascinating and beautiful.  We were greatly helped by our earphone translator which let us know what exactly was happening. We were not the only ones wearing them, though.  As well as the handful of other tourists in audience, many Japanese audience members were wearing translators as well.  The language in kabuki is often archaic, similar to Shakespeare in English.  The acting style also involves intense intonation and rhythmic stylization, rendering much of the Japanese difficult for even native Japanese speakers to understand. Kabuki is a style of theatre focusing on the visual poetry of performance.  It is a presentational form of theatre rather than a representational one.  In Western theatre, we strive to represent reality or tell a particular story.  Kabuki mostly uses stories incredibly well-known to their Japanese audiences. People don't come to have a story told to them, they already know the ending.  They come to see the representation of the story.  The beautiful costumes, the skill of the actors voicing melodramatic moments in time and the magic of theatre special effects.  Thus, it is very difficult for Western audiences to understand and appreciate Kabuki. However, as a theatre history geek and perpetual academic, I was in heaven!

After four hours of theatre, which is exhausting for even the seasoned theatre veteran, we were ready for some sightseeing before we had dinner and headed home.  We made a quick stop at Tokyo Tower.  Once the tallest structure in the city, Tokyo Tower is now being replaced by the Tokyo Sky Tree (not yet completed). It is no longer tall enough to get a TV signal over the high rises of Tokyo.   However, it is still really tall and pretty spectacular to see.  Exactly 13 meters taller than the Eiffel Tower, it seems to exist only to out do other attractions.  And to broadcast TV and Radio signals.   A friend told us make sure we saw it at night, and I'm glad we stayed until it got dark.

I'm pretty proud of the night photo - David called it "postcard-worthy."

We finished our weekend at a kaiten sushi restaurant that had been recommended on the internet. Kaiten sushi is conveyor belt sushi, where sushi chefs stand around making sushi and placing it on a conveyor belt that circles the restaurant.  You just grab what looks good and at the end of the meal they count the number of plates you have.  Different colored plates cost different amounts, which are posted on a wall somewhere.  If you don't see the exact kind of sushi you want you can also yell out the kind of sushi you would like and the sushi chef will make it right away and hand it to you over the counter.  The sushi was delicious, and with our bellies full we paid the bill - less than 20 dollars each.  The joys of living in Japan!

We caught a a train home and were back in friendly Utsunomiya in 104 minutes (we got the slow train). The trip was great, but coming home was also pretty wonderful.  Arriving at the apartment and taking off our shoes, we felt like we were back home - which I suppose means we are finally settled in.  I hope everyone is well wherever you happen to be in the world!

さよなら！

(sayonara!)

Sarah

A Good Day in Utsunomiya...

So, I thought I should post something since I haven't had any updates for a while.  Nothing terribly exciting or out of the blue has happened since my first earthquake, but David and I did have a pretty good day out in Utsunomiya.  We both had the day off and thought we would use our time shopping for new pants! I really need a new pair of jeans and this provided a good excuse to go downtown.  Well - I didn't find any pants.  I did, however, visit a Shinto shrine, see three open air concerts, eat cheap, delicious sushi and have two separate successful conversations in Japanese! Here are some pictures from today. Click on the link for photos and some videos! I will caption them soon - I promise! The video of the a capella group has one of our Japanese conversations in the background if you listen closely...

David has promised a ghost-themed blog post for Halloween, so keep your eyes peeled! We are going to Tokyo next weekend (my first time!).  There will be lots of pictures and another lengthy blog post after that!

Hope you are well wherever you are!

Sayonara!

My First Earthquake!

So.  It has finally happened.  My first earthquake.  There I was sitting in my classroom a few minutes before class started  with a couple of students.  Then the building creaked and I felt something.  It wasn't really a shake so much as a small hiccup.  I wouldn't have thought twice about it , but my students looked up at each other and one said "Jishin?"  The other student nodded in agreement and they went back to their writing undisturbed.  I recognized the Japanese word for earthquake and began as my students, half in English and half in Japanese, "Was that an earthquake? Jishin?" They said yes and looked at me as a crazy person as I giggled and started looking out the windows.  The earthquake (click here for the USGS data on it) as a whopping 5.6 on the Richter scale, which is actually fairly large and can damage poorly constructed buildings.  It was, however, 75 kilometers (45 miles) away, so we were barely affected.  Apparently people felt it as far away as Tokyo.  A 5.6 earthquake might be big news to me, but it didn't even make local news here.  I could only find evidence that I didn't imagine it on the USGS earthquake site.  Well, that chapter of "Firsts in Japan" complete, I must wrap up and go to bed.  However, this was exciting enough to warrant a blog post immediately.  For those who are interested, David didn't feel it, he was at a school a bit farther away today.  I will write a longer, more interesting post later, but for now, sayonara!

Cheese Tara and Other Joys

This is cheese tara.  I bought this particular pack from the 7-11 down the street.  I'm sure there will be an entire blog post dedicated to the wonders of a Japanese convenience store, but this is not that particular post. So, I will leave my description of convenience stores to this, for now: they are everywhere and you can buy anything at them.  Today, however, I was in the mood for some Mitsuya Cider (soda that tastes vaguely of pears and vanilla) and some delicious cheese tara.  What is cheese tara, one might ask.  Until 10 minutes ago, I would not have answered your question correctly.  The Japanese have developed a recent culinary obsession with cheese.  Not real cheese, mind you, but the fake kind, in the vein of kraft singles and string cheese.  Often cheese snacks are eaten with beer or sake, similar to pub mix or cocktail peanuts in the States.  I have been eating these snacks since I arrived, but particularly enjoyed the variety I now know to be cheese tara.  To me, they looked like camembert or brie sliced very thin, with the papery rind on the top and bottom.  I love cheese, probably a little too much for waistline's sake, but we all have our guilty pleasures.  Combined with the fact that my significant other hates cheese in almost all its forms (gasps in disgust are welcome here), eating cheese is a wonderful event that I can selfishly enjoy without the need to share it with anyone.  So, when "Japanese cheese" was brought to my attention, I simply had to try it.

 My love affair with cheese tara began. However, I couldn't help but wonder why the cheese tasted so different from any cheese I had before.  There was certainly a processed quality about it, but that I knew as familiar.  No, there was something strange in this taste.  Something I had tasted before, but never in cheese... was it nutty... no... was it possibly the richness of truffles I was tasting... no, and if it was I was getting a bargain, these packs only cost 180 yen... I let the unknown taste pass from my thoughts and contently enjoyed eating my cheese.  Today, I bought my pack of cheese tara and a soda, and began to inspect the label.  I was so happy that I had progressed in Japanese enough to be able to read the Japanese "cheezu" in katakana script.  The next symbol (tara) was in kanji, which I probably will never be able to read. But it had the hirigana of "tara" above it to help out those of us who don't read kanji (Thank you 7-11!).  I wondered what tara meant.  It was a Japanese words, as it was in hirigana and it was an old enough word to have a kanji of its own.  I thought, maybe it means snack or lite treat.  No.  My curiosity led me to the internet.  Tara translates to codfish. Cod.  A fish I had eaten many times.  All of the sudden the unidentifiable taste in my cheese tara was very clear to me.  As it turns out, cheese tara, or fish cheese as I will begin to call it, is actually processed cheese mixed with ground up dried cod and rolled into flat sheets and sliced up to be eaten as a snack with your beer or sake.  Hmmm. At first, I was hesitant to eat the cheese tara anymore, as I was now aware that it wasn't really cheese.  But, I do really like it and there are certainly stranger things you can eat this world, and I've eaten a few myself.  Is fish cheese really any stranger than horse meat or sheep intestines?  No.  I have decided that it definitively is not.  So I will carry on eating my newfound snack and will probably miss it when I am back in the States. If you are ever in Japan, please try the fish cheese.  It's delicious.

That epic tale being told, I've decided to post a list of my goals and hopes for my time in Japan.  This is far less about being cheesy (oh do I love bad and poorly executed puns) or gushy.  This is a completely selfish desire to let into the world my list of goals while in Japan so that I will feel guilty if I do not complete them.  You are now a witness to my list of things to be accomplished while in Japan.  Please nag me.  I really want all of these to happen.  Also, any hints or advice on completing them will be warmly received.

My Japanese To Do List

1. Climb Mt. Fuji.  While number one on my list, this probably one of the last things I will do in Japan.  Not only would it be a nice cap to a year living here, but the climbing season is only six weeks in late summer.  So, in August of next year, I will see the sunrise from atop Mt. Fuji, most sacred mountain in Japan.

2. Learn Japanese.  I will break this down into my two goals for learning Japanese language.
        
        2a. Be able to go to a restaurant, be seated, order my food and pay my bill entirely in Japanese, in full sentences while understanding what is being said to me.  Now this is the first of my goals, and may sound simple, but Japanese is a difficult language, and I have not, as of yet, found the time and energy to really commit to studying it properly. I am, however, determined to complete this goal in the next 3 months or so.
        
        2b. Be able to read a full length Japanese play (probably not in Kanji, though) and understand it.  This will be much more difficult, and might be near impossible, but I really want to be proficient in Japanese, and possibly study the language enough to be able to translate, one of my personal academic interests.

3. Go to a Karaoke bar in Tokyo and rock it out Frank Sinatra style.  Anyone who has been to karaoke with me in the states knows that I favor singing "Mac the Knife."  I want to do this Tokyo.  This won't be hard as I live a little over an hour from the largest city in the world.  This is most certainly not the only thing I want to do in Tokyo, but it will get me there and singing karaoke in the land of its invention.

4. Be a tourist.  With the map, the camera and possibly the Hawaiian shirt.  This can happen anywhere, but I think it should.  Not entirely sure why.

5.  Go to Okinawa and see the place my grandfather came during World War II.

6.  See 100 shrines and temples.  The history of Buddhism and Shinto and particularly where they overlap is very interesting to me.  Also, there is truly something sacred and divine about these places and like thousands of generations before me, I feel it is worthy to seek them out.

7. Go skiing in the Japanese Alps.  The skiing is supposedly pretty good here.  I would love to go up to Hokkaido, where they have best snow in the world, but anywhere will do.

8. See at least one event of every traditional Japanese performance style.  Many of you know I was largely drawn to Japan by its traditional theatre.  So, I will see at least one performance each of noh, kyogen, kabuki, bunraku, shinto dance, and manzai while I am here.

9.  Study Noh theatre with a professional.

10. Go to Hiroshima and see the Peace Memorial Museum that remembers and commemorates the victims and survivors of the atomic bomb.

11. Relax in an onsen, preferably the ones the wild monkeys use to keep warm.  This would accomplish two of my goals at once: going to an onsen and seeing wild monkeys.  Onsens are natural hot springs that have been turned into public bath houses.  Very traditional and apparently very good for you.

12. Attend a Cherry Blossom Festival and take part in a hanami (cherry blossom viewing) in Shinjuku Gyoen.  This garden in Tokyo is famous for its sakura (cherry blossoms).

13. Go hiking in Nikko National Park.  I do live right next to it and I miss hiking. I suppose part of me will always be in Colorado.

14.  Eat as much delicious Japanese food as I can! This one needs no explanation.

I think I will leave it at 14 for now, but I will probably update the list every now and then. I hope everyone is well wherever you are.  Sayonara!