Last Tuesday, I was having lunch with my dear friend, Herbert Morais, at La Tasca in Clarendon. It was restaurant week and we had decided to try the Unlimited Tapas menu.
Naturally, you cannot have tapas without some good Spanish wine and we had already consumed two glasses of Campo Viejo when Herbert looks across at me with a gleam in his eye and says: “Shall we have another one?” I tried not to look too eager but signaled that it would be a good idea.
At that self-same moment, the wooden partition that ran along the side of our booth began to tremble and then move back and forth as though somebody was actually shaking it. My first thought was that two glasses of red wine at lunch might be enough. When the shaking of the partition turned into a violent shaking of the whole building, I began to think that I would need that third glass to steady my nerves!
Glasses were now moving across the table and I heard one or two crashing onto the floor behind the bar. I was seated under a winding steel staircase that was beginning to gyrate in an alarming fashion and I half expected it to fall on me. Scenes of destruction from Japan, China and Pakistan flashed through my mind. Some primordial sense of impending doom kicked in. I stood up and said as calmly as possible: “Herbie, I think we should step outside. It’s an EARTHQUAKE!!”
Outside on the sidewalk, other people had arrived at the same conclusion much more quickly than me. Most of the wait staff and kitchen hands were already there. Obviously, their first thought had not been to save the patrons. People from all the surrounding buildings were milling around. Pretty impressive for East Coast folks, I thought. We are not trained to leave buildings as soon as they start jumping around. It takes us Virginians a little longer to work out that all the denture shaking is not just a big truck passing by but the violent movement of tectonic plates under our luncheon tables.
When we went back into the restaurant after about five minutes, the big TV behind the bar was carrying CNN with a banner saying: “5.9 Earthquake Hits Virginia”. Wow, a 5.9 magnitude earthquake was quite respectable. Not exactly the 8.9 that Santiago experienced last year but, hey, we are not even supposed to have earthquakes in Virginia.
After that incident, the Bank thought it advisable to engage consultants to check on the state of the building. I had to review the consultants’ contract and noticed that one of the team members from the consulting firm was a certain Charles Richter. Imagine my delight when I discovered that this was none other than the Dr. Richter of Richter Scale fame.
He looked about 90 years old to me in those days but I later discovered that he was a youthful 77 and still very active in the earthquake business. (He actually lived from 1900 to 1985). I met him in the corridor one day and felt that I had somehow seen an historic figure like Gandhi or Einstein. Well, thanks to Dr. Richter, Wolf Blitzer can now talk about 5.8 or 8.9 magnitude earthquakes on the Richter scale. And I had totally forgotten about even meeting Dr. Richter until our very own Virginian tremblor. Amazing how an earthquake can jog your memory.
It was eerie because it did not happen at all suddenly. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and was accompanied by what sounded like a gigantic sucking sound. This was long before Ross Perot, so I was confused. We clambered out of the wreckage of roof beams and coconut thatching and stood on the beach looking out to sea. The only problem was that the sea had completely disappeared. My brother, a seafarer, had read all about tsunamis and was insistent that we head for the small hill behind us. The locals found us up there many hours later in the middle of the night. They assured us that the sea had come back and that it was safe to return. They probably thought that these two foreigners we were complete wimps. We were!
We survived the Virginia earthquake as well. Except my artist friend, Andy Newman. At home, a large self-portrait of him sits over the fireplace. It had come crashing down on top of a small world globe (see photo). Andy now has a globe-like dent in his canvas but is otherwise unhurt. Some other paintings were askew but no structural or other damage was apparent--unless you are worried by hair-line cracks in the walls.
Regee had been sitting outside on the deck when the earthquake struck. As a native of Manila, she knew exactly what was happening. She was not too bothered and stayed sitting on the deck. They are used to these things in the Philippines. When I mentioned my lunchtime earthquake experience over wine and tapas she seemed quite unimpressed--she had survived plenty of "real earthquakes" in Manila. In fact, she slept through one particularly devastating earthquake (Ruby Towers) in her younger years. Excuse me.
Here in Virginia our last major earthquake was in May, 1897. I was not around for that one. I just hope that this will be the only earthquake I experience in the 21st century. Once a century is quite enough for me!
At that self-same moment, the wooden partition that ran along the side of our booth began to tremble and then move back and forth as though somebody was actually shaking it. My first thought was that two glasses of red wine at lunch might be enough. When the shaking of the partition turned into a violent shaking of the whole building, I began to think that I would need that third glass to steady my nerves!
Glasses were now moving across the table and I heard one or two crashing onto the floor behind the bar. I was seated under a winding steel staircase that was beginning to gyrate in an alarming fashion and I half expected it to fall on me. Scenes of destruction from Japan, China and Pakistan flashed through my mind. Some primordial sense of impending doom kicked in. I stood up and said as calmly as possible: “Herbie, I think we should step outside. It’s an EARTHQUAKE!!”
Outside on the sidewalk, other people had arrived at the same conclusion much more quickly than me. Most of the wait staff and kitchen hands were already there. Obviously, their first thought had not been to save the patrons. People from all the surrounding buildings were milling around. Pretty impressive for East Coast folks, I thought. We are not trained to leave buildings as soon as they start jumping around. It takes us Virginians a little longer to work out that all the denture shaking is not just a big truck passing by but the violent movement of tectonic plates under our luncheon tables.
When we went back into the restaurant after about five minutes, the big TV behind the bar was carrying CNN with a banner saying: “5.9 Earthquake Hits Virginia”. Wow, a 5.9 magnitude earthquake was quite respectable. Not exactly the 8.9 that Santiago experienced last year but, hey, we are not even supposed to have earthquakes in Virginia.
My first experience of an earthquake in the 20th century had been at the Asian Development Bank in Manila back in the seventies. I was working in my office when my chair began to roll across the room and then the whole building began to sway. The Bank building had a central core but its two “wings” were actually suspended from two huge steel hawsers connected to the inside of the core building. The “wings” were literally swinging around like flailing arms. The sensation in the central building was more akin to sea sickness than anything else. People in the Law Library in one of the "wings" were buried under books and shelves but, thank goodness, nobody was hurt.
After that incident, the Bank thought it advisable to engage consultants to check on the state of the building. I had to review the consultants’ contract and noticed that one of the team members from the consulting firm was a certain Charles Richter. Imagine my delight when I discovered that this was none other than the Dr. Richter of Richter Scale fame.
He looked about 90 years old to me in those days but I later discovered that he was a youthful 77 and still very active in the earthquake business. (He actually lived from 1900 to 1985). I met him in the corridor one day and felt that I had somehow seen an historic figure like Gandhi or Einstein. Well, thanks to Dr. Richter, Wolf Blitzer can now talk about 5.8 or 8.9 magnitude earthquakes on the Richter scale. And I had totally forgotten about even meeting Dr. Richter until our very own Virginian tremblor. Amazing how an earthquake can jog your memory.
My second and biggest earthquake was in a small supermarket in Honiara in the Solomon Islands in 1977. There was no gentle introduction to the concept of an earthquake in that case. The supermarket suddenly lurched to the left and a large metal shelf full of canned peas fell on top of me. The Crosse & Blackwell labels on those cans have been permanently burned into my brain. I lay on the floor with my hands over my head. Cans continued to rain down on me and people were screaming and shouting. I can remember thinking how ridiculous it was to be killed by canned peas. The general shaking and produce mayhem went on for almost 50 seconds I later learned. One can of peas kept rolling back and forth and hitting me on the head--I did not think to stop it. I was terrified. The earthquake had been 8.1 on the Richter scale. Thank you, Dr. Richter, for letting me know just how savage that earthquake was.
It was eerie because it did not happen at all suddenly. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and was accompanied by what sounded like a gigantic sucking sound. This was long before Ross Perot, so I was confused. We clambered out of the wreckage of roof beams and coconut thatching and stood on the beach looking out to sea. The only problem was that the sea had completely disappeared. My brother, a seafarer, had read all about tsunamis and was insistent that we head for the small hill behind us. The locals found us up there many hours later in the middle of the night. They assured us that the sea had come back and that it was safe to return. They probably thought that these two foreigners we were complete wimps. We were!
We survived the Virginia earthquake as well. Except my artist friend, Andy Newman. At home, a large self-portrait of him sits over the fireplace. It had come crashing down on top of a small world globe (see photo). Andy now has a globe-like dent in his canvas but is otherwise unhurt. Some other paintings were askew but no structural or other damage was apparent--unless you are worried by hair-line cracks in the walls.
Regee had been sitting outside on the deck when the earthquake struck. As a native of Manila, she knew exactly what was happening. She was not too bothered and stayed sitting on the deck. They are used to these things in the Philippines. When I mentioned my lunchtime earthquake experience over wine and tapas she seemed quite unimpressed--she had survived plenty of "real earthquakes" in Manila. In fact, she slept through one particularly devastating earthquake (Ruby Towers) in her younger years. Excuse me.
Here in Virginia our last major earthquake was in May, 1897. I was not around for that one. I just hope that this will be the only earthquake I experience in the 21st century. Once a century is quite enough for me!
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