Date

2022-11-20, Sunday

Distance

92.54 km (2383.33 km in total)

Last night, we secretly pitched our tent in a seaside park that closed at night and left this morning before the opening hour. We have been doing this kind of camping without clearly stated permission for sometime because we realised that if we asked for permission, people would say ‘No, you can’t do it here’ while vaguely suggesting that it would be none of their business if we do it when no one is around (i.e. after the closing time). It seems that the law prohibits wild camping in public places such as roadside stations — some of which post written prohibition about setting up a tent, some don’t — but such instance is rarely reported to the police (or maybe someone did call the police but the police didn’t bother to come after us). It’s interesting how Japanese people act like Schrondinger’s cats: to observe and not to observe the regulations at the same time.

Roads in this area are all brand new and very wide. We guess it may be because most past infrastructures were destroyed by the tsunami in 2011 which hit Iwate and Miyagi prefectures the hardest. While the apocalyptic landscape is no more, traces of the disaster such as commemorative plaques remain to be seen.

We went to a small seaside village outside of Sendai called Yuriage (閘上) that was entirely engulfed by the tsunami to see the result of Japanese people’s rebuilding effort. This location was chosen because in my Japanese course at McGill, I read a composition by a local high school student mourning the loss of her hometown, which is Yuriage. In it the student were facing the dilemma of moving to another place or rebuilding her hometown. I find this attachment to a specific location very peculiar, as I who used to feel somewhat homeless on this Earth under the starry dome don’t share the same feeling. Hence I like to visit places which people call home.

Part of the village that sits right next to the ocean is encircled by a wall that stops the ocean waves. Many people, who don’t seem to be resident of Yuriage, came for fishing. Newly built houses are by no means densely distributed; it seems that many people have left since the disaster. This new old village doesn’t feel like a ghost town, as there are signs of human occupation (presence of hanged cloths for instance), but strolling in it by bike I still feel a kind of emptiness. A dommage, once done, is hard to be undone.

By the ocean a small centre sits to commemorate Yuriage’s past. It showcases documents related to the 2011 event, remaining artefacts that testify the good old days, and a video documentary on how the local strove to rebuild their hometown. A special project that attracts my attention consists of 3 sets of hand-made models showing children’s vision of the past, present, and future Yuriage. It’s part of a therapy program that aims at helping youngsters get out of the trauma.

Our ride for the remaining day is more than just smooth. The road condition was impeccable as it was newly built. Wide sidewalk and farm accompanied us all the way to the roadside station in Soma, Fukushima prefecture. There, a wealth of posters relating various information and statistics about the 2011 disaster awaited us. Everything looks new or at least very well maintained; there is even an immense baby-feeding room which was large enough for us to open our tent to do some time-consuming repair. We slept there until next morning.

The full take — 38 more photographs from this day