On Monday, my day started in Koriyama, Fukushima prefecture. On Monday, my day ended in rural Miyako, Iwate prefecture. And even I’m not sure how I got to that point.

Last Wednesday, a JET died in Iwate.

I haven’t written about it because Rodger was a popular vblogger, and there are a lot of tributes being made to him on youtube.  I didn’t even know, before, that he had a vlog. He never said anything. I wish I had known. I wish I had known him better. It wouldn’t have made a difference, but he really had a full life ahead of him, and it was cut so tragically short. I don’t know what to say, even. B said, “he could have been my best friend.” And now we’ll never know, and it’s so soul crushing. This is what regret is, I think. This is how it all ends.

Us Iwate PAs were the ones to interact with the family when they came to see poor Rodger. I don’t really want to write about it because it’s kind of painful and private, but let’s just say I have had some long and exhausting days and it still doesn’t feel like enough - I wish could do more, for them and for Rodger. I traveled on Sunday to Koriyama, Fukushima prefecture with C-kacho in order to greet the family, and start the long process of finalizing Rodger’s trip home. We saw the four of them wearily step through the gates after their long journey, but they still managed to smile and be personable. I just thought, they are so strong. They have gone through the worst thing imaginable, but they are so strong. I went to bed in my hotel room Sunday night wishing I was with my mother.

And on Monday, the day I started in Fukushima ended in Miyako, Iwate, in the middle of nowhere.

After a very long day, I got back to the prefectural office with C-kacho at about 6:30. “Do you need me for anything else?” I asked wearily, and K-san chuckled that I should just go home. So I pulled on my furry snow boots and held my breath while I battled the Iwate cold. The next available bus was the 106 Highway bus, which would take me by my stop, like it always did. I was tired and really cold, so I didn’t glance at the sign on the bus that said “Super Express” as I hurried inside - I didn’t even know they had a super express, to be honest. I sat down on the first available, and sat patiently as it stopped at the bus station.

The bus pulled nonchalantly off from the station. “Thank you for choosing the 106 Super Express to Miyako Bus. This bus will now go directly to Miyako Station. I repeat, this bus will not stop and goes directly to Miyako Station. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

I gripped my seat tightly. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I looked on helplessly as we passed by my stop, the next stop, and the next few stops after that. There was an EXPRESS BUS to Miyako? Seriously? There’s only like 10 stops to begin with, what kind of time would you be saving by taking the express? I felt like crying. Miyako is almost 100km from Morioka, on the coast of Iwate, and I wouldn’t arrive for another two hours, with no return bus til the next morning. How could I do this?!?! This was the ONE DAY where it was almost NECESSARY for me to get some REST. I banged my head against the head rest with a loud sigh. I seriously just did the thing all JETs in Japan fear the most - getting on the wrong bus/train and ending up in the middle of nowhere with no way back.

Alright, Amanda. Take inventory. You’re okay. There’s going to be a hotel there, somewhere. But damnit. I don’t have that much cash on me. The bus fare alone is ￥2000 one way. Well…I have my credit card. Guess I’ll just have to hope they take cards. If there’s even a hotel around there, which is not for certain. Am I going to be spending the night in the train station, all by myself? I don’t even know anyone who lives near Miyako. The nearest JET lives an hour and a half to the south. And I can’t just take tomorrow off; I need to be at work. I tapped on my phone a bit, grateful that I still got internet on the weak signal. There was a bus at 5:20 am, which would get me back to my apartment at 7:30 - about 15 minutes to change and head for the bus and go to work like normal. Eff. Okay. Let’s do this.

By the time I got to Miyako, it was completely dark, and all that was open was the dimly lit train station and a creepy pachinko parlor. I walked in, hoping to see a train attendant, but it was too late (lol in rural iwate, 8:30 is too late) and no one was around. There was one train left, but it was going to Kamaishi. I definitely don’t want to go to Kamaishi. That is like FOUR hours away from Morioka. I walked outside the station, my stomach grumbling because I didn’t even have a chance to grab dinner. I looked frantically around, and saw a hotel about a block away, like an oasis in a desert (or a warm shelter in the middle of ihatov country). Crossing my fingers, I wandered the streets with my rolling luggage (still leftover from my stay in Fukushima), trying to find an entrance.

I walked inside and gave the attendant a heart attack. “Got any rooms free (or, are your rooms free? pretty sure I said something weird)?”

“Can I see your gaijin card?” he asked, illegally. I gave it to him anyway, just because I was not in the position to tell anyone that only police are allowed to ask for that and he was racially profiling me (!!). Figures, first time I get asked at a hotel for my g-card is in dinky Miyako. I prayed silently, hoping my credit card would go through and that Citicards wouldn’t suddenly cancel my card for trying to use it in Japan. The old card machine buzzed as it printed out a receipt, thankfully. “Have a good stay,” the attendant smiled, handing me a big old block of a keychain, my grizzled savior in a cold coastal town.

I walked in my closet of a room to see that the thermostat set to 80 degrees F. Throwing my clothes off, I screamed as I flopped myself on the lumpy, musty looking bed. “I am so retarded!! I can’t believe I did this!!” Small miracles though, I was so exhausted from everything else that had happened that I was able to fall asleep at 10 or so (so I could get up at 4, so I could catch the 5:20 bus). 

Luckily, I did not get screwed over further by my premature senior moment. The bus arrived at Miyako at exactly 5:10 am and I did not have to spend one more moment in that creepy ass town (I spent a few minutes waiting in the train station for warmth, and the train conductor had the typical slackjawed “wtf is this furrener doin in here” look). Settling down in my seat, cradling a warm coffee I had bought from the vending machine, I prepared myself for a long snooze as I made my way safely back to Morioka. But for some reason, I didn’t sleep. I just kept looking outside, watching the passing scenery lightly lit by the rising sun. I didn’t have a chance to see anything the night before.

A young school girl got on at an early stop, probably to go to a high school in Morioka. Did she commute from Miyako every day? Did she have to catch a bus at 5:30 every day? The high schools in Morioka were the best in the prefecture - she was probably a really smart girl who had a slight misfortune in being raised in the quiet countryside. But she probably did this everyday, because it was worth it. I would do it everyday, if I had to. That’s what you do, when something is worth something to you. You stop at nothing. If you do stop, or get stopped, as far as I’m concerned, it wasn’t worth that much to you to begin with.

We drove in between the small crevices of the mountains, occasionally tunneling through, following a river gurgling coldly with melting snow. We rounded a bend and saw a vast valley, trees dotting the white hillsides like hair sprouting out of a bald head. Everything was a light purple from the morning sun, and it took my breath away. We were a half hour from Morioka and I suddenly didn’t know why I had wanted to go back so badly.  

I have been shocked and saddened by recent incidents in Iwate, and so exhausted that I can’t even find time to eat, let alone reflect on all that’s happened. This little trip happened at a time when I thought I would just about die from exhaustion. But it didn’t turn out all bad, you know? I can be frustrated and upset that I ended up all the way in Miyako by accident, or I can just thank God I am alive, that I have enough money in my pocket to get by, and that I can appreciate that I even had the opportunity to get on the wrong bus in the first place. I went to Miyako Monday night, and I can laugh about it. That’s a good thing, in my book.