Geisha, Interrupted

On Time

It doesn`t feel like it has been a month.  It seems like has been far shorter and far longer than that, all at the same time.  Shorter, because the tension has still not eased, because sometimes I turn on the news and I still don't believe the characters I read. Longer, because there have been so many twists and turns in the situation, each day bringing a unique aftershock or news scare.

It is as if time restarted itself on March 11th and now moves at an entirely different pace, one that I am still not used to.

If the 9.0 on March 11th can be likened to a bad dream, the 7.1 of April 11th was more like a bad joke.  According to the news, there have been 400 aftershocks of magnitude 5.0 and above throughout the past month.

On Friday afternoon I am sitting in yet another stopped train in Ikebukuro station.  I look out the window of the car towards a Kiosk, where the cover of a daily tabloid paper falls over the news rack.  "止まらない” it reads in large white characters printed over a darkened page.  "It never stops."  

Presumably, this refers to the 7.4 "aftershock" that took place the evening prior. I feel guilty for relating to the headline. Surely, it is not meant for me.  It must refer to the situation up north, where countless people have lost their homes and their loved ones.  Here in Tokyo, we have merely lost our minds.

止まらない。

Which brings me to the cherry blossoms.  In the week after the first quake and tsunami, a friend told me, half-joking, that we really don`t need to see the cherry blossoms bloom and fall this year.  We get it.  Life is impermanent.  We don't need to be reminded yet again.

But maybe we do.

The cherry blossoms teach us that nothing lasts forever, still this concept is not necessarily limited to beauty. Pain and anxiety cannot possibly endure forever either. Rebirth and recovery are just as inevitable.  

That said, the cherry blossoms may be just what we need right now.

With so much in mind, I am pleased to say that I have made my very second ever youtube video.  It was so exciting to create that I even forgot to worry about the aftershocks for a little while.  I hope you like it too!

 

On Pandas

So last Friday, I am sitting in a sauna with a bunch of naked Japanese women (I wonder how many hits those past three words will get me...), watching a TV that`s perched behind a glass wall.  It is set to one channel only, not that it makes a difference.  The screen reflects the usual expanse of wrecked coastlines, making it harder and harder to believe that seaside villages once stood there.

A spa employee comes in to change the towels, to see us all somberly watching the TV, probably sweating more than usual.

"So," the employee detracts our attention, "the pandas will debut at Ueno Zoo today!"

"Really?" My face lights up.  I had totally forgotten about the pandas. 

It has been three dark panda-less years since the last giant panda living in Ueno Zoo died in April of 2008.  Since then, the process of acquiring new pandas has been very trying, which can largely be attributed to Japan and China's supreme talent for pissing each other off.

Still all this had begun looking up back in late February, when two new pandas flew into Narita on a black and white panda themed jet.  After the Japanese changed the Panda's Chinese names from "Bili and Xiannu" to (the perhaps more chinese-sounding?) "Shin Shin and Li Li," the two new pandas were scheduled to debut in Ueno Zoo on Tuesday March 22nd.  

This obviously did not happen.  Aftershocks kept the zoo closed for weeks.  Until last Friday, when the decision was made to reopen again.  

Sitting in the sauna that day, the newscast behind the glass does eventually turn to coverage of the panda survivors, who, as it turns out, also lived through the catastrophic 2008 Sichuan earthquake in China.  And the pandas are hardly the only survivors at the zoo that day, as busloads of children from evacuation centers up north cheerfully tell members of the press that they have never seen giant pandas before and cannot wait to see them.

Luckily for me, the healing power of the panda is not limited to children.

Some days later, namely yesterday, I have assembled my crew and we head out to Ueno.  Now we expect it to be crowded, but what we see when we get there is beyond anything we could have imagined.  

Outside the zoo, there is a roped off maze of a line.  It is not the line to buy tickets.  Rather, it is the line to get on the line to buy tickets.  Then, once we are actually in the zoo, there is another line that stretches back past the elephants and monkeys before finally winding into the Panda house. 

At first, the very presence of all these lines reminds me of all the sad, hopeless queues of people I witnessed at every bus stop I passed on my long walk home the night of the earthquake.  

I remember wishing that somebody would just tell all those people that their bus was not coming.  In retrospect, however, maybe they already knew. Helplessly stranded, perhaps all those people just queued up around the city blocks together because they didn't want to be alone.

Back to the zoo, the odd thing is that I do not mind these lines at all.  I am actually enjoying myself.  I have not been surrounded by so many light-hearted, excited people since before the earthquake, and I am grateful for their close physical presence, even if it happens to take the form of a ridiculously long line. And at least the line is moving forward steadily.  Plus, my husband is kindly carrying all of my bags, which lightens my mood a lot and frees my hands to take pictures.

Then finally, at the end of an odyssey, we behold our lazy heros.  One of whom is pictured below, sleeping.

What is it about this fuzzy lump of black and white fluff that has managed to lift people`s spirits so much?  

I don't know.  I don't need to know.  I don't even care.  

All I know is that with Disneyland liquified, and Tokyo`s dumbass mayor trying to ban the seasonal cherry blossom parties, these pandas may really be our only hope for a collective smile.

On Strength

This weekend, TBS (tokyo broadcasting station) has been airing a special live broadcast from its headquarters in Akasaka, called the "Kizuna Project."

"Kizuna" means connectedness or bond.  In this context it expresses the idea that everyone is connected.  It`s a hopeful message to those who have lost everything to the earthquake/tsunami, that they are not alone right now. 

The Kizuna project appears to be organized by TBS, its national affiliates and radio stations, plus a veritable truckload of A-list celebrities.  It is a crowded, star-studded event, where a mass of citizens stands queued up in an orderly fashion not to buy water or food this time, but to donate money.  At the receiving end of the line, renown actors, models, comedians, musicians and athletes exchange greetings and shake hands with fans, who in turn contribute  to the donation box. 

The video I have posted below features the Japanese calligraphy prodigy who was commissioned to paint the character "kizuna" on a giant scroll to mark the event.  I think that this segment was especially worthy of the effort I made to translate it for an English speaking audience.

I apologize for the quality of this video, as it was taken with my cell phone pointed at my tv screen. This is also my first try at inserting subtitles into a video file. 

That said, please, please watch!!