Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Mr S forced me out of bed this morning to head downtown.  I reaaaally didn't want to go.  I'm amazed at myself sometimes.  I like to consider myself a curious individual, yet fatigue, apathy and not wanting to seem stupid squash this quality until I'm a mush of melted cheese in front of the tv, watching shows I have no interest in.

Mr S loved the salad.  He eats everything like it's been weeks, not hours, since he last ate.

Made our way downtown.  Long line for the bus - like definition of long, long:

The snow was drifting down like perfectly timed confetti, tossed by stage hands from the rafters of a fire hazard theatre.  I miss being backstage - the gloom in the wings; the hush of watching the other actors on stage; being as quiet as possible with every word, every step, every rustle of skirt; the fear that gently strangles your throat as you cross the threshold as you make your entrance.  Then BOOM! You're on and the words are carrying you.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Scavenging the vending machines for fluids.  I'm regretting every cigarette half-smoked or thrown away; food tossed out or over-eaten in binges - every little scrap wasted.  Ever.  The dilemma of standing in front of a vending machine, wanting to raid it for everything it's worth, but knowing that the streets are haunted with other desperate people.  And, they are standing behind me, pretending not to watch how much I'm taking.

We need to set up a rationing plan, make everything stretch.  Have to go down to the river and more water before the weather turns foul.  Fill the cistern.  Go down by myself, can't wait for Mr S.

Made my first real meal.  Veg and bean soup, rice and a cucumber and avo salad.  The constant nibble cravings for junk have subsided after having Food.

Living with Mr S is starting to grind my teeth.  It's been such a comfort having him here, but I feel like I'm having to nag so much - about conserving resources, keeping the apartment clean, eating the fresh food before the non-perishables, making things stretch, saving tea bags, not assuming that anything is disposable.

The waiting waiting WAITING!  Mr Australia and Super K left for Niigata early this morning.  They offered to take us with them, but we decided to stay.

Saw cars backed up waiting for gas today.  I wonder what happens if they run out.  A city of abandoned and rotting corpses of metal and rubber.

Sputtering pipes.  "Maybe the water is reviving," we hope.

Mr S is on the phone to a friend whose whole town is gone, though I'm sure they'll find a desk for her to sit behind for a few months.

A cup of secondhand tea.

We still had to take off our shoes when we went into the shelter.

Monday, 14 March 2011

Monday, 14 March 2011
Morning
Exhausted is an ineffective word.  In the line at Seiyu, which has finally opened.  Mr S had a big (and delusional) plan to break in tonight.

Mr S got water from the river.  Just boiled it and had my first "bath" in the basin. SOOOO GOOOD!  To have clean (relatively) hair and fuzz free armpits.  And then I think of all the millions for whom this would be luxury, for whom worse is a daily ritual - not a brief detour that you tell people about over glasses of wine and that can be escaped once pipes are repaired.  Thanks for the downer, Miss Reality Check.

The internet is back on again.  How the world moves on!

Boiled water to wash the dishes.  The day has worn me down - the waiting for another quake, having supplies but not knowing how long they will have to last, the Question: Are Things Going To Get Worse? following me around and tugging on my arm.

Subtle tremors, or Mr S shaking his leg?
Do I spend water on a cup of tea?

Late that night
People are starting to lose their heads about the nuclear reactor.  A call from Mr Australia with the possibility of leaving tonight.  A bag is packed and waiting at the door.  A brief snapshot of having to watch Mr S die winks at me while I pack.  But, all I can really think about is whether or not to I should open the shrimp chips.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Sunday, 13 March 2011
I waited for over an hour in the queue at the combini this morning.  As I got to the front, I had to wait at the closed doors for someone to come out before I would be let in.  The doors were covered in newspaper.  For twenty minutes I stared at smudged black and white anonymous erections overflowing onto the impossible breasts of school girls.  I didn't know there was manga porn in newspapers.  Every day is indeed an opportunity to learn something new, especially for the children who received endless entertainment from pressing their faces to the glass doors.


Finally admitted inside, with only the choices of snack foods and stationery, I opted for calorie/vitamin/nutrient replacement delivery systems.  Wandered around for an hour, searching for Mr S, who had (unbeknown to me) finished at his store.  He slept over again last night, camping out in my lounge.  We dined on soup from the freezer, thanks to the discovery that my gas is working, and did tarot readings by candlelight for each other.

We took our first Number 2s this morning, which we wrapped in plastic bags and stored outside.

Cell phone contact is still sketchy.

My stomach is raging after I made a stew of veggies, tofu, beans and noodles that needed to be used up.  Feeling exhausted now and not quite sure what to do with myself, or whether I'm expected to go to work tomorrow.

Later that night
Stomach is still churning and stabbing my nervous system.  Feeling guilty about giving into the snack food.  Tidied up a bit, but now Mr S has gone back to his apartment to check on developments there and I'm at a complete loss at what to do.  Itching to wash myself but can't spare the water.

This Terrified Teenage Girl - so happy with the weight loss of the last few weeks - is guilt tripping me about the diet of refined carbohydates since Friday.  "But," Rational Thought whimpers, "I've had to walk way more that usual and stand in queues and return furniture to where it belongs!  The calories burned from the cold last night alone!  And it's not like I binged!"
"Yes, but," Terrified Teenage Girl butts in, " It's been eating for eating's sake or because Mr S is eating or out of fear that you might not get another chance to eat!  Forcing food down!  Probably out of dehydration more than hunger!  This is a disaster goddammit!  You should be getting skinnier!  Where are those fucking ribs?  The sunken cheeks?!?"

The underlying terror of yesterday.  We had gotten to the shelter, where they were filling bottles.  We had seen people leave with huge containers of water - 10 or 20 litres - only to be turned away when they ran out 5 minutes later.  If I had had the energy, fury would've slapped someone through the face that they had allowed people to leave with such large amounts when there were at least a hundred people in the queue, all in need - throats dry and heads muggy.

The fruit in the freezer has defrosted.  We'll have to try to eat as much as we can tonight, maybe the rest tomorrow.  After that, it will have to be thrown away. Just have to accept the losses.

It's getting dark.  Still no word from Mr S, or what I'm supposed to do tomorrow.  Am I expected to go to work without water or electricity?  It's getting cold too.  First time alone since the earthquake.  Didn't get water from the river.  We should still survive tonight, but will have to go tomorrow.

The silence and the dark creep in.  My painkillers don't seem to have been very effective.  Phone is nearly dead.

After sunset
Electricity is back!  I'm a little sad that the camping is over, but Not Having To Freeze Another Night sweeps Sadness away.

Saturday, 12 March 2011

Saturday, 12 March 2011
The Morning 

The Earthquake is what finally drove the nail and the wall apart

It's the morning after the disaster.  A group of the women up here and Mr S - who, although he lives downtown, didn't know which disaster centre to go to, made his merry way up here (thankfully, otherwise it would've been a much lonelier and snuggle-less night) - camped out in my kitchen.

The shelter was a squash of families with babies wailing and the eldery desparately trying to creak their way into positions fit for sleep.  It was warmer than my apartment - hundreds of people breathing in a confined space and they had these nifty camping heaters that I was very tempted to steal - but there was no place to attempt the aquisition of zzzs.

I had cleared my kitchen while there was still some daylight yesterday afternoon, so we laid out all the futons and blankets I have and had a slumber party of tweenie proportions (minus the Justin Bieber posters and pilfered liquor).  It was actually kinda fun.  At least it was a respite from the desparation of so many people crowded together, no electricity and the aftershocks that kept crashing like waves at high tide.

The sirens seem to have stopped.  Last night, they were a constant chorus.

I was at school when it happened, feeling sorry for myself and wanted affection.  Weepy - just like on Wednesday when the earthquakes started.  I had gone to the toilet for a silent little cry.  I'm starting to suspect that I might be like an animal that goes nuts before an earthquake.  And there was that feeling when I got back from South Africa that I needed to put together an emergency kit that consisted of more than a bottle of water.  Aaaand all that shopping I forced myself to do this week for tinned food.

I had just gotten back to my desk when the first tremors started and I thought it would be like the others earlier this week - a little heart pounding, but over in a minute.  I kept looking at one of my other teachers, who sits opposite me, whether I should duck and dive.  He kept saying it was ok.  We all kept saying it was ok.  Then Instinct grabbed me by the collar and I dove under my desk, just as a tower of books crashed down around the spot where I had been sitting.  All I could see were the metal underbellies of desks sliding across the floor.  Heart was crawling out of my mouth, clawing for the release of crying.

When it finally eased up (I don't know how long it went on for - seconds turning to hours) we snatched our bags and coats and hop scotched across the toybox staffroom.  The snow started picking up.  Most of the children had already gone home, only the last stragglers who were still playing sports.  Outside, the windows were quivering.  The ground was still heaving, but it was less terrifying than being surrounded by desks and drawers and books tumbling over themselves to get to the floor first.

The minutes become an hour.  The realization -  so many of the other people you love and care for and even hate (but in hating, they enrich your life) are also bobbing up and down and maybe their buildings were more eager to crumble and, further more,that you may no longer have a home to go to - swims up for air.

What needs to be done today:
1.  Clean yourself as much as possible without using any water.
2.  Dress super warm.
3.  Consolidate supplies around the house - batteries, water, food, candles
4.  Clean up the other rooms.
5.  Try to recharge phone.

The Afternoon
My first year here, earthquakes were this entertaining diversion.

Perhaps this is sick and twisted, but I'm almost glad I was here when this happened.  To be in the thick of it.  To experience something on the ground.  The aftershocks that won't stop.  The soundtrack of sirens.  Having to put your life back together again.  Living wthout water or electricity.  No possibility of distraction but cleaning up and hunting down food.  A test.

Most of the house is cleaned now, at least to a livable state.  We've come up with a solution to the Number 2 Problem - taking dumps in plastic bags and store it on the balcony, but have yet to test it.  Originally, Mr S wanted to dispose of it in my neighbour's veggie patch.

The biggest concern is water and keeping warm tonight.  Walking to the shelter last night - after it grew dark and realising that I couldn't stay in my apartment - it felt like walking through an apocalyptic wasteland (possibly a little over the top, but I'm going with it).  With no street lights, you remember how dark the night is.  People camped in their cars for warmth.  The group of ALTs that gathered were a merry band - losing and then finding Mr S - marching through the streets, past the shrine and cemetary next to my apartment, both littered with crumbled statues and gravestones that had given up.

After sunset
Gas!  We have gas!  Our first hot meal and a cup of tea!  After a day of unsuccessful searching for water (just missing the water tank filling bottles at the shelter and only a cup of green tea to drink all day), the final dregs in the pipes has sputtered out!  Six litres!

Friday, 11 March 2011

It's been almost two weeks since the earth bulched and, much to the annoyance of some, I have been decidedly quiet.  So much was already being written and I was dealing with issues like food and hair so greasy I was two thirds of the way to brunette, that the blank page and I were having communication problems .  When I had the chance, I attempted to keep notes of the day's adventures.  These are the highlights. And, yes, I use that term liberally.

Friday, 11 March 2011
In the morning

Graduation for the third years today.  I find the whole ordeal a little silly - all the ceremony, the dewy-eyed parents, the mothers in their kimonos and hairstyles that you know they got up at 4am to create, the fathers in their pressed suits.  All the weeping!  And all the speeches that I don't understand! I will have to entertain myself by trying to play match the parents to the acne ravaged teenager.

I could accept it if the students could actually, you know, fail a year.  All this fuss just for pitching up and doing the minimum.

But, I've had to make an effort to smarten myself up a bit and am feeling pretty as a grumpy peach in my 50s dress.  I might have to take my bobby socks off though.  It might work for Japanese fashion, but I think it might be tacky, considering the occasion (apparently, I did give a smidgen of a shit).

I really wish everyone would stop running around like there's an earthquake happening (this is the first time I'm re-reading this and, yes, I did actually write that), especially because they have already taken care of every painstaking detail.  It's making me nervous.

The Crooners perform tonight.  Kinda nervous about "Don't Stop Believing" - just pulling out that goddamn E!

Later that morning...
Well, that's over.  Almost cried a few times.  I blame the lack of food.  Muscle cramps started just before the cereminy and progressed to get worse over the next two hours.
The kids walked in reaaaallly slowly to Vivaldi and were so nervous about getting the 90 degree turn that they'd practiced that many of them messed it up.  They sang the same songs as last year.  Speeches were made.  Everyone sniffled a bit.  They exited to a Jazzy instrumental cover of "My Way".

A sudden wave of overwhelming sadness.  Sadness and aloneness.  Overemphasizing the positives of being in a somethingship with someone.  Of how much I wish for witty texts that warm your tummy and sparkle a dreary day.  Of an unexpected hand that laces its fingers through yours.  Of wanting to be wanted.  A palm on the knee.  A grasp around the shoulders.  Someone to discover and be discovered by.  To kiss and inhale and fall into.  Someone to stand too close to and have neither flinch away.  But, also, knowing the fultility of grasping for it.  These Things like to take me by surprise, when I'm looking in the opposite direction.  And then, suddenly, there you are.  AAAAGH!  I can't believe I just spent even more words obsessing about this.

Late afternoon, after the earthquake, and I returned to this:

But, as I was standing on the sports field, after we had evacuated the school building, and the snow  - in an irritating display of post-apocolyptic poetry  - started swirling around us, I had feared that I might not have a home to return to, so this was very, very good, with the exception of being highly irritated that I would now have to clean up - never a particularly favourite activity of mine on a good day.  This was not a good day.


After we had sent all the other students home, another teacher had been kind enough to give me a ride home.  As we drove, I briefly thought, "Maybe it wasn't that bad", because we passed a woman with a bag of KFC and she appeared very chilled out.  She wasn't walking fast or running.  Just strolling along, enjoying the late afternoon walk home and the KFC that awaited her.

 I know!  I know!  There are some of you shaking your head and saying, "I've seen your apartment look worse" - this is because I have an alcoholic five year old called The Claw, who occasionally takes possession of my life.

 I should mention, in defense of the messier of us, that not packing my stuff away the night before saved my laptop from being crushed by the desk.

Le Bedroom floor, taken as the sun was running away.  My bed is was another oasis, untouched by any fallen objects.  Won't be changing that room's set up.

The kitchen cupboards

Everything that used to be in them.

The olive oil was very shaken by the experience.

The aftershocks keep coming.  I'm on a raft bobbing on a sea of land.  And they won't stop.  Ok, Earth, we get your point.  Could you stop now please?  The sirens, too - a constant wail that makes it all so much worse.

A broken vinegar bottle explains the smell.