Sendai City Office, revisited

When I was there in March, the Sendai City Office was a shelter for those who had lost their homes, or could not return to their homes following the tsunami and earthquake. (I wrote a litte about it here.)

When I revisited the office in August as part of my stopover in Sendai for the Tanabata festival (posts here and here), it had already been reverted to its original purpose. But the ground floor had been converted into an exhibition area of sorts, with pictures, posters and messages of encouragement from all over Japan.

An old man looking at pictures of various recovery efforts in Miyagi prefecture.

Sendai Tanabata (2): Outdoor shows

While the highlight of the Tanabata is definitely the long, flowing Fukinagashi streamers around town that I mentioned here, the festival has in recent times expanded to include outdoor events as well.

There are free musical and cultural performances by groups from Sendai and other parts of Japan, as well as the usual food and games stalls lining the sidewalks, turning the city into one big carnival.

At Kotodai Park, the main venue, you can catch live performances by local music artistes and school groups. There was also a segment where they showcased the Suzume-odori (すずめ踊り, meaning “Sparrow dance”), a part of the annual Aoba Matsuri (青葉まつり), a spring festival. The festival was not held this year because of the March 11 disasters.

A bunch of friendly youngsters at Kotodai Park (勾当台公園), the main venue for the outdoor performances during the Tanabata.

All photos taken with the Nikon F6, with the AFS 24mm f1.4 or AIS 35mm f1.4. I used Kodak Portra 800 and Fujifilm Superia  Premium 400 films.

Sendai’s Tanabata(1): At the Shopping Arcade

Ah, Sendai.

I was there just five months ago, immediately after the March 11 triple disasters. I’ve been wanting to go there since I was in Japan for my university exchange in 2007/2008, but haven’t been able to fit it in. And when I finally got there in March (and the journey took a whole day on the road), it was hardly the kind of circumstance I was expecting.

But by August, there were little signs of what happened less than half a year ago. As I stepped out of JR Sendai train station for the first time, I was greated by giant fukinagashi streamers, the iconic Tanabata ornament. I knew I was there to celebrate this time.

Thousands of streamers can be found around Sendai city’s central area during the annual Tanabata festival.

The Tanabata festival (七夕) actually originated from the Chinese Qi Qiao festival, and celebrates the yearly union of the deities Orihime and Hikoboshi.

And while Tanabata is celebrated all over Japan and not unique to the city, the scale of Sendai's Tanabata is by far the largest in the country, drawing about 2.2 million visitors each year. The tradition of celebrating Tanabata in Tohoku started more than 400 years ago, with records found from the time of Date Masamune (1567-1636AD), warlord of the Sendai Clan.

Akita’s Kanto Matsuri

The second stop of my summer matsuri vacation was the city of Akita, known for its delicious rice, beautiful women, and the Akita Inu dog breed. (Hachiko, the legendary canine who waited for its dead master at Shibuya train station for a decade, was an Akita Inu.)

Akita’s Kanto Matsuri （竿灯まつり）, which draws 1.3 million visitors annually, involves adult men balancing huge bamboo frames – called kanto – through various means during an evening parade. The most basic move is balancing the pole on the palm, but the more skillful performers would try doing so on their shoulders, their heads, or even their hips.

Historical records show that the Kanto festival started at least 250 years ago, its main purpose to pray for a good rice harvest. The practice of balancing the kanto was said to have started as a means to stave off the lethargy caused by the summer heat.

One of the many groups at the Kanto festival. The biggest kanto are 12m high and weigh 50kg, with about 46 paper lanterns attached.

Shooting this festival was a major challenge for me. Firstly, framing was difficult because the performers are constantly on the move. Secondly, it’s difficult to capture the right background because everyone else is also moving. Thirdly, as the people with the kanto do their balancing act, their team members move around them, often preventing me from getting a clear shot. Lastly, there generally isn’t much variation – the moves don’t differ that much after a while…

Aomori Nebuta 2011 (3): I’ll be back!

Although staying four nights in Hirosaki seemed like a long time for a small city, it turned out to be too short a stay. We’d spent one evening at the Hirosaki Neputa, two at the Aomori Nebuta, and one at the Goshogawara fireworks festival.

While the fireworks were dazzling and the Neputa an interesting variation of a float parade, the Nebuta had arguably the most to offer, and regrettably we missed the grand finale, on August 7.

Besides the evening parades from August 2 to 6, the last day of the matsuri is quite different – there is a parade featuring the floats in the day, and in the evening, the floats will parade on the waters of Aomori Bay, against the backdrop of a fireworks display. I was gutted that I couldn’t be there. (By then, we had to be in Sendai, our final stop)

And as a prelude to the Nebuta, there is also a fireworks event at Asamushi Onsen (浅虫温泉), a hot springs town just about 30-45 minutes away from Aomori City. Just imagine soaking in an outdoor onsen while viewing fireworks!

Anyway here are some more pictures taken at the Nebuta. Once again, all on Kodak Portra 800 film, Nikon F6 with the AIS 35mm f1.4 lens and SB900 flash.

“We’re going to the matsuri!”

Aomori Nebuta 2011 (2): After the clock strikes 7.10pm…

The main draw of the Nebuta Matsuri is the nightly two-hour parade. Each participating group usually consists of a float accompanied by haneto dancers chanting "Rase-rase-rasera!" and moving in unison to the beat of a marching band.

Each float, which is pushed manually and lit up from within, may measure up to 5m high, 9m long and 7m wide, and weigh up to four tonnes. Costing up to 4 million yen each to build, they usually depict scenes from Japanese and Chinese mythology.

As the sun begins to set, the performers line up on the four major roads closed off for the parade. The roads form a ring, and within the two hours, the performers will cover all four roads and get back to where they started. The audience members, lining both sides of the roads, wait in anticipation as they guzzle their beer and lap up their take-away sushi.

Once the clock strikes 7.10pm (don’t ask me why), the procession begins!

The photos were taken on August 2 and 4. I used my Nikon F6 paired with the Nikkor AIS 35mm f1.4 or AFS 24mm f1.4, on Kodak Portra 800 film.

RASE RASE RASERA! RASERAAA! RASERAAA!

Aomori Nebuta 2011 (1): People watching

It was my trip to Aomori last year that first piqued my interest in returning to the prefecture again, for its most famous celebration of the year. So perhaps it was most befitting that I started my jaunt through the Tohoku Sandai Matsuri (東北三大祭り), or Tohoku’s three big festivals, with Aomori's Nebuta Matsuri (ねぶた祭り).

It is also the earliest of the three famous festivals to start (Aug 2), and stretches all the way till Aug 7. This makes it the longest of the three.

While the exact origin of the Nebuta Matsuri is unclear, some historical records say a variation of it had already taken place in the Kyoho era (1716 to 1735) of the Tokugawa period. It was much simpler then, however, and involved a parade of people carrying lanterns.

The festival now is far more elaborate now, and attracts over 3 million visitors a year from all over Japan and overseas. Here’s a look at some of the people who were there on Aug 4, 2011.

With the roads closed off for the festival, you’re free to sit anywhere! These girls are dressed in the haneto costume, which is worn by performers as well as those who wish to join in the parade.

I love Hirosaki (3): Around town

Having featured an old cafe here and a few other interesting shops here, I have come to the last post on Hirosaki town, in Japan’s Aomori prefecture.

A few other shots from around town.

A beauty salon in Dotemachi.

I love Hirosaki (2): More interesting shops

The retail outlook in Hirosaki probably isn’t the brightest in Aomori prefecture. As Mr Kozai from Manchan told me, one of the biggest departmental stores in town, Nakasan, had just gone bankrupt. And as a result, those who have been accumulating vouchers from the store have essentially lost a substantial part of their savings.

And truth be told, when Joanne and I arrived in Hirosaki on Aug 1, the reception was rather cold. In the sense that as we dragged our luggage from the JR Hirosaki station to Super Hotel Hirosaki where we stayed, the streets were mostly empty, and not many shops seemed to be open. (The hotel was good btw)

But as it turns out, there are some interesting shops around, and we could have easily spent more time just browsing about town.

Display in men’s boutique The Screw, located just a stone’s throw away from our hotel.

I love Hirosaki (1): The oldest coffee house in Tohoku

Last year, I first read about the town of Hirosaki (弘前) when I was preparing for my autumn trip to Aomori prefecture. It was simply a transit point for me, a place to take a break before I took the Resort Shirakami (リゾートしらかみ) train down Aomori’s scenic west coast for the final leg of that Aomori expedition. As a result, Joanne and I spent just a day there – which we realised was not enough!

As fate has it, we were “forced” to return to Hirosaki again this time, because all the hotels in Aomori city were fully booked, and Hirosaki is the nearest town with accommodation. And because we stayed there for four nights, there was plenty of time to explore the charming town a little more.

Manchan’s distinctive western style shop front.

I would like to introduce some interesting shops I discovered during this trip, because yes, Hirosaki has more than just apples and the Neputa summer festival.

First up: Manchan cafe (万茶ン), said to be the oldest coffee house in the whole of Tohoku region and the fourth oldest in Japan

Hirosaki’s Neputa Matsuri

Because I decided on my trip just over a month before the summer festivals, I ended up staying at Hirosaki (弘前) town, even though my main purpose was to attend the Aomori Nebuta Matsuri (青森ねぶた祭り).  All the Aomori hotel rooms on Rakuten Travel were fully booked by the time I checked!

Well in any case, since we were in Hirosaki, I thought I might as well visit the local Neputa matsuri (ねぷた祭り), which started on Aug 1, the day we arrived there.

While it was of a much smaller scale than its neighbouring town’s event, I was very happy to have been a part of the Neputa because it was 1) a good chance to test the exposure settings for my F6 (important as film is so expensive!) and 2) to see how a float-based matsuri like the Nebuta flows.

Local youths running on the street with their float. As part of their manoeuvres, some of the carriers would raise up their floats, run towards the audience, and stop just in the nick of time, a step or two in front of the seated audience. This I believe to show their strength in manoeuvring their heavy loads. (Nikon F6 with AFS 24/1.4, Fujifilm Natura 1600 film)

Summer Fireworks, Aomori 2011

Here’s a video I took of the grand finale at the Goshogarawa (五所川原) summer fireworks festival in northern Aomori prefecture, Japan. It was held on August 3.

The whole programme lasted about one and a half hours, and Joanne and I both enjoyed ourselves – after we managed to find a spot to sit and watch, that is. According to official estimates, about 280,000 people were there that evening.

The fireworks was part of the city’s summer festival, known as the Tachinebuta matsuri (立佞武多祭り). Like Aomori prefecture’s two other major summer festivals, it features a parade of floats in the city centre, accompanied by song and dance. Despite its relatively small scale – with only about 15 floats – the Tachinebuta literally stands out because it features three that stand at over 20 metres. That’s about 7 storeys high!

Two of the three tachinebuta that are featured in this year’s event. Taken from an overhead walkway at JR Goshogawara station. As you see, the floats tower over everything but the shed they are stored in.

Unfortunately, we weren’t able to attend the festival, which started on the following day, as we had only four evenings to spare in Aomori prefecture. Two evenings were spent in Aomori city for the Nebuta matsuri (the biggest in the prefecture), and another in Hirosaki for the Neputa matsuri.

More to come on the Nebuta and Neputa festivals... :)

Exploring the Arakawa Line

Tokyo is known for its complex train network, with 13 subway lines and two major railway lines serving the city centre. Just like any other new visitor to the city, I was overwhelmed when I first took a look at the train map back in 2007, when I was about to leave for my exchange in Japan.

In the smaller Japanese cities, however, residents are served mostly by buses, and some like Hiroshima and Okayama (which I have been to) have tram lines serving the city centre.

Many public bus services still run through Tokyo – I commuted by bus to my train station almost every day when I went to school there. They charge a flat rate of 200 yen and are incredibly punctual. (I believe it’s partly to do with good planning and a general lack of traffic on the bus routes.)

But did you know that there are still trams in Tokyo?

One of them is the Arakawa line, which opened in 1913 and now serves a few suburbs just north of the JR Yamanote line.

Last week, on the second day of my holiday in Japan, Joanne and I took the Arakawa line from one end (Waseda) to the other (Minowabashi). Earlier in the day, I’d brought Joanne on a tour of the Nishiwaseda campus where I’d studied, so actually it was a no-brainer to finally take the chance to explore the line.

Ready to board the tram at Waseda station? It’s located just behind the Nishiwaseda campus library. All adult passengers pay a flat fare of 160 yen, regardless of how far you go. The trams are also fairly regular, with a frequency of about 8 minutes in the afternoon. It got surprisingly packed after just a few stops though!

Memories of the Aomori Autumn, 2010

Tohoku was the only region in Japan I did not set foot on during my one-year university exchange programme in 2007/2008. Which was why I decided to visit one of the prefectures in the region – Aomori – last October.

I also wrote about the trip in a travel piece for The Straits Times.

Little did I expect to go back again this March, so soon after the previous trip. This time round, I was sent by my company to report on the March 11 earthquake and tsunami that devastated vast stretches of Tohoku’s east coast. Of course, it later developed into a major nuclear disaster, which led to an early return flight for me. I wrote about that disappointing trip here.

Well, about three months after that, I made the decision to visit Japan again. Since the triple disasters, airfares to Japan have plunged, with travellers all over the world avoiding the country. At the time of my flight booking, Singapore Airlines was charging just over $500 for a return ticket. I have wanted to go for Tohoku’s 3 major summer festivals since my trip last year, and this year was as good a time as any to go.

But before leaving for the latest trip, , I thought it might be worth sharing some of my favourite pictures from the 2010 trip:

Aomori prefecture is known as the apple capital of Japan. Half of the apples grown in Japan can be found here. This picture was taken at the Hirosaki Apple Park.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Something a little different for a change – I’m writing about the police and kids.

Have you seen the latest Singapore Police Force commercials? I happened to see one of them on TV the other day, and Joanne pointed out that she and her female colleagues recently crowded around one computer swooning over this particular one for ten minutes:

For more, you can go to the Singapore Police Force Facebook page or their YouTube channel  for the rest of the 2011 recruitment drive vids.

Coincidentally, I was actually planning to write a post about something I’d spotted a month ago during my visit to the National Museum, and it’s related to the police as well.

There was this activity corner on the second storey, where kids were invited to draw out their personal hopes and vision for Singapore, and put it up as part of an interactive exhibition. And one common thread I found was that many of kids wanted to be policemen and women when they grow up!

Farewell, Tanjong Pagar Railway Station

The last train rolled into Tanjong Pagar Railway Station last night  (June 30). Hundreds of people crowded the historic building yesterday, for their last chance to see trains arriving at the tracks. If we count the many others who have streamed in over the past month, the figure would probably be closer to thousands, or even tens of thousands.

Although I was on afternoon duty yesterday, I’d toyed with the idea of heading out to the King Albert Park area to grab some shots of the 8am train headed for Johor. However, I had worked the late shift the night before, and stayed up till late to finish up the previous blog post. I decided that I would be too tired to work if I went. As it turned out, it rained cats and dogs in the morning, and I would have been drenched from head to toe, and dead like zombie at the office if I had gone.

Anyway, here’s the best of the other photos I took during my visit there earlier this week. All photos on Kodak Portra 160VC, taken with the Nikon F6 and AFS 24mm f1.4.

A train driver on the walkie talkie as the train pulls out of Tanjong Pagar Railway Station.

A photo guide to taking a train from Tanjong Pagar Railway Station

How time flies. I visited the Tanjong Pagar Railway Station about half a year ago to take some photographs, and before I knew it, the day when a KTM train leaves the station for the last time – June 30, 2011 – is almost here.

Joanne and I had been planning to take the train from the station for just one time, before the chance is over, but in typical fashion we procrastinated for a bit. It was June 26 when it finally struck me – there was less than a week to go. By then, Joanne had left for a holiday to New York, so I would have to go alone, I thought. But my mother, who last took the train more than 20 years ago, wanted to join me (perhaps driven by the hype in the media?). As it happened, I was off duty the following day – Jul 27 (Monday). We were set.

One of the train station workers preparing for departure on June 27. The train was bound for Kuala Lumpur. I took the train to Johor Sentral Station, the first stop in Malaysia, and then returned by the next earliest train.

This month, Singaporeans have flocked to the station in droves to take photographs, enjoy the food at the two canteens and take a ride from there for the last time. The tickets for the last day, if I didn’t hear wrongly, were sold out weeks in advance. KTM must have made quite a killing in recent days, I suspect!

Since the train station closes today, I thought it might be interesting to show how the experience of taking a train from there is like, using some of the shots I have taken. Especially for those who have never done it before. Here goes!

The park in my backyard

Some of you might have read about Ang Mo Kio Town West Garden park in the news recently – a 64-year-old man was allegedly killed by a teenager who was under the influence of drugs. Subsequent news reports highlighted that teenagers, sometimes in their school uniforms, are occasionally seen glue-sniffing in the bushes there.

Well, I happen to live close by, but I'm ashamed to say that I rarely pass by and have never seen the plastic bags used by the sniffers littered on the grass there. Not that I want to see them though.

A loving elderly couple taking a stroll in the park on a sunny Thursday morning in the Ang Mo Kio Town West Garden park.

I did actually go for a morning walk there in April, in a bid to finish using up a roll of film. There weren’t a lot of people around, but just enough activity to keep me snapping the 13 frames I had to expend.

It starts with a mini project at Serangoon

Two weeks ago, I attended a four-day course on “Visual Journalism”. I had been looking forward to this course, because I have always been interested in visual design.

And I came away inspired to do more photographic work.

The course, which revolved around the effective use of photographs and graphics in print design, was conducted by Mr Peter Ong, a former journalist who now runs his own consultancy. He is a guru at newspaper and magazine design, and has worked with publications all over the world, including in China, India and South Africa. He writes a blog about media trends and his work here. 

A “No Peddling” sign at the old Serangoon Bus Interchange. Until I visited the place that day, I don’t think I had seen such a sign in Singapore! In a way I think it shows the age of the place.

On the last day of the course, we were assigned in groups of 4 to 5 people to do a simple report, with the use of graphics and photos. We had the whole morning to do it. My group was given the task of doing a photo essay on something around Serangoon Central.

Hello, Pinkberry!

It’s always difficult choosing a birthday present, and for the girlfriend it can be doubly hard, especially when you want to top your effort in the previous year.

Since Joanne’s two-year-old Samsung smartphone was dying on her, a mobile phone seemed like a good choice. After a somewhat extensive survey of the phones that come with keyboards (getting rarer by the day), I settled on the Blackberry Torch.

Is that a Blackberry?

More after the jump…

May 7 – A Historic Day for Singapore

Singapore’s General Election 2011 would go down in the history of the country as the first election where an opposition party won a Group Representation Constituency (GRC) since the scheme began in 1988. As a result, the opposition won six Parliamentary seats – the highest number since independence in 1965. (The previous high was four.) Also, it was the first time the opposition had contested so many seats – all but five of the total – to begin with.

Workers’ Party leader Low Thia Khiang (middle) and his fellow Aljunied GRC MP-elects Chen Show Mao (bespectacled man behind him) and Pritam Singh (to Chen’s right) shaking hands with delirious supporters at Hougang stadium in the early hours of May 8, 2011, after their historic win in the 2011 General Election. (The colour version of this picture appeared on page 1 of The Straits Time’s special noon edition on May 8!)

GRCs are a unique system whereby Members of Parliament are elected in teams of three to six. The main reason behind this system, said the government, was to ensure minority representation in Parliament, because each GRC must include one MP from a minority race. There were 15 GRCs and 12 single seats up for grabs in the 2011 election, for a total of 87 places. 

The Workers’ Party (WP) had staged a strong challenge to the long-ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) in Aljunied GRC in the 2006 election, winning over 40 per cent of votes. The PAP’s Aljunied team, led by Foreign Minister George Yeo, fared the worse in terms of vote share among all winning PAP teams and single candidates.

This year, the WP threw in all its best candidates in the Aljunied GRC team, with Secretary-General Low Thia Khiang leaving his longtime stronghold, Hougang constituency, to his protégé Yaw Shin Leong, and personally leading the charge in Aljunied. Their ranks were further boosted by top corporate lawyer Chen Show Mao, who advised the Agricultural Bank of China on its world-record US$22 billion IPO last August. WP Chairman Sylvia Lim, postgraduate law student Pritam Singh and freelance counsellor Muhamad Faisal Abdul Manap made up the rest of the five-man ‘A’ team.

The Japan Quake (5): The turning point, Ibaraki, and the end

March 14. Our first and last day in Sendai. As mentioned in the previous post, we visited a few places near Sendai city, and caught a glimpse of the devastation. But it was evening before we knew it and it was time to head back to the city centre.

Just outside the City Office, however, we spotted a makeshift stall on the pavement selling miso soup and onigiri (rice balls). Instinctively, we quickly parked the van nearby, and queued up for our first warm meal for a day. They charged just 300 yen for a bowl of soup with two onigiri – quite a bargain in my opinion, given the scale of the disaster just tens of kilometres away. The miso soup was so gratifying that I had a second helping. The onigiri could be kept in my pocket for later, after all.

Then came the time to make the key decision of the trip.

Our drivers had been recalled by their bosses because of radiation fears. An explosion happened at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear plant that afternoon, and it was the third in as many days. We tried to offer them more money, but they insisted this was not a matter of money – we could either go with them, or stay in Sendai and find our own way about.

I would be lying if I said I was fearless of the radiation threat. The possibility of over exposure to radiation was real, and undetectable. The night before I left for Japan, I monitored the news until about 1am in the office, and the last I read, the nuclear situation was fully under control. The next day (March 12), after I landed in Tokyo, I heard news of the first explosion. Then came the next two. Tepco, the company that runs the plant, did not seem to be in control of the situation at all.

But at the same time, we didn’t have anything substantial to show for the trip so far.

In the end, we decided – as a team – to go back to Tokyo.

It was past 2am, March 15 by the time we got to a hotel that had rooms. A quick trip to the convenience store to get some food and water. Never been so glad to enter one, really. Till that day, visiting a convenience store (or Combini) in Japan, to me, was an essential experience, a daily habit for any resident or traveller to this wonderful country. But this time, it was like a step back into sanity, back into a reality I was used to.

Back at the hotel, I took a shower for the first time in three days. Then I spent a couple of hours reading up NHK and other Japanese news sites on the situation in Ibaraki prefecture – the only tsunami-struck prefecture we could go to on a day-trip from Tokyo. I had to make the Ibaraki trip worthwhile, and research was essential. Afraid that I could not wake up in time, I left the lights and TV on.

A couple of hours later, I was up. Ate some bread, and headed downstairs. Our driver was supposed to come at 9am, and he was a little late.

Our first stop was the petrol station. Given the widespread petrol shortages, we were only allowed to buy 2,000 yen’s worth of fuel. But our driver Guo was quick-thinking – when the attendant walked away, he topped up the van’s tank to the maximum, paid up through the machine and quickly drove off. I wasn’t sure how much fuel we actually needed for the day’s drive, but having a full tank was most assuring.

The highway was packed bumper-to-bumper, and after a 30min crawl we realised the reason – they had sealed off the way to Ibaraki for exclusive use by relief vehicles. Guo once again showed some quick-thinking and somehow convinced the officers manning the road block to let us through. I filled up some forms at a table set up on the empty highway, and we received a plate to display at our windscreen, that read 緊急, or emergency.

The trip had up till this point been quite a surreal experience for me, but the journey on the near-empty highway was perhaps the most surreal portion. While I was still gungho about the trip just the day before, my fear of the radiation had escalated to almost hysteria at that point of time. The empty road seemed to suggest we were heading to some sort of suicide mission. Only the banter among the four of us journos kept my tears back, I think. Looking back, the fear was irrational, but what would you feel if you were in my shoes?

Here’s a short clip I shot of the drive:

Our destination was Oarai (大洗), a coastal town near the prefecture capital Miho (水戸). Ibaraki, located more than 100km away from the epicentre, was spared the worst of the tsunami, but there were around 20 deaths. One person died in Oarai. Another city, further north, had over 10 fatalities but I was not confident of getting there given the time we had.

We stopped at a highway kiosk along the way, and I spoke to the people working there. They were indeed afraid of the radiation, but they admitted there was no where they could go anyway. Most of them live nearby.

We arrived at Oarai after 2pm. It was practically a ghost town. I had a lengthy chat with a friendly youth who cycled past me. He is a university student who was visiting his friends around town. He told me of how the 1999 Tokaimura nuclear incident affected him as a primary school kid. (The Tokai plant is about 20km away) The situation in Fukushima, which has invoked memories of that episode, was causing the Oarai residents much anxiety despite assurances from the government that they were too far away from Fukushima to be affected.

This was when I got a call from my boss. The editors have decided to pull us back. Immense relief. But our work was not done yet. We did more interviews at the town, talking to town officials, residents and volunteers. Soon it was dark, and the town folk had left for home. It was about 5pm, and we had to head back to Tokyo. It was well past 8pm by the time we got back to our hotel. We bid farewell to Guo – he was leaving for the safety of Osaka in western Japan with his girlfriend and colleagues that same evening.

The following evening, we flew back to Singapore. I was pleasantly surprised to meet a friend from SMU at Narita airport – she now works for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and they had flown in to help stranded Singaporeans at the airport. I touched down at Changi at about 1am, March 17.

On hindsight, I would forever question my decision to turn back to Tokyo from Sendai. Because we effectively gave up any chance of landing the stories we were there to get. Such is the cruelty of life. You make a decision and live with whatever regrets it leads to.

It’s been a month since the trip, and my disappointment has somewhat waned. But the question will linger in my mind for a while yet. I will have to make amends to myself, somehow.

Carrots, shoes and cans on the dusty roadside.

A soba shop, now littered with junk.

Some workers helping to tow out a damaged vehicle from a garage. While the damaged from the tsunami was not too drastic in Oarai, the loss of property was still immense.

Taken in my hotel room. Experts appeared on TV every day, giving their own take on the nuclear crisis and relief efforts. All the TV channels devoted their programming to the triple disasters during the time I was in Japan.

At our hotel, but the room service staff would put paper cranes on our beds. It reminded me of the story of Sadako and her 1,000 cranes. May Japan emerge from this current nuclear disaster stronger than ever.

Part 1: It begun at Narita

Part 2: The long ride to Sendai

Part 3: Quiet night in Sendai

Part 4: A glimpse of the devastation

The Japan Quake (4): A glimpse of the devastation

I woke up at 8am the next morning, after a short but much-needed slumber. A little later than I hoped to, and the other three were up already. As it turns out, we couldn’t leave yet. Our drivers, who joined the queue at a petrol kiosk the night before, told us that the kiosk had just opened, and they would probably take a couple of hours before they could fill their tank. It was March 14.

The Chinese reporters told us about a long queue at a bus stop just opposite the town office, so I headed there to take a look. Stepping out into the streets, however, I could scarcely believe that the prefecture had just been hit by one of its worst disasters on record. People were actually heading back to work. I heard that the subway had partially resumed operations.

There was a queue of at least 500 people at the bus stop, by my estimation, and the queue snaked around the small park behind it, and continued on the broad pavement across the road. It turns out that the people there were queuing for a bus to Yamagata prefecture, from which they could then head off to Tokyo and the western cities. (Yamagata, to the south west of Miyagi, was not really affected by the quake.) Many had started queuing early in the morning, and more people were joining the queue by the minute.

After that I headed back to the town office, where I spoke to a young volunteer named Satou about the situation. The 25-year-old told me that he was originally from Yamagata, and his family has already left Sendai. However, his girlfriend was stuck in nearby Tagajo City, and he is staying behind with the hope of meeting her soon. They have been keeping in touch through email.

Soon, it was time to head out. We wanted to move northeast, towards to the worst hit towns of Ishinomaki and Kesennuma.

Our first stop was Sendai’s port, just about 30 min away from the city centre.

There was a sense of foreboding as we approached. We could tell we were entering a place struck by the tsunami, as the roads became sandy. The streets leading into the port – which no doubt would have been bustling on a typical Monday like this in better times – were empty. And we soon started hearing sirens wailing around us, warning of a possible tsunami. Helicopters whizzed over us, repeating the warning over and over again. But we were too starved of good news material to turn around.

Soon, we finally caught our first glimpse of the scale of destruction caused by the tsunami. Cars stacked up on top of one another like toys, broken glass on building facades and rubbish strewn all over the place. It was a thrilling sight, from a journalist’s point of view. Yet it was horrifying at the same time. Our trip has begun.

We stopped by a couple of spots in the port, to look around and take some pictures. I spoke to a manager of a trade promotion company based there. He was there when it happened, and now he is there to pick up the pieces. Yet he was apparently at a loss of where to start, he told me.

The predicted tsunami, by the way, never came.

We continued to head eastward, and reached the town of Tagajo – where Satou’s girlfriend is stuck at. We delved into a residential area, where many residents are left stranded without food, water and electricity. I lent my phone to a woman standing outside a ravaged Lawson convenience store, who lived in Tagajo alone and had not been able to make calls to her family. She seemed terribly distraught. Her call was not picked up, unfortunately, but she left a voice message. I hope she eventually managed to get in touch.

I also spoke to an elderly man, who lives in a two-storey house with his wife. He was trying to clear up the rubbish in his front yard when I walked by, and his car was wedged diagonally in his tiny garage. He is luckier than the woman I had met earlier, because he is not alone. Further, one of his children had driven all the way up from Chiba prefecture (that’s where Narita airport is) to look for him immediately after the quake. His grand daughter and her husband, who live in Miyagi, have been visiting him and bringing him supplies.

We soon hit a roadblock, literally. The road eastward was closed off by the police. And because of the limited fuel, the drivers refused to take any detours. So we settled on heading westward, towards a fishing village that the Hong Kong journalists had told us about – Yuriage.

We never reached there, however. Our final stop of the day was Wakabayashi ward, in south-east Sendai. This was the place where 200 to 300 bodies were reportedly found on the day of the tsunami. I remembered it clearly because I spotted the news flash on Yomiuri Shimbun that evening.

Police officers were standing guard at the main entrance, and I tried to talk to people who were trying to get in. Some of them were residents, while others have friends who lived inside. An elderly woman came back, hoping to see her house before she left with her son to Gifu prefecture. An old man was there, trying to see if he could get in and confirm if his colleague was killed by the tsunami. But all were refused entry. Apparently almost all the residents have been evacuated to shelters nearby.

We later headed to the nearest shelter, a school gym, hoping to talk to some refugees. Unfortunately, we were quickly spotted by volunteer staff, who insisted that we seek permission from the person in charge. I obliged, but our request was turned down. It was almost 5pm by then, and we had to head back to the Sendai City office.

Cars stacked up at Sendai’s port. We were quite excited when we first saw this, but scenes like this proved later all too common in the coastal areas struck by the tsunami.

We bumped into some TV crew from the UK’s Sky TV at Sendai port. There was a tsunami warning just a while before this (helicopters wailing above us and all), and they were waiting to film the advance of the water. The tsunami never came and the warning was later lifted.

A gym bench washed out into the open. At Sendai port.

The playground of angry waters. Taken at Sendai port.

An ill-fated drive to the neighbourhood Lawson store? In Tagajo City.

Kids salvaging games and porn dvds at the neighbourhood Games/Video store in Tagajo City.

A photo booth in a residential neighbourhood in Tagajo City.

A Wii Fit board lying outside the games store.

A sofa lodged on the edge of a rice field, in Wakabayashi ward, Sendai.

Part 1: It begun at Narita 

Part 2: The long ride to Sendai

Part 3: Quiet night in Sendai

Part 5: The turning point, Ibaraki and the end

The Japan Quake (3): Quiet night in Sendai

As mentioned in the second post here, we reached the Sendai City Office close to 2am on March 14. There we stayed the night.

After updating my bosses back in Singapore about the situation, I went about the corridors of the relief centre to see what the locals there were doing. Too much pent-up energy, from sitting in the van almost the whole day.

Only the 2nd, 6th and 8th floors were open to refugees. Most people were sleeping, but many others were just sitting around and chatting, or entertaining themselves on their mobile phones.

There was the queer teenager in a hoodie, who moved from room to room. He would sit down, use his phone for a while, got bored and move on to the next. There were the two young women, probably university students, who sat in a corner and chatted away merrily. There was the mother and her son, who sat quietly on chairs in one of the corridors. 

It was actually quite cold in the corridors. Thankfully, the centre officials turned on the heaters in some of the rooms for refugees to sleep in.

After I had my fill of walking about the corridors, I had a change of clothes in a toilet – which stunk because it probably had not been cleaned for the past two days to conserve water – and brushed my teeth. Mildly refreshing.

I also noticed that the building was not totally free of damage. Some of the walls had deep cracks stretching from the ceiling to midway down the way. But I believe the building was structurally sound enough. After all, Japan is known for its quake-proof technology. Unfortunately this time, it was the Tsunami that did most of the damage, to the coastal communities.

Had to charge my phone before I turned in for the night. I would need it to communicate and possibly write my story the following day. So while waiting for the phone to finish charging, which took quite a while, I took the chance to read the latest reports from NHK, CNN and BBC. Also discussed a bit about where we can possibly go the next day with the Nanfang Daily reporter and another Chinese reporter from Caijin.

Got a bit hungry by about 4am, and opened a packet of Ritz biscuits (from Narita) to eat. There were too many pieces in the pack, so I offered it to the few people sitting awake along the corridor, including the mother and son. Some took it with thanks, while others politely declined.

Sometime after 4.30am, the Blackberry was fully charged. I packed my bags and  squeezed into a small bit of available floor space in one of the rooms and turned in for the night. Unlike in Singapore when I often had insomnia, I drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

Next part here.

A small whiteboard outside a meeting room at the Sendai City Office. A special budgetary committee apparently was to meet here over two weeks, from Feb 28 to Mar 14. I think the earthquake would have disrupted their plans.

Some cracks on the wall in the City Office building. Sendai City was generally resistant to the impact of the quake.

Some officials and refugees milling about in the main lobby.

You would have read much about how calmly the Japanese have dealt with the disaster so far. For me, this is one of the manifestations of that stoicism – they have continued separating the trash even in times like this.

A young man reading the latest news articles pasted on the walls of the corridors.

A man reading on his mobile phone in one of the rooms opened up for refugees. In the background, others were sitting about, using their computers or chatting with friends.

Some people prefer to sleep in the corridors, despite the cold. Perhaps because somewhat ironically, it is where one can get a little more privacy.

 

Part 1: It begun at Narita

Part 2: The long ride to Sendai

Part 4: A glimpse of the devastation

Part 5: The turning point, Ibaraki and the end

The Japan Quake (2): The long ride to Sendai

This is a continuation of the first post, found here.

We woke up early the following morning. Definitely not my typical Sunday. I didn’t get more than a couple of hours of sleep actually, but given that I didn’t sleep the night before, it was better than nothing. The SCDF team had to get up at 6am to tend to their canine charges, and the three of us journalists got up soon after. We were joined later by another photojournalist from our paper, who arrived the previous night on a later flight at Haneda Airport.

But the bad news came soon after. The Japanese foreign affairs ministry’s liaison officer for the SCDF team confirmed that we will not be allowed on the Self-Defence Force C130, which will take them to Fukushima’s Soma city, because of military sensitivities.

So we had to find alternative ways to get up north. There were some problems, however:

1. The Tohoku Shinkansen, which normally would be the most efficient way to get to Sendai, was suspended after the quake.
2. Rental cars were unavailable.
3. Taxi companies, which usually take passengers from Narita to as far as Sendai, have temporarily suspended such trips because of the radiation scare at Fukushima. One reactor at the Fukushima No. 1 plant exploded the day before.
4. Sendai Airport, which was inundated during the tsunami, was still closed. The closest airport with flights from Tokyo that day was Yamagata, but all flights were fully booked. There was only one option – to fly to Misawa in Aomori (the northern-most prefecture on Honshu), and then make our way south. But even if we did take that flight, we still had to deal with the question of renting a car or hiring a driver.

Things were looking quite bleak by then, and then we got lucky. A couple of friendly photojournalists from the Guangzhou-based Nanfang Daily, curious about the SCDF team and the dog cages, came by to chat with us. And they told us that their local correspondent had arranged for drivers and a vehicle to take them north to Sendai. Without us asking, they offered to let us on, as long as there were seats.

As it turns out, the van was big enough to accommodate their team of three (they had one writer with them) and the four of us. We thanked our lucky stars and braced ourselves for a long day on the road. The drivers, Wang and Guo, said the ride would likely take double the usual 6 hours it takes to get there. We set off at around 11.30am.

The journey was quite uneventful, actually. There were some queues at petrol kiosks, but most of the kiosks were already closed because they had run out of petrol.

It was during the long ride that I received many encouraging messages from my friends on Facebook, which I accessed through my Blackberry. Once again, thank you all again for that. I really appreciate it!

We stocked up on food and water before entering Fukushima prefecture, at a supermarket in Tochigi prefecture. Rice, noodles, chicken and bottled water were all sold out. But the store was well stocked otherwise. Perhaps it just goes to show how much of the merchandise in a typical supermarket is superfluous.

By the time we got to Sendai, it was already past 1am. Probably closer to 2am, but I was too tired to remember clearly. With most hotels apparently closed, our only option was to stay at the Sendai City Office, which was converted into a relief centre after the quake. Many military trucks were parked in front of the building.

Inside we met a group of Hong Kong journalists, who had arrived a day before. They said access to the disaster zones was severely limited, and they were heading home the next day. We got some directions and tips from them about where to go, and headed upstairs to find our spot for the night.

Next part here.

The Tokyo Sky Tree in the distant, seen as we headed out of Chiba prefecture, where Narita Airport is located. It is a symbol of Japan’s future, but that is now made even more uncertain by the disaster. The tip of the old symbol – Tokyo Tower – was bent by the quake.

About an hour or so into the journey, we stopped at a beef bowl chain Sukiya for lunch. I expected it to be the only decent meal we were going to have for days. Once we were in the disaster zone, it was going to be just biscuits, bread and water.

It was a long ride, and we could not help slipping in a quick interview with Guo, one of the two drivers, in the front seat. On the right is photojournalist Chen Hui, from Nanfang Daily.

I tried to keep track of our journey by turning on the GPS on my Blackberry. My Bold 9700 truly proved its worth during this trip. The Blackberry Internet Service connection, via local provider Softbank, was very good for most areas we visited. It was extremely fast as well, unlike in Singapore!

Our photojournalist WL gets some shuteye in between taking pictures.

Our photojournalist XB taking a picture of the empty shelves in the bread section of a supermarket in Tochigi prefecture, south of Fukushima prefecture.

The rice section was wiped out as well. What you see in the top right corner is glutinous rice.

Part 1: It begun at Narita

Part 3: Quiet night in Sendai

Part 4: A glimpse of the devastation

Part 5: The turning point, Ibaraki and the end

The Japan Quake (1): It begun at Narita

Japan’s most powerful earthquake on record, measuring 9.0 in magnitude on the Richter scale, struck on March 11 at 2.46pm local time (1.46pm Singapore time, 0646hrs GMT). That led to my third visit to Japan in less than 6 months, but the latest was a truly surreal experience.

I was on the 2pm shift that Friday, and I went into office thinking that the main Japan story of the day would be about allegations that Prime Minister Naoto Kan received donations from a foreigner. That was a juicy story, given that Foreign Minister Seiji Maehara had resigned over similar allegations just a week ago.

But as soon as I started up my office computer, news alerts about the earthquake started flashing on our internal messaging system. That was soon followed by warnings of tsunami across Japan’s northeastern coastline, and then for other Pacific Rim countries. And the television images from NHK started to appear on all the main international news channels. The most striking one showed how the flood water from the tsunami engulf a vast tract of farmland in Fukushima prefecture, sweeping away cars and tractors with its sheer force.

Needless to say, the Straits Times Foreign Desk kicked into top gear. In the end, we flooded our readers with more than 20 pages of coverage (inclusive of full page ads) on the unfolding disaster in our Saturday edition. We even delayed our usual early deadline on Fridays, to allow for more up-to-date and extensive reports.

I was told around midnight that day that the paper was sending me and two others to cover the event in Japan. I was naturally thrilled, yet anxious about whether I would be able to do a good job. But the worrying had to wait – we barely had time to pack and then head down to the airport to try getting on the earliest flight out.

We got lucky in the end and managed to take the first flight out, at 9.40am. The Singapore Civil Defence Force team of five were also on the same flight, coincidentally. They would be helping Japanese police with search and rescue operations, with their five well-trained canine assistants.

Hoping to hitch a ride to the disaster area with the SCDF, we stayed with them at Narita Airport for the night.

That night, I saw a side of Narita I’d never seen before. Shops were all shuttered up, although it was not that late yet. Stranded passengers sleeping all over the place, from behind airport counters to massage chairs to the sides of the many hallways. And airport staff were up and about through the night, distributing blankets, food and bottled water to anyone in need.

Meanwhile, all the big television screens were broadcasting NHK’s round-the-clock coverage of the earthquake and tsunami.

Next part here.

Members of the Singapore Civil Defence Force’s five-man team loading their dogs onto the airport trolleys at Narita, drawing many curious looks from other travellers.

Many Japanese journalists were waiting at the airport, hoping to interview foreign rescue teams arriving there.

The Limousine bus services, which are popular with travellers heading out of the airport, were not operating that day, probably due to road closures induced by the earthquake.

The SCDF team chats with some foreign journalists, just in front of our sleeping spot for the night.

A stranded traveller picks up sleeping bags provided by the airport.

The places where there are chairs are popular with the stranded. “Welcome to Japan,” says the airport trolley in the foreground.

Many, like this man here, were seen whiling away their time by using their laptops and mobile phones.

A bunch of people calling home at the public phones, an uncommon sight in less exceptional times.

A lonely arrival

Part 2: The long ride to Sendai

Part 3: Quiet night in Sendai

Part 4: A glimpse of the devastation

Part 5: The turning point, Ibaraki and the end