After a major disaster people react in a lot of ways. After the March 11th quake and nuclear disaster I think most of what you got was a calm acceptance of what had happened and tentative hope that the worst was behind us, but there were some overreactions, some panicked shopping and - starting a week or so later - some flight out of Japan or to the south. But there was something more that I felt.
It was kindness. Real kindness from complete strangers.
It's funny in a time of crisis how easy it is to become totally isolated. Almost immediately after the quake gas became hard to find and trains shut down all over. I had been lucky enough to not get stuck on the night of the 11th. A friend of mine had a 2 hour walk back in to town that night. Can you imagine that? There's just been a huge disaster and you're stuck walking home in the cold, and you can't even call to check on your family, get a taxi or anything.
A few days later trains had started limited service and I was able to make it in to Kashiwa to actually shop a little. It was before the stores had been hit by the massive hoarding that would come later, so stupidly I just bought some snack foods, beer and a loaf of bread.
But I was still essentially alone. None of my friends was able to really go anywhere or were staying at home with their family. I didn't want to just go home and sit there glued to the TV or internet, so I decided to find some food on the way back. The city was so desolate. During the day there were some shoppers around and a car here and there, but once night fell it was like we'd entered a much more boring (though better written and directed) version of 30 Days of Night. There were some people milling about, but they were a lot more creepy than usual. I mean, what kind of weirdo wanders around town at a time like that? (Um... me I guess)
Fortunately I found a last bastion of hope for me - Kokuriko. Nothing else was open really, and certainly not any bars, but Kokuriko was in business. It was just the head waiter (the owner?) and a cook, and they didn't have a big supply of food but they made me a little pizza and some spicy fries, and poured me a few beers. And I sat and talked with the waiter and the three old guys who sat there in almost darkness that evening. And it was nice.
The next day on the way to work I stepped aside to let an older couple by on the street, and they thanked me and bowed, smiling. Everyone at work exchanged details about families and what had happened, where they'd found gas and what details they knew about local effects and things from far away. There was a feeling of togetherness, though, that no matter what happened we could overcome it together. Despite bad news about the quake and rising death tool from the tsunami, and the looming danger from Fukushima, we were hopeful and I felt a reel sense of comraderie that I'd never felt before.
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