Differences

Things really have changed here over the last few months, and no, this isn’t more navel gazing or self-reflection. As you all know the 9.0 earthquake and tsunami struck the northern coast of japan closer to two months ago and while things have returned to a slight sense of normalcy, at least in places, in others the differences are profound. Last weekend I went down to Shibuya as I will every so often to take pictures of the city, the sights, sounds and people. At first glance things did appear to be normal, thousands of people crammed into a very busy intersection with people running in all directions at once, groups of friends gathering, chatting, or just chilling. You wouldn’t think that anything negative would have occurred such a short time ago. So I walked around taking lots of pictures visible here http://www.flickr.com/photos/58409124@N03/ http://verseless-photography.com/ http://www.verseless.deviantart.com/

Note, none of them, or at least very few, are actually of the city, that’s for a reason. Sundown finally came and I set up my camera at about 15 till, and I start to look around expecting the lights to come on any second hoping to get some great pictures of the city and people. Maybe a few nice low light shots. Possibly a good spontaneous portrait or two. The sun goes down behind the labyrinthine cityscape, the last copper hues of the sunset fading into….dark? The city was dark, for Shibuya anyway. The closest comparison that I can give to it would be like standing in Times Square and all of the billboards, all of the video screens, were turned off. And that’s exactly it, all of the video screens, all of the advertisements, the brighter streetlights, even shop lights were deactivated to save power. Now, I am unsure of the exact state of the infrastructure here in japan right now, but I know that since the Fukushima Daiichi plant got hit life appears to be at least a little less colorful in Tokyo.

People have been through worse in the world, and thankfully Tokyo just seems to be rationing power, no daytime lighting on the trains, or air conditioning at all, no heated seats either, small little conveniences that I’d begun to take for granted now no longer evident in anyone’s lives. Might just be my observation, who knows, maybe they’re flawed, that could be. But to see all of those bright, comforting, and saturating lights and sights just gone….it made me feel like something had been lost. It made me remember that everything we’re doing to help these people will actually have an effect. It may be years, it may be decades but to see Shibuya return to its former shining glory will be worth it at some point. A transformation has taken place in the nation of Japan and they’ll never be the same. The lights will eventually return, the glitz and glamour will be back to inspirational levels at some point, but for now things are subdued if only in some degree.

I wouldn’t say that any of this has been inspirational though, that word just doesn’t cut it, to apply such a finite word to a series of events such as these, to apply such a word to the relief effort that started the day it happened, the month of nonstop support that numerous nations provided and continue to provide still, the coming together of branches of numerous militaries, raid organizations, and even firefighters from all across the globe coming together to forge a cohesive response force well within a month to help these people, is not inspirational. It… is… legendary. It’s not about medals, news coverage, a renewed sense of responsibility, strong senses of pity, regret, conscience, or anything like that. It’s that almost jubilant feeling of pride you get hearing that perhaps barely intelligible ‘thank you’ from people that genuinely have many things to be thankful for. I’ve only ever personally received the smallest part of that, one lone man telling me that we’re ‘big hero country, thanks for what you do.’ I can only imagine the kind of thanks that rescue workers deserve and received when they helped those directly affected by the tsunami.

If you’re coming here don’t expect all the ultramodern conveniences that have been touted for years, even some basic amenities are still hurting, come here expecting the warm reception of a thankful nation and from those truly in need. If you’re leaving here, like me, then I hope that you’ve received a sense of pride that you’ll never forget. Those who leave may go on to do great things, but remember, the greatest thing that one can hope to accomplish is to have been deserving of a simple ‘thank you’ from one you’ve helped however indirectly.