Earthquake!

DISCLAIMER: I am OK! Thanks to friends and family for their concern. This post isn't intended to give a factual account of what's going on here, but more of a reflection on my internal experience during the last 48 hours. There is lots of (relatively) up to date info in English on the BBC or NHK World websites. Look me up on Facebook or email me for personal updates.

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I was waiting for the train when it happened. An older gentleman was sitting on the bench next to me, maybe 75, balding. Next to him stood a young woman with a child, maybe 2 or 3 years old, in a stroller. They had been waving goodbye to the child's mother, or maybe grandmother, whom they could see from afar. "Bye-bye!"

Then bam! The rumbling was mild at first. I turned to the old man and said, "Earthquake?" He didn't hear me, so I repeated, "Earthquake!?" "Yes," he nodded. People in Tokyo are used to earthquakes, so he didn't seem phased. But the shaking intensified. "What should we do?" I asked. "Hmm, what should we do, huh?" As he thought for a second, an express train passed through the opposite platform. Now the platform was really starting to shake. He got up and stood by a steel beam supporting the tin roof. People started reacting, moving to safe spots, crouching down by benches. I got down by the bench where I had been sitting and covered my head with my backpack. Down the platform, a high schooler had managed to squeeze himself under one of the benches. I looked over at the woman with her kid. She had moved in close to the bench, and she covered him in the stroller with her whole body, his head buried under her head, arms and torso. Above me, signs were shaking hard, rocking back and forth, creaking. And the tin roof fluttered as if caught in a hurricane wind. The lights flickered and electricity went out. I was scared. This whole thing could come down at any time, I thought. Someplace in my mind, conscious or unconscious, I was praying, "Please, God, don't let anything happen to this child next to me."

Was it 30 seconds? Maybe a minute? Time stood still. For those brief moments, I could really feel that I am a tiny creature floating around on the surface of this earth, rotating, hurtling through space. It wasn't just shaking, it was fluid, as if I was being rocked through time and space in a giant cradle. "I just had a brush with death," I thought.

The rumbling died down. "Yabai su ne~!" The high schoolers reconvened. Any damage? The old man inspected. On the opposite side of the platform, the glass screen of a clock had cracked, fallen and shattered into pieces on the asphalt. Did I see watch the clock crack? Did I see the glass fall? Did I hear it? It's hard to remember. The old man noted some water coming up from the ground, but I think it had been there in puddles all along. The high school student behind me muttered to himself, "So desune. Daijoubu. That's right, I'm OK, yes, yes." Over and over again, like he was crazy.

People got up and started checking their phones. Then station attendants and engineers appeared on the platform. Shortly thereafter came an announcement, "Due to the earthquake, train service will be suspended until we can do a safety check. The next train will run from Inagi station at 4:00 PM." Everyone uttered their surprise and dismay. An hour delay? This wasn't normal. What an inconvenience!

Here's some video I shot with my cell phone of the station attendants cleaning up the glass. (Sorry for the poor quality):





I was surprised by their haphazard cleanup. As they made their way down the platform, they checked (like good conductors), pointing with their white-gloved fingers to confirm their lines of vision, to survey the damage. Once they found the broken glass from the clock, they marked it with a big orange cone, then started poking at the remaining glass with sticks! Shouldn't they have warned people to stand clear of the glass? Shouldn't they be wearing safety goggles? The glass shattered as it hit the ground in large swathes, and they cleared most of it from the clock.

What should I do? I was going to have to wait for at least an hour before the next train. I had been on kind of an exercise kick that day: took a walk before school, played dodge ball during break time, and a killer game of tag during recess (I'm SO out of shape!). So after mulling it over for a couple minutes, I decided I'd try to walk to the next station. I didn't know exactly where it was, and there was no map outside the station. But I figured I'd just follow the tracks. It would be an adventure! Somehow, I felt like the earth had been telling me I needed to move.

I decided not to use my cell phone right away. I figured lines would be jammed as everyone in the station was calling their friends and loved ones to make sure they were OK. It was still the middle of the night in America, so I decided I'd wait for a while before I got in touch with anyone.

I set out on my walk, and found that lots of people had taken to the street. I imagine most of them were train customers like me, who were waiting for the train then decided to walk or something. Similarly, I was following some other people who appeared to be walking in the same direction. "They must have decided not to wait for the train, too." I thought. Then, "Not everyone is walking where you're going, Ben."

A fork in the road. It looked like there was construction, so it would be impossible to follow the tracks. I thought I saw a sign for Tama center, so I veered away from the tracks and followed a young guy in a green coat with a cigarette. He had stopped to look at a construction area map ahead of me. "Surely he's going the same way as I am."

Up, up, up - it was a steep hill. When I got to the top, I could see that I was just going back in the direction of the school I had come from, back in the direction of the station. No good. I reversed and turned back along the tracks, avoiding the construction by going through a suburban residential neighborhood.

The tracks were going under a tunnel, so I had to go over and around, risking losing them again. I ambled across a quiet road into a park area. "Getting back to nature," I thought. It's odd how disasters make you get out of your comfort zone and return to a simpler way of life. "So this is what it was like before trains."

I got out of the park, disoriented, unable to pick up the tracks. But the guy I had been following was walking down the street as I emerged! And there was another guy who looked like he had come from the station, so I decided to follow them. I thought about asking them where they were going, but I didn't want to be an awkward gaijin inconveniencing them and disrupting their personal bubble. The sun was getting low in the sky, and the mountains were shrouded in clouds in the distance.

I picked up pace and soon came to a road sign indicating a turn in the direction of the station I was looking for. "Yes!" To my surprise, the other guys I had been following didn't take the turn and went somewhere else. But I was basically home free. Signage in Japan is good, and I had relied on my sense of direction well this far. I was proud!

Happily, I found a map that showed the station down the road. I walked confidently along my path, taking note of the neighborhood signs and bus stops to confirm that I was going the right way. All signs were good.

With a few more blocks to go before the station, I came to a grove of ume (plum) trees along the road! These are my favorite trees in Japan. They are blossoming now, and their fragrance is really just about my favorite smell in the whole world. I've been trying to make time to enjoy the ume blossoms before I go. Somehow, by chance, I had been given this opportunity to "stop and smell the ume" one more time. I veered onto a park path and there the ume smell was strong. "This is my reward," I thought, "for embracing this adventure." It was a happy moment.

I got to the station, and people were still waiting for the trains to resume. Crowds had gathered outside the station gates, and it didn't seem like service would start any time soon. Having taken note of the bus, I hopped on one headed in the right direction. Then got to the next station, then got on another bus that took me home!

If the story ended there, it would make a great Hollywood narrative. Initiating incident, journey, beautiful climactic moment of inner peace, and denaument (i.e. I get home). In reality, I did get home, but only to find my house without power and co-workers in a frenzy, and was inundated for the next 24 hours with distressing news. For myself, I thought the above journey made a quaint metaphor for my life. For the rest of Japan, the picture is more complex.

To be continued...