Even now, recalling the scenes from that day pains my heart.

Before I knew it, over four months have passed since that earthquake. Living here in New York, if I didn't see the news, it would feel as if that great earthquake never happened.
This installment of "Sake And The City" will be in two parts, covering the earthquake and the aftermath in New York. It might be a bit long, but thank you for your understanding.

On March 11, 2011, I was visiting Nanbu Bijin in Ninohe City, Iwate Prefecture, having arrived the day before. After a delightful evening banquet with the brewery workers and a morning brewery tour, I was on my way to Tokyo via the Tohoku Shinkansen.

The previous day, March 10th, was the public viewing day for the annual Iwate Prefecture New Sake Competition. I had been looking forward to tasting the new sake every year since I served as an observer judge about three years prior. That day, as in previous years, many brewers and brewery workers from Iwate Prefecture who had won top prizes were proudly discussing the quality of their sake. Among them were people from Suisen Shuzo, which was devastated by the tsunami. No one knew the tragedy that awaited the next day... Even now, recalling the scenes from that day pains my heart.



After tasting the new sakes from many breweries in Iwate Prefecture, I enjoyed Morioka's must-try cold noodles at "Pyon Pyon Sha," then recorded a local radio program in Ninohe City with Kosuke Kuji, the fifth-generation owner of Nanbu Bijin. That evening, we celebrated with the brewery workers, reuniting and toasting the gold medal win at the new sake competition with great enthusiasm.

I had only planned to return to Tokyo that day, so I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to explore the Iwate coast, as recommended by the toji (master brewer). However, due to drinking too much the night before and carrying a somewhat cumbersome suitcase, I decided against going to the coast and headed back to Tokyo. If, oh if, I had gone to the coast... or if I had taken a slightly later Shinkansen and returned at a more leisurely pace...

Reporting the Situation from New York via Facebook and Twitter

I was on the Shinkansen past Omiya when the disaster struck. We were trapped on the train for about five hours, then walked along the train tracks for another two hours with our suitcases before finally reaching a shelter at an elementary school in Saitama Prefecture. Food and drinks were sold out at nearby convenience stores, but no one complained or whimpered. With just two blankets and a place to shelter from the rain and wind, everyone was calm, waiting for the next instructions, without panic, knowing that many others were in far worse situations.

Amidst this, my temporary mobile phone, which had been out of service since the earthquake, rang. Unbelievably, a friend who had returned to Japan from New York found me at the shelter! They had apparently called hundreds of times without giving up until they got through, and it was a moment when I truly felt the preciousness of friendship.

However, while I was happy, I also felt deeply apologetic, as if I were the only one to be saved. As a small gesture of what I could do, I shared the food souvenirs I had bought in Iwate with those around me. Among them was a British woman living in Japan due to her husband's work. She couldn't speak any Japanese, and I was the only one who could communicate with her there. Yet, she encouraged me, saying, "Take care! I'm fine. I'll see my husband tomorrow. You do your best in New York too!" I left with a heavy heart.

For the following week, as I made my way back to New York, intense aftershocks continued in Tokyo. I kept reporting the situation to my friends and family in New York who were worried about my missing friends and their families, as well as the affected breweries, via Facebook and Twitter.

I was especially grateful for the "SAVE JAPAN" website (I was later surprised to learn that it was launched by a friend from my student days!). With aftershocks and enforced power saving, I minimized the use of heating and electricity, living in the dark with my computer, constantly wearing a hat and down jacket even indoors, and always keeping a packed backpack and sneakers by my bedside in case of emergency.

Then, at Narita Airport, as I was about to depart for New York. When I called my mother in Akita, she said, "Hurry back to New York. Japan is very dangerous right now. Akita is safe for now, but you never know what might happen."

Who could have ever imagined a situation where New York would be safer than Akita? I couldn't hold back the tears welling up.



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