Yesterday’s typing for the Blog came off the insensitive smooth flatness of my iPad.Words are difficult to conjure when your finger tips are slippery and the analog sensation of keys is gone. Tonight, I’m back to the familiar notches and grooves of my keyboard.
I’m still taken by last night’s walk through the narrow streets Ishinomaki’s main shopping and entertainment district. Low storied buildings with a small town feel and a mom and pop’s sense. Now destroyed, the remnants in the shadows still cast the warmth and attention given by small business owners. Without the Japanese writing and some architectural styling, this place could be Mayberry RFD from the Andy Griffith Show.Most of the time there was nobody else there. A few vehicles roared past and left the scene.
Once gone there was only the background noises which are normally drowned away by the sounds of nightlife. We are left with the echos of scattering dust and the rattling bits of broken buildings. Doors and hinges swing open and shut with the heavy winds coming in from the ocean. As I once described before there is still the pounding, scraping, humming, hissing, and clatter of steel which reverberates with the sporadic gusts.
As I walked between the buildings I could not help but feel a phantom presence peering out of each doorway or window. Shadows in the darkened interiors trick the mind into seeing shapes and forms. All of which heighten perception. There’s a stench of decay, dampness, and rotting fish. Most buildings are either smashed, bashed, collapsed, or pounded by cars, boats, and even ships.
Yes, there are boats and ships on main street. If you saw the videos online of on TV which mentioned Ishinomaki and the tsunami. I’m walking where many of the iconic scenes played out. Even now, it’s still surreal. I turned down a corner to reach the waterside. The waters slap alarmingly over parts of the seawall onto service road. The seawall now is more or less a street curb.
I heard that the coast of Japan sunk by 1 meter during the earthquake. I’m certain that what I’m seeing is proof as the barrier has shortened. As the cold night air began to sting an old injury of mine, I knew that rains were on their way. By this reason decided to go back. I walked through the ghostly maze to a small business hotel. I chose to stay here in town with the primary intention of supporting local businesses. The hotel was run by an older couple who had recently been able to get it up and running. It was nothing fancy, but good enough. The pair spent a lot of time sharing with me their experiences during the earthquake, tsunami, damage, cleanup, and related experiences. For this I’ll write more later. Once in my room, recalled my route as I decided to come back in the morning. A few hours later in the early morning light, I went out in the rain to shoot some of the places I ventured past in the darkness of the night. At dawn I went back out and did just that as you can see below.
What I did notice in these early hours is that the ghost town was starting to regain living residents. There were a few people out cleaning and fixing their shops and homes. Slowly but surely the part of Ishinomaki is starting to come back to life. It’s hopeful…
Linh Vien Thai is Amerasian, born in Dalat, South Vietnam, where he continued to lived during the war. He left for the U.S. and is now an American living in Tokyo. He enjoys adventure traveling and doing what’s right to make the world a better place.
