Japan Earthquake

Japan Earthquake By: Pascal Beckert Of course as an eleven year old I was always very scared of natural disasters: storms, hurricanes, tornadoes, you name it. When I was younger, I felt unsafe, and I hid in the basement during any kind of storm. Although I was always frightened, I never thought that something serious would ever happen to me. But there I was in Japan. It was a warm, spring morning, and I had woken up late. Although I had just arrived, I was forced out of bed to explore the city. For me, it was vacation: March 11th, 2011. For my cousin, it was just a regular school day, so he had already left for school three hours ago. My uncle, my father, and I stepped out beneath the cloudless Tokyo sky. The moment I stepped outside I could immediately feel the intense sun beating down on my skin. It was my first full day in Tokyo, and I was excited to explore the city. My uncle, father, and I took a bus ride into the middle of the city, Shibuya, Tokyo. We left the bus station and got a bite to eat. It was extremely overwhelming. I felt like I was in a movie. I had seen it so many times in films, and I had dreamed of coming here, and finally, had made it. Shibuya is exactly like Times Square. It was filled with huge billboards, excessively loud sounds and electronic signs that made no sense to me. Hundreds of people crossed the famous sidewalks and streets. Tourists smiled and took pictures, standing out like blue pencils among many red. I sat in a Starbucks, watching from above the madness of the crowded streets and the hundreds of people. My dad left, since he had to go to a conference about capitalism at the university, far from the center of town. Of course, his talk did not interest me. He had invited me earlier, but I immediately turned down the offer in hopes of not being put through the misery. My uncle and I were excited to be on our own. He brought me to many interesting places, and I thought that this was much more exciting than my dad’s talk would have been. Sadly, we had to end our exploring a little early to go to my uncle’s acupuncture appointment. The appointment was on the 8th floor in a surprisingly high building. When we reached the top floor, I sat down and waited. I was playing angry birds on my iPod, when suddenly the floor shook forcefully, as if angry with me. Without warning, the lamps above me started shaking. Someone told me to stand up, just in case the lamps fell and shattered. When I stood up, the shaking skyrocketed. Pictures crashed to the floor, and boxes and papers flew out of the closed closet. My uncle rushed out with a shocked look on his face and yelled, “This is an earthquake!” A few seconds later, a woman stood up and held me against a wall. She pinned me by my shoulders as the earthquake shook the large building. She held me to make sure that the earthquake did not win and topple me to the floor. I looked out the window, but immediately I realized this was a huge mistake. The earthquake was extraordinarily strong in magnitude. The building across from me swayed from side to side, and I thought for sure that either our building or that building was going to crumble and collapse. I could see flower pots inching their way off the balcony until they finally fell to their deaths. The trees, looking like they were being blown by the wind, lashed around vigorously and were dangerously close to falling. When the shaking stopped, everyone had a calm facade and made it seem like they were extremely relaxed. I wondered how they could not feel any emotion or shock, or even be scared at this major event. I was scared out of my mind but kept a poker face, like everyone else. I hoped that no one would see my fear. Having everyone else appear calm started to make me calmer as well. I started asking my uncle a million questions: “How are we going to get home?” and “Is this really one of the strongest earthquakes to happen in Japan?” and, “How long do we have to walk?” The people started filing out the fire escape, which was a long flight of stairs on the outside of the building. Eight floors up is a lot, especially when you have to walk. Every couple of seconds there would be a severe aftershock, and we had to stop. The building would shake and then stop again. None were as powerful as the last, which made me feel better. It took the long line of people about ten minutes to get out, when it should have taken us less than two. My uncle tried calling my father and my aunt. There was no connection, although we were in middle of the city. A scary idea started to enter my mind, “What if my father is not okay?” This thought kept passing through my mind as we walked for two and a half hours through Tokyo. I started to imagine that my dad was buried under a pile of concrete awaiting rescue. We walked as fast as we could through huge crowds of people and walked past hundreds of stores with broken wine glasses and food that had fallen on the floor. Eventually, after a long period of walking, I saw my cousin’s school in the distance. My cousin and I started to worry collectively. He did not know if his mother was okay, and I had no idea if my dad was ok. “We’ve been walking for a long time, and we can't find any connection or Wi-Fi to call my dad,” I said. My cousin responded, “I’m sure he’s fine. He was with so many people. But what about my mom? She has not emailed, called, or texted!” “Neither has my dad!” I said. After that we just sat in silence under the tables. Half an hour later we left to go back to their apartment. When we got there, my father was still not there, and that is when I really started to get worried. There was still no way of calling, emailing, or texting him. He was supposed to be home a few hours earlier, but he had not arrived. A few hours after we arrived at the apartment, we skyped my mom and my brother. “Sven is still not here. We’re starting to get worried. He’s a few hours late now, and we have not talked to him since the earthquake.” They were worried, not just for my dad, but for the rest of Japan, since they as well had been destroyed by this tragedy. Just then the door swung open loudly, and my dad stumbled in. I was extremely happy to finally see him. I ran towards him and gave him a huge hug. As I released him from the hug, he appeared startled, as he did not know how late he was. He told me why he was so late. He had been giving his talk, and instead of coming directly home, the people at the talk waited out the earthquake. They then had the speakers continue speaking. He said that while he was giving his talk, the ground was shaking and shaking with aftershocks, and he had to pause a few times. When it ended, he had to walk for three hours since the subways and buses were all shut down. The next day we read in the newspaper what had happened in Fukushima. We heard about the tsunami and about the many lives lost in something that we had experienced. We just went about the next day as if nothing had happened. We went to Tokyo Tower and went swimming. The day after that, at 4:00 in the morning, my father woke me up and told me that we were leaving. I was hesitant at first, but after speaking to my brother on the phone and hearing the fear in his voice, this was a game changer. I could also see, hear, and even smell the worry when my father moved, talked, or even breathed. After flying past Mt. Fuji on the way across Japan to Osaka, we took a plane to Hong Kong. When we arrived, I kept feeling like there were aftershocks from Japan, but that was just my mind playing tricks on me. I kept imagining what it would be like to still be like to be in Japan. I wondered if we would have seen even more of the city. But still I felt like I was safe, and I was happy about that.