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Published: April 2nd 2011
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My alarm broke me out of my sleep. I was early enough today to go downstairs for breakfast. The lady who checked me in – possibly the ryokan owner – was there, together with another lady and a little boy. The ryokan owner handed me the menu, whereupon I said, ‘megane’ (glasses), struggling to find my glasses in my bag. Both ladies laughed – they were both wearing ‘megane’. I ordered my breakfast – orange juice, coffee and toast, in Japanese ‘orenji jusu, kohi to tosuto’. The Japanese have borrowed many European words recently, particularly from English, although I’m not sure which European word ‘kohi’ comes from. A traditional Japanese breakfast consists of rice, miso soup and fish. We have only once stayed in a ryokan which served exclusively a Japanese breakfast. It was in 1995 when we toured the very area which has been hit by the tsunami. The evening meal and breakfast were included and they both had similar ingredients – miso soup, rice, sashimi (raw fish) and pickled vegetables. I’d brought some flapjacks (a British biscuit) I’d baked with me, and that is what our two younger children ended up having for breakfast.
The ryokan was situated
Ohanami in Osaka
Picnic under the cherry blossom in Ayukawa, a whaling town. I’ve just checked on Google – 80% of its houses have been destroyed and 400 of its 1400 residents are unaccounted for. That brings it home.
While I waited for my breakfast, I did my best to chat with the little boy in Japanese. He’s three years old and the owner’s grandson. I’m very aware that I’m the only person having breakfast. When I originally made the booking it was for a joint trip with my sister and brother-in-law to be a dream trip together round Japan, and it was very hard to get any rooms. That was before 11th March. Sadly and reluctantly they had to cancel the trip as a result of the problem with the travel insurance. Now I think there are hardly any guests in the ryokan – I met a western man on the stairway and heard voices in the room next-door, but that is all.
When the toast comes, it’s great big slabs. That’s the way toast is done here. One time when I met with the MESA group (a wonderful international association in Mito, mostly with Japanese members, which meets weekly and where most activities are
in English), I asked them what they had for breakfast. There was a noticeable divide with many of the older members still having a traditional breakfast, but most of the younger members having a western breakfast of toast or cereal.
At Kyoto station I’m slightly early for my Shinkansen train to Osaka. With my Japan Rail Pass, I’m not allowed to take one kind of Shinkansen, the super express Nozomi. I watch mesmerised as a succession of Nozomi trains come in, with their long snouts, like some sleek animal. They are all punctual to the minute. It’s quite a contrast to Britain where train time tables are more an expression of hope than anything else.
At Shin-Osaka Station I meet up with Hisako, my Japanese friend from England, with her cute (‘kawaii’ in Japanese) little daughter, Megumi-chan. It was so lovely to see them here in Japan. Shinkansen trains may be out of this world, but it’s still a struggle getting round the train station at Osaka with a buggy. Very often there is an escalator or a lift, but there are still parts with flights of steps where Hisako and I have to carry the buggy. Japanese stations are always incredibly packed, and even though everyone is so skilled at weaving in and out and not bumping into anyone, it must feel quite overwhelming for Megumi-chan.
We head for the more spacious grounds around Osaka Castle. The cherry blossom is just starting to come out. There are groups of Japanese people picnicking on plastic mats under the trees, their shoes neatly lined up at the edge of the mat on the grass. As we walk we chat, and I am full of questions about what it’s really been like in Osaka and Japan.
Most people in Osaka haven’t been too worried about Fukushima, though some parents with young children and babies have been. Most people aren’t going away on holiday now as they feel that it’s inappropriate given all the suffering. Some richer people have gone on holiday abroad, also to escape from the radiation. I comment on the fact that the Japan Times shows the background radiation levels in the various prefectures every day. Apparently they are given on Japanese TV too. Some Japanese farmers have committed suicide as they can’t sell their crops. A wave of sadness comes over me. Most likely Fukushima won’t kill anyone with its radiation, but desperation can take lives.
As we are walking up to the castle, a group of young men dressed in almost identical black suits walk past. Hisako thinks they are all graduates who have just started their new jobs – they always start on 1st April. Companies normally have a special ceremony for these graduates, but many of them have cancelled them this year.
Back in my room in my ryokan, I compare the charts for the maximum radiation levels in the Japan Times over the last 3 days for Mito, in Ibaraki, where so many of our friends are, and where we used to live near-by. From 9 am Tuesday, 29th March to 9 am Wednesday, 30th March it was 0.221 microsieverts per hour, from 9 am Wednesday, 30th March to 9 am Thursday, 31st March it was 0.215 and from 9 am Thursday, 31st March to 9 am Friday, 1st April it was 0.197.
An article in today’s Japan Times, about radiation levels, catches my eye. The radiation level in central Tokyo reached a high of 0.109 microsieverts per hour on Thursday, 31st March. Before the nuclear accident the rate was 0.0338 microsieverts per hour in Tokyo. The article quoted the UK Health Protection Agency, which estimates that the typical Briton receives about 2,200 microsieverts per year from background radiation, or about 0.251 microsieverts per hour. That’s more radiation per hour than in Mito at the moment, and in Mito it’s dropping each day.
The article also quotes Bob Bury, former clinical lead for the UK’s Royal College of Radiologists: ‘The situation in Japan looks set to follow the pattern of Chernobyl, where fear of radiation did far more damage than the radiation itself’.
When I was talking to Hisako, who’s lived in England for about 10 years and so knows England well, I asked her who she thought got more anxious, the English or the Japanese. She replied that she thought the Japanese.
Will there be more Japanese farmers who will commit suicide?
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Beautifully written
This is so beautifully observed and written, it makes me feel I was there. I am so sad that we were not able to be there with you. xx