Typhoon Food: How Vongfong Went Wrong

Pre-typhoon waves at Isegahama

In honor of the latest “super typhoon” to hit Miyazaki, I’ve written a haiku that perfectly reflects my feelings about these annoying disasters.

Typhoon is coming!

I’m sort of afraid of it!

Oh wait, it’s not bad.

I’ve now been in Miyazaki a little over two months and we’ve already had three typhoons hit our fair prefecture, including the great beast known to people everywhere as “the great Vongfong.” Not to mention, they all happened to hit on three day weekends. Talk about bad luck!

I wasn’t so scared of Vongfong when I heard it was heading our way, since not a single one of my coworkers, students or teachers seemed to think anything of it. I told everyone at school to “take care, typhoon coming” when I left for work that Friday, but otherwise, it seemed like it was going to be a normal weekend. 

Then the calls started coming. My family was worried (Vongfong was on the news! The American news!), my friends were sending me messages, Huffington Post was reporting on it, even my hamster seemed a bit more energetic than usual. 

See how worried she is?

It didn’t help that, like a great stormy bull being goaded by the matador Miyazaki, the typhoon was heading straight for us. That is, according to all the weather maps.

In the span of two days, I went from not being worried about the typhoon at all, to being fairly convinced that Vongfong would be the next Katrina. 

So I decided to prepare for the worst. I abandoned my adorable ground floor apartment (I was certain it would flood) in favor of my friend Julia’s concrete, second floor fortress of an apartment in Hyuga. Hauling all my valuables, my art supplies, my tarot cards, and enough food and water and candles to last three days in the worst circumstances, I was prepared for anything. I even packed a tiny emergency bag for my hamster, just in case I had to evacuate quickly, and didn’t want to lug her whole cage to the evacuation center.

In the last typhoon, I drove to a café in Nobeoka where drank coffee, ate sweets, and relaxed while watching the rain whipping trees around outside. This time, I was hunkering down with military precision.

By Sunday evening, everything seemed set to go. The wind and rain were picking up, but the storm wasn’t supposed to properly hit until Monday. Julia and I decided it would be a great idea to grab some extra emergency food (i.e. delicious baked goods) from the nearby grocery store before we would be stranded in the apartment.

We went out into the rain, not knowing disaster would soon strike.

When we arrived at the grocery store, the rain was pounding the asphalt, and the wind was practically shaking us out of the car. I turned off the engine, counted to three, and we ran as fast as we could to the store entrance. 

A bit wet, but still alive, we wandered the supermarket aisles debating on whether it was best to buy mochi snacks, cake (or both) for our day of typhoon reckoning. 

After paying for our snacks, we walked back outside, bracing ourselves for the buffering that was sure to come.

That was when I noticed something important about my car amidst all the terrible rain and wind, something that turned what should have been a quick excursion into a typhoon shopping disaster from hell.

“Oh! I left my headlights on!” I casually observed aloud as we furiously scrambled through the rain.

“What? Is that a problem?” she yelled back.

“No! It was only a few minutes! It’s fine!”

Ten minutes later, I had realized that it was not fine, and my car’s battery was totally drained. It wouldn’t start and needed a jump.

Which, if I wasn’t in a typhoon, would be mildly annoying. When the wind speed is 44kph and rain is pouring on your head in buckets, it’s downright dangerous.

“WAZUMI SAN! MOSHI MOSHI LAUREN DESU! I’M AT SANO SUPERMARKET AND MY CAR HAS NO POWER AND THE TYPHOON IS HERE AND I’M GOING TO DIE!” I scream into my cell phone.

 I’ve called my amazing supervisor in hopes that he can somehow perform a miracle and keep me from being swept away in a super storm, but I know the chances are slim. I’m now certain death is imminent. 

“Oh! Your car? Okay, wait a moment!” he says, cheery as ever.

Twenty minutes later, Wazumi San and one of the department chiefs of the Kadogawa Town Hall (who is called Kacho) arrive, decked out in rain gear, ready to take action. They hand us two large umbrellas, which take all our strength to hold open, as they pop the hood of my car and connect the bright orange jumper cables to the engine. It's one of the strangest moments of my life so far.

You can see the sheer panic in my eyes.

I asked Wazumi San if he thought that jumping the car in this weather would be safe before beginning the operation. He just said, “There might be a big flash!” and chuckled good naturedly to himself. I found this insane, yet somehow quite comforting.

Kacho yells at me to try the engine, so I jump inside my car. I turn the key and nothing happens. “It’s not working!” I yell into the storm. Kacho, confused, pushes through the wind to the driver’s side, and checks everything out. He says something in Japanese and points to the gearshift. I realize I’ve left the car in gear, which is why it isn’t starting.

“OH MY GOD, I’M A HUGE IDIOT.” I exclaim to no one in particular. Of course, when I switch back to “P,” it starts. Good as new.

I apologize profusely and thank everyone involved, and Julia and I get back on the road. We’re soaked and cracking up over the absurdity of the situation, lamenting our bad, weird luck and looking forward to munching on the amazing snacks we bought on the craziest grocery trip ever. At least we were prepared for the insane typhoon that would supposedly wreck our town on Monday.

The next morning, when the typhoon was supposed to hit, we woke up to this:

I’m never listening to the weather reports again.

(Special thanks to Julia for her amazing photos!)