Essay Typhoons in Tokyo By Michael Pronko	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
東京の台風 大都市東京にあっても、台風は人々の生活を混乱させる。接近し、吹き荒れ、やがて去っていく台風・・・。人々は無事を祈りながら、落ち着かない思いでその動きを見守る。そして台風が通り過ぎた後は、すっきりと晴れた青空を再び眺めることができるのである。

The American writer Mark Twain once said, "Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it." With typhoons in Tokyo, though, people hardly even talk. They are overwhelmed. Even though Tokyo is one of the largest human-made urban spaces in the world, typhoons overpower the city's life.

I still have the newspaper delivered, so when I reach in to my mailbox and find the paper wrapped in plastic, I know a typhoon, or at least heavy rain, is on the way. Even if you don't read the paper or check the news, you know a typhoon is coming. The world starts to feel damp and wet. People start ending their sentences with phrases like, "depending on the typhoon," or "if we are not washed away." Everyone keeps looking up at the sky.

If the typhoon lasts a couple days or is stronger than expected, it changes the entire mood of the city. A thin layer of humidity covers everything and the pressure and dampness kills any appetite for food or fun. You just have to ride it out and hope for the best.

I have a huge collection of umbrellas, raincoats, special bicycle ponchos and a dozen cans of waterproof spray. These all work against normal rain, but when a typhoon hits, none of the stuff works very well. You get soaked no matter what you do. It's like the typhoon puts the entire city underwater.

The images of typhoons are scary. I am always fascinated at the videos of umbrellas being whipped inside out, waves surging over barriers and water pooling in the streets. When I see those videos, I always think, "Wow, those people are getting soaked down there in southern Japan." Then, when the image clicks to the typhoon tracking map, I think, "Hey, that typhoon is edging up toward me in Tokyo!" A typhoon always makes people feel jittery.

I'm fascinated not just to watch, but also to listen to the typhoon. Typhoons are amazingly loud. As the typhoon gets going, everyone starts speaking louder to be heard over the howling wind and pounding rain. At the peak of the typhoon, I usually have to crank up the volume on my stereo to even hear my music.

And then, when it's over, it is like some sickness or fever has disappeared. It takes me an hour or so to sweep up all the leaves and branches in front of my house. But I don't mind so much. The sky is amazingly clear and the air startlingly fresh. Even though the typhoon totally disrupts life, it leaves the world cleaner and prettier and ready to be looked at, and marveled at, once again.

Shukan ST: OCTOBER 19, 2012

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