Tokyo Sunrise

It is a bitterly cold night, and I have nowhere to go and no means of getting there.

As luck would have it, I stumble into the lower ground floor of the Marunouchi Building to find the Japanese Self-Defence Force handing out rugs and blankets to commuters stranded for the night. There is an orderly queue for blankets, and another orderly queue for the public telephones as the mobile networks are down. The crowd is largely Japanese and well-heeled. No-one shoves or jostles or raises their voice. A few excitable youngsters prance around snapping shots on their smartphones, but the prevailing mood is one of weary resignation. Everyone is unfailingly civil and polite.

I spread a grey rug on the ground, bundle myself in a cream blanket, and snuggle up against what I hope is a load-bearing pillar. There is a display case containing a ¥30,000 handbag above my head, and stores with plate-glass window displays all around – but no vandalism or looting.

I find myself admiring the deeply dignified response to a national calamity.

It is impossible to sleep, of course. A little further down the corridor a television screen flickers with rolling news coverage of the earthquake and footage of the devastation in the north of the country. Every so often, a little alarm would go off, signalling fresh aftershocks in cities I have never heard of.

An elderly lady settles down opposite me. They have run out of blankets, so I offer her mine. She accepts it gratefully, with a hint of embarrassment. Next to her lie an elderly couple, dozing quietly hand in hand. I slip on my jacket and shut my eyes.

At four in the morning, a young man comes round to post a notice. Thinking it might be important, I ask someone to translate, but it only reads: 'Marubiru Hall 7F: Today's Japanese craft exhibition has been postponed owing to yesterday's earthquake.'

The metro starts running again sometime after five. The trains are packed with people trying to get home. I head for the expatriate enclave of Roppongi, and emerge to daybreak over eerily still and quiet streets – a silent sunrise in the land of the rising sun.