Remembering Japan

I have a solar-powered calculator in my wallet that isn't much bigger than a credit card. It was given to me as a souvenir gift in the spring of 1988, when I visited Japan on a six-week Rotary International exchange trip.

Twenty-three years ago, this little wafer of a calculator was really something - so small, so light, so useful. I've relied on it countless times over the years and, every time I pull it out of the special section of my wallet where I keep it, I remember when I got it and where I was.

That month and a half in Japan was a whirlwind. First, our team of 6 had a week of Berlitz language training in Tokyo where I learned enough Japanese to function and survive a number of interesting situations. These situations included politely fending off the occasional drunk Rotarian "homestay" host...to this day, the sound of ice cubes being swirled in a scotch glass and the music of Whitney Houston remind me of an evening spent dodging unwanted attentions, all of which were being communicated to me verbatim via a witless translator, right in front of the host's wife!

And I succeeded in diplomatically declining to eat certain culinary delicacies that were way beyond even my adventurous palate. I love most Japanese food, and during the junket I did manage to eat non-mainstream offerings such as raw shark's heart, raw chicken (I failed in my effort to communicate salmonella concerns, so swallowed it down and hoped for the best), and calf thyroid. But I drew the line at some really weird and unappetizing stuff that I have long since forgotten the names of.

After language immersion, it was on to one of the famous Bullet trains going northeast on the main island of Honshu; we spent the next five weeks in the exact geographic area now devastated by the earthquake and tsunami - including many towns in Miyagi Prefecture and the lovely city of Sendai.

It was a beautiful part of the country, filled with charming and hospitable people. I fondly remember how kind and gracious everyone was to us. In one town, I was invited to sit in the Mayor's chair in their municipal council chambers. It caused quite a stir when I complied, and many photos were taken of a smiling 28 year old me...after which it was explained to me that I was the first woman to EVER sit in that chair!

We toured many seaside towns, and took note of the harbours heavily fortified with huge concrete barriers intended to ward off/break up tsunami waves. We visited a tsunami research centre, and learned about the multitude of precautions and warning systems in place - these people were very aware and very prepared.

It's beyond terrible to see the unimaginable devastation that has now struck that area and all the people who live there. Because I actually spent some time there, I feel even more than the usual human connection and empathy for their losses and extreme suffering. I remember walking on their waterfronts, and along the streets of towns that have now been swept away.

But it's my teeny-tiny little calculator that keeps popping into my mind. It was a souvenir gift given to me when I visited and toured one of the Fukushima nuclear power plants in the region...one of the three nuclear energy stations now reported to be at severe risk of meltdown. I can't begin to imagine the heroic struggles going on at those power plants - really, a suicide mission...what they are likely being exposed to in their desperate efforts to keep the rest of the populace safe from radiation.

Even watching the tsunami disaster captured on amateur video, now being shown over and over on CNN, I can't fathom what's happened to them and the aftermath they are dealing with...and all the unknowns yet to come. It is heartbreaking.

And, it reminds me that I also live in an earthquake zone considered overdue for a "big one", and that I am really not prepared for the unthinkable (beyond having a few "earthquake kits" on hand). Although, and this is not an excuse for inaction, is there really any way to prepare for a natural disaster of a magnitude that's far, far, far beyond your worst imaginings or most horrific nightmare?

What's worse or harder - dying in the actual disaster...or living through all the devastation and utter destruction, facing/grieving the losses, and then somehow mustering the courage to move forward?

One thing I know from my time in that part of Japan - these are definitely people who will survive and overcome what has befallen them. My heart goes out to them as they face what has happened and what comes next.

"Dai jo bu". (I can't quite remember the correct spelling but, in Japanese, this phrase conveys a reassuring "It's okay.")