Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan in early May

It is hard to put into words the range of emotions and experiences one goes through during a week of recovery volunteer work in Ishinomaki, Miyagi on the northeast coast of Japan. The world watched live on television as the March 11, 2011 earthquake and tsunami shattered towns along the coast. I won’t rehash that story here.

On the night of April 30^th I and a couple of guys from ball hockey climbed aboard a bus – one of nine departing that night – along with about 350 other volunteers for the overnight ride to Ishinomaki. Following all that an overnight bus ride on earthquake-roughened highways and the requisite stops to ensure an on-time arrival, we arrived bleary-eyed and stiff on the athletic practice fields of a university. This is where we would set up tents and camp for the week.

By mid-morning we were loaded on another bus and driven into the town itself. This was our first real look at the devastation the water had wrought. Along the cleared streets were mounds of timber, tatami mats, appliances, cars, boats, furniture, and everything else that can be imagined. Dust and dirt blanket the city. It was a quick and stark reminder that we had at most been slightly inconvenienced in Tokyo on March 11^th.

We were told the area of town in which we would work had been protected from most of the raw force of the wave by a large hill. The area of town in which we would work had suffered massive flooding as the tsunami waves had moved up the river. The water crested about the second story of the buildings here. Although spared the full impact of the waves, there was enough power to put boats into some buildings, cars into other buildings and completely destroy other buildings and scattering whatever was inside.

Our team of six armed ourselves every morning with scoops, wheelbarrows and sacks. Each morning we were assigned a place to clean. Over the course of the week, our team was assigned parks, an elderly couple’s home, piles of debris and drying sludge outside a hospital, the storm drains between buildings, a couple of bars, and parking lots. We spent two days in those bars, each measuring only about 20 feet by 20 feet and came out looking and smelling like we had been working on a malfunctioning oil pipeline. Our team had it easy.

Northwest Japan catches and processes a lot of fish. Over two days during the week we were there, four other teams cleared an estimated 17 tonnes of dry and rotting fish from a small area of town. They achieved a level of minor celebrity and great admiration in the camp, as well as national television and internet news coverage. They were all easily identifiable. They were Fish.

During our lunch on the second day in Ishinomaki, the owner of the house where we were clearing the garden took us up the hill that protected this part of town. From the top is the incredible view of the ocean and the destruction left behind the retreating waves. He told us of people who had climbed onto their roofs to escape the rising waters, only to have the roofs torn loose and taken a kilometer or more out to sea. For the lucky ones, the next wave brought them back. One of his neighbors had grabbed a tree which was perhaps two inches in diameter at its base and stood on two small knots in as he held on while the waters rose to his chest, just out of reach of a balcony on the house.

One day we got bicycles to ride from camp to the work site. During our lunch and again after finishing work, we took the short ride around the edge of the hill and into the heart of the tsunami zone. Words and pictures are inadequate to convey what we saw and felt. It is something that must be experienced firsthand to be understood.

Electricity is on in parts of the town, as is water. During that first week of May gas companies from around the country were working to check the lines and restore service. Businesses are beginning to reopen, although with limited stocks. We found and frequented the open fruit and vegetable shops. The residents of the town are rebuilding, and there is a sense that although they have suffered, they will rebuild. They are grateful for the volunteers, and generously shared food and coffee with us. They are optimistic about rebuilding, but they are worried that interest will fade and they will be left without volunteers to help the community.

We were there during the annual spring holidays of Golden Week. Peace Boat, the organization with which we went, had 350 volunteers, including 41 non-Japanese. The following week they had registered about half of that. The week after just 60.

Two members of my team will return for shorter trips next month. Two others are talking about returning in August. I will be looking for my own opportunities to return later in the year.

There are a number of organizations running volunteer programs throughout the affected areas. The links to information below are those with which I have had personal experience.

Peace Boat

AP Bank (Japanese only)

Second Harvest Japan

If you cannot volunteer, but still want to help, I suggest donating to the Red Cross or to Doctors without Borders, or to Second Harvest Japan.

Twilight in Tokyo

Tokyo received little direct damage from the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Suburban areas, particularly Chiba seem to have been more directly affected. Rolling blackouts continue in the suburbs of the city, but the central part of Tokyo remains largely unaffected by these. Subways and trains in the city center are back nearly to their pre-earthquake schedules. 

Because so much of the Tokyo Electric Company’s (Tepco) generating capacity is offline, power shortages and the rolling blackouts are likely to continue for weeks, or more probably months. Train stations, department stores, grocery stores and other large retailers are keeping their lights dimmed, with their outdoor signs mostly off. The reduced hours many have kept for the past couple of weeks are inching back to their normal operating hours. Mom and pop restaurants have begun turning their signs back on at night. Whether the lessons of excessive power consumption have truly been learned is yet to be seen. 

There have been stories in the foreign press about the self-restraint that has taken hold in Japan. That is true to an extent. But the crowds in Shibuya on March 18^th did not appear any smaller for the lack of giant, blaring advertisements that usually light the main crossing there. The screeches that are supposedly singing coming from local karaoke bars in the wee hours of a weeknight would indicate not everyone has taken up this outlook. The lights may be down, but aisles of electronics retailers and bookstores have not seemed much off their typical size.

Restraint certainly has been encouraged by Tokyo’s governor and even local governments. This is traditionally the time of year when Japanese hold hanami parties, picnicking under the cherry blossoms in the parks. Signs have been erected by the Tokyo municipal government discouraging such behavior this year. In the idle monkey trainer’s neighborhood city officials (or their volunteer minions) distributed leaflets and politely asked those partaking in such parties – particularly those with alcohol – to show restraint. They even implied that those not showing restraint would be asked to stop drinking. Rather than revel in the new spring as usual, everyone is being told it is more appropriate to be mourning the victims to the north. These reflect the attitude of Governor Ishihara, who has had to retract his own remarks about the disasters being divine punishment for Japan’s ego and greed. (Sadly, such thoughts and statements probably will not prevent him from winning another term as governor in Sunday’s election.)

And despite the perfect weather for hanami this past Saturday, the park did seem a bit quieter than in years past. Perhaps there was less alcohol and food consumed. Maybe there was even a bit more reflection on the transcendence of life as witnessed in the fleeting beauty of the cherry blossoms – or cherry jello shots.

March 11 - 14, 2011

Just after 2:oo p.m. on a lovely early spring afternoon the shaking started. At first it seemed to be no more than the usual rocking, which is viewed with general nonchalance by the majority of residents. Then it kept going, and growing stronger. Concern began to creep into voiced thoughts. “Is it time to get under the desk?” “No. It’s better to get out.”

Outside the office building we stood on a narrow strip of road, feeling it sway beneath our feet like the deck of a ship at sea. Overhead we watched power lines sway and dance. The rocking lasted for several minutes, or at least what seemed to be several minutes. As it calmed the adrenalin kept coursing, creating uncertainty as to whether it was our bodies or the earth that was still shaking and swaying.

Aftershocks of various magnitudes followed quickly and frequently. On the eastern horizon plumes of black smoke stretched skyward. Phone service – both land and mobile – halted. SMS texts did not go through. We all turned to the internet, sending out flurries of e-mails and Facebook posts to keep in touch, to find out if friends and family were okay. The trains ceased running.

As evening rolled around and lesser tremors kept rolling, those with housing or places to stay within walking distance – a phrase that took on an expanded meaning – began their treks home. Power, fortunately, was still on. My own journey from my office took my largely against the flow of human (and vehicle) traffic. On the main thoroughfares cars waited patiently in unmoving lines. Throngs of people moved down the sidewalks. There was no shoving, no shouting. There was, as I have seen aptly described elsewhere, a melancholy calm in the crowds. A few people wore helmets, likely company provided. More often, the helmets were carried, in hand should the ground start moving again.

Convenience store shelves were stripped bare of instant foods – cup noodles, mostly – and ready to eat meals, rice balls and sandwiches by orderly lines of customers. By the next afternoon most grocery store shelves followed suit. Staples have become hard to come by. Water, milk, eggs, rice, batteries are in short supply.

Aftershocks continued through Friday night, waking people up on Saturday morning and keeping us up through Saturday night into Sunday morning. Another at about 10:00 a.m. Monday shook long enough to be eerily like the one that started it all Friday afternoon.

Images of the damage caused by the massive tsunamis that came ashore in Miyagi dominated the television, with focus shifting Saturday afternoon to exploding nuclear facilities.

Restaurants, bars and retailers opened more of less normally on Saturday, though without the normal Saturday trade. A few subway lines began running late Friday evening, others opened only again on Saturday with limited service. Ueno Park was quiet Saturday, but near brimming on the warm Sunday afternoon, as people looked more relaxed, walking around the lake, laughing, renting paddle boats, snacking from the usual food stands, watching seagulls try to steal food from a duck.

Most of the damage in the Tokyo metro area seems to be in the eastern part in Chiba, or at least the heaviest seems to be there. A refinery burned Friday. Disneyland is said to be closed for the week while they deal with a busted up parking lot and minor flooding. A friend reported taking a 20km hike Friday night back to his sodden neighborhood. In my neighborhood I saw only minor damage, including to a shrine in Ueno Park. A friend has said that his local grocery store is closed because of a damaged wall.

Monday morning train services were still limited as people started going back to work. Services will be spotty for a while as the Tokyo electric company proposes rolling blackouts be used to compensate for so many power generators being offline. The blackouts, however, have been put off for the time being as consumption has remained lower than expected. Some lines have not opened or have opened only for the morning and even rushes.

Decent information is hard to come by, in English anyway. In Japanese it is better since it can be taken straight from the source. CNN and BBC have the most dramatic aspects, but little else of use. The US embassy is sending out fairly regular warden messages with information and links to primary sources. Japanese television has kept near 24-hour coverage on all channels, with the exception of one that was at least for a while showing beautiful nature scenes from around the world and then a weight-loss program. Facebook, though it proved extremely useful in connecting with people can quickly become a source of incomplete or incorrect information. 

Shanghai World Expo

On a roasting hot September afternoon, the idle monkey trainer and a colleague grabbed a taxi for the nearest World Expo entrance, where we had to open our bags, then board an Expo bus for the 2-minute journey to the gates, where we had to go through airport-style security.

China

Once inside, it was immediately clear that we would not be visiting a lot of the pavilions. The line in front of the Japanese pavilion, a big pink building that resembled a pig for some reason, confirmed the rumors we’d heard; namely that waiting times wandered into multiple hours. Helpfully, there are digital signs around the Expo letting you know which pavilions are experiencing the longest waiting times. Inevitably China, Japan and the USA were pushing between four- and five-hour waits all day. The signs would also let you know of the shorter (less than an-hour-wait) lines at certain pavilions.

Since I have an aversion to waiting in any sort of line whatsoever, I was fully prepared to take the advice of a helpful website and skip the pavilions for their bars. (This also coincided nicely with my love of trying new beers.) 

We quickly put the system to the test, grabbing a quick bite of skewered meat from the Pakistan pavilion restaurant. 

This was followed up with a stop into the Australian restaurant and gift shop for a Crown Lager and a cheesy, crowd-pleasing overhead acrobatic show with a couple dressed as SCUBA divers. 

Back out in the heat and sunshine it did not take us long to find that Malta had a nice little café and a good beer. At this point, the idle monkey trainer was approached by the first of several locals who wanted pictures taken with a white guy. I should have charged – it could have offset the costs of the beer.

As we exited Malta’s air-conditioned café, we saw that there was no line at the pavilion across the way, and decided we had to hit up at least one. Albania’s pavilion was a single room with a few murals showing beautiful views, and a gift shop that was exactly one display case long. They also had a wishing fountain. Happy that we had made a pavilion, we headed back out into the heat. As luck would have it, Georgia also had no line, so we got a second pavilion marked off. The Georgians used their one-room space to heavily promote their wine and skiing.

As we walked on, Peru beckoned with their strategically placed sidewalk café. A good beer and a meat pie later, we were off again, heading toward Brazil and the promise of a good cocktail. Sadly, AB InBev had the concession and were offering up only local favorites Budweiser and Corona. The same was true for the USA pavilion opposite. Nevermind, we thought, and headed out toward South Africa, via Argentina, who had a gorgeous restaurant in order to promote their own wines.

Not seeing what we were after at South Africa we instead headed into the African pavilion for a quick trip around the continent and rows of market stalls. Also, plenty of stuffed Gorillas.

But no beverages and we were getting thirsty. We headed back to the more reliably imbibing nations of Europe, where Germany’s outside stage was quiet and the bar area boisterous.  Hofbrau Dark hit the spot, but tired of standing room only, we launched out for the Netherlands' Happy Street, fake grass, canals and sheep. 

Naturally, Heineken was king here, so it was a quick one and off again. 

Belgium, we thought, would provide a good brew and bar. Remarkably, we had to actually walk all around the building to the back side to find a concession with beer. 

This proved to work out well, however, since as we sat street-side with our beers, we could watch the Latvians sky-diving simulating pavilion closing show.

Feeling pretty good, if a bit tired, we decided to walk through the rather depressing halls of the Red Cross & Red Crescent Socities’ pavilion. From there it was a short walk to the tropical islands and wooden canoes of the South Pacific nations, before a final pavilion in the form of Indonesia, which despite three-hour waits during the heat of the day was remarkably open and easy to enter after dark, in spite of the live band playing at the entrance. (China and Japan still had long lines as we made for the exit.)

Let's Dance!

The Asakusa area of Tokyo is normally associated with “traditional” Japan. It was the Ginza before Ginza came up. It was the Edo-era nightlife district. It’s still strongly associated with festivals like the Sanja Matsuri (one of the three largest festivals in Japan). Yet, for some reason, for the last 30 years it has been home to the Asakusa Samba Festival.

Each August, samba teams – some led by Brazilian, but mainly comprised of Japanese dancers – take over two large streets to parade their floats, dancers and corporate sponsors for the throngs who crowd onto the small sidewalks. (The throngs, incidentally, are made up primarily of men in their late 40’s or older with long telephoto lens-equipped cameras.)

Participating teams obviously spend a great deal of time on the design and construction of their floats and costumes. Some are obviously beholden to (or perhaps employed by) corporate sponsors such as Asahi Beer (a major sponsor of anything that happens in Asakusa given their head office sits across the river) and Pocari Sweat.

Other teams’ concepts were harder to guess the relationship to anything samba/Brazilian. For instance, the Cleopatra dancers (though they must be given credit for sticking close to the theme and being the only team to have “slaves” pushing their float rather than using a truck).

And, this one, which the idle monkey trainer cannot even fathom a guess as to its meaning.

The Asakusa Samba Festival is held the last weekend of August.
(And, now, because they would eventually be requested by the readership, here are a couple more shots.)

Hossosawa Waterfall

In the western end of Tokyo’s administrative district lies Hinohara Village – the last “village” in Tokyo. Generally the term village in Japan is reserved for small communities. Despite having exceeded the generally accepted population of a village some time ago, Hinohara has kept the designation, doubtless for marketing purposes. That said, Hinohara looks like no other part of Tokyo – more of a small town nestled in the foothills.

One of the attractions of Hinohara, and the Okutama region to which it belongs, is the Hossawa Waterfall. 

Not the biggest waterfall by any means, it is situated in a lush box canyon at the end of an easy and short trail. From the bus stop or parking lot, make your way past the craft store, ice cream shop, a van selling Potato Burgers and another craft shop, then follow the rest of the trail along the stream with all the other people. Although it was not overly crowded, it was not a place one was going to find complete tranquility in which to ponder the deeper questions of life.

Potato burger, vegetarian version

Being a fan of natural beauty (and natural beauties) and not a fan of large crowds, it was heartening not to be there the weekend of August 21 for the local summer festival. The festival taking place that weekend is highlighted by the lighting of the waterfall in multiple colors – pink, blue, yellow, etc. The trail looked to be readied for the lighting with a string of – at the time at least – bare light bulbs just above head height.

That aside, it is a pleasant area worth a visit, though given the distance and transportation requirements (about 1.5 hours on a train and another 25 – 30 minutes on a bus) it is probably best to combine it with other hikes in the area. 

(The hike was done in mid-August.)

Monkey Prison

Near Kinugawa Onsen station in the hills of Tochigi Prefecture is a ropeway which will ferry passengers up a few hundred vertical meters to a “monkey sanctuary”. It appears more to be a monkey prison.

 (The idle monkey trainer was under the mistaken impression it was more of a wilderness preserve in which monkeys lived.)

Stepping from the tram car, one is assaulted instantly with the stench of close-quartered monkeys. Visitors to the facility are ushered into a small path extending into the monkey prison yard. Through the double layer of chain-link fence visitors may feed the monkeys by extending food pellets (conveniently for sale in the visitors’ area, of course) using a wooden stick. 

The monkeys climb all over the fences, the roof and each other, positioning for attention and food. They extend their forelegs through the fences, forlorn expressions on their faces. They pull and bite on the fencing, bounce and scream. The larger, more dominate monkeys exert their influence in the group to chase off younger, smaller rivals for the pellets, while (human) children squeal with delight and pull back the sticks so they can try to get pellets to the younger, cuter monkeys.

There are hiking trails up the mountain and around the top, which could have helped salvage the afternoon. But, an apparent infestation of mountain leeches put a stop to that. Having never encountered a mountain leech, the idle monkey trainer was somewhat surprised to learn that (1) leeches inhabit mountains and not just waterways, and (2) that the bite of the mountain leech is apparently very painful and results in lots of bleeding. It was strongly suggested that walking the trails in shorts and sandals would be a very bad idea. Apparently the staff at the top of the tram had already encountered hikers that morning suffering from multiple leech bites.

Instead, the idle monkey trainer returned to the public hot spring in front of the train station to soak his feet and enjoy a drink. And where the drunken security guard informed him that although the pump had been shut off at five o’clock he was welcome to stay as long as the water was warm, and repeatedly that the security guard had been attending a summer festival at which he was given several free beers, presumably including the one he was carrying around at the time. 


(The monkey prison was visited in August.)