an unapologetic blog

I have met all the good people there are to meet.

2010-06-22T00:45:00.003+09:00

Five years ago I went to Alaska to work at a Girl Scout camp. At Girl Scout camp counselors give themselves names. I chose the name Tendu. And the best friend I made there chose the name Belly. Belly is from Melbourne, Australia. She has been traveling around the world doing student exchanges and taking occasional time off for the last year and a half or so. She left Montreal to go to Toronto and made it down to Pittsburgh to see me before she headed back up to New York to go home to Australia.

I greeted her at the Greyhound Bus station and she brought her inspirational energy into my and Jocelyn's home.

Other people spent a long time in the kitchen and we ate delicious food outside.

We laughed, climbed, swam, and had moments not wanting to be anywhere else in the world other than exactly where we were.

At one point I stood next to Belly and Brad and was completely amazed that these two people from different parts of my life were meeting. Belly was not so surprised. When we left Alaska we genuinely promised to see each other again. And when Belly was in Pittsburgh she reminded me that she said she would come visit me. Simple as that. I haven't met many people outside of Japan that I feel like I could travel with. But we talked about places we have yet to go to. And she is true to her word.

All the good people are spread across the world. If we were all together it would be much more dull. And I wonder if there are anymore good people out there to meet.

How a day can be spent when you work nights.

2010-05-26T15:19:00.004+09:00

I have an electric kettle and a sink in my room which means leisurely mornings and late nights with tea.

And I have daytimes that are spent doing only pleasurable things.

It will work for summer.

The Neighborhood

2010-04-16T04:35:00.012+09:00

I love this article, titled "The Struggles of the Global Placeless." My favorite line refers to people who "find that their connections can run worldwide but only an inch deep. They may find it easier to ask friends in five countries for a favor than to ask a neighbor for sugar." Somehow I understand these friendships that are spread across the world best.

The Company You Keep

2010-04-05T12:25:00.004+09:00

Most things seem to revolve around the company that one keeps. I could be living anywhere or working anywhere and be tremendously content if I have good company.

“I have three phobias which, could I mute them, would make my life as slick as a sonnet, but as dull as ditch water: I hate to go to bed, I hate to get up, and I hate to be alone.”
Tallulah Bankhead

In Pittsburgh

2010-03-26T13:31:00.002+09:00

I now live in Pittsburgh. Supposedly in Highland Park. But everything about the space I live in says East Liberty (which borders Highland Park).

Pittsburgh is cheap. People here have horrible accents and fashion. There are a lot of drunk people and people in tennis shoes with bags of fast food walking around downtown in the middle of the afternoon. And this winter was really cold. But, I have found my Pittsburgh routine to be a good one. Just under the surface there are some exceptional ways to spend the day. I finally managed to get a bunch of jobs. One here, here, and here. And those few days that felt like spring were fabulous. I even found a $10 bill on the ground one afternoon when I decided to walk instead of take the bus.

Every Wednesday Jocelyn and I go to modern dance at Dance Alloy.

And before we go we do things like eat salads in the kitchen in our leotards.

When I am not going to modern dance I go to Amazing Yoga which is now a donation based studio and my favorite place to be. I promise I am going to stick a big bill in that wooden chest when I finally get paid.

And when you live in Pittsburgh there might be a dumpster in front of your house one day and a kid standing on top of that dumpster.

And I can take a deep breath and put my hands on my hips and say, "I get this weird city I grew up in."

Catching Up

2010-03-20T14:02:00.014+09:00

I stole these ideas from a book that Rachel owns. The book came after the website Learning to Love You More. I feel like these are good ways to catch up on my blogging hiatus. I like these exercises of sorts because I feel like they can be incredibly personal without saying much and without the reader really knowing much.

Photograph a Significant Outfit

This is what I was wearing my second night back in America after 14 months away. Everyone was so drunk and kissing each other. And I realized that being back home was not really going to change things between us.

This is what I was wearing when I fell in love with yoga.

This is what I was wearing when I dressed up as Pippi Longstocking for Halloween. I used pipe cleaners to keep my braids up. I drank keg beer, thought of no one but myself, and had an amazing night.

This is what I was wearing when I found out he has a baby.

This is what I was wearing the last day I had with an ESL student who genuinely seemed sad to say goodbye and the first time I had a boss go out of their way to tell me they would be more than happy to be a reference.

This is what I was wearing at an Americorps job interview in NYC. The man who was interviewing me interrupted me to smell his Subway sandwich for pickles. At that point, I started asking myself if I will ever get the things I feel like I deserve and I have not really stopped asking myself that since. I did not get the job.

Photograph a Scar and Write about it

I got this scar in a car accident when Brad and I were on our way to yoga. We were both already upset and angry about something and I did not really want to go to yoga. I was driving straight and I remember seeing the back of some woman's head as she looked right and made a left turn. I put my hand on the horn and slammed my foot on the break. She turned into me and my foot was smashed against my shoe and the break. No one was really hurt but both of our cars had to be towed away. Immediately after it happened I stopped being angry.

Worth It

2010-03-14T16:36:00.008+09:00

On October 13th, while I was on the train to Celano, I wrote, "there are just so many things I want to take with me that I have learned."

Among many things, I think what I wanted to keep was knowing how generous people can be. We met so many people that gave us their stories, food, places to stay, and advice without expecting anything in return. I want to have such traits and keep those kind of people in my life.

Here are links to the entries about the trip. From Japan to Beijing, Italy to New York City and everything in between:
The Bus Out
Heat in Beijing
Pick Pockets
Border Crossing
Familiar Soviet
The Train
Cats and Cigarettes at Galina's
Creeps'
Four Year Old Birthday Parties
International Hostel
High on a Mountain Top
Milanska
Kitsch and Drama in Slovenia
The Food

The Food 10/12-10/16

2010-03-14T15:29:00.005+09:00

Once we found a hostel in Rome we walked to a restaurant across the street. The waiter insisted that we order wine. At first we felt ripped off. Then we realized that is just the way in Italy. We drank the wine and ate our two pasta dishes. I never knew that pasta can taste fresh. Like eating a fruit that is perfectly in season, the pasta tastes fresh. We then had coffee and tiramisu. It started to pour rain and it felt really good to be so close to the hostel. There were women behind Brad sitting at a red checkered table, playing cards, drinking coffee, beer, and wine. We commented on how the entire restaurant felt like a prop. Saying "grazie, bonjouro, and ciao" felt almost phony. We were afraid Rome would be cheesy and too touristy. But these prop like restaurants, phrases, and people were all real. And it was wonderful.

That was the beginning of eating in Rome. We never looked at prices, we only thought about how amazing the food would be. And we were never let down.

We took a side trip to the town of Celano, where Brad's paternal relatives come from.

We ate more delicious food. Eating that ravioli was like making love.

We met more characters. And through the help of google translator found a place to stay.

We sat through a Tuesday evening mass in an old church to stay warm.

There were wooden confessionals and the ceilings were painted. When the mass ended we wandered into a dress shop. The owner told us it was the oldest dress shop in Celano. I splurged on an Italian dress. In my fantasies, Brad's great-grandmother had bought dresses from the same shop.

Once we had returned to Rome we had big plans for our last meal in Italy. At this point, we were really good at scoping out the atmosphere of restaurants. We decided on one with retro decorations, including a motorcycle. Wine, appetizers, pizza, pasta, and desert. We were there for well over two hours and spent about fifty euros. We had done a good job staying within our $50 per day budget for most of the trip. We gave up in Italy and it was all worth it. We got back to the hostel and did our final pack, a little drunk.

We ate chocolate croissants as the sun was rising the following morning. Then we stood in line at the airport with other Americans for a nonstop flight to New York City. I watched a woman eat a hot dog with too much ketchup while she was on a bus to the gate and I wanted to vomit. Brad talked to an eccentric woman with a puppy who, in American fashion, felt no need to keep any secrets about herself. We were going home to unpack our backpacks. On the plane, I noticed the ownership that one does not feel when they have lived out of a backpack for three months. And then there we were in New York City.

Kitsch and Drama in Slovenia 10/3-10/11

2010-03-14T14:06:00.005+09:00

We took the train from Prague to Salzburg, Austria. Salzburg was full of expensive things and people that were staring at my knee socks and Brad's shorts. It was Sunday and no grocery stores were opened. Luckily, we had some left over food and managed to eat without spending money in an over priced restaurant. We got the train to Slovenia and took a sigh of relief.

We arrived in Bled, Slovenia and sat down with a pizza and red wine. Italy is famous for such delicacies, but Slovenian wine and pizza was, perhaps, even more amazing. We then took a bus to Bohinj to do some hiking in the Julian alps. We walked to the youth hostel and drank two large glasses of red wine. Our hostel was empty and reminded us of The Shining.

The next morning as we started the hike a dog followed us up the mountain. And continued with us for the rest of the walk.

Brad continued to walk ahead of me. The dog seemed to be more concerned if I was keeping up.

We got close to the peak were we had our standard bread, cheese, and tomatoes lunch. The ascend had taken us longer than expected and it was clear we needed to get back.

We arrived at a place where the path diverged at 4:15 p.m. A post said that it would take 2 hours and 50 minutes to reach the bottom of the mountain. That was discouraging to say the least. The dog stayed by our side the entire time and my legs felt like jelly. Brad stayed ahead of me and we held onto the hill side as we descended the steep mountain at dusk. When we finally got to the bottom we both talked about the emergency scenarios we were going over in our heads if the sunlight had beat us. At this point we were starving and tired. But the dog was still with us. I insisted on knocking on strangers doors to find out where she lived. No one knew and everyone looked at me like I was crazy. The dog sat under our table as we ate in a hotel.

Our last day in Bohinj was spent eating pizza, drinking wine, and marveling at our surroundings.

Then it was off to the capital city of Ljublana where we would meet our Slovenia friends from Russia that we made promises of visits to. Gasper and Klavdija were perfect hosts. They are both theater stars in Slovenia. We got to see free shows and we seemed to be perfect guest cast members in the theatrical life that is Gasper and Klavdija. We had a beautiful Sunday road trip on our way to the Italian border. We made stops along the way and learned about Slovenia, a country that is 40% forest, much of that land being untouched to this day.

Our last stop was at the border town of Piran. Gasper and Klavdija continually referred to it as a "kitschy town." It was sunset over the Adriatic sea. We sat down at an outdoor restaurant. Gasper and I indulged in some herbs and my feta stuffed calamari arrived. It was the most delicious meal I have ever eaten, the definition of perfection. We barely made it to the train on time. The weekend ended with appropriate drama. Brad and I jumped on the train bound for Rome and waved goodbye to our hosts.

Milanska 9/25- 10/3

2010-03-12T12:45:00.006+09:00

Originally, Brad and I were going to take the train from Beijing to St. Petersburg and fly to Prague. But why fly when you can travel by land? And the further we traveled the longer we wanted to stay in each place. I finally decided that I would arrive in Prague on September 25th and Brad would meet me there on the 28th. I had first come to Prague in September of 2005 as part of a study abroad program. I stayed with 11 year old Kristyna and her mother, Jitka. I lived with them for four months. They are some of the most loving people I know. I probably gained about 15 pounds while I lived with them. I drank wine and wine and wine. Jitka made plates of meats, cheeses, and savory treats that we would snack on as we watched the first season of VyVoleni or the Czech Big Brother.

Jitka brought food in my room when I studied. We went to the country house, something all Czech people have. Kristyna could speak little English but she became my sister. I loved the bed I slept in in their apartment. I took a bath every night and went to bed early. I lived further out of the city than most people in my program but I began to love public transport. I could sit on the metro and buses without looking up at every stop. I knew the city. When I left Kristyna, Jitka and I cried. I promised I would come see them again. And I cannot believe it took me four years to do so.

I meet them at the train station. Kristyna was holding flowers and Jitka was holding the hand of her new daughter, Karolina. Kristyna was wearing make-up and spoke to me in English. When we got home Jitka opened a bottle of champagne and we toasted to our reunion.

This home was familiar. That night I slept in the bed with Kristyna. For the first time since I had been in America in 2008 I woke up feeling like I was somewhere permanent.
During the trip my anxieties revolved around how I was going to get somewhere and then where I would slept once I got there. Or how long a hike would be and what kind of food I could get where. When I woke up in my Czech home that morning I knew I did not have to worry about any of those things. So for the first time in a while I started to think about a magnitude of other things that come to the surface in familiar places.
That day we went to the country house. Their dog came with us and Jitka's new husband, Peter met us after work.

The first evening we were there Kristyna and I watched Troy. Then we talked about feeling at home in a country that is not your own. We analyzed culture and our feelings in English. I had grown to love Kristyna without really being able to speak to her. But here I was, talking about and analyzing things that I am not sure many people could understand.

When the weekend ended we went back to Prague and Brad met us there. That night Jitka, Peter, Kristyna, Karolina, Brad, and I all slept in the apartment.
During the week Brad and I met up with my academic adviser from when I studied there. We talked to her a lot about being expats over Czech beers. She pointed us in the direction of some interesting art museums and a performance art piece.

We went on walks around my old neighborhood and rode in the elevator.

On the second to last night we drank with Peter. He does not speak English, but him and Brad managed to talk about music while they drank secret liquor on the balcony.

I think it is something about that family not being my own that allows me to love them so much. I came into their lives as a person. The only way they have shaped me has been in a positive sense.

Everyone drove us to the train station on Saturday. And everyone told each other that we loved each other. These were people I did not want to say goodbye to. Sometimes I miss the city of Prague, but mostly I miss Jitka and Kristyna and that familiar apartment.

High on a Mountian Top 9/17- 9/24

2010-03-02T04:39:00.007+09:00

Our tickets home were purchased while I was in Warsaw, Poland. On October 16th we would fly from Rome, Italy to New York City. It was September 17th so I had one month left on the trip. I arrived in Warsaw after an uncomfortable overnight bus all the way from Estonia.
I was alone for the first time on the trip. I walked in the wrong direction for a while when I left the bus stop. The first hostel I got to was full and at the second I was yelled at by some jerk with a sleeve of tattoos. Finally I went to Nathan's Villa where the receptionist was so nice to me. The day got better as I discovered the city. I stopped in a used clothing store for the first time on the trip, things like this make independent travel necessary. It was an end of summer sunny day. I went to the former Jewish Ghetto which is now the largest Jewish Cemetery.

It was another beautiful cemetery day. I wish I had had all day to walk around there.
I got on the train to Krakow on the 18th. I was getting closer to the High Tatras, something I had been looking forward to the entire trip. There was a picture of some people on the High Tatras in the fall in my Eastern Europe Lonely Planet. This photograph made it a must go to destination for me.
I stayed at the Nathan's Villa in Krakow which was basically the biggest party in the city. Days in Krakow were spent in an amazing cafe with vintage furniture and photographs. I could not have dreamed-up a more interesting coffee shop.

Ever since Anne Frank had stolen my heart back in Mongolia the only must-do I had in Krakow was to visit Auschwitz. As expected, it was horribly depressing. Luckily, I meet an older couple who befriended me. The man had a walker and they told me all about their many travels. They were in Poland because they had just always wanted to come there. There son had gone to CMU and they were familiar with the JET program.

When we were about to leave the woman told me I reminded her of her daughter-in-law who, she told me, was a redheaded Quaker.
I was planning to go to the town of Zakopane, at the base of the High Tatras, on the morning of the 22nd. On the afternoon of the 21st I decided I was done with Krakow and in the spirit of independent travel I picked up my bags and got on a bus. When I got off the bus I was so happy to be in the mountains. I hiked the following day for about eight hours and meet various people along the trail. One Polish woman asked who I was hiking with and when I said I was alone she looked me up and down and said, "brave girl."

The hostel I was staying in was closing for the season the following day. I was told about the hostel, Ginger Monkey not too far away in the small town of Zdiar in Slovakia. I took the bus there and it was, by far, the most fantastic hostel I have ever been to. There is not much to do in the town of Zdiar other than hike. Getting to the hostel involves two buses and walking across the Poland/ Slovakia border. Everyone that was staying there were genuinely cool and interesting travelers.

The second day I was there I decided to hike through the mountain pass. As I was beginning my hike I ran into a French girl, Nadine who I persuaded to hike with me. Luckily she agreed. I had no idea how empty and difficult the trail would be. The hike resembled other mind trips. We began talking non-stop and giggling a lot.

The closer we got to the top the more beautiful everything was. We made the occasional comment about how amazing this mountain pass was. It was foggy so we could not see the view that I am sure was spectacular. As we were walking through the fog we came upon a mountain goat. He was huge and so close to us. All three of us stood there and looked at each other.

Nadine then vocalized all the feelings I have about traveling. She said, "I wish everyone I know could be here with me and see what I am seeing." We both agreed that moments like this always have some sort of guilt involved. But then again, "if everyone I knew where here, this would not nearly be as special."
The giggles had stopped long ago and the high we had from climbing down from the top was beginning to wear off. We walked through forest, getting totally lost in our own thoughts. Just as it started to get dark we got off the mountain and managed to get a ride back to the hostel. That evening everyone drank and I met three people from Asheville, North Carolina. This was one of the most exciting things that happened to me the entire time I was traveling.

After a twenty year old Australian boy failed in his determined effort to sleep with me I went to bed, setting an alarm for just three hours later when I would have to wake up to get my bus to get to Prague.
I woke about twenty minutes after my alarm. I put on my backpack, and ran to the bus stop in the early morning dark. I had missed the bus and there was no way I was going to call my host family and tell them I would be late. I was still a little drunk, I was in Slovakia, it was dark, hitchhiking was my only option. But I got to my train and was finally on my way to see Jitka and Kristyna.

International Hostel 9/10- 9/16

2010-03-01T04:17:00.012+09:00

On our last night in Tallin, Estonia we decided that we needed to get sufficiently drunk. We had not really gone out much during the trip. We spent most of our days on our feet and most evenings relaxing.

It was Friday, September 11th and we started the night off with pizza and wine. Then to the bars for very strong Estonian beers.

We spent the night on the dance floor in two of Tallin's gay bars. Brad managed to get hit on enough that got us both free drinks. We left after I got yelled at for taking pictures and Brad broke a glass on the dance floor. The following morning we boarded a bus that would take us to Saaremaa island. We found the most lovely hostel called Karluti, run by a husband and wife duo. During our time on the island we rented bikes and jumped in bodies of water. We ate mushroom soup in a bread bowl at a restaurant that was in a windmill. The soup was delicious and we had pancakes for dessert.

The hostel was new and the owners were so proud of it. The first night we shared the room with a Dutch girl and our hosts boasted that it was a very "international hostel." We used the new kitchen and ate an elaborate meal on the deck. Of the trip I would say it was the most memorable hostel.

The following day Brad and I headed our separate directions with plans to meet again in Prague. I went to Parnu, which boasts on being a spa town. I saw one spa that looked like it had been closed for about ten years. The hostel I stayed in was almost empty and sterile. The only person I met was some older man that kind of followed me to a Mexican restaurant and then wanted to drink a beer. I decided that it was past time to leave Estonia. I made plans to ride buses for about 15 hours so I could get to Poland.

Four Year Old Birthday Parties 8/27- 9/9

2010-02-28T13:03:00.012+09:00

Somehow Brad had distant contacts in Finland so we decided to go there. And in what we learned is the Finnish way, everyone was very hospitable. When we arrived in Helsinki on August 27th things seemed actually Western for the first time. We saw large grocery stores and everyone looked like they shopped at H&M. We took a metro to an urban campsite which was closed when we got there. We set up our tent and slept without sleeping bags that night. It was horribly cold. The following morning we decided not to pay the campsite and jumped in the lake to clean off. We waved at the metro that crossed on a nearby bridge.
It was Friday evening and we meet a friend of a friend of a friend, a woman named Marjo. We took the train with her to her house in the suburb Lahti. Saturday her four year old was having a birthday party. We told her we would be happy to join everyone for this celebration. We brought the small stuffed Tiger that we bought for the four year old and we were eager to see what a Friday night in Lahti would bring. Marjo's husband Sami was at home making dinner when we arrived. They offered us beds in their children's play room and an amazing dinner. Their home was warm and comfortable. After spending a couple weeks with our backpacks on overnight trains and in houses of Russian strangers this house in Lahti felt like coming home. After dinner Marjo and Sami told us we could us the sauna. It is typical to have a sauna in Finnish homes. And after a sauna the tradition is to drink a beer. So after the sauna we sat outside, in towels, drinking a beer and wondering how we were so lucky to meet these amazing people.

The following morning we woke up to a wonderful breakfast and went to the ski museum. We watched people on a ski jump and ate at McDonald's with Sami and his two boys. That afternoon was Verner's fourth birthday party. A couple of kids came over and everyone ate cake. The adults drank coffee and talked about facebook. The birthday party was really nice. There were some small gifts and everyone jumped on the trampoline.

Alex had a cute daughter that was frightened by Brad and me speaking English. But once Alex and I got to talking it was decided that we should go to the bar and sing karaoke. Sami took a nap before we went out. And once we got there I sang ABBA and Britney Spears. Alex sang some amazing opera songs and I had to persuade everyone to leave at 4 a.m. After we ate a pizza I slept through the cab ride back to Sami's. The following morning we had plans to drive to Sami's mothers lakeside cabin. We tried to push through our hangovers and finally got in the car to drive to the town of Kuhominen. We brought a bunch of food that we ate while we looked at the lake and waited for the wood fire sauna to warm up.

We sat in the sauna and jumped in the lake. It was cold for late August and beautiful. We drove back to Lahti that evening and spent one more night in the comfortable suburban home with our hosts.

That Monday, the 31st of August began our days of hitchhiking and camping for free in Finland. We were headed north, to a small town near Vaasa, Finland to meet Riika, Brad's original Finland contact. Sami spent his lunch break driving us to the train station that Monday. We said our goodbyes and told each other that we would all meet again. These conversations happen a lot in travels. And sometimes they are genuine, this was one of those times. We made our way to Tejo National Park which was much smaller than expected. I saw a lot of moose tracks and I was convinced that we would be attacked by moose or bear while we slept in the tent. I also realized I left my favorite t-shirt at Marjo and Sami's.
The following day we hitchhiked to Turku. Once again we encountered Finnish hospitality. The man that picked us up cancelled his plans and drove us all the way to our desired destination. On September 3rd we spent the day trying to get to Pori, Finland. First, some 19 year old nursing students picked us up. They had recently gotten their driver's license and did not take us very far. Then a man who fixed air conditioners picked us up. He said he occasionally picks up hitchhikers because he travels a lot for his job and that the hitchhikers are mostly foreigners. He dropped us off in the middle of the countryside. We were eating chocolate when some woman with a lot of eye glasses on her dashboard picked us up and told us she would take us to a better spot to get a ride. Finally, some young people picked us up who were going to Pori. They smoked a lot of cigarettes and talked about Finnish music. It had taken us all day to get 120 km, but it was a fun day. We set our tent up behind the train station and went to a bar that ended up being really cool. There was a jazz band and good beer.

We arrived at Riika's on Friday, September 4th. When we got there I had a package, it was my favorite t-shirt that Sami had mailed to me. We spent the weekend with Riika, her husband, their baby, and his parents. They took us to a Finnish food festival, we spent more time in the sauna and played frisbee in their backyard.

We left Finland after we had eaten far too much and found an incredibly cheap ferry ticket to Stockholm, Sweden. Our time in Sweden was uneventful. One night while we were in a bar I said, "I want to meet more people." Brad was relieved. We decided we would spend our time in Estonia together and split up after that. I was starting to feel a little homesick for Ikeda and had anxiety about returning to my parents house. Brad kept talking about Pennsylvania in the fall and his Pittsburgh friends. But I was happy to have slept in so many nice beds and to have those green knitted socks that were a gift from Riika's mother-in-law.

Creeps' 8/25-8/27

2010-02-26T15:35:00.008+09:00

We took an overnight train from Moscow to St.Petersburg. I had arranged to stay with a couchsurfer in St. Petersburg. We thought it would be a nice way to see the city, avoid the inevitable young drunks you get at a hostel and to stay on budget. Our host was Alexander. He thought he had to work the day we arrived. We were relieved to hear this as all we really wanted to do was relax since we had not really slept on the train. We asked if we could set up the bed and when he got a phone call informing him that he did not have to go into work until the afternoon he decided to pull out his bed and take a nap as well. Both beds were in the living room. So at about 10 a.m. we all took a nap.

Brad and I began to call Alexander "Creeps." He continued to live up to this name. That afternoon we bought a tent and decided that couchsurfing sometimes gets weird. Our one full day in St.Petersburg was spent at the Hermitage and then I went to see Swan Lake. We took Alexander to eat at Subway for the first time. And I think he was excited to just walk around the city with some "real-life Americans" (as he referred to us).

We tried to do laundry before we left, but we found out that our host did not actually know how to work his washing machine and I think it was broken anyway. We spent a moment wondering how he washes his clothes and then I was more concerned by the fact that all my light colors had taken on weird shades of green and blue.

Cats and Cigarettes at Galina's 8/20- 8/24

2010-02-26T12:35:00.005+09:00

While we were in Irkutsk I made reservations at Galina's home stay in Moscow. It was listed as the cheapest place in Moscow and we were enjoying our homestays in Russia, so it was perfect. We arrived early and Galina was sitting in her kitchen with a cigarette in hand. This position looked natural for Galina. Her cats climbed on and off the furniture and we found some beds in her spare bedroom.

Galina showed us how the locks worked and her husband Sergey stood by her silently.

We checked into our rooms the same time as Asmara, an independent French traveler. Asmara was studying Polish which is fairly similar to Russian. She loved maps and was well prepared for Moscow. Brad and I were in luck.

I attempted to enjoy the city our first day there. But, my fever pushed me back in bed. Two older British men were sharing our room as well. I disregarded them as I walked back and forth from the bathroom to throw-up in only a t-shirt. That night Brad came back at 6:30 a.m. I was feeling resentful that I had been in bed with fever dreams. The following day Asmara and I left Galina's with maps and guide books and headed towards the State Tretyakov Gallery and then the Novodevicky Convent. We walked through a cemetery to get to the convent and the sun was out. It was a beautiful day.

Asmara and I talked about how we would like to have a picnic in a cemetery. We payed a fee to get into the convent which allowed us to enter the various churches and galleries and sit on a bench, enjoying late afternoon sun. Asmara and I talked about religion. Not believing in things and believing in other things. All the religious icons we saw that day were so spectacular. I was glad not everyone was Quaker because then no one would make beautiful iconography like that. We left to get wine for the evening and Asmara told me she "had a really nice day." At that moment it was one of the most lovely things anyone had ever said to me.

The Train 8/17- 8/20

2010-02-26T12:07:00.004+09:00

On the 17th of August, at 2:30 a.m. we boarded a train, prepared to live on it for the next four days. It was on the train that my reoccurring nightmare began. I kept dreaming that I had to go back to Japan. That I was not making a one-way journey. I would wake up relieved.
Everything that could have happened on the train happened before 5 p.m. on the first day. Some Russia people offered us their pickled vegetables and potatoes. We drank vodka with them as an old sailor played the accordion. Two women spoke English and translated questions. The English speakers were teachers and we talked about the Russian education system pre and post communism. As we were singing and dancing to the accordion music the Russian police walked through our train car and tried to tell us that our documents were not legitimate. Our new friends asked these corrupt police officers to please "not do international scandal." They left us alone and we went on eating and drinking.

Our days consisted of when we were going to get hot water for our cup of noodles. And what block of cheese we would cut to put on the bread. I bought a blanket for $20 one day. These four days of Siberian scenery kept our budget where we hoped it to be. When I got off the train in Moscow I had a fever and wanted to spend the entire day in the shower. That evening when I laid on the bed it felt strange not to gently rock back and forth.

Familiar Soviet 8/12- 8/17

2010-02-26T05:54:00.009+09:00

We arrived in Irkutsk, Russia on August 12th. All of a sudden the people looked a little more like me. The architecture was Soviet, reminding me of Prague and it felt familiar. I heard someone ask for "syr" at a store and from my Czech language days I knew they were talking about cheese. Brad and I were out of Asia and it felt good. We left the train station and began to look for a hostel. Our Trans-Siberian guide book had some hostel and homestay suggestions and tips on how to find them. In Russia, backpacking is still a fairly new concept so these budget style accommodations are not well marked. We found the addresses of a few hostels and searched for a buzzer on the building where they were supposed to be, but none of them seemed to actually exist. There was one homestay that was described as having a tall gate and a beware of dog sign. When we got there a beautiful Russian woman came downstairs with a English translator on the phone. She could host us for a night and we were thrilled because her home was intimate, clean, and comfortable.

We had to leave early the next morning because she was having other guests. But she made us a delicious 7 a.m. breakfast.

While we were in Mongolia we had meet a pair of neurotic British girls that were doing the trip in the opposite direction as we were. We asked them about Lake Baikal and Irkutsk. They told us that they and taken a bus ride to Oklhon island. They described it as a "hippy island" and told us that it was not exactly their "scene." We decided we should go there. Oklhon Island lays in the middle of Lake Baikal and is about a six hour bus ride from Irkutsk. The population on the island is less than 1,500 and not until 2005 did the full island receive electricity.

It was cold and rainy when we got to Oklhon island. The story is that if you put your hand in Lake Baikal one year is added to your life, and if you jump in, twenty five years. We stuck our hands in.

We stayed in another homestay, Nikitas. Once a small homestay it now has 40 beds, making it the largest place to stay on the island. The owner of the house had craved all the amazing woodwork. And his wife offered me a bucket of water so I could clean my muddy boots off.

One evening, with beers in hand, we found ourselves sitting in the precisely carved chairs across from some Slovenian travelers and their wine. I got out my Eastern Europe Lonely Planet and I learned where Slovenia was and all that it seemed to offer. We told these other travelers that we probably would come there and that they would be hearing from us in a couple months.

Border Crossing 8/11- 8/12

2010-02-24T07:59:00.009+09:00

On the morning of August 12th Brad woke me up, letting me know he saw Lake Baikal and it was probably about time to get off the train.

The previous morning we thought we would have our own train cabin on the ride from Ulan Batur to Irkutsk, Russia. We were the only people in our four person cabin as we rode through Mongolia. The windows did not open and the conductors continued to close our cabin door. After we played a few rounds of cards it was obvious that if we stayed perfectly still we would be less hot. And as we laid there I thought it was only fair that I too remove my shirt. In fear that we would suffocate I got out my fan. As I lay on one side of the cabin, Brad in the other, both of us shirtless and me waving a fan, a Mongolian passenger opened the door, visibly annoyed that we were occupying the entire cabin. I put my shirt on and the male and female Mongolian pair brought all their luggage into the cabin.

Our cabin mates did not speak English, but we slowly learned much about them. Upon first glance they seemed to be mother and son. The closer we got to the border the more stuff this pair pulled out, primarily clothes. They began stuffing these clothes into the clothes they were already wearing. The woman was putting socks down her pants. And the boy small pants under his own. We were sharing the cabin with smugglers. As we walked around the train car it was clear that every Mongolian person on the train was a smuggler. The mother and son pair put a leather jacket on our side of the cabin, to make it appear to be ours. As we got closer the duo filled out customs forms. And once that was all finished they could only wait and relax. The boy then put his feet on the woman's lap and she began stroking them. It was then clear that it was not a mother and son pair.
We had been warned about Russian customs officers. But, at this point, I was far more nervous for the smugglers than our legitimate documents. Somehow our cabin mates and the rest of the smugglers on the train were let past border patrol. We then all had to get off the train and wait while train cars were changed before we entered Russia.

Pick Pockets 8/4- 8/11

2010-02-23T05:58:00.011+09:00

The following morning we ate our last meal at Mr. Lee's, a Chinese fast food restaurant. It was August 4th and our across the globe train journey was beginning. We boarded the train for a thirty hour ride to Mongolia's capital city, Ulan Bator.

Our train ride to Mongolia was beautiful and pleasant. We shared a four person berth with just one other Mongolian woman. She was composed, quiet and sweet. She reminded me of a Japanese woman. She told us that Russia was dangerous and Ulan Batuar was even more so. She was married to a Korean man and they were living in China. She was speaking Korean on the phone to him and English to us. She spoke Mongolian to the train conductor and studied Chinese in college. We ate in the restaurant car separately and drank instant coffee in the berth together. When I finished Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake I gave the book to the Mongolian woman, she read it faster than I.

We crossed the border at Erlian China and arrived in Mongolia in the middle of the night. The following morning Brad and I stuck our heads out the window with the other Western tourists and admired the open fields that are rare in the parts of Asia we had traveled.

The train was relaxing. Everyone ate and slept. I read and wrote in my journal while Brad listened to music and put his fleece on as it slowly got cooler. It made Beijing feel even more hot and crowded. I thought about how I never wanted to live in a city. And, as I expected, my fond memories of Ikeda were beginning.
When we got off the train in Ulan Batur my first impression was that it was incredibly shady. It seemed to be where the East and West were colliding. In my experience, people in Asia do not take things that do not belong to them with as much aggression as people do in the West. But, in Ulan Batur people were ready to use scams, weapons, or any other method that could get them the things they wanted. Our hostel had a sign that suggested people do not to go out after midnight. And most establishments warned people about pickpockets. A little after sunset Brad and I were walking back to the hostel as a man attempted to stick his hand in my purse. Brad noticed and he pulled it away without any other care. Moments later a group of kids threw rocks at us.

We quickly took an opportunity to go to Terelj National Park, about 37 kilometers from Ulan Batur, to stay in a yurt with a Mongolian family. When we arrived it was rainy. Everyone was escorted into different yurts. Brad and I were the last two and we got to hang out in the family yurt. When we walked in the teenage kids turned off the television and straightened up the living room. We told them the television was fine. Then we laid down on some blankets and watched American movies that were dubbed in Mongolian.

The inside of the yurt was like living in an elegant tent.

When the rain cleared up we went on a short hike and rode horses. That evening we hung out with the cute Mongolian baby who lived in the cluster of yurts we were staying in.

The following morning when a van came to pick up those who wanted to leave, Brad and I made the easy decision to ride back to Ulan Batur.

The rest of our time in Ulan Batur was spent wearing money belts and wondering around the city. We returned to the same French cafe consecutive mornings. It was August 8th and I was sitting in that cafe around noon with Brad. He was studying Cyrillic and I was reading The Diary of Anne Frank. I wanted to finish that book quickly because it made me feel like a twelve year old as I was reading it. But, it can capture anyones heart. I could not keep my eyes off the pages of the book and Brad told me he was getting Cyrillic. As I sat there in that coffee shop my backpack and everything that matter was in a hostel dorm room and I thought about how I wanted my life to resemble this. Saturdays at noon in a familiar coffee shop with a partner. But, as I write this, in a familiar coffee shop in Pittsburgh across from Brad, I want nothing more than to have a trip to look forward too. On the 11th we got a train to Russia. A Russian visa is not easy to acquire. And we were excited to use ours.

Heat in Beijing 8/01- 8/04

2010-01-31T13:50:00.016+09:00

Japan was just as hot as China in August. But the smog, trash, and street life made Beijing feel like the hottest place on earth. Brad and I stayed at the Far East Hostel in Beijing. Which was just a short walk from Tiananmen Square.

On the evening of our first full day in Beijing we made the long walk to the rail station. We walked there as the sun was setting and it was concluded that in Beijing private life and public life exists in the same space. Not far from China is Japan where people eat in separate rooms in a restaurant. But, in Beijing, we saw women washing clothes in front of their homes and a man fondling a woman at dusk in a public park.
Once we got to the rail station we weaved in and out of the people sleeping on cardboard boxes and diverted our eyes from the old woman who pulled her shirt up to her chin to fan herself. After an outdoor beer it only felt right if one of us walked home shirtless. And that night we slept on a bed with the air conditioning on high.

Fate timed everything perfectly the following day when we got on the same late bus to the Simatai section of the Great Wall as those French sisters. I sipped a coke and waved a fan, in attempts to fight off inevitable motion sickness that would find me in the back of that Chinese bus. We were then ushered off the bus and into a van with two blonde girls from France. The older of the sisters begin to negotiate the price in Chinese. The driver's voice raised as the French's girls did. She told us that there were no more buses back to Beijing. Brad and I had train tickets to Mongolia for early the following morning. After yelling and finger wagging a price was negotiated that would get us to see the Great Wall and a ride home that evening.

After the French girls yelled and screamed in Chinese they ran up the stairs of the Great Wall to beat the sunset. Brad and I found level ground. I admired the view and hemp leaves next to the wall.

The frantic Chinese driver called the French girl's phone and we had to run back down the stairs to catch the driver before he went back to Beijing as he had picked up more passengers.

On the way back we veered in and out of dogs and bricks in the road. The driver stopped to get a sausage. Of all the truck beds and minivans I have ridden in in Asia this ride back to Beijing was the most horrifying of my life. The driver seemed to have a death wish on everyone in that car. But, we made it. We saw the Great Wall, there were no crowds, and I got some good pictures and being there was just really nice.

The Bus Out 8/01/09

2010-01-31T12:44:00.010+09:00

My last evening in Japan was spent with Brad's wonderful Japanese teacher, Mirori Sensei at Cafe Bubo in Naruto. She corrected the way I held my chopsticks. I had held them incorrectly for two years. Then we went back to Sarah's apartment where I shoved that Care Bear I won in Tokyo into my last box to America and I figured out how to use my new fancy camera.

That was six months ago. It was really hot and I had a lot of money. Tonight my back is up against the radiator and I have exactly four dollars in my wallet for bus fare for Monday. The last moments I spent in Japan were perfect. I went out to lunch wearing a tank top and tight shorts. Women commented on my summer attire I understood this subtlety. I had just stopped caring.

Brad and I set a $50 per day budget for our trip and a goal that after we left the Beijing airport we would not arrive at another airport until we left for America, whenever that may be. We had a plane ticket to Beijing and from there a train ticket to Mongolia. We had an approximate date we would arrive in Prague to see my host family. And a lot of stuff we wanted to do and learn as we traveled across the world.

Brad's supervisor was one of the many people at the bus stop to see us off. She brought the new Naruto English teacher's. They looked confused, bored, and hot. We waved to them from the bus that was taking us to the airport and I was thrilled to know I would never feel the way those new people were feeling again.

kiotskete ne

2009-07-27T17:39:00.003+09:00

My internet will be turned off tomorrow so I suppose I should take this moment to write one last blog while in Japan. But I am really tired from crying at work and having the craziest karaoke time ever last night. I woke up this morning feeling like I had been beaten up. That is how crazy the karaoke got.

It is strange saying goodbye to things and people that I know I will probably never see again. People that I am sure I will not even have a chance meeting with because they will just go on doing their thing over here in Asia while I will be millions of miles away. It is stressful to have my work basically dictate everything about leaving this country at this point. But, I do feel incredibly lucky to have worked with some of the people I did. Especially the woman I worked with at the Junior High School for these last two years. She is an amazing teacher and I know that if I had had her as a foreign language teacher while I was in Junior High School I would have felt much more enthusiastic about that subject.

At least I do know I will be going out on a high note among the English teacher community in Tokushima. In some superlatives I walked away with best dancer, best dressed, and best personality. I think superlatives are a little dumb and I did not vote for anything. But, I will be real, when I heard about my big wins I basically thought that high school can suck and then I felt good about myself.

And saying goodbye to my foreigner friends is just really really sad because there are a couple of them that I just really like. I know I will see the important ones again. But, we will probably never get naked in a bath together again or casually eat dinner while sitting under the kotatsu.

And these are some of the most genuinely kind people I have met.

What I Have versus What I Do Not Have

2009-07-23T00:52:00.003+09:00

I have a lot of things I need to do. I do not have much time to do them. I need to be out of my apartment on July 28th. At which time I will no longer have a place to live. I do have a one way ticket to Beijing and a train ticket to Mongolia. Soon I will not have a job or health insurance. But, I did have the chance to do this:

Which was important because it was really fun.

Meditating on the Good

2009-07-17T23:54:00.012+09:00

This past week has been full of goodbye ceremonies. From Tuesday- Friday I went to a different school and was involved in some sort of ceremony. The most fun was certainly at Kawasaki Elementary School. There are only 10 students at that school and they did two dances and we ate homemade cake. Everything about that afternoon was just about perfect.
On Thursday, Hakuchi Elementary School held a farewell ceremony for both myself and another Japanese English Teacher. The students and teachers at Hakuchi have been wonderful these past two years. I wrote a speech in English and a Japanese friend kindly helped me translate it. I said it first in English and then in Japanese.
Both Julia and Brad have inspired me to write my farewell speech on my blog. I will write it in English only because, honestly, it is when I read the English words that I began cry and felt sincerely moved. I could have written so many things to this school but I kept it simple do to the fact that I had to read the Japanese and I wanted some people to understand the English.

Hakuchi Elementary School,
The first time I came here I was nervous. I remember meeting Morimoto Sensei and she said I looked very young. I was worried I could not be your English teacher. But everyone was very nice. Soon I felt welcomed.
When I came to Japan I thought I might be lonely because I was far away from home. I lived alone for the first time and I did not know anyone in Ikeda.
Because all of you always chatted with me, I felt comfortable and happy at school. I was not lonely.
Sometimes Japanese people seem to be nervous when they talk with foreigners. The teachers and students at Hakuchi Elementary School were not nervous. All the students talked to me. Now, everyone at this school can speak English to foreigners. All of the teachers can easily have conversations in English. And that made me feel very welcomed here.
Thursday became my favorite day of the week. Thank you very much for welcoming me into your community. I will remember you forever. I will miss Hakuchi Elementary School very much.
____________________________________________________________________

On my last Thursday at Hakuchi, students continued to hand me origami and personal notes. Girls told me again and again (in English) that they loved me. And unlike most people in this culture the students at this school give and get hugs. While I understood the significance of the ten year old who deeply bowed to me at other schools, the hugs I received at Hakuchi felt really good. The teachers also find it endearing that these students love hugs.
At the end of the day I ate cake with the teachers in the staff room. I said a few more words and the principle and two of my favorite teachers walked me to my car. After I put everything in my car I gave them each a hug. I drove off, feeling overwhelming sad that I may never see them again

On Friday, I asked the Japanese English teacher at the Jr. High to call my supervisor to tell her that I will have no where to stay once the new English teacher moves into my apartment. The only thing that was resolved from that call was that she can not help me close my bank account.

I went to a final work party last night. I thought I was going to walk out of there and feel more accomplished than I felt when I graduated from college. Instead, I spent time at the party talking about the many things that I need help with in my last few weeks here. My supervisor is refusing to speak with me directly because she finds it to hard to communicate with foreigners and others talk about how busy they are. Luckily, I have slowly found resources.

Feeling like I am putting others at such an inconvenience is defeating to say the least. One of the many things I have learned in the last two years is that Japan can be a xenophobic country. I have been refused at restaurants, told I am 'thin for an American', and had $200 taken from my wallet because people did not want to ask me for it directly.

But, for now, in these last two trying weeks, I am really attempting to meditate on the good things that have happened in the last two years. Because there have been plenty. The grandmother of a special needs student at one of my schools engraved my initials on a wallet. I have never met this woman but when I received this gift I thought that some of these students might genuinely remember me as a good teacher.

Tanabata

2009-07-07T21:53:00.002+09:00

This Tanabata I wished for an interesting and healthy future. Tanabata is up there in my top favorite holidays. Having the chance to legitimately make a wish is an incredibly hopeful feeling.

Naoshima's Bartender

2009-07-02T21:41:00.004+09:00

I have been whining about returning to Naoshima for well over a year now. This past Sunday, Leah and I finally made it. The weather was beautiful and the only thing that went wrong was that no one brought sunscreen.

We took the ferry and rented bicycles.

We biked to the big pumpkin and took some pictures.

We went to the same museum I went to last time I was there. But this time the sun was out. So we went outside and took more pictures.

Then things began to take turns for the worst. People were hot, sunburned, biking up and down hills looking for some other exhibition, and no one had eaten lunch. We decided on the second cafe we found and agreed that just having a beer was going to be amazing. Leah started to fantasize about Hoegaarden. I told her to stop because we were probably going to have to drink Asahi. But, after walking our bikes up a narrow path we took our seats, looked at the drink menu, and there it was, Hoegaarden.

We introduced the concept of putting a lemon in Hoegaarden to the cafe owner/ bartender. He drank one with us and we ordered another. He then let us sample the other brews he had along with the local sake.

Three hours later we finally left and laid in the grass to take more pictures. We only made it to one of the houses in the James Turrell Art House Project. Once we finally figured out where to go it was the last show in an exhibition about light. We got to go in for free. It was completely dark so Leah and I held hands. And after about ten minutes of complete blackness light gradually entered the room, giving us a perception of the space we had been sitting in.

We caught the ferry back and decided the sunburns were well worth it.

What Perfect Smells Like

2009-06-27T13:31:00.002+09:00

Sweaty, drunk, summer nights.

Fresh flowers in my kitchen.

Nothing is on Time

2009-06-23T19:50:00.003+09:00

When nothing is coming when it is supposed to, it is hard to keep track of all the things you could do while you are waiting.

For example, still waiting for my passport with a Russian Visa inside.

My rental car oil light was on this weekend. Instead of paying attention to that I drove it to the beach and back on a rainy Saturday. I played in the waves and sat on the sand till my lips turned blue because it is hard to stay warm in the rain on a cloudy beach.
Then my car broke down on the highway Monday morning. When I finally got to work I cried in the staffroom and a co-worker I have never really talked to offered me his onigiri. I refused it.

The distance between places that have become home and places I have never seen is growing shorter.

My life being reduced to pop-culture

2009-06-16T19:04:00.010+09:00

Most mornings I wake up and put on colors that do not match because I cannot understand the concept of anything working in an uniform fashion. And somehow I have lived in JAPAN for almost two years.

In my sixth grade language arts classroom there was a sign that read something like "Never start a sentence with and, but, or because." I knew that was wrong. And I make it a point to always include one of those three words in the beginning of a sentence in something I write. I even ended up majoring in English in college; where those three words were encouraged (in the beginning of sentences) by brilliant professors of English. Though I know I have only begun my journey in mastering the English Language.

One of the few times I attended a full day of school my senior year of high school was Senior Skip Day. Just because I thought it was really dumb that everyone needed a scheduled day to play hooky to enjoy the sunshine.

I felt like the bumblebee girl in Blind Melon's No Rain video when I found Guilford Quaker College where boys demanded the right to wear skirts while they were giving campus tours.

After I graduated I spent a year working at an elementary school in North Carolina where I was the only 20- something neither married nor engaged.
That was hard.

Summer in Japan makes me feel crazy because everyone wears socks despite the warm weather. Even women in their twenties wear pantyhoes with their skirts at work.

I had to drive forty minutes out of town today because I needed a moment of anonymity. And when I got home I danced around my apartment because I am from America. Because America is a place where people eat outside, walk around barefoot, and dislike uniforms. But, I do love Japan. I love Japan because I have built relationships with second graders that have resulted in them sticking up for me when first graders question the presence of a foreigner on their playground. And I have gained the trust of co-teachers that call me to give me a lesson plan at 7:30 in the morning before they even call the school to say that they will not be in. And those two things are only the beginning in a list of reasons why this country will keep a piece of my heart.

Last year at this time I was going crazy and relating to a specific scene of the television show Weeds. This year I can taste freedom and I still relate to that same television series:

God only knows what I would have done had I not met people that refused to eat the weird meat at school lunch, mastered Japanese despite never having slept with a Japanese person, or been honest (in a mature fashion) about their sexual orientation while managing to be the town's favorite ALT.

And I will be able to tell everyone in this delicious and beautifully clean country that my only plan is to give up on making plans as I leave. And that certainly confuses and blows the minds of this organized culture.

A shortness in breath (and time).

2009-06-14T21:56:00.001+09:00

A Final in Having Visitors

2009-06-14T00:36:00.005+09:00

My parents have come and gone.
They arrived on a Thursday night from The States and left on a Tuesday afternoon for Thailand. I made reservations, I bought bus tickets and I led them through the doors of my life. Everyone got along and the only ailment was my mother's carsickness.
Everything went smoothly- god bless.
I met them at the airport and we took the train to Osaka. I could not figure out what train to transfer to and my father wanted to look at the directions. I figured it out and the following day my parents were at my mercy as I got us to Kyoto and Kiyomizudera temple.

I made reservations at a fancy Japanese Ryokan. My parents found it to be the highlight of the trip. The room was beautiful and I understood what people in their sixties want to do when they have just traveled thousands of miles from home.

We were served dinner in our room and the multiple course meal was the most fabulous Japanese culinary experience.

We went to the Kyoto botanical gardens. And, perhaps, most importantly, my parents really understood karaoke.

After a bus ride and car ride we arrived in Ikeda. We went up the mountains where my mom got car sick and my father looked genuinely pleased to be outside on the Iya Valley vine bridge.

I took them to my favorite elementary school where the students and teachers showed my parents the same hospitality they have showed the other visitors in my life. Gifts were exchanged. My mother gave a book that her school had made. My parents were given fans.

Everyone got to the bus stop on time. And I took the last and deepest visitor breath.

I Would

2009-06-04T00:51:00.004+09:00

I would move to the countryside and find a ballet school that puts on the ballet Sleeping Beauty in a junior high school gymnasium.

Last Sunday I wore a tutu, a lot of make-up, and a crown.

I took stage directions in Japanese at the dress rehearsal on Saturday night and Sunday morning. I did not understand any of them.
My costume had to be sewn up in the back when my Western Style curves busted through. This was after a woman pretended to squeeze my breast.

The costumes and make-up were more involved than anything I have ever been a part of before.

My ballet teacher was in the ballet and when she dances I am convinced she is one of the most beautiful women on earth.

And now I would be perfectly happy never hearing the music to Sleeping Beauty again.

Talking about her TV

2009-06-02T01:51:00.002+09:00

Discussing the important things.

"You shouldn't let poets lie to you."

More Friday Nights

2009-06-02T01:33:00.003+09:00

To keep calm and sane.
Somen.
Salad.
Wine.
Champagne.
Pie.

And the company that binds the comfort.

Trusty Toyota: What a Waste

2009-05-26T23:39:00.005+09:00

The phrase 'mottainai' is a common Japanese phrase used to describe wasteful situations. I often hear it when school lunch goes unfinished. Or, perhaps, when shoes are thrown out because they were found on the back porch upon moving in.
A friend of mine moved to a different apartment, discarding old spices (that had probably been in the kitchen for years). His garbage bags of seemingly useful condiments did not go unnoticed and he said he heard a series of "mottainai" in his move.
I sort my garbage into six different types. This is a fairly common number. And to throw out any large appliance one must pay a fee. Japan claims that this is because they are eco with a "mottainai" mantra.
BUT I have to pay $1200 to KEEP an old car that is running perfectly.

Every two years Japanese cars must have a sort of inspection to renew the shaken. My shaken ended May 13th. When I went to the repair shop to get my shaken renewed I was laughed at and told my car should be scrap. Everyone thought it ridiculous to spend that amount of money on that car. Especially because it has a dent in it.
Shaken simply exists to keep old cars like mine off the road in Japan.

It is hard to justify spending $12oo on a car when I will be leaving in two months and cannot find anyone who wants to buy it from me. And when I realized I would have to pay a $370 car tax and renew my expensive car insurance to keep my car I gave in and decided to scrap it.
Hopefully Japanese society is happy now that I got rid of a perfectly good car that has (in my opinion) aged gracefully.
Sending this car to the junkyard is the most wasteful thing I have ever been a part of. But I was not willing to give up $1800 to prevent this waste.

Japan is priding itself on not committing the "mottainai" crime as everyone drives around in new cars and refuses to waste rice from school lunch but will walk away from sashimi at a work party.
So I gave over my car keys today and some man with bad teeth in dirty mechanic's clothes will come pick it up tomorrow.

A lot of kilometers where put on that car. By some people that I never even met. I put about 40,000 of those kilometers on it. I drove myself to work almost everyday. Happy to not have to rely on someone else to get me there when I have to rely on other people to help me with virtually everything else I do. I spent Monday mornings driving across Tokushima, after spending Sunday nights eating relaxing dinners in the company of a friend. I drove about an hour from home on solo thrift store trips when loneliness was heavy and used clothing was as familiar as anything could get. I drove over mountains on Thursday nights to spend the evening with a family member and sleep in a bed.

One of the first seemingly adventurous trips I took in the Toyota one was up the narrow, gravel road to Hashikura temple.

The last was a trip around Kyushu.

When the Sunday of my 25th birthday weekend came my car had gone west to have thanksgiving with family, east to do karaoke with friends, west (again) to give a speech about Obama, back (a little east) to dance with smoke machines at a club, east to give Christmas gifts to orphans and finally back a little west toward home. With the end of that weekend my car was scattered with empty champagne bottles, birthday gifts from friends, birthday cards from students, wrapping paper, and probably some weird food.
Countless other adventures were had in that car. Some of which are so precious they will only exist in my handwritten journals. Some of which are just weird and I would not want to write about them on the internet.

Thus is the beginning of a series of memories that will be associated with Japan, more specifically Shikoku.

RIP Toyota Tercel

1993-2009

And what a waste.

How I come to school

2009-05-21T00:31:00.003+09:00

Last March the junior high school I spent almost 20 months driving to closed. The building was not up to any current building codes (though I do not think too many buildings around here are). Somehow no natural light made it into any of the rooms and the staffroom either smelled of kerosene or was unbearably hot.

I now have to actually be at work at 8 a.m. which is both unfortunate and difficult. But the new school is close enough to walk to. Spending the first 10 minutes of my day walking to work as opposed to driving improves everything about the very beginning of my day.

I listen for my neighbor to leave, wait a moment, and enjoy 10 minutes of solitude, in the sunshine, on my feet.

I walk past the weird old liquor store. Up the hill, staying to the left of a temple. I watch the elementary school children, who clearly do not want to go to school, pick up rocks or take a long pause while they drink from the water bottle that hangs around their neck. I can completely empathize with those students.
I then walk past the elementary school and the nursery school.

Then I get to the new junior high school building. Which uses solar energy and has a ton of windows allowing for natural light. The staff room and many of the classrooms smell like new wood.

And once I get there by foot it is a little easier to deal with the weird things that go on inside, despite the buildings pleasant appearance.

It was so fun I could hardly hold a camera

2009-05-19T02:21:00.006+09:00

Last weekend Ashely celebrated her 25th birthday. She rented a few bungalows on top of a mountain in the town of Mino. We barbecued and drank beer and wine. I have been to this bungalow area a few other times before to lay on the rope pirate ship/ castle structure and star gaze. Never though in the company of so many people.

A bunch of twenty something English teachers slide down the slide to arrive on the rope pirate ship. I sat next to Brad and Christine and reminisced about my first weekend in Japan when I went up there with a few people that live near me. That evening I remember talking to Brian about my teaching goals and feeling confident that Ashely would become a friend I could confide in. At least, I think I reminisced about that with Brad and Christine, I cannot be entirely sure what was going on.

One thing that I do know, I had so much fun I was only able to take these pictures:

And the next day standing up was hard.

I found those shorts in the supermarket lost and found and they fit me like a glove.

2009-05-12T22:41:00.004+09:00

On Sunday I believed that that day was one of the worst days of my life. I suppose having the worst day in your life in a fairly standard procedure for many people. Typically, mine revolves around the fact that I did not do some productive thing I was supposed to do or wanted to do due to some seemingly tragic circumstance. I then lay in bed till an obscenely late hour and do not eat enough. Chances are, I will spend time in my head feeling anger towards most people I had any sort of recent interaction with.
I think that is a common worst day of my life scenario. That was Sunday.

On Monday I did not have to go to work. Neither did Ashely and Brian. I wore shorts that I found at a supermarket. The three of us had a pizza picnic and we waded around in a river because the countryside we live in is beautiful in the springtime.

That day made the worst day of my life seem really far away.

Kyushu Road Trip

2009-05-10T21:30:00.007+09:00

The beginning of May is Golden Week in Japan. Or a succession of holidays. On Saturday I reset my car odometer to zero and Brad, Dianne, and I set off to the town of Yawatahama to catch the ferry to the island of Kyushu.
My car came on the ferry with us. Our first destination was Mt. Aso, an active volcano in the center of Kyushu. Once we arrived in the Aso area we drove past a sign for Ubuyama camp grounds. We debated making the right turn towards the camp. Dianne chimed in with a certain "yes" and making that turn was, perhaps, one of the better decisions that has been made in my lifetime.

The campground turned out to be abandoned. But a friendly elderly lady came to tell us that we were more than welcomed to stay there. So we did. She told us that it had been abandoned for two years. And assured us that the vicious sounding dogs were in fact cute.

We set up the tent, built a campfire and drank whiskey. We wrote a number of songs next to the camp fire. Perhaps the most memorable being, "Nobody Goes to Shikoku".
It was a perfect evening. Freestyle camp fire songs and whiskey are about all I need to keep me happy.
We emerged from the tent the following morning to play on the bull at the campsite and pack up the car to drive towards one of the largest active volcanoes in the world.

We wanted to walk to the volcano as opposed to drive. I do not think many people walk as we could not find any sort of path. Luckily, the volcanic terrain kept many trees from covering the hills so getting lost while wandering did not seem too likely.
We made it to the summit of some mountain and decided to continue towards the famous crater as opposed to scaling back down the side of the steep hill we pulled ourselves up. By the time we got to the base of the crater it was closed do to the toxic gas that volcanoes emit. A policeman gave us a ride back to our campsite. Though we were unable to make it to the volcano all the citizens of Shikoku were elated to just be outside, surrounded by so much green grass.

Rain hit the tent through the night at our campsite next to Mt. Aso. And the following morning we drove to the crater, just catching a glimpse of it through the rain clouds. With gray clouds in the sky we decided to take a drive further south to Takachiho Gorge.
The gorge was picturesque, but full of Japanese tourists with their cameras.
I payed about $3 to go into the Fresh Water Aquarium. Which was basically the goldfish section of a pet store.
The three of us then came to the decision to drive back to our beloved Ubuyama campsite. After an onsen and supermarket stop I drove in the dark, through the rain to arrive well into the night at the abandoned campground. Only a few minutes after our arrival did the friendly old lady pull up in her car to greet us once again and let us know we were still welcomed.

We woke up to the sound of weed whackers and lawnmowers. We played frisbee in the grass and Dianne and I showed proper appreciation to the egg gift that the friendly old lady had given us upon our first visit.
The last day was spent in the onsen town of Beppu. Despite all the complaining I do about Japan I am certain that Beppu is one of the most special places on earth with it's 400 plus hot springs.

After one of the worst dinning experiences of my life we took the bus to the mud onsen. Sulfuric gas naturally heats the water and mud under your feet. Dianne and I covered ourselves in the smooth gray mud and crawled around like monsters with a Japanese child who we befriended.

After four full days in Kyushu we boarded the ferry back to Shikoku. By the time we arrived in Ikeda I had clocked in just under 900 km on my car.

The Bathtub

2009-05-01T13:23:00.003+09:00

When I lived on Walker Avenue this boy, Matt Goldman, stayed in my home for an extended period of time. We use to listen/ watch this:

I am pretty sure he is now living in Allentown, Pennsylvania.

Currently, my absolute favorite place to be is my bathtub.

Shimanami-Kaido

2009-04-29T23:55:00.005+09:00

I have now made it off the Island of Shikoku on not just a bus, train, and ferry, but a bike too.
The Shimanami-Kadio is a 70km route that includes six bridges, running over small islands in the Seto Inland Sea to connect Ehime Prefecture (in Shikoku) to Hiroshima Prefecture (in Honshu).
Christine and I had been planning to bike that 140km round trip journey for some weeks. The weekends preceding our trip were beautiful. Last Saturday we woke up in my apartment to a heavy rainfall. We got in the car regardless and got on our bikes at about noon, just as the rain let up.
Having the time to bike or walk somewhere is a privilege. The evenings I have spent on a bicycle taking the route that I typically drive to school I notice intricacies that could easy go unnoticed for two years in a car.
The bridges that provide an exit off Shikoku are far bigger when traveling by bike than by bus.
While I was pedaling I thought about all the times I drove from Pittsburgh to North Carolina. And how it is possible to walk this route. I spent the following hours primarily in my head, occasionally eating the chocolate almonds in my backpack and talking with Christine when we momentarily paused, I thought more about this hike I wanted to do and the hikes I have done in the past. I also thought about the job I have now and the jobs I have had in the past. The thoughts that involved movement and being outside were far more pleasant than the thoughts that involved international school lunches and a computer screen being an important means of escape.

We arrived in Onomichi City in Hiroshima at about 5 p.m. Naturally, there was a festival. Which meant there was festival food. Christine and I found the French fries. They were especially salty. We stood over our bikes and ate them. Not needing to speak about how delicious and special French fries are.

Andrew, Emma, Maya, and Sarah had started biking a few hours after us and met us around 7 p.m. that evening. We went to a delicious izakaya where we sufiecently gorged on food, drank beer, and met a drunk old man who, naturally, talked to us too much.
The following morning the six of us turned around to return to Shikoku. There was no rain, but a strong wind blowing in the opposite direction we were cycling.
Before each bridge is a 90 meter uphill ramp. Once on the bridge it is a straight ride followed by a rewarding downhill ramp. Other celebratory moments were spent on the islands, sharing momentary instances with the sun.
We cycled to my car as dark clouds rolled in once again and drove towards the rain. Then back to routines of ignition, gas, brake, and deep breaths in front of a computer.

Let Them Eat Cake

2009-04-21T23:00:00.005+09:00

I ended my fifth period class ten minutes early today for a cake party. The ten students at Kawasaki elementary school were ushered into the lunch room. A cake was pulled out of a box. The students and staff applauded. The finest plates and forks were distributed as the students lined up according to grade level to wash their hands. Tea was poured, the cake was cut, passed out, and everyone took their seat. The oldest male student at the school then stood in front of the room to formally thank the teacher who had brought the cake. He finished his speech and bowed. Everyone then put their hands together and recited "itadakimaus," a phrase that is said before partaking in the consumption of food in Japan.

As we ate the cake I asked the students about their favorite part of the cake. Most students said they liked the whipped cream the most. I liked the hard chocolate in the middle. The six year old boy sitting next to me told me his favorite part was the "sponge." We all agreed that the strawberries were sweet.

Everyone finished the cake, nodding in agreement that it was supremely delicious. My sixth period class then started fifteen minutes late.

Escape Route

2009-04-21T00:09:00.003+09:00

On Saturday afternoon I took my tights off in the park because it was too hot. There was Mexican food, a blanket, Easter chocolate that melted in the sun, and most importantly, talk of an escape route.
The sun was set. Eyes were closed. Someone mumbled Ulan Bator. Then someone mumbled Irkutsk.

5 Things I Want Right Now

2009-04-20T22:56:00.005+09:00

-To sit on indoor furniture outside.
-To hear southern accents.
-To share an actual big bed with someone.
-To easily read the menu.
-To appreciate these moments before all gravity is lost.

p.s. I also want a MacBook and a nice camera.

Creative Nonficiton

2009-04-17T00:26:00.004+09:00

Currently reading Tiziano Terzani's A Fortune Teller Told Me.
A true story of a man who went to see a fortune teller in Hong Kong in the Spring of 1976. The fortune teller told him not to fly in 1993. When that year came he was a journalist based in Bangkok, not willing to give up his international life style or get on an airplane.

In college I studied English literature. In the post-college book club, Paper Cutz we primarily read fiction that, I suppose, could be classified as classics.

Recently, I have been appreciating creative nonfiction more than I have ever appreciated any genre. Terzani writes a secondary source to my own life as he describes the whole of Japanese society "in a straight jacket, the people are always playing a part and cannot behave naturally" (216).
And I find answers to cultural questions I have had about peoples expectations "in Asia (where) gratitude is more binding than any contract"(231).
Meanwhile, I am awoken to lines of factual poetry: "It was the sort of dawn that leaves you with an eternal sense of nostalgia"(261).

Passover

2009-04-13T23:58:00.008+09:00

I have spent more time with family in the last few months than I ever did while living in North Carolina.
My aunt, uncle, and other cousin came to visit Leah over spring break. On their last night in Japan we celebrated the first night of Passover. Leah invited one of her former teacher's to the Seder. A cross-cultural explanation was attempted.
The night ended as we sipped the remains of the ten year aged ume-shu that Leah and I acquired in Nara. Bill read excerpts of his travel journal. He began with arriving at the terminal in Japan. He described Leah at the gate, waiting and "beautiful as always."

Cousins

2009-04-13T00:41:00.004+09:00

Hanging On

2009-04-08T18:41:00.004+09:00

Come August I will let go of everything.
My job. My health insurance. My paycheck. My apartment.
Everyday I have moments of complete horror. I think about things like references and resumes. What my parents house looks like in the middle of the day. Free internet at Panera Bread.

Then I have moments of feeling completely free. For the first time in my life I have no educational obligations. No lease. No partner to make geographic locational promises to. No debt. No desire to prove myself based on how much money I make or how professional my work wear must be. Only an urge for something bigger.

Things are no longer secure nor does cultural loneliness loom in the future.
Instead, every moment is fleeting and will soon be lost to overwhelming freedom.

But it is not just me, everything will lose grip soon.

Little Sister

2009-04-04T00:44:00.014+09:00

In Southeast Asia people eat spicy food and sit outside. Tourist drink beer on the porch of their, $3 a night, bungalow without a shirt on. Local kids walk around barefoot, selling things to white people, unsurprised by their blue eyes and curly hair. People that barely know each other touch each other. And I still cannot comprehend that this is a place that my older sister calls home. So many things exist in Thailand that I long for so often. Yet, when it is all in front of me it is overwhelming. To come from overcast days and solo cups of coffee to streets that are alive after midnight on a Tuesday is like being thrown into a bucket of ice water. And for the first time since I moved to Japan I left Japan without a partner in crime to stare at these exhibitions of lawlessness with in complete amazement.

I got ripped off by the cab driver on the ride from the Bangkok airport to Carl's apartment, arriving late Wednesday night.

Thursday morning Carl went to work and he pointed me in the direction of Jim Thompson's house. It was a lovely way to spend an afternoon alone in Bangkok. The house itself is a hardwood fantasy home. It is full of 19th and 20th Century Thai treasures matched to suit a New York City architect who appeared in only black and white photos.

Carl and I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Bangkok.
We boarded the night train at 6p.m. to Chiang Mai. The train pulled in around 8:30 a.m. taking about 12 more hours than the BKK to CM flight. Carl woke me up as the sun was rising. I climbed down into his cabin to drink bad coffee and watch light creep over the Thai countryside. It made flying feel like cheating. All things that take place between the departure point and arrival should be cherished a bit more. Perhaps the final destination is the point in engaging in travel, but the things that take place in between should not be rushed for they can bring unexpected pleasures as well.
Once we arrived in Chiang Mai Ann was host to her world of coffee shops and Burmese coworkers.

On Saturday night the three of us went to the SWAN (Shan Women's Action Network) ten-year anniversary celebration. There was loads of delicious free food, dancing, and a documentary. The documentary was about two Shan children who want to attend school. They live in the mountains of a tangerine farm where their parents are waged laborers. Due to finances and location they have a difficult time trying to get to the school. In the end, they find a way to get the children to school and there are shots of the two boys happily reading off the blackboard and playing with schoolmates. After almost three years of working full time in the education field these Shan boys got me thinking, hey - I am a teacher and that feels good sometimes.
On Sunday afternoon I got a bus to the northern town of Pai. Ann and Carl had originally planned on coming but I was having attitude problems and it worked out best for all parties that I just go ... alone.
Pai is a backpackers playground. Spending about twenty minutes with another person translates into days in backpacker time. I rode around on the back of my new friends rented motorbikes and we went to the bar with all the other twenty-somethings who are traveling around Asia looking for something. Everyone talked about where they are from, where they have been, where they are going next, and how long they will be away for.
Some peoples trips around Asia are about drinking and putting notches in their belts. Others are about finding their zen and meditating. Everyones story was too self-indulgent and frivolous. I want my Asian story to be about educating and real relationships.
I left Pai the next day relieved to be in Thailand as someones little sister; perhaps not such a cliched character in the tale of a year or two spent in Asia.
The following day I drank coffee at Elliebum and got a ride to the Maesa Elephant Camp. The Elephants at the camp put on a show that includes picking up a paintbrush and creating a work of art. After feeding the elephants bananas and watching them roll around in the water I managed to get a pretty Thai girl to give me a ride down the hill to the orchid garden. The owner of the orchid garden then gave me a ride back into town and I could not have asked for a more pleasant day in my life.

Ann took the following work day off and we decided to go back to the elephant camp because it is a particularly magical place. And I determined that I must be either a baby or an old person based on the things that bring me pleasure.
And once again, elephants and sisters have been replaced by teacups and blankets.

Cycles of the System

2009-03-23T22:42:00.009+09:00

The end of March, in Japan, signifies the end of a school year. Graduation was held last week and I will attend my school closing ceremony tomorrow morning. The junior high school, where I have been based this last year and a half, will be closing permanently this spring. Decrease in birthrates in Japan are apparent in countryside towns like Ikeda.
I drive about half an hour every Monday morning to teach all eleven students at Kawasaki Elementary School. And the student population at my junior high school is decreasing at a rapid speed. Also, the actual building is not up to current building codes.
Graduation ceremonies in Japan are tearful with the anticipation of nostalgia. This year, as the head teacher could barely speak through his tears at the ceremony, I found myself growing wistfully sentimental. And when I told a co-teacher this she took deep breaths in attempts to suspend her tears.

I gave my favorite student my email address and told her she must contact me when she goes to America to study English. In her American accent she responded, "Yes, of course I will."

Teachers are moved to various locations throughout the prefecture (or state) this time of year. Sometimes they will be moved hours from their family home, only to return on the weekends. This movement is seen as part of the job, an expected transition every few years.
My two favorite co-workers will be leaving our elementary school this year. One to an elementary school in Ikeda that I will not be visiting.
The other will be transitioning from the role of a vice principal to a principal.
Both these women have made all the awkward moments of my life here in Japan somehow less awkward. This afternoon when I called the school to ask about the location of tomorrows work party I spoke with the vice principal. We both giggled our way through the conversation and as it ended she told me, in English, "You have become very good at speaking Japanese." I told her, in English, "I know."

This time last year I was tramping around New Zealand. This year I stuck around Ikeda long enough to see winter actually end as the cherry blossoms opened this morning.
Hopefully, I will have enough time and sobriety after tomorrow evenings party to pack for a weeks return to Thailand. And when I return from another visit to Southeast Asia my aunt, uncle and cousins will be convening back in Shikoku.

Applesauce

2009-03-19T00:20:00.005+09:00

I recently discovered that applesauce tastes sweet and will make my entire apartment smell like a bakery. It can also be used as an egg substitute which is particularly lovely in a pancake:

3 sweet red apples
2 cinnamon sticks
ginger
lemon
ground cinnamon
brown sugar

Cut and peel apples. Mince ginger. Heat apples, ginger and cinnamon sticks in water. Add lemon and a few dashes of sugar and ground cinnamon. Let heat for about 20 minutes. When apples are soft mash to preference.

Now, drink too much wine with dinner, make pancakes with more fruit, include ice cream and a bottle of Bailey's.

The Circus Starring Britney Spears

2009-03-13T23:01:00.002+09:00

Britney is now on tour. She will be coming to Pittsburgh March 27th. If you live in the south, well, she already went through Atlanta.
Ticrketmaster is selling tickets for over a hundred USD.

If I were in that country I would pay that to them and go.
I am being serious.
If I did not I would be "missing out on life," as Ms. Britney has said.

Approaching Spring Adjectives

2009-03-11T18:15:00.005+09:00

I had my last class with these nine sixth graders Tuesday afternoon. Before I began class and before their homeroom teacher joined us one of those boys was excited to tell me that he has a girlfriend and she is a fifth grader.
I then demanded that he tell me all about her, in English.
I learned that her hair is not long and not short, presumably it is somewhere in the middle. She is also tall and happy.
Then their homeroom teacher came into the classroom and my questioning felt awkward.

Glamour

2009-03-05T22:04:00.004+09:00

"... as the world continues to nose-dive..." is what I just heard while streaming NPR.
This is the only direction my life dives in:

Hinamatsuri

2009-03-03T23:13:00.003+09:00

The 3rd day of the 3rd month is my sisters birthday and Hinamatsuri or Doll Festival or Girl's Day. The principal at the elementary school called me while I was at the junior high school and told me she was going to stop by to bring me a gift.
These dolls were all wrapped up in a box with a bow around it. This gesture made me feel: loved, grateful, and like I am a twelve year old girl. I then spent a portion of my afternoon reading about the significance of the gold screen behind them and the colorful stand they are on.
The finest things I own here in Japan are all from the same person. And these things include fancy dresses, tea sets, and now dolls. A demonstration of femininity I suppose.

Singing Off Key

2009-03-02T16:02:00.017+09:00

Ann, Carl, and I took the long road to Naruto on Friday afternoon. We stopped at an old mountain onsen along the way. I wiped the fog from my windows and drove slowly through the rain as Ann and Carl slept and did not use tissues. After dinner, I loaned them money for the bus and protested carrying the futons they had been sleeping on in various apartments throughout the week.

When the 5:30 a.m. bus picked them up for the airport Saturday morning I took a deep breath. I drove back as the sun was rising. I thought about getting a cup of coffee and taking in the beginning of the day somewhere. Then I decided to forget it and climbed right back in bed, a little more relaxed.

By Saturday evening I started to miss them. And this morning as I got ready for work, alone, in my apartment, I really missed them.

We spent their first full day in Shikoku at the Ikeda Sake Festival.
Some people drank far too much.
Carl was enthusiastic about making new friends.
We went back to my apartment and got trapped under the kotatsu.
And continued to discover all that Ikeda has to offer.
We took a bus to Hiroshima Monday morning and visited the Peace Memorial Museum. I had never been to Hiroshima so I was pleased to take two days off work for a short trip. Everyone seems to agree that the museum is devastating while remaining completely unbiased.
The city of Hiroshima is beautiful. And I, yet again, tasted what it is like to be in a city surrounded by young people and parks.
The following day we took a ferry to the nearby island of Miyajima and put a little tick mark next to visiting a major Japanese tourist attraction.
My adult conversation class was very kind in having a party for the two visitors.
And I commend Ann and Carl for taking such an interest in this group of people that I see every week.
On Thursday, they continued to be surprisingly interested in Japanese culture when they met every student and teacher at my elementary school.
The school principal was proud to show them around her school and Ann and Carl remained interested in her various briefings on a wide array of things.
Having visitors to Japan and showing them around my life provides a sense of relief.
By the end of the week Ann and Carl had done pretty much every Japanese thing there is to do in Ikeda. They were really good at Kate Bush karaoke. My apartment and car were really messy. I was really tired.
And the Thai hot season will be well worth all the sweat and bottled waters for the good company.

High Fevers

2009-02-19T22:43:00.003+09:00

My sister is in Japan right now!
I am going to pick her up at the bus station tomorrow evening. We have all kinds of fun things planned. If neither of us gets sick we will be able to do all those fun things. And it will be the first time that we hang out in Asia without both of us getting violently ill.
I am super excited!

Tangible

2009-02-18T21:34:00.001+09:00

The Onsen

2009-02-17T22:28:00.021+09:00

In literature, bathing can often be a metaphor for returning to the womb.
Perhaps, this is why the onsen seems to be one of the most pure places to be.

This past weekend the destination was the city of Beppu. Beppu is on the island of Kyushu. The city lays within volcanic rock and is full of geothermal hot spots which have been turned into natural onsens.

I would consider myself to be an onsen frequenter. I am comfortable with onsen etiquette and I seem to have an awareness as to what makes the onsen a place of simple pleasure. I believe Christine feels the same way. We spent a couple weeks discussing this trip to Beppu or our sort of holy land.

Christine's Japanese skills are impressive, so she took the initiative to research the area and created a wonderful long weekend.

We stayed in a capsule hotel in Matsuyama. The concept of a capsule hotel is something that would have been classified as futuristic in the eighties.
Our capsules were close to the lobby and people were smoking in the lobby. I slept in the bottom capsule and it sort of felt like I was sleeping on the floor of a bar.
The following morning we jumped on the train without a moment to spare to then catch a ferry.

We arrived in the city in the early afternoon. Beppu encompasses Japan into one small space with onsens, karaoke, and snack bars everywhere. And continuing with the capsule hotel theme, the city was very retro.
Christine created a few simple goals for our time in Beppu. One of them being the sand baths. We put on yukattas at the Sunau sand bath and were then buried in hot sand. The sand bath was outside and overlooked the sea.
We decided it felt biblical to lay underneath the volcanic sand. The sand was heavy so laying perfectly still was the only choice.
We visited a city run onsen later that evening in attempts to feel cleansed. Takegawara Onsen was built in 1879 and was named for the blue bamboo on the roof.
The onsen was cheap and we wondered if the walls had ever been cleaned. It was community run and being that Christine and I share an understanding for the importance of community, it was a positive thing.

And since we were the last people to leave I took the opportunity to take a rare picture of the insides of an onsen.
The following morning I woke to find Christine reviewing her precious map.
The goal for Saturday was to find the secret onsen in the woods. Being that this bath is on a map it is not the best kept secret, though still a challenge to actually get to.
We began with a bus ride and finally figured out where to get off.
The directions to follow from there were walking directions. We found the cemetery, where steam naturally poured out of the earth's surface.
We got to the part of the directions that instructed us to "jump into bushes." Things began to grow confusing at this point so we gave in and asked directions from the old man who had already offered some assistance. He explained that the onsen we were looking for was dried up, but we could go to the one further up the mountain. He told us it was too far to walk and we would have to hitchhike. When we did not see this as a problem he told us we were in luck because he was about to go there himself, so he could take us.
The three of us got in his car so we could all take a bath together. And in all honesty this was not at all weird.
We got a view of the out of service onsen. And headed to Hebinyu Onsen.
And Kyushu seems to have a bigger sky than Shikoku.
Getting to the secret onsen was like completing a mission I never thought I would actually complete. There were a couple of baths of naturally varying temperatures. One woman was there which served as a relief. All the old men bathing were polite and pointed out the small hut where we could change. We used our small towels to persevere our modesty while we shared these natural outdoor baths.
Our old man guide friend told us he comes to this bath about every other day. I am convinced that he does not have a bathtub in his home and this onsen serves that purpose. At least, that is what I hope to be true.
I feel like I have now reached the Mecca of onsens. I can talk about the onsen with a true understanding and appreciation. I have seen this bath and those who bath in it in the rawest form.
Our new friend gave us canned coffee and dropped us off in town. Christine and I then dinned on our favorite food, french fries; and I realized it was Valentines Day. No Valentines Day meal has ever or will ever be able to compete with those fries eaten on a bench.

We then walked to the fancy onsen, Hyotan where we finally felt clean.
I breathed in the special air.
Drank the special water.
And Christine and I discussed our future; when we will meet at a library science conference with mature men at our sides who pine away for us and who listen to and remember every word we tell them.

The following morning we took an express train to the city of Usuki to see some ancient stone Buddhas.
The bus from the station to the Buddhas runs infrequently, but this turned out to be a blessing as there were free bikes at the station and the 6km ride was easy and the weather was perfect.
There was a fire in the distance and these massive Buddhas carved out of stone made me wish I had learned more in geology class.
As we rode back to the station I decided it was unnatural to be 25 years old and not live in a place where I can simply take bike rides around my neighborhood with a friend on a nice day. This relieved my anxieties about returning to the States, momentarily.

We caught the ferry back and cringed as Shikoku and Monday came into the landscape.

Little Bird

2009-02-11T19:58:00.003+09:00

I thought this mid-week holiday might be different. But, I could not seem to leave the nest.
Tomorrow, after work, I am getting on a bus to a town where I can catch a ferry to a town that is full of onsens. It will be my personal trip to heaven.

Helicopters are for Lonely People

2009-02-10T00:18:00.004+09:00

Typical February activities. Consumed with screens. Coffee grinds. Cigarettes.
A current February question is how Oliver Stone created an atmosphere of such passion during the wedding bridge scene in Natural Born Killers. Then I heard those southern accents.

To talk about the weather:
Last winter it rained constantly. This winter I have seen blue sky mornings and afternoons. And then these things around my house are kept from falling apart.

The sound of World Music used to irritate me. Currently, Indonesian music spins around in my car. Because during the stop and start of the gas and brake is when I need to hear something that keeps me listening; and oddly enough, from wanting to venture too far from my apartment building.

What's Yours is Mine

2009-02-03T00:39:00.009+09:00

This weekend Leah's friend Jocelyn came, from Korea, to visit Shikoku.
Typical Japan visitor things went on; ordering lots of food at an izakaya, bringing our own beer into the karaoke room, and a ridiculous cab ride.

I have been lucky to be able to take advantage of various visitors who belong to other people.
Without fail, a day is often spent hungover and recovering while being able to leech off of the visitors first time feelings.

This time things were so good that we found ourselves in the same cafe for four hours. Lapping other customers stays and, perhaps, encouraging their dismissal when a shared love for ballet and modern dance involved visual demonstrations.
The workdays following a visitors stay are always particularly difficult. It was a stifling Monday after a weekend of appropriately inappropriate activities, circumstances, and laughter.

Not in my Favor

2009-01-29T20:39:00.006+09:00

Somehow I was born to a woman who is not Jewish. This means I cannot take part in Birthright Israel trip. This fact became even more aggravating after viewing Waltz with Bashir and I was reminded of a continuing fascination with this part of the world.
Rose, Emily, Leah, and Jake have all taken this trip. Matt and Andrew are departing for this journey, in just a few days. These are six people who all fall into the category of lifelong friends, former lovers, or family. This certain trip is a fate that I can have no part in.

And today I spent some time considering and researching what I really want in my future. None of the research following this consideration fell in my favor.

What I really want is to want to stay in a country where lunch breaks are spent in old trains that have been renovated into Udon restaurants where people smoke and nap.
As of late, only this has fallen in my favor:

Comradery in Quiet

2009-01-26T21:58:00.005+09:00

I have been completely content with being absolutely quiet recently. Perhaps so much so that it could be a problem.
This evening I went to the onsen and ran into a teacher I work with. Somehow, my quiet was interrupted. And that felt very unnatural.

A 4 p.m. setting sun and a morning with freezing wind has the capability to be the most lonely or most comforting thing in the world. Luckily, winters involve rituals that keep most things in a predictable course of events.
Such rituals involve the excessive eating that I began in Bali, which has followed me to Japan.
The instinctual urge to lay around that happens every winter has, once again, fallen into cycle as well.
For this very brief moment the quiet is allowing me to feel content.

Meanwhile, Danny Boyle, the same director who did the film that frightened me more than anything, 28 Days Later, also directed a film I found to be breathtakingly beautiful and posed more cultural curiosities.

Despite all the hype that has surrounds Slumdog Millionaire the above movie montage might be my favorite of all time.

Sabah Black Tea and Crackling Clove Cigarettes

2009-01-20T00:07:00.030+09:00

"My grandfather and the story he had told of the shipwrecked white man he had found washed up like a starfish on the beach of his village, which in those days had no electricity or running water and didn't know Moscow from rum" (Lloyd Jones' Mister Pip 6).

Not knowing Moscow from rum seems to make more sense than understanding parts of the world that lay above and below the equator. Those that do not know Moscow from rum are more capable and practical than I could ever be. But, since this understanding can be found, via planes, cars, trains, and buses, I have gained a humbling insight into my size and natural instincts compared to things that are so much bigger and seemingly self-sufficient than I.

Sabah, Malaysia (On the island of Borneo)

Currency variation has become a substantial part of my life. By day three of my adventures I had already spent Japanese yen at a love hotel in Osaka (because I did not feel like sleeping in the airport), Singapore dollars on a couple pitchers of beer in Little India, and Malaysian ringgits on a bus ride from the airport to the city center in Kota Kinabalu.

As Brad and I climbed out of the small Malaysian bus that we waved down (with our thumbs) the woman who pointed us in the right direction told us "welcome to Sabah."

It was a harmonious beginning to the Borneo adventures.

After some questionable Thai food, Ann and Leah met Brad and I at Lucy's Guest House. I felt like I had just seen Annie. Laotian adventures were fresh in our minds.
With this Southeast Asian familiarity came a strange feeling in my stomach. I tried to blame it on the excitement and anxiety that was coming along with the odd combination of people that were convening in this strange part of the world. But, once my most recent meals were coming back up I blamed it on the food or water.

The night of the 21st was one to the worst nights of my life. I visited the bathroom about every 15 minutes. I spent hours attempting to hydrate myself. I asked Ann to get in the bed next to me because I was having sickness hallucinations.

Once the sun rose I made the decision that we all must move to a nice hotel so I could lay on the bathroom floor.

I arrived at the Kota Kinabalu Hyatt on the morning of December 22nd, completely unaware of what a large part of my time in Borneo this venue would play.

We hoped to leave the Hyatt on the 24th. But, on the evening of the 23rd Ann began to complain of an illness. And my sickness was no longer to be blamed on food or water. Only hours later Leah had a similar complaint.

The days that followed were spent in joint recovery. Many rounds of room service and the Miss Universe pageant, that aired on Christmas Eve, provided the biggest excitement.

We all agreed that Miss Russia had the best "Universal" female qualities. Though Ann believed she should have "wore something tighter" during the evening gown portion.

Somehow, Brad did not get sick. He did get on a plane to take a couple of days getting really far away from the den of sickness that was our room in the Hyatt. Luckily, the part of the world we were in provided for a very reasonable bill and on the 27th we regrouped in a lovely guest house.

On the 29th Brad and I began the ascend up Mount Kinabalu. At 4,095 meters Kinabalu is the tallest mountain in Southeast Asia. We left Leah in Kota Kinabalu city and Ann at the base of the mountain.

The two of us were accompanied by a guide, Helmi. Brad and I were eager to get to know our Malaysian guide. He was dressed in the typical accidental hipster village wear that seems to be common in that part of the world. I have met a variety of local guides that come from small villages. Their wardrobe is always an eclectic mix of non-labeled things that would put them at the top of any hip list in Brooklyn.

Hemli fit this role in his faded tapered pants, neon green backpack that hung low on his back, and over sized military jacket.

Within moments of our hike we asked Helmi how old he was. After a few stuttering thoughts he responded, "I forget."

The following hours were spent on a step uphill trek. Rain set in for the second half of the hike. The various shelters scattered along the trail were full of foreigners drinking water, eating chocolate, and hoping to stay dry.

The local guides stood out in the rain, waiting patiently. When their foreign companion was ready the guides tossed their cigarette's on the ground and continued on.

I could feel the air thin as we grew closer to Laban Rata, the provided accommodation where we would sleep for a few hours that evening before the final ascend to the peak.
Brad plowed ahead and Helmi hung back with me. Helmi makes this hike about three times a week. He either acts as a guide or as a porter, carrying supplies up and down the mountain. Meanwhile, I struggled to catch my breath.

We arrived at Laban Rata after about four hours of hiking. Everyone hung their wet clothes on their bunk bed and lined up for the shower.
Brad and I sat across from a Japanese man during dinner who shared the red wine that he brought with him.

My clothes were barley dry when the alarm went off at 1:50 a.m.

Everyone strapped on headlights as we hiked the final few kilometers in the dark, attempting to make it to the top in time to catch the sunrise.

As Brad ran ahead, Helmi proved to be a marvelous companion for what turned out to be the most challenging physical feat I had ever taken on.

I sat next to some British people while trying to catch my breath near the top. We continued on together. As the rocks grew steeper, everyone grabbed hold of the ropes on the mountain side. While attempting to maneuver my way around the slippery granite I became paralyzed in fear. The guide that was accompanying the British people grabbed my hand and pulled me up the side of the rock.

Helmi waited.

I sat down once more and listened to this other guide tell us that we were getting close and he advised us to take deep breaths. I grew teary eyed.

Helmi and I walked ahead. As we were just meters from the top I continued to sit down and breath. Helmi looked at the peak and pointed saying, “if you want certificate you must go there.” This motivational moment was much more direct and kept me from finding any emotions that would create tears.

Brad saved me a seat where I could watch the sunrise:

I was mostly cold at the peak. While Brad snapped hundreds of photos Helmi and I shared a glance. Helmi looked cold and bored, I rolled my eyes.

Once the sun had risen we began to descend. I could see what I had been hiking through; the hard stone we were walking on. It was the most magnificent thing I had ever seen. The mass of this mountain was frightening. Frightening because it was the biggest thing I had ever experienced.

I felt as if I were off the earth's surface near the peak of the mountain. Standing on the stone brought me to realize how small I am.
Nature felt far more powerful than anything I have ever felt. The sheer vastness of the mountain could have crushed any living person.

Descending at dawn was the closest I have ever felt to other worldliness. And by that I mean being close to something that is far more powerful than anything a human being could ever personally attain.

After about ten hours of hiking that day it felt really good to be off the mountain.

Brad and I met Ann at the bottom. The three of us continued to Poring Hot Springs. According to all the tourist information, a dip in the hot springs is a must after hiking Kinabalu.
We arrived to a bunch of locals, in their underwear, hoping between the dirty "outdoor bathtubs" filled with semi-warm water. Instead of walking away in disgust (as we watched other tourists do) we embraced the hot springs.
Ann got a bunch of beers and we shared cigarettes and French fries.

The three of us made it back to Kota Kinabalu on the 31st. We arrived with just enough time to take a boat to a surrounding island where we went swimming with small jellyfish that do not sting. We drank a cup of Sabah Black tea and watched the sunset.

We rode back as it started to get dark. While approaching the city we talked nostalgically of Alex Stoloff and we were a little quieter than on the ride there.

Bali, Indonesia

On January 2nd Brad and I had said goodbye to the rest of the crew and had found ourselves in Ubud, Bali.

We stayed on Monkey Forest Road, in a guest house run by a local who was studying Japanese. When explaining that he did not have any good resources for studying he was one of the first Balinese people to directly ask me to give him something. I got his address and told him that I would send him Japanese textbooks. I am relived to find something useful to do with the many texts I have acquired though rarely use.

And upon our first interaction I began to fantasy about a life with him in which I would gain a true understanding as to where my food and clothes are coming from. And perhaps I would forget what Moscow is while raising a large family in a more than modest home.

This though remained a fantasy. Brad and I ended the first evening on the porch of our guest house, drinking local beers and enjoying the smell and crackle of Indonesian clove cigarettes.

On the second day I watched Kecak dance. The dance was preformed under firelight with a chorus of about fifty men using only vocal sounds to create the accompanying music. The female dancers had posture like graceful cats and brought all audience members to a trace with their eyes.

We escaped the hordes of Ubud health food tourist when we stayed in Batur, near the Gunung Batur Volcano. Over dinner a guy trying to make a transport deal with us, a guy trying to sell us his paintings, and a guy who was running the guest house all joined us. We eventually made a transport deal and bought some paintings.

Once the sunset we walked toward the gamelan music. A couple of people sat outside of a store front, drinking beers and playing these instruments. We were invited to sit down to listen and we were given the opportunity to play.

Bali is the origin of art. This part of the world holds original dance, music, clothes, jewelry, paintings, sculptures, and the most delicious food I have ever tasted.

Balinese people are instinctual artists. This creates the most originally magical vibe I have ever felt from a geographic location. Like anything you could imagine could be created.

In the northwestern town of Lovina Balinese people continued to ask,"Where you from? Where you going? How long you stay here?"

When Brad decided that he would try to out talk the next person who approached us we were left with fresh fruit and a magic mushroom offer.

We drove out of Lovina to go snorkeling on a small island. Stopping at a typical gas station along the way.

While snorkeling I again found myself off the earth's surface, flying above pinstriped fish.

Snorkeling held a similar otherworldly, frightening feeling. I looked down into a many abyss that lay between ocean coral. Expecting to fall inside with any incorrect stroke.

There was a small temple on the island. Being later in the afternoon, the island was only shared with those who were working at the temple.

The last full day in Bali was spent (once again) in Ubud. First, visiting the Monkey Forest Sanctuary Temple.
That evening was spent watching Barong Bangkal Dance. This dance took place at an indoor venue with various accompanying instruments.

The gamelans and costumes were as much of a part of the dance as the actual dancers who moved naturally with the sound and their wardrobe.

We were lucky to catch this particular troupe as they only preform within Ubud once a week.
This evening was a tremendous demonstration of the talent and art produced in Bali.

These performers described themselves as a young group of dancers. It was amazing to see dance and music preformed directly in a place where people seem to be so naturally intertwined with it.

One of our last Bali meals was consumed the following morning on the porch in front of the room.
The breakfast was included in the room charge and the man who ran this guest house was more than pleased to lay it down in front of us. This man also wrapped his hands around our backpacks to give us hugs on the way out.

Singapore
On January 8th we arrived in Singapore for the last part of the adventure. I had picked up Susan Orlean's The Orchid Thief while in Bali. This choice inspired a visit to Singapore's botanical garden which contains an orchid garden.

Walking through the Singapore Orchid Garden while reading about the history of this flower and John Laroche's love for orchids, which led to criminal action was an amazing literary moment. Everything felt tangible.
On the evening of January 10th my feet were sore and I had grown horribly sick of the four outfit variations I had been rotating between.
So it was back to Japan for a little bit.
"This time tomorrow what will we know?
Will we still be here watching an in-flight movie show?"
-The Kinks, This Time Tomorrow

I've Been Riding on a Strange Wave

2009-01-12T18:37:00.005+09:00

Back to a world of cell phones and supermarkets.

In the last three weeks I climbed off the earth's surface, reaching the peak of Mt.Kinabalu.
And looked down into a ocean abyss to see a world that screamed so loudly in color that I had to strain to hear my own heavy breathing, while snorkeling in Bali.

Re-entry is never easy. But crying over a lost I-pod is and I am well aware of how ridiculous that sounds.

It might take me a while to sort through my 200 some pictures. Until then I will leave this one thought:

2008 in Review

2008-12-28T12:19:00.003+09:00

Best Book I Read- The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman

Best Foreign Film I saw- Isao Takahata's Grave of the Fireflies

Best Thing to Happen to my Music Collection- The Books The Lemon of Pink and Mount Eerie, Julie Doiron & Fred Squire Lost Wisdom

Best Time- That evening in Philly when Rachel, Matt, Adam, and I giggled for hours while large acorn type things fell on our heads. Because I spent time that evening reflecting on how lucky I have been in the last year in my life. And I had a great epiphany that Japan sometimes makes a lot of sense and sometimes I really like it. And I knew I was going to North Carolina the following morning and that is a beautiful place.

Best Work Related Thing- The 5th graders I now teach at my favorite elementary school and the friendship I have built with the teacher I teach alongside.

Best Thing I Bought- The pinkish purple pen from the Museum of Modern Art in Tokyo with a chubby ballerina on it.

Best recent Line from The Everybodyfields- I am just a ray of sun, you are daylight/ I'm an early morning, you were a good night/ And a pray before I can go to sleep

Malaysia and Indonesia Bound

2008-12-20T06:55:00.003+09:00

This again:
When I worked in North Carolina the 1st graders (in the only sane and humane classroom) would want to watch Santa Claus 2 year round. Last year, the Thursday before I left for Southeast Asia, Santa Claus 2 was on TV. So I emailed that favorite teacher.

This past Thursday, the first Santa Claus was on TV. I thought about that teacher and how we have not corresponded in about a year. I sat down to write her to tell her that I was watching Santa Claus and that the sequel is far superior to the first. She had literally sent me an email a minute before I logged in ... to tell me that that Tim Allen movie was setting in nostalgic feelings.

In a similar vain, I am currently sending all people holiday cheer via my telepathic powers.

Winter Woke Me Up

2008-12-18T00:06:00.004+09:00

The moments before I went to Southeast Asia last winter stretched into long hours and days. I stared at computer screens, clocks, and calendars while I was counting down. And I wasted time and money, wearing tights of winter hues, at the fancy bar down the street.

I have not even been to that bar this winter and I have read only a few blogs on Malaysia, my next destination. All I really want to do is this:
Somehow every moment of my life has been filled with obligations of sorts. Obligations like dinners, lunches, cleaning for dinner guests, driving (those with injuries that prevents them from driving) to the doctor, preparing Christmas crafts, songs, and parties, coughing up phlegm, staring at myself in the mirror because something really gross was happening with my eye earlier this week, and reading A People's History of the United States.

I have been drafting something, in my head, really intelligent to say about that book. But without pressures from Jeff or Jim I have no motivation. I will say that Howard Zinn's historical account of the United States is one the most life changing books I have ever picked up. I question if early American History should even be taught in primary schools. The reality of it is far too traumatic for elementary age students. The book is bringing back memories of learning American history in school and how severely that history was romanticized.

A new book is one of the many reasons I love Japan in the winter. Books, movies, and the nest I have created to keep warm.
I recently bought a hot water bottle to put in the bottom of my bed to warm it up and I got a late birthday gift this evening of a fleece thing to wrap around my waist, under many other layers, for the winter.

Last winter I felt as if Japan was unprepared for the cold with their lack of insulations. This winter I have begun to understand all the cold weather intricacies that exist in this country, which has awoken a new love for the season.

But, I will be pleased to put this season on pause for 22 consecutive days.
On December 20th I will fly to Singapore.
December 21st Kota Kinabalu
On the 28th and 29th I will climb Mt. Kinabalu
January 1st to Bali
January 8th to Singapore
And back to Japan on January 10th.

As seasons are merging in my life winter feels like a beginning and summer reminds me laze.
Philip Larkin describes that twist best in his poetry:
Cut Grass

Cut grass lies frail:
Brief is the breath
Mown stalks exhale.
Long, long the death.

It dies in white hours
Of young-leafed June
With chestnut flowers,
With hedges snowlike strewn,

White lilac bowed,
Lost lanes of Queen Anne's lace,
And that high-builded cloud
Moving at summer's pace.

It is another holiday season of feeling blessed as I carry on in a country with little holiday pressure and I am about to take on a dream fantasy adventure in a new part of the world. And I will not be turning on my computer or driving my car for a while and that is the best gift I could get this time of year.
Until then I am going to fall asleep while watching Center Stage for the second time this week.

Last Call

2008-12-09T00:24:00.004+09:00

You do not have to go home.

But you cannot stay here.

Better. Faster. Beautiful.

2008-12-08T23:02:00.008+09:00

I did not even make it past Tilly and the Wall on my mix.
Like all good things in Shikoku the race in Kamiyama was simple in that it was free, full of enthusiastic jr. high school students, and fit elderly people.
Emma's abode in the mountain town of Kamiyama is a beautiful place to wake up in in the morning. We walked down the hill to register for the race and spent about an hour and a half jumping around in cold mud to keep our toes from freezing.
As we turned the first corner in the race and people began to break into their personal strides Christine exclaimed "I am so happy!" Which was an appropriately special comment.

With only a few meters ahead, myself and an older woman sped to the finish along side one another. When we crossed the line she shook my hand and said "thank you."

I ran the last 10K in one hour. I just wanted to beat my time. And I did so, coming in with 58 minutes.
After the race, we ate delicious Korean food and watched a marathon on T.V. I thought about how excited I am to run a marathon and how wrong my sixth grade gym teacher was about me.

Hand to Mouth

2008-12-06T18:07:00.007+09:00

May 14th

September 9th

December 5th

Comforts

2008-12-05T01:46:00.003+09:00

I have a next-door neighbor I have never met. I have a feeling it is a woman.
She recently began waking up every morning at 7:30 a.m. I can hear her shuffling around during her morning routine. I imagine her sleeping close to the wall that separates us.
She listens to the morning news on the television. The muffled sound of her closet door opening and closing and Japanese broadcasters wake me up every morning. They are the same sounds I heard coming from my parents bedroom every morning growing up.
It is the most comforting thing to wake up to.

The Happenings of my Heart

2008-12-03T23:41:00.005+09:00

Dear Prudence- The Beatles
Bounce That - Girl Talk
Toxic- Britney Spears
So What- Field Mob& Ciara
Hard Knock Life- Jay-Z
Touch the Sky- Kayne West
Get it Together- Jurassic 5
Black Tambourine- Beck
Holland, 1945- Neutral Milk Hotel
Greed- Fugazi
Flower- Liz Phair
Modern Girl- Sleater Kinney
La Familia (Joyride: Remixes) - Mirah
Going to California- Led Zeppelin
Take Time- The Books
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Theme
Judy is a Punk- The Ramones
Queen Bitch- David Bowie
Nights of the Living Dead- Tilly and the Wall
Styrofoam Boots/ It's All Nice- Modest Mouse
F**k the Pain Away- Peaches
The State We're In- Chemical Brothers

The above play list runs just over an hour. I am running a 10K this Sunday. I hope to only listen to these songs once.
I have not been running much recently because the kotatsu feels so good and The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down is one the most amazing books I have ever read.
I need to run more though. It does things to my heart that nothing else can do.

Happiness is a ...

2008-11-30T21:46:00.013+09:00

November 28, 2008 was two things. The day I turned 25 as well as one of the best days of my life.
I made it a point to promote my birthday this year. Last year was somewhat of a disappointment. None of my co-workers or students knew it was my birthday last year and it fell on a Wednesday.

This year my birthday fell on the Friday after American Thanksgiving. I was sure to mention this date to my adult conversation classes, which mets on Fridays, as well as my favorite elementary school that I also visit that day of the week.

I woke up Friday morning at Leah's. We skyped our family who were just getting ready to sit down and eat turkey.
My niece Caroline joined the conversation and we spent time virtually kissing each other.

I walked into my beginner conversation class to see a table with pastries and coffee. One member of the class played Happy Birthday on her flute like instrument and I was truly shocked.
Japanese people do not treat birthdays the same way Americans do. Americans seem to place much more emphasis on individuals. Whether that be with hopes that one person can save a country or that a birthday is a day when one person should be given an obscene amount of attention.
When these ten Japanese people heard my subtle requests to have a birthday celebration I felt appreciated, among other things.
The following hour my intermediate class also brought sweets and tea.
The man to my right celebrated his 78th birthday on November 28th. He told me that being old is a struggle. I talked about how excited I am to someday be retired.

That afternoon a group of 5th grade girls stopped me, before I could walk inside the elementary school, to wish me happy birthday. And a steady stream of students followed this pattern giving me more hugs than I have ever received in one day.
The 3rd grade students would not let me into their class room for the first 15 minutes of class because they were busy preparing my gifts. They drew pictures of me and one girl gave me a four leaf clover. My favorite picture is of me (looking very Japanese, so maybe it is not me) in front of a mountain, captioned "Let's climb the mountain. It looks interesting" (in Japanese). Whoever it is supposed to be in the picture I love that that is something my students think of when they think of me.

I drove to Brad's that evening. Dianne provided the drinks.
Last year I ate Mexican food on my birthday. This year we did the same, but Dave (the cook and owner from California) brought out a brownie with a candle.
The party continued at karaoke.
And when we got back to Brad's out came the cake.
And the first day of my 25th year began with my favorite hangover meal of all time.
I could not have created a better day in my imagination.
Old friends and family took a moment to stay in touch. And relatively new friends gave me plenty of deserved birthday attention.
I constantly struggle with what it is I will walk away with after living in Ikeda for two years. Perhaps valued personal relationships is an obvious answer to that question.

Speaking English in Tokyo

2008-11-26T22:17:00.009+09:00

Last weekend was spent in Tokyo, speaking English to Japanese people, and determining that I have spent a lot of time in this country which could someday result in me going crazy.

Leah and I got on the Shinkansen Friday evening. We made sure we had ample snacks for the three and a half hour ride from Okayama to Tokyo.
As well as a lot of plastic bags apparently.
We accidentally hopped on the smoking train. Which is basically a party for business men who just got off work.
The Shinkansen is the fastest train in the world. It was comparable to a spaceship which makes for an interesting setting for a bunch of salary men to get drunk in.

We arrived in Tokyo with time to grab one of the last trains to our hostel. From there the two of us set out to do some karaoke. Which is when it starts to get strange.
Just me, and my little cousin Leah, in Tokyo, setting out to find the karaoke rooms so we can do some sober karaoke.
We did and it was really fun.
But it is Japan. Leah and I both seem to have a sort of understanding of this country. Which results in utilizing the local culture for fun.

The following day Leah was my guide around the big city. After witnessing a line around the block just to get into the newest H&M it was determined that the economy in Japan could never really fail because people will always go shopping. Which could be perceived as a relief, I guess.

We ate spicy ramen at the only trendy ramen shop in existence.
As well as cake and pizza later in the evening.

While walking from the Italian restaurant to the subway a bunch of Care Bears caught my eye. The inner Japanese girl in me came out as my eyes glazed over and I whispered "kawaii."
I tried to grab one.
Leah tried to grab one.
And of course, we eventually won one.

We then boarded a shuttle to Ageha, arguably the coolest club in Tokyo. Which, I suppose would make it one of the cooler clubs in this little world. The Care Bear came with us on the shuttle, which in Japan is pretty normal.
The entrance fee for the club was about $35. And drinks were about $7. Luckily, Tokyo is full of people who speak English. And people that are eager to approach the foreign girl on the dance floor.
Tokyo was refreshing. I felt like people have seen plenty of foreigners. Many of the foreigners I saw looked as if they lived in Tokyo. Japanese people spoke English to me with ease Saturday night.
I spent most of the evening dancing near the outdoor pool. The DJ was to my right and the Tokyo skyline ahead of me. My new friends continually pulled me back onto the dance floor every time I attempted to slip away to go find Leah. As the sun began to come up I found myself wondering, once again, about this strange life I live. This huge club in Tokyo was fun. The pretty girl that kept grabbing my face and telling me I was cute was also pretty fun. But I think I discovered the definition of cool with ice burgh lettuce salads and episodes of The Office on DVD. But, for whatever reason, Japan seems to provide me with some sort of energy that motivates me to dance for hours and travel long distances most weekends. I think if I continued to thrive off the sort of energy that keeps me moving until 4 a.m. easily I would eventually go crazy.

Leah and I caught the first train home Sunday morning and made it to her friend's apartment to watch the sunrise over Fuji.
This weekend, two different people guessed I was between 19 and 22 . I will be 25 on Friday.
Oh. Japan.
Help.

Anxiety

2008-11-21T12:29:00.000+09:00

And ways to deal with it.

5-0

2008-11-19T23:19:00.006+09:00

Before last night, it had been a long time since I had been in the backseat of a cop car.

My Tuesday evening began as all good Tuesday evenings do. Leah cut my bangs, then we drove to the seaside town, Nio to eat at Cafe de Float. This cafe is a dinning gem. Alongside YRG cafe in Tokushima city, it fulfills the stylish fantasies I had about Japanese cultural before arrival. An interesting young couple owns and cooks at the restaurant. The specials are written in chalk on a small blackboard mounted on the wall. The collection of English reads are geared towards those who enjoy traveling. None of the tables look the same. Other young people always come in. And international music plays at just the right volume.

We left around 9 with the sweet and innocent intention of finding the nearby mall before closing time.

I took the left turn that the hip man at Cafe de Float had told me to take and I then drove over train tracks. Moments later police sirens wailed behind me and Leah and I laughed as we realized that I was being pulled over.

I had always felt invincible driving in Japan. Perhaps it is because others drive like maniacs. In Japan, no one slows down for yellow and speed limits are rarely real. I knew I had not stopped before the train tracks as the law suggests you do. But, I did not know that traffic laws were ever enforced.

The police men pulled up in front of my car and as they walked toward my car it continued to be comical.
The police in the States are frightening. They will always pull up behind your car. And they will wait about 10 minutes, with their lights flashing in your rear view mirror as they run your plates, before they get out of their car. As they approach your car their gun and billy-club stand out, no matter how dark it is.

As both a younger and an older police officer stood at my window I began with the "wakarimasen" (I do not understand). I thought they might just grow tired of this quickly and leave. They kindly told me to get out of my car and invited me into theirs.

The inside of this police car was clean and warm. The seats were large and soft. There was no glass that separated the backseat from the front. They began to take my information and I continued to suggest that I did not understand anything that they were saying.

The older man then began to write out a number on what appeared to be a ticket. I realized I did not have anytime to talk myself out of it.
I took a deep breath and collected all the tears I could. I began to sniffle and speak in a soft voice. I wiped my eyes with my shirt sleeves. I told them, "gomen, gomen" (sorry, sorry). They continued to write out the ticket and these tears only made them feel awkward. They then asked me how long I had lived in Japan. I told them (in Japanese) that I lived in Japan for one year. I said I came August. Twenty- Seven.

As they checked my license and wrote out my ticket they told me how good my Japanese is and said that they think I study.

I put my head on the back of the older man's car seat. It felt soft and new. They asked me my phone number and after I gave it to them (in Japanese). I leaned up into the front seat and pulled the sheet of paper towards me to double check the numbers.

They handed me my $90 ticket and I gave them a finger print. I felt as if I had sat through that process as a favor to them. I felt as if I could have told them that I was actually busy and I needed to go, anytime during that interaction.

They did not make me do a field sobriety test, they did not even ask if I had been drinking and there was no k-9 unit threat.

Neither cop attempted to intimidate me in any manner. Getting back in my own car I was disappointed that the dashboard is not fancy and the heat does not work as well as the police officers car.

As I walked from their car to mine they called out "take care, take care" till I shut my door. There was no concern from the pits of my stomach. Only a dent in my wallet. That being said, I hope you have enjoyed reading this because it cost me about $90.

The Struggle

2008-11-17T23:21:00.010+09:00

The kotatsu is on. It makes me delirious in a state of warmth and comfort.

Last week in my adult conversation class we talked about cultural stereotypes. I figured America would consist of big everything- houses, people, cars, meals. But, we sat around the table and took it a step further. To them, America is now a nation that is in trouble economically and sends soldiers to many parts of the world.
I hear that the unemployment rate in the USA will continue to increase. I have a feeling that things there might be a struggle.

A few weeks ago I joined my elementary school while we all watched sumo, for the first time. In a town where the isles in the grocery stores are narrow and a kitchen and one tatami room is all the space I use, the size of these wrestlers seemed inhuman.

Once this season of hot feet and more firsts is through I hope I can embrace the struggle.

Origins.

2008-11-12T02:06:00.004+09:00

Things must start somewhere:

One persons thought can lead to an action which can suddenly involve a community.
The original association may seem different to each person even if it is related, loosely, to the same picture.

I am Over Anarchy

2008-11-06T20:31:00.007+09:00

I came from Sano Elementary to Hakuchi Elementary. I asked the secretary to put on the news and I saw that Obama had over 100 electoral votes while McCain only had 40 some and Obama had taken Pennsylvania. I walked into the 6th grade class everyone was observing and, like so many America's did that day, I cried. I looked around the room realizing, like I often do, that I look so different than everyone else in that room. But I am the citizen of a country where these differences are embraced and President Obama understands the importance of cultural differences. For a moment, I felt like I was doing something that made sense.

I woke up this morning and I felt like I had spent the night with a new love. I walked around school with a smile and a glow. It was that feeling you get when you first meet someone amazing. You cannot imagine that there will be challenges or you could ever be angry again. You never really understood this feeling before. It is a feeling that has always existed deep inside you but only certain things could bring it out.
Today it was a feeling of actually loving the country I come from. I am not angry at it. Despite the Walmarts, fast food, ignorance, intolerance, nonsensical drug wars, really bad high school teachers, corrupt cops, high cost of prescription medication, abstinence sex education, and the many other things I have spent the last 24 years despising, I can look past it. The majority of my country just might get it. These things that made me want to move may be seen as retro in the years to come. Or, at least, that is what I rolled over to this morning.

Yesterday I drove for an hour and spent a lot of money on tolls to get to Tokushima city so I could hang out with other Americans to celebrate.
We ate Mexican food.
I toasted to not recontacting to another year in Japan.
Then we drove around shouting things like "Obama gozaimashta" and "OtsukareBama " which is really funny to people who speak the amount of Japanese that we do.
I have also realized that chills often begin in my knees and fingers. Then move to the rest of my body.

We have seen this all before.

2008-11-03T22:34:00.008+09:00

I have spent the last six Autumns tucking sheets into the corners of different beds. But, this October I have been cooking in the same kitchen as I did last and cleansing in the same shower.
Last winter I constantly listened to the National album Boxer while I drove to Ikeda's various elementary schools and the Jr. High. When I listen to that album now the familiarity gives me chills. At the time, I was so curious as to how the sun was going to fall the following day at a certain hour. I had no idea what a mid-January evening in Japan felt like.
Now, as Japan never changes it's clock, a 6 p.m. dark sky in early November holds no anticipation.

Regardless of where I am or what I am doing I know each year will have differences. Some of them will be welcomed, some of them not. But, this last weekend I took the opportunity to embrace the familiarity of a Fall in Japan.

It was another Halloween of putting a costume on in Naruto. Then transporting into Tokushima city. Where singing,

drinking,
and dancing

continued till a pillow was under my head.

As time has a way of doing, it just slips by when there are so many things to see. This weekend could serve as the last for some Iya Autumn camping. Brad and I packed up my Toyota once again and this time the roads were familiar.

I hate to say that I may never return to somewhere I love. But, Iya is a hard place to get to without a car and Fall is it's best season. So the 500 yen was dished out to walk across the vine bridge this time.

Of course there were more onsens and soba. As well as the general feeling of contentment that can only be found when a tent is unzipped to welcome morning's warm colors of leaves.

I am not sure if everything is the exact same or completely different this season. Either way it manages to feel unique.

Bikini's, Blue Drinks, Borneo, Babies, and Blogs

2008-10-29T23:32:00.004+09:00

I got my bikini in the mail today.
The plan is that I will be wearing it on a beach in Borneo while I drink a blue drink sometime between December 22nd and January 7th. Hopefully it will be warm enough and it will not be raining.
To be entirely honest, I know little to nothing about Borneo. I do have a plane ticket to go there though. About this time last year I started to get so excited about traveling around southeast Asia that planning my trip literally became my full time job.

Recently, I have been too busy reading novels in my free time while at work. I have gotten into the habit of reading novels and taking notes on those novels while at work. For whatever reason, this note taking legitimizes my work time pleasure reading.

This time of year is also the first birthday of the baby featured above (my nephew Henry) as well as my blog. I have been documenting my life on the internet for one year to the day. Clearly, a lot has happened in all our lives in the last year. Personally, my hair is longer, my dress size smaller, my heart and mind much more jaded and my original lifetime list of things I must do has gotten smaller which in turn only, really, makes it longer.

In the celebration of mass media, wasting time in a productive manner, and living and blogging about a life that is so distant than the one I used to know I would like to recognize Chuck Palahniuk's understanding of variations of tourism. Palahniku's character Echo Lawrence describes UFOs as "human tourists visiting us from a distant future" in Rant (my current choice of fiction).

Then there is Wes Anderson's scene that always steals my heart:

If my blog had to be condensed into two small things I suppose those would be it.
All I can hope for is that people continue to be fine with my tardiness and once I leave Borneo tourism only continues to progress.

The Future Tense

2008-10-23T21:04:00.005+09:00

Last weekend I went to a (ahem) spiritual adviser.
Side note: things I like- psychics and talking on the phone. Never let me get the number to a psychic hot line.

I wrote down my name and date of birth. She put her hand over it to create magnetic energy. She told me I spent too much time playing the role of an older sister. She said I needed to meet some people that were older than I, someone that is not such a child.
Maybe someone with a driver's license?
She pretty much told me things that Andrew has been telling me for half a decade. But, it just sounds so good coming from a stranger.

Spilled Milk

2008-10-19T20:31:00.005+09:00

The other day I was eating lunch with the first graders at an elementary school. All students in Japan, ALL, prepare their own lunches and cleanup their own lunches.
After lunch, one student was taking his milk cartoon over to the sink to pour out the milk he did not drink. Having just spent twenty minutes with a guest in their classroom most of the students were on adrenaline highs. And that was just fine with their teacher.
As this student jumped out of his chair toward the sink, he picked his milk cartoon up upside down and the milk spilled out. He noticed the spilled milk, turned around, picked up some tissues from his desk, cleaned up the milk, and continued cleaning up the rest of his lunch.
His teacher did not say a word and the student was not ashamed of this accident.
Sorry but ...
had this happened at the school I was working at in the states, before I came to Japan, the teacher would have yelled. The student would have gotten upset. The teacher would have blamed the students excited attitude for this accident. The teacher would then shove some paper towels into the students face, watch him cleanup the milk, and then cleanup what the student (presumably) did not cleanup well himself.

Educational reforms are seriously needed in America's public schools.
It also would not hurt to have all American elementary school teachers watch the first grade at my favorite Japanese elementary school.

Hand in hand, off the island.

2008-10-14T23:30:00.011+09:00

I made it off Shikoku this weekend. For the first time since August when I got on the island after a visit to the States.
I boarded a bus from Ikeda to Osaka on Friday. I was pleased to find that my Ipod laid nicely in the cup holder. The $9.99 I spent on the Itunes edition of my favorite movie has proved to be worth the money spent in my recent travels.

(I would like to express the utmost respect for anyone who can name the above movie based on the provided picture).

Leah and I met at the Tsuruhashi station which was just a few minutes walk from her friend Josh's apartment. He met us wearing some sort of Steelers t-shirt. Yes, another Pittsburgher in Japan. His Alderdice High School energy somehow motivated us to apply eyeshadow and mascara with just enough time to catch the last train into Namba.

Leah and I finally found our place on the dance floor at about 2:30 a.m. At which point she turned to me and said something along the lines of, "you could be in a Britney Spears video dancing like that."
We stood in front of the speakers dancing and drinking for the next couple hours. I paid for that 5 a.m. cab ride, being that it was my doing I was getting us home at the obscene hour.

The following day we lazed around Starbucks because that is something we never get to do in Shikoku. And I have no shame. It was a beautiful way to spend the afternoon. Discussing our favorite books, surrounded by young people, drinking coffee, and splitting a chocolate bar.

That evening we took the train to Kyoto to eat the most delicious brownie I have ever tasted. And back on the last train to Osaka where Leah had to pull me off the dance floor, at 3 a.m. this time.

Somewhere in between the cab and Josh's apartment I dropped my cherished raspberry beret that I bought in Amsterdam this time of year, four autumns ago. But it was lying there waiting for me when I ran around looking for it. I paid one Euro for that hat. It has been just about everywhere I have been. I have almost lost it countless times. When I thought it was gone for good this Saturday night Leah chose the comforting words of "maybe it was time for a new one. That hat has a lot of holes in it," to calm my panic. But it was found.

On Sunday we met Leah's childhood friend, Shuichii who grew up in (yes once again) Pittsburgh and has since moved back to Nara, Japan with his family.

We saw the big Buddha in Nara and petted the deer that roam the city.

Shuichii took us to his friend Jon's temple as the gates closed behind us. Jon is a 23 year old Monk. The sun set and we stood around speaking a funny combination of English and Japanese. Jon introduced us to another one of his Monk friends who graciously let Leah and I take over the role of ringing the 5 p.m. bell that evening.

Before we all got up off the floor of Jon's office to leave the temple he showed us where to place our hands and feet when preforming Buddhist meditation. The four of us sat there for a moment and Jon taught us his mantra. Which can be translated as a pray for good health.
The mantra was chanted, the silence ended. And we collected ourselves to head towards the mall where there was imported beer.

Jon joined us for dinner and drinking at Shuichii's house. Once the imported beers were gone the ten year old Ume-shu came out.

Jon showed me how to write 気　お　つ　けて (my favorite Japanese word) in Kanji.
When our lips were off the cups of ume-shu, Shuichii served as the translator in regards to the questions of desire and anxiety during this intoxicated monk chat.
And Japan and I had seemed to finally met on common ground. Japan was not uncomfortable with my need to talk bluntly and loud and dress like crazy bag lady. I was not tiptoeing around customs that I am not sure I understand or think are particularly unfair. I was simply existing in this country. This country was existing in front of me. The interest was mutual. And it was simply discussed that all desires are the same, making them all an equal allusion.

The night ended as we all sipped on Japanese beers and 10 Things I Hate about You was on the television. Jon was the first to fall asleep, being that he typically wakes up with the sunrise it only made sense.

The next day, Japan continued to hold my hand during my last hour in the bus station while I stood in the nearby bookstore, reading haiku's that had been translated into English. Then I had to say goodbye to the big city once again.

The sunset early last night and once I got back to Ikeda Brian picked me up so we could drive up into the mountains and drink coffee in the moonlight. On our way back down the mountain top we saw a baby boar run across the road and just a few moments later we both turned to each other to express our love for those mountains.

Wasilla, Alaska

2008-10-08T22:35:00.004+09:00

I would like to take this moment to say that I am sorry for not spending more time talking about how much I love Obama. I will say that I like to read this blog to get political news.
Also ... yea, let's prioritize!

Anyway, I spent the summer of 2005 in Wasilla, Alaska. At girl scout camp to be more specific.
This what it was like:
Which was really cool. But that is about all that happens in Wasilla.
That and there were a lot of bees that summer. In fact, I got stung once and my entire leg swelled up and I had someone take me to the emergency room. While I was in the waiting room I lost my breath and was rushed ahead of other patients. The nurses began to take my vital signs, epipen in hand. A nurse then turned to me and said, "Your oxygen is over 100%. You are having an anxiety attack."
I was embarrassed and asked if I could leave. They told me I needed to lay there for a while. They were not very nice.

Wasilla seemed to be a beautiful part of the country that was being slowly suffocated by strip malls.

I also met a Native Alaskan who was wiser than me and nine years younger. And I taught a bunch of fourteen year old girls how to build a fire. That may have been the most empowering thing I have ever done.

Wasilla was the only place in the world where I felt like animals were in charge and people were second in line.

I am just glad that some people are asking the former Mayor the really tough questions.

My neighborhood with a view.

2008-10-08T00:03:00.002+09:00

まだです

2008-10-05T19:21:00.008+09:00

coming out of a shell.

But, perhaps, not yet.

Three golden tickets were given to Tokyo.

Her English put her fourth in line.
After three months, I have spent hours listening to those four and a half minutes of (what seemed to be) flawless English.

Those four and a half minutes of a speech about her host family reminded me of my own.

This afternoon, a lovely lunch with a brilliant teenager who is 10 years my junior and a beautiful woman who is some years my senior tucked me right back into the feeling of my comforting Czech bed.

My to do list

2008-10-01T23:39:00.004+09:00

And what have you done for you country?
Some things need to be helped.

The right to say No

2008-09-30T23:19:00.011+09:00

The declared theme for this upcoming year is I will not do things I do not want to do.

On Friday my supervisor called me, at the elementary school, to ask if I wanted to be in a kimono contest. She was excited and began to make plans as to where her friend could meet me to try on kimonos for the contest. I was not sure what any of this really meant. So she gave me a link to last years contest.

I looked at the site and looked at the 24 year old secretary. The secretary told me that she could call my supervisor for me and tell her that I am "very busy."

Perhaps my supervisor and her friend are disappointed that they cannot dress the foreigner up in a kimono. But I decided to say, "No."

Of course, I cannot just throw around the word "No" too easily.

For example:

On Saturday, I went over to Sarah's house to drink the ume-shu (plum liquor) that had been sitting under my sink for three months. Slowly exchanging the flavors of cheap liquor, plums, and sugar making one large jug of ume-shu.

And it was delicious.

The delicious ume-shu even made it's way to the karaoke room.

Then the ume-shu somehow made it back from the karaoke room and into the cab.

After a late night (or early morning) of the sweet liquor I really did not want to get into my car and drive to watch elementary school kids run around the field. I wanted to say "No."
But I would also like to maintain a good relationship with the school and the community that surrounds it. So I went to the elementary school sports day.

I did not regret, for a moment, that I had previously told this school "No" when they asked me to be the mother chicken while the 1st-3rd graders did the chicken dance.
Instead I just watched the events.

If no one else around here is going to use that word directly, I will be happy to introduce it.

In my imagination

2008-09-26T00:41:00.003+09:00

In my imagination ...

there are some really old Japanese women that live in the mountains near me. They were around before electricity and walk around vertical to the dirt under their feet. They are so old, they have lost track of their age.

all Japanese women in their sixties and seventies can spend the same two hours in a ballet class with me. Then they can spend the same four hours drinking beer with me.

all Japanese peers of mine have a job. None of them have arrest records. Nor do they have drinking problems that impede on personal relationships.

Japanese Jr.high school students enjoy waking up and coming to school. They welcome time spent with their families. And their thrills are met while baking with their friends.

The children in Japan can always get as dirty as they want. They have imaginations like the little girls in Totoro and the little boy in Ponyo.

Babies in Japan are allowed to play with anything, including electrical outlets and they never get seriously injured.

And

.