My life here started to feel normal again late last week thanks to a series of encounters with my Japanese friends.
It seems the "new normal" will require a bit more physical exertion than the "old normal" did. The escalator leading up to the Yokosukachuo train station at the end of Blue Street was not moving when I set off to visit Dr. T on Wednesday afternoon. That was my first clue. Did I sigh dramatically before dragging my bones up that stationary staircase? Heck no. There is more than one way to skin a cat. I simply marched around the corner and entered the station at ground level. Maybe a tiny smirk flitted across my mouth.
Thankfully, the escalator at the Kanazawa-hakkei Seaside Line station was working; that's an elevated train line with an entrance three stories above the ground. The medical school was a different matter. Dr. T's office is on the top floor, the sixth floor, of the medical school. Nothing happened when I pressed the button to call the elevator on the left. A sign taped between the elevator doors caught my eye. I was pretty sure it said "Please use the stairs. The electricity has been diverted from the elevators to operate life-sustaining equipment in the hospital."
So I trudged up six flights of stairs. The first five flights were not exactly a breeze but I paced myself and pasted a cheerful expression on my face for the benefit of all the nimble medical students scampering up and down the stairs to get to class on time. That sixth flight required a bit of an effort. "Bit" in this case means gripping the handrail and using a hand-over-hand technique to drag my body up the last sixty steps. Exiting the stairwell, I stumbled past the usual assortment of somber young pharmaceutical representives lined up in the corridor. Their applause was louder than my gasps.
Dr. T was appalled that I took the stairs. He says I am to use the elevator on the right next time. I think I heard him say I am qualified to use that elevator on the basis of age. I am not sure that makes me happy but I'm pretty sure I'll opt for the elevator when I visit him again next week.
Seeing Dr. T again fills me with delight. Has it only been two weeks since our last lesson? We spend a lot of time grinning and laughing. I had forgotten that he's been using crutches for the past six weeks on account of a bad knee. He tells me that knee made descending twelve flights of stairs after the earthquake "excruciating". His use of the word "excruciating" tickles me. I think he has consulted his Japanese-English dictionary since last we met.
Thursday three of us headed to Kamakura for an Ikebana board meeting. We were a bit early so we ducked into a coffee shop outside the station. Otsuka-san, knowing our habits, was sitting in the coffee shop waiting for us. We had not expected to see her because she lives in Tokyo and we think it is not so easy to travel between Tokyo and Kamakura these days. We are all so happy to see each other that we exchange hugs, wipe tears from our eyes, and amuse the baristas with our un-Japanese carryings on. You would think we were survivors of a major calamity! Oh . . . I guess we are.
We see many more friends at the board meeting -- Kaji-san, Nagasaki-san, Midori-san, Sayuri-san, Haneda-san, to name a few. Tia has gone to the United States, Watanabe-san is still recovering from breast cancer surgery, and Junko-san is not at the meeting for reasons that escape me. We vote to cancel the April and May programs because we cannot count on gasoline to take our members to Mount Takao or electricity to light the hotel where we are scheduled to meet. We defer a decision on the June program. Perhaps we can hold the June program on the Navy base. Our Japanese friends are surprised to hear that the Navy base has not been experiencing the rolling blackouts the government has instituted in our prefecture. I feel somewhat embarrassed and ashamed about this. I want to do more to help Japan right now than buy underwear for the people in Sendai.
Weather, Evelyn, and I visited Matsuzaki-san and her son Yutaka at their shop near the Kamakura station and then shared five orders of waffles between the three of us before returning to Yokosuka. The trains ran on time and the waffles were as delectable as always. The waitress double-checked her order pad. Three customers and five orders? We told her we want to help rebuild Japan's economy. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.
Friday, finally, I get to see Ishii-san. She endures my hug with a smile and great stoicism. We stroll to the cafe above the Yokosuka Products shop to have some Admiral Jamie Kelly Cheesecake but, once there, opt for Meiji-Era Curry instead. I, of course, was hoping to have both. Ishii-san is very sensible. A retired teacher, she regales me with anecdotes of the disaster training Japanese teachers receive. I think we should send our base teachers to the Japanese disaster training classes. I wish we would acknowledge that Americans are not the experts on everything.
Today I will see many of my Japanese friends again. Eight of the JAW ladies, including Otsuka-san, Kaji-san, and Shinagawa-san, will visit the base to say farewell to Teresa who will be leaving Japan tomorrow for her husband's next duty station in California. We are going to have lunch at the Officers' Club.
The "new normal" is nothing to complain about so far. I feel so much more sane eating in the company of others than munching on mushroom-shaped cookies in my bed. I've just been brushing crumbs toward the Ancient Mariner's side of the bed but I suppose I'll have to change the sheets when and if the USS Blue Ridge ever heads back toward Yokosuka.
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