Where's Charles?

I have the most thoughtful group of friends ever. Fukushima kids, you are the best. Hands down.

On Friday night, I was picked up for dinner by B. and V-chan. I was under the impression that we were going for dinner at the Asahi Beer Factory, because Brian mentioned he had a house guest meeting us there. We walked through the doors, and I recall I made comment: "Hey, who's going to run into their students at Asahi tonight?" In fact, I was greeted by a long table filled with more than a dozen of my friends. They were wearing party hats, but I was still confused. Where was B's friend, Charles? And why was everyone wearing birthday hats?

It took a few seconds for someone to finally break down that it was my surprise birthday! Granted, my birthday isn't for another few weeks in August. But I need to give mad shout outs to Roretta-chan and John for brewing up this idea. Apparently, they came up with it back when we all watched a basketball game in Sendai last winter. They know me too well. I don't like to talk about my flair often, but I love birthdays. It's always been a blast celebrating, especially in Japan.

This was my first surprise party ever. In life. I was so touched to see people come out to Motomiya for me. (And let's face it: Have one last hurrah at the beer garden. Two hours of unlimited meat and draaanks? Hello!) I grabbed an overnight bag from home after dinner, and I went to Koriyama with some people. The best part was running into two of my former students, Katsumi-kun and Shou-kun. When I taught them, they were mere senior students at JHS. Now, they're senior students in high school. How time flies! I told them about my plans to leave in the summer, so they invited me to one of their gigs in July. Hopefully, I'll see them before I go. S-kun had a guitar strapped to his back, so he started playing some tunes for us. He was really enthusiastic, playing music my parents would know. The Beatles, for example. I remember when he was in JHS, I let him look through my iTunes and he really liked the Bob Dylan tunes.

My birthdays throughout the years in Fuku:
- 24th Birthday: I had been living in Fuku for only two or three weeks when my birthday rolled around. Danielle organized a lovely dinner for me! The Fuku boys happened to be in Koriyama, too.
- 25th Birthday: I had reached my one-year mark living in Fuku. I made some solid friends, and invited a big crew to the Asahi Beer Garden. The room was filled with about 35 of my closest FuJETs. (I still have the guest list saved on my computer). Drinks were had by all. We moved the party to Koriyama, where chaos ensued. I remember getting a phone call from Matt at 7 a.m., whining that he was lost and he couldn't find his backpack. Soph opened up her home for us to crash. Good times, my friends.
- 26th Birthday: I had reached my two-year mark living in Fuku. I invited a good-sized number of people to my birthday party in Motomiya. I wasn't able to book the beer garden, because it was full. So, we ended up having a delicious yaki-nomi (yakiniku and nomihoudai) dinner at the Korean grill in Motomiya. And to top off the night, we karaoked the night away at my favourite snack bar. The mama-san spoiled me.
- 27th Birthday: I was bummed I wouldn't be celebrating my birthday in Japan one last time. So, I was really touched when my friends threw me a surprise party. A freakin' surprise party! Best friends ever.

I will miss my Fukushima friends dearly. I'm so thankful to have met some awesome people.

This Asahi's for you.

100 days

On Facebook, I'm learning that today marks 100 days since the great quake. We've had a couple major aftershocks that rattled me a little bit today. The first one happened when I was slipping on my flip flops as I was heading out to pick up the Koriyama kids from my station. The second one happened this evening when I was sitting on my bed, using my computer. The room shook for a lengthy time, that I crouched in my genkan and held onto the door frame. (Earthquake literature tells me I should crouch under a table, but I don't have anything big and sturdy. So, I prefer cowering in my front entrance, just in case I have to make a quick exit.

Things are getting back to normal. I spent last night painting the town red with the Kenpoku girls. We had a girls' night, where everyone got dolled up for an evening in Fukushima. The white wine and umeshu was flowing all night. We ate at a fancy izakaya, where we talked about girly things and convinced our waitress to find us more cheap white wine despite being sold out. The 2jikai involved some karaoke with limited song selection, where we tried to sing Lady Gaga's latest tune but failed. The night continued with a really slow walk over to yatai-mura, an outdoor space filled with food stalls serving snacks and alcohol. The mama-san, who always wears a wide headband over her frizzy updo, continuously "shushed" us quiet. She would later come over, clasp my hand and warmly invite us back any time. Loves it.

I also spent the afternoon driving around Inawashiro, with three Koriyama friends in tow, looking for our friend's birthday party. Without the aid of an iPhone, only the confusing directions given to us over the phone, we were able to make it to the birthday BBQ. Good times. 

It's nice to enjoy these last few weekends with friends. It's very selfish on my part, but it's helping me cope with living in uncertainty. It's not easy feeling aftershocks on a daily basis. You get used to them after a while, but they always serve as a reminder that we experienced a big 9.0-magnitude earthquake just a few months ago. 

I am starting to quietly inform some people that I'll be gone come August. My conbini lady asked how long I'd stick around; so, I was compelled to tell her I'm leaving. My eyes got a little watery when I told some of my elementary school students that I'd be moving back. I haven't had the heart to tell my JHS kiddos just yet. It'll be really difficult to leave them. I'm glad my kids are at least able to live somewhat normal lives. They are allowed to do club activities outside now, but outdoor swimming lessons are still cancelled. They are able to eat hamburgers and sing karaoke. A sense of concern looms over everyone's headss, but the kids are all right for now. Motomiya is extremely blessed to be picking up the pieces. 

Despite things moving forward for my kids, I do wonder about everyone going through this. The people that are still out there, still missing. The people who are still living in cardboard boxes. The adults who have sent their families out of Fukushima, but have remained for work obligations. 

Here are some photos to show how the rebuilding process is unfolding. It makes you wonder if other nations could recover just as well as we do.

Photos: Three months later

The traces left behind

It has been about three months since the ground beneath Tohoku broke out into a big rumble. The Tohoku earthquake released an immense tsunami, which swallowed up the coastline in northeast Japan. Thousands of lives were taken; people are still missing; and entire buildings, homes for that matter, were reduced to rubble. Now, we feel slight aftershocks on a daily basis; these slights shakes are constant reminders of March 11.

If you take a quick glimpse at the world reports abroad, you'll see that Fukushima is no longer at the forefront. Even a mere two weeks after the quake, Coop and the Gup (as L. and I dubbed the CNN duo) decreased their Fukushima coverage. Instead, reporters shed light on the growing tensions in Libya. And soon, Fukushima faded away. Recently, I've clicked on my usual Canadian news websites like the CBC or the Globe and Mail, only to find that the Fukushima story is barely covered. It's part of the ebb and flow of the news cycle. My JTE knows that my background is in journalism. He asked me to tell Fukushima's story, even though I am finishing my time here in August. I'll do my best, Sato-sensei.

So, I have been trying to chronicle the things I've experienced since returning in early May. I'll admit that I've been pretty caught up with re-gaining my own footing. I haven't been to the coast yet for volunteering. My friends tell me parts of towns affected by the tsunami are covered in debris. Debris that'll take months, probably years, to clear away. Mad props to those who have made the trek to the coastline.

*

It's strange to see how life continues on. Take a look at my town. When you go to the local burger joint, a whiteboard highlights that the green produce used is from another prefecture. (It's highly suggested to stay away from greens grown in Fukushima). I still drink bottled water, even though everyone says the minute amounts in our tap water is harmless. Teachers carry light blue dosimeters in their pockets, measuring external radiation exposure. And filling up your gas tank is a little more expensive than usual. Talk of radiation permeates daily conversation.

It breaks my heart when my co-workers, most of whom don't speak English, do their best to tell me how they feel about the current situation. I won't forget when M-sensei reminded me in broken Japanese and English that the kanji behind "Fukushima" (福島) loosely translates into "Happy Island." M-sensei then continued on, saying we are now "Unhappy Island." He was trying to express that the Tohoku disaster has changed all of our lives, making things difficult.

On Friday, I was posting up photos on my makeshift English corner in our temporary school. Another teacher stood beside me, admiring the photos of my friends who held up a small poster: "We love you, Fukushima." He was really happy to see that the world keeps Fukushima in its thoughts. But he was sad that life would no longer be the same. He told me that rice was being planted, but the harvest wouldn't sell. He told me about traces of radiation popping up in Tokyo and surrounding areas. He talked about the invisible radiation threat.

It really hits me when Japanese people are honest about their concerns with me, despite our communication difficulties.

Sitting, waiting, wishing

It was a hot and sticky August morning. I think it was the principal or the vice principal who ushered me to my seat in the "teachers' corner" of the gym, and told me to wait for the opening assembly to start. This would be the first time I would see all of the students at Motomiya 2nd J.H.S.

I heard a rumble, and looked up. The students were entering the gym through the side doors, each carrying their wooden classroom chair. Split into two lines, the girls and the boys proceeded to the front of the gym. Each class had one line for boys and one line for girls. So, there must've been about almost 20 lines. Some of the kids sneaked looks over at me, probably curious to see the new ALT. But for the most part, everyone was rather quiet. They arranged their chairs in straight vertical lines facing the stage. It was obvious that this was the regular seating arrangement, because everyone was able to create perfect spaces between chairs and the aisles. They did it quietly and without complaint. I was impressed. Every kid was sitting up with perfect posture. The boys had their hands turned into fists, resting on their laps. I didn't really recognize anyone, except for Yumi-chan. One of the speech contest kids, I had met her earlier in August when I started coaching them.

Over the years, I got used to their general obedience and their knack for precision. The chair thing didn't surprise me after attending several assemblies, pep rallies, formal ceremonies and school festivals. That dilapidated gym held a lot of events for us.

Now that we're in the community centre, we no longer have space for general assemblies. We don't have room for all of the students and teachers to congregate. If something needs to be said to everyone, the message is usually announced over the P.A.

*

Last week, we held the annual relay race day at the big city gym. About four or five buses drove up to the big complex. It has a spacious gym, equipped with a second-floor that has bucket seats on all four sides for spectators. Anyways, the kids sat down on the shiny wooden floor to listen to the principal's message in the morning.

Similar to three years ago, they proceeded quietly into the gym and somehow shimmied themselves into 20 lines divided by gender. They lacked chairs this time, so they ended up sitting on the floor with their legs bent at the knees. Their arms were lightly wrapped around them. You would never see my peers and I successfully do that back home when we were kids. We preferred sitting willy-nilly with our friends, legs crossed while we half-heartedly listened to the assembly.

Classic. This litttle thing: Japanese students getting seated in the way that they do. I'm going to miss that simple moment. I admire their obedience and their sheer devotion to having things done in an aesthetically-pleasing way. The way they sit also shows their adherence to group mentality, which bears its pros and cons. They sit quietly. They wait for the message. They wish for climate-controlled gyms. (I can't tell you how many times I've seen kids actually faint while sitting in the gym, because it's either too cold or too hot.)