I just got to work after a short drive through a hurricane. That's a bit dramatic. The worst of the weather passed through earlier this morning while I was drawing a picture on my computer and by the time we left for work around 8am the day had resolved itself into just a drizzly mess. A runny nose of a morning. A little windy but nothing like the lashing we received before first light. Leaves down, flower pots scattered on the sidewalks, large puddles mirroring the gray skies.
And I'm partially deaf right now, by the way. My ears have shut themselves against the noisy world and my head feels like a slowly inflating balloon. It's as if I just came down from altitude in a jetliner or off a mountain in a car. Or walking. Damned if I know what the kind of transportation I used would have to do with it. There is pressure and I hear things muffled. What sounds penetrate come from unexpected directions and have me in a state of constant distraction. I'm not sure why. Could be an atmospheric effect from the storm or it could be just some residual stuffiness from a cold I had recently.
We won't know until tonight and we watch the television news what damage the storm brought. For now it's just an interesting way to begin our week.
Showing posts with label typhoon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label typhoon. Show all posts
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
But open for business here: Typhoon makes landfall on Kyushu; 3 dead so far
Typhoon makes landfall on Kyushu; 3 dead so far
The typhoon has been the major news story since yesterday. Here, probably 12 or so hours ahead of the arrival of a weakened form of this storm, we're open for business. The staff are making plans for sending the kids home early if it comes to that, but we probably won't see any bad weather until late tonight. But this is what I'm gathering with my smattering of office Japanese.
Typhoon days here are like snow days back home. For the kids, they can be a joy. For adults, a misery. Many offices and businesses will remain open, meaning extra-long and extra-difficult commutes in the morning and evening. Tomorrow will find broken convenience store umbrellas, the clear plastic cheapies, lying on the sidewalks like dead fish on the beach after a storm at sea. I'm pretty lucky in that even if the weather hits earlier than I expect, I only have a 5 minute walk back to our apartment.
Even with high winds whipping my umbrella back and forth and leaving my biceps sore from the fight-- I beat nature with a TKO fifty-one seconds into the third round-- at least I don't have to drive or take a bus or train. Bus and train service may be delayed or even cancelled outright and even if they're not, everyone will be packed in with the extra bulk of raincoats and umbrellas. It will be extra oppressively hot and humid and your wet clothes will cling to your clammy body like a monstrous leech out of a sci-fi-horror flick. I've actually commuted to work on a bicycle in typhoons, way back before the city passed a "no umbrellas while riding bikes" law, complete with hefty fine.
Not that an umbrella does much good in a gale, when the wind blows the rain horizontally or even upwards into your face at times. Muscling a bike against the wind with an umbrella acting like a sail or a wing threatening to take you airborne is yet another great cardiovascular workout that also shapes and tones your muscles. You end up wet not only from the rain but also from slimy sweat for a regular "oil and water" coating guaranteed to leave you feeling slimy and in need of a shower or a long soak in a cold pool somewhere far from the city.
My poor wife may have to drive in it! I'm going to be constantly checking the front door until she gets home.
The typhoon has been the major news story since yesterday. Here, probably 12 or so hours ahead of the arrival of a weakened form of this storm, we're open for business. The staff are making plans for sending the kids home early if it comes to that, but we probably won't see any bad weather until late tonight. But this is what I'm gathering with my smattering of office Japanese.
Typhoon days here are like snow days back home. For the kids, they can be a joy. For adults, a misery. Many offices and businesses will remain open, meaning extra-long and extra-difficult commutes in the morning and evening. Tomorrow will find broken convenience store umbrellas, the clear plastic cheapies, lying on the sidewalks like dead fish on the beach after a storm at sea. I'm pretty lucky in that even if the weather hits earlier than I expect, I only have a 5 minute walk back to our apartment.
Even with high winds whipping my umbrella back and forth and leaving my biceps sore from the fight-- I beat nature with a TKO fifty-one seconds into the third round-- at least I don't have to drive or take a bus or train. Bus and train service may be delayed or even cancelled outright and even if they're not, everyone will be packed in with the extra bulk of raincoats and umbrellas. It will be extra oppressively hot and humid and your wet clothes will cling to your clammy body like a monstrous leech out of a sci-fi-horror flick. I've actually commuted to work on a bicycle in typhoons, way back before the city passed a "no umbrellas while riding bikes" law, complete with hefty fine.
Not that an umbrella does much good in a gale, when the wind blows the rain horizontally or even upwards into your face at times. Muscling a bike against the wind with an umbrella acting like a sail or a wing threatening to take you airborne is yet another great cardiovascular workout that also shapes and tones your muscles. You end up wet not only from the rain but also from slimy sweat for a regular "oil and water" coating guaranteed to leave you feeling slimy and in need of a shower or a long soak in a cold pool somewhere far from the city.
My poor wife may have to drive in it! I'm going to be constantly checking the front door until she gets home.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Big typhoon heads toward Kyushu | The Japan Times
Big typhoon heads toward Kyushu | The Japan Times
When it's Friday and I hear the words "taifun" and "Do-yobi" tossed about, I always do a quick Google weather search to see if a typhoon is coming. There have been 15 typhoons so far this year, with one on its way to Kyushu at this moment. This isn't to say it will affect Hamamatsu, but since it affects school operations if it does, we have to be aware of the possibility.
The students, of course, anticipate typhoon days the way we used to snow or ice days in Georgia. A typhoon coming through Shizuoka prefecture means school closings, either cancelling an afternoon schedule or an entire day's worth. For teachers it means making sure the kids get home quickly and, most importantly, safely. Then we get to go home. As adults, how we manage that is our own look out.
This is different from when I worked at conversation schools. Typhoon days for eikaiwa can mean increased class loads from people who stayed home from work who have lesson tickets to use. Yeah, too dangerous to go to work or proper school, perfect for brushing up on your language skills. At my last conversation school, we had a set schedule every week which didn't change for typhoons, although students had more freedom to cancel and make the day up another time. That's sensible. We teachers still had to get there, although if situations proved dangerous enough we might have been asked to stay home.
That never happened, so I walked or rode my bike in some interesting gales. The first was in Toyohashi, which is a windy city to begin with. The rain that day slashed horizontally, soaking me from shoulders to shoes. I spent the morning with wet pants and squishy socks. My umbrella only kept my bald head dry. The windows to our branch looked more like the glass sides of aquariums without fish. We might as well have been in Nemo's Nautilus. Another time, in Hamamatsu, I left work on a stormy night and found the streets eerily, apocalyptically empty. Traffic lights signaling to no one when to stop or when to go, swaying, unseen shutters banging or awnings flapping loudly. All that natural energy from wind and rain contrasting with the still streets. It felt movie-like, or like a particularly atmospheric first-person video game I'd played where you had to accomplish your mission in a trailer park threatened by a tornado (if I'm remembering correctly).
These days typhoons usually mean I spend an afternoon and night without power. This has happened twice last year, both times typhoons scored bulls-eyes on Shizuoka. I'm predicting it will happen again this year, but with two of us being affected.
When it's Friday and I hear the words "taifun" and "Do-yobi" tossed about, I always do a quick Google weather search to see if a typhoon is coming. There have been 15 typhoons so far this year, with one on its way to Kyushu at this moment. This isn't to say it will affect Hamamatsu, but since it affects school operations if it does, we have to be aware of the possibility.
The students, of course, anticipate typhoon days the way we used to snow or ice days in Georgia. A typhoon coming through Shizuoka prefecture means school closings, either cancelling an afternoon schedule or an entire day's worth. For teachers it means making sure the kids get home quickly and, most importantly, safely. Then we get to go home. As adults, how we manage that is our own look out.
This is different from when I worked at conversation schools. Typhoon days for eikaiwa can mean increased class loads from people who stayed home from work who have lesson tickets to use. Yeah, too dangerous to go to work or proper school, perfect for brushing up on your language skills. At my last conversation school, we had a set schedule every week which didn't change for typhoons, although students had more freedom to cancel and make the day up another time. That's sensible. We teachers still had to get there, although if situations proved dangerous enough we might have been asked to stay home.
That never happened, so I walked or rode my bike in some interesting gales. The first was in Toyohashi, which is a windy city to begin with. The rain that day slashed horizontally, soaking me from shoulders to shoes. I spent the morning with wet pants and squishy socks. My umbrella only kept my bald head dry. The windows to our branch looked more like the glass sides of aquariums without fish. We might as well have been in Nemo's Nautilus. Another time, in Hamamatsu, I left work on a stormy night and found the streets eerily, apocalyptically empty. Traffic lights signaling to no one when to stop or when to go, swaying, unseen shutters banging or awnings flapping loudly. All that natural energy from wind and rain contrasting with the still streets. It felt movie-like, or like a particularly atmospheric first-person video game I'd played where you had to accomplish your mission in a trailer park threatened by a tornado (if I'm remembering correctly).
These days typhoons usually mean I spend an afternoon and night without power. This has happened twice last year, both times typhoons scored bulls-eyes on Shizuoka. I'm predicting it will happen again this year, but with two of us being affected.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
We weathered Typhoon Guchol...
As a veteran of many a conversation school I'm used to working through typhoons. Lumbering along beside my bike at 9pm, the streets largely deserted, winds lashing and rain flowing horizontally, turning my umbrella inside-out, soaking me, ruining my shoes. That's the conversation school way.
Not so with Japanese high schools. The management called all the teachers to the main office and told us to put the kids on the buses and clear out. Girls cheered in the hallways as everyone scrambled to evacuate. There were long lines of students huddled under umbrellas as bus after bus rolled up and loaded them up and shipped them off. I left about a quarter to three, bought some food and something to drink and spent a dark, noisy night at my apartment with no electricity. The medical students in the next building threw themselves an impromptu typhoon party on the landing outside and trees danced and unknown things banged and rattled.
In my old town of Toyohashi over 123,000 people had to evacuate because the river levels surged ahead of the typhoon's approach and from the rainfall. The typhoon came right through here, a mighty guest making its presence known, overturning the household routine. A great big jerk of a guest, unwanted and barely tolerated.
I watched it for a while until it started to bore me. The sky had a dark gray luminosity like the fading glow-in-the-dark hands on a bedside clock but I could see the now useless electrical tower looming over our apartment complex like something out of H.G. Wells's War of the Worlds after the simple cold virus killed all the Martians. I fell asleep at some point only to wake up around 2am to a strange calm. All was quiet. I stumbled to my window and saw stars with ragged clouds just above the building-rimmed horizon.
The power came on around 7am this morning, and everything returned to whatever it is that passes for normal around here. A small tree lost a measure of its height, the leafy broken trunk blocking the small parking lot across from my building. More green leaves, startling against the concrete, choked the gutters along the streets. But once I left the neighborhood and reached the road that runs past the school where I work there were the usual uniformed students hauling ass up and down the hill, threatening pedestrians with injury and death. Just another day!
Not so with Japanese high schools. The management called all the teachers to the main office and told us to put the kids on the buses and clear out. Girls cheered in the hallways as everyone scrambled to evacuate. There were long lines of students huddled under umbrellas as bus after bus rolled up and loaded them up and shipped them off. I left about a quarter to three, bought some food and something to drink and spent a dark, noisy night at my apartment with no electricity. The medical students in the next building threw themselves an impromptu typhoon party on the landing outside and trees danced and unknown things banged and rattled.
In my old town of Toyohashi over 123,000 people had to evacuate because the river levels surged ahead of the typhoon's approach and from the rainfall. The typhoon came right through here, a mighty guest making its presence known, overturning the household routine. A great big jerk of a guest, unwanted and barely tolerated.
I watched it for a while until it started to bore me. The sky had a dark gray luminosity like the fading glow-in-the-dark hands on a bedside clock but I could see the now useless electrical tower looming over our apartment complex like something out of H.G. Wells's War of the Worlds after the simple cold virus killed all the Martians. I fell asleep at some point only to wake up around 2am to a strange calm. All was quiet. I stumbled to my window and saw stars with ragged clouds just above the building-rimmed horizon.
The power came on around 7am this morning, and everything returned to whatever it is that passes for normal around here. A small tree lost a measure of its height, the leafy broken trunk blocking the small parking lot across from my building. More green leaves, startling against the concrete, choked the gutters along the streets. But once I left the neighborhood and reached the road that runs past the school where I work there were the usual uniformed students hauling ass up and down the hill, threatening pedestrians with injury and death. Just another day!
Friday, September 23, 2011
The Hamamatsu Typhoon
Or "taifun," if you prefer. Whatever you call it, however you spell it, Typhoon Roke smashed into my old hometown of Hamamatsu, Shizuoka, on Thursday, September 22. One of my good friends actually had to take his dog out for a poop during the storm. Can you imagine that? He and the dog are safe, but he told me trees were down, some roofs off houses, windows smashed and motorcycles and bicycles scattered.
I lost count of how many typhoons stuck Japan during the nearly six years I lived there. Once, when I lived in Toyohashi, one of my co-workers and I were way out in the sticks teaching at a school branch located in a department store when a typhoon blew through. We didn't know bus service to the train station had been cancelled, so like a couple of goons we stood at the stop for about half an hour before it dawned on us to go to a convenience store and call a cab. We didn't get back to our apartment until after 11:30pm. That was the kind of experience you can laugh about later.
Let me just warn you about one thing-- if you're planning on moving to Japan-- it will rain. And rain. And rain. Japan is a very rainy country. This is fine if you're also from a rainy country. I'm not. Riding a bicycle during rainy season, through the outer feeder bands of a typhoon when solid walls of water blow horizontally below your umbrella. You will more than likely do these things. Sometimes they're even fun. Yes, I miss it.
I lost count of how many typhoons stuck Japan during the nearly six years I lived there. Once, when I lived in Toyohashi, one of my co-workers and I were way out in the sticks teaching at a school branch located in a department store when a typhoon blew through. We didn't know bus service to the train station had been cancelled, so like a couple of goons we stood at the stop for about half an hour before it dawned on us to go to a convenience store and call a cab. We didn't get back to our apartment until after 11:30pm. That was the kind of experience you can laugh about later.
Let me just warn you about one thing-- if you're planning on moving to Japan-- it will rain. And rain. And rain. Japan is a very rainy country. This is fine if you're also from a rainy country. I'm not. Riding a bicycle during rainy season, through the outer feeder bands of a typhoon when solid walls of water blow horizontally below your umbrella. You will more than likely do these things. Sometimes they're even fun. Yes, I miss it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)