Cleaning Day or How Would Their Mother's Feel?

We’re nearing the end of the term here at Minato Jr. High School and, in honor of this special week, today we had a school-wide cleaning extravaganza. Initially, students’ cleaning the classrooms was a surprise to me – I still remember Rick the Janitor at Redmond Elementary School and his huge, powerful vacuum cleaner (I also remember him being hugely fat and driving a tiny, red sports car; how did he fit in it?). I was never expected to wield a broom or mop the floor with cold water and a dirty rag. But, here, every day after lunch is designated ‘cleaning time’ and the kids half-heartedly sweep, mop, dust, and scrub for twenty minutes.

Today went above and beyond. Today was the cleaning day to end all cleaning days (until next year, anyway). Today was . . . wait for it . . . Window Cleaning Day! Okay, maybe I was a sheltered child, but I when I was growing up, public schools took down swing-sets because they were considered too dangerous. The Big Slide was disassembled in my fifth grade year because kids acquired WAY too much velocity on it, turning them into tiny, hurtling bullets. There is no such concern for safety here. I saw students straddling the third-floor window sills to better clean a spot off the glass on the outside. They leaned precariously far outside and scrubbed while the teachers yelled, ‘Gambatte!’ and I internalized my fear for their lives. They stacked three shaky desks on top of each other and stood at the top, in order to reach the windows nearest the ceiling. I thought I was going to have a heart-attack.

In light of my newly discovered over-protectiveness, I think I’ll plan to be absent on Roof Cleaning Day and Trimming the Tops of the Trees without a Harness Day, much less Standing in a Pool of Water while Fixing the Electrical Wiring that’s Still Plugged In Day. However, one benefit to working at Jr. High School? There are no swings to be worried about.

Let's going to Kobe (captions provided in Engrish)!

Let's loving creativity of faces with Liz!

Let's experiencing exciting sights of Chinatown!

Let's enjoying delicious taste of expensive fruit!

Let's encountering funky pets!

Let's tasting spicy flavors of Indian food!

Let's having fun and memory times with friends!

Just a wee bit behind . . .

After an entire month, I am finally posting pictures of Ritchie's trip to Japan. They're late, but they're still good!

I hate you more than what?

While at a late dinner with Travy tonight, I was reminded of an amusing interaction from Luke's birthday. To preface this, you should know that Luke is from New Zealand and therefore the good-natured recipient of frequent jokes at the expense of his funny (to us Americans) sounding accent. Luckily, he takes it in stride and can dish as well as receive. But this is how the conversation went:

Ailey: You suck, Luke (or some such banal remark about how Luke is less-than-cool).

Luke: I hate you, Ailey. I hate you more than dith.

Ailey (to Travy in a whisper): Um . . . what's 'dith?'

Travy (to Ailey in a whisper): I'm not sure, but I think he means 'death.'

Ailey (to Travy in a whisper): Oh, death! He hates me more than death! I get it now.

Luke: I can hear you guys and now I hate you even more.

Sigh. Just remembering this conversation makes me laugh to myself. It's not quite as funny, though, as the story that Travy told about the German who pronounced anise wrong. When asked what the Greek liquor tasted like, he said:

"It tastes like anus."

And few things can compete with that.

In Tatsuno, trying to survive until tomorrow.

I came down south this afternoon because I have my first soccer practice tomorrow. The soul purpose of me traveling four hours by train (other than to pay Pumla) was to meet the girls that I'll be playing in the tournament with next weekend and figure out what team I should be on. The only problem is that I'm staying at Loz's apartment and Liz and Ryan are in attendance, as well. This might not sound like a problem, but when Loz greeted me at the door, he also greeted me with a beer and now there's some kind of concotion in the works that, I'm told, tastes shockingly similar to Chu-hi. So now I'm convinced that I'll be attending soccer practice tomorrow with a raging hangover and will instantly be relegated to the 'recreational' team. But you know what? That's alright. I'm not a competitive person anyway. Bring on the Chu-hi!

They are everywhere!

In response to my recent blog post about ‘The ghosts in the temple,’ my friend, Manabu, sent me this message:

‘Yes, it was just a ghost.

My friend used to live in an old house in Ahiya, Kobe. The house dated from the Edo period (1603 – 1867). The first time I went to his house, he said, “Small children are running around, but you won’t see them. They’re harmless, so just let them go.”

The next time I stayed at his house, he said, “If you see yourself from the ceiling, don’t worry. You’ll come back to yourself in about 30 minutes.”

Some Japanese people live with spirits and it’s natural for them. But it’s freaking scary for the rest of us.’

Tell me about it.

Pictures from Kyoto

This dragon reminds me of the character from The Neverending Story. Anyone remember him? What was his name again?

Taka and his family have a really old hat - it's from 16th century Portugal. How did it end up in Kyoto, I wonder?

Ailey and Taka in front of the golden pavilion. Yeah, that's right. It's a pavilion made of gold.

Actually it's just covered in gold, but it's still pretty cool.

Ghosts in the Temple

Taka and I arrived back at the temple gate at around 2:30 AM. The sounds of the city didn’t reach the building in the middle of the complex of temples and monasteries and the stars were bright. As I looked up at the gate made of wood weathered to black and the traditionally sloping tiled roof, a creepy thought crossed my mind:

“Taka, how old did you say this building is?” I asked.

“This part is about 400 years old,” he replied.

“I don’t want to sound silly, but do you think that there are ghosts here?” Saying this, I already knew that I sounded silly. In fact, Taka would probably think that I was so ridiculous that he would discontinue our new friendship.

But he responded, “Oh yeah!” and then went into a detailed account of the ghosts wandering the premises. There were ghosts walking in the graveyard, ghosts in the hallway, and ghosts in the bedrooms. Sometimes when he woke up at night, there would be a ghost standing over him. Sometimes when he opened his eyes, a ghost would be several inches from his face.

While brushing my teeth, I threw panicked glances into the mirror, half expecting to see a ghost standing behind me. I dreaded going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, fearing that a ghost would catch me unawares on my way to the toilet. I tried to settle on my futon, but couldn’t get the idea out of my mind.

“Taka!” I yelled through the sliding door. “When you’ve seen the ghost in here, where was it exactly?”

“Well, it’s usually standing right where your futon is. But don’t worry, it doesn’t mean any harm.”

I thought about how I would feel waking up to a gentle ghost hovering over me, wearing the white funerary robes that Taka told me tends to be his favorite outfit. I thought about it until my palms went clammy and my eyes wouldn’t stay closed. And then I decided that, if I did wake up to a gentle ghost hovering over me, I definitely wouldn’t like it.

“Taka!” I yelled through the door again. “Will you move your futon in here?”

“Ugh,” he sighed in disgust. “Ailey, it’s JUST a ghost.”

School Lunch

What images does the phrase ‘school lunch’ conjure for you? If you, like me, attended Redmond Elementary School, you’re probably thinking of green hotdogs, greasy pizza, and an iceberg lettuce salad bar. Here in Japan, the fare is a little bit different, though generally no less disgusting.

This is what we had for lunch yesterday:



Here in Japan we eat the insides of the crab as well. Even the brown, squishy bits.

Hiroshima

This past weekend, Travy, Katie and I made the long journey down to Hiroshima. It was three and a half hours on the train to Himeji, then another hour on the Shinkansen from there to Hiroshima. The trip home on Saturday/Sunday was about twelve hours longer, but I’ll get to that in a bit.

Hiroshima is a new city, mainly because it was completely obliterated by the atomic bomb in 1946. Every American knows about the atomic bomb, but it was something completely different to see the twisted atomic dome and the human shadows imprinted on concrete steps and the burned articles of children’s clothing. Each artifact was accompanied by a heart-breaking story like this: ‘Saori’s mother went looking for her after the bomb fell. She found a body clutching this lunch-box to its chest. She was able to recognize Saori by her favorite lunchbox.’

I went to Hiroshima not knowing what to expect, but the museum and the preserved atomic dome did a good job in conferring the horror of the bomb and its aftermath. Prior to this trip, I didn’t know that the citizens of Hiroshima weren’t warned about the bomb despite the protests of the scientists who worked to develop it (as the U.S. had warned other civilians of bombing raids), that Hiroshima had never been bombed before so that the U.S. could take notes on the destructive powers of the bomb, or that the U.S. had considered using an atomic bomb in the Korean War. The entire experience was shocking and emotionally draining.

Fortunately for my sensitive spirit, this trip wasn’t all about horror and war. We also took the ferry out to Miyajima – an island famous for its ‘floating’ gate and temple (the tide was out when we arrived, so it wasn’t exactly ‘floating’). The island is populated by tame deer that are greedy for bland wafers and, apparently, monkeys and wild apes. Though we paid the ludicrous 2000\ to take the rope-way to the top of the mountain, no monkeys or apes were spotted. We did, however, see some really funny signs warning about the dangers of looking a monkey in the eye.

That night (here is where the LONG journey part comes in) we left the island fairly late. It was around 8 PM when we finally got to the train station and bought our shinkansen tickets. After some sprinting for the train and some nomadic traveling up and down the length of it looking for seats, we were settled and on our way to Osaka. Aaaah. Sigh of relief! However, when we got to Osaka, our train for Tajima didn’t depart until 10 PM. As we were arriving at the final stop of Fukuchiyama, we realized that there were NO MORE TRAINS THAT NIGHT. Aaaah! Scream of horror and frustration! It was midnight, freezing cold, and the train station was going to close in one hour, so sleeping on the floor was out of the question. Luckily for us, an elderly Japanese couple took pity on our plight and helped us search out a hotel room. The first two were full, the third (and final) hotel, thankfully, had a room that could sleep three people. I fell onto my expensive futon and gratefully passed-out. I didn’t get home until 12:30 the following afternoon.

The atomic dome.

Fortunately for us, we didn't encounter any of these angry monkeys.

Some of Miyajima's tame deer share a nuzzle.

The famous 'floating' gate of Miyajima, at sunset.

Back to life, back to reality

Yesterday afternoon, I said goodbye to Ritchie at the train station in Tokyo and made my way back to Kehi. I'm back at school today after working only intermittently for the past two weeks and it is definitely a change from the sleeping in and late morning coffee drinking that I've been doing. Ritchie and I backpacked around Kyoto, Nara, and Tokyo and saw over one thousand statues of Buddha (quite literally), learned more about Buddhism than either of us ever thought we'd learn, fed the sacred deer in Nara, and gawked at the Harajuku girls in Tokyo. My eardrums are still recovering from Carlton's rendition of 'Shot Through the Heart' at karaoke on Saturday night and my back is still recovering from sleeping on random futons at random Japanese inns. Now it's back to studying Japanese and leading the sleepy village life. It's tough to adjust.

Adventures with Ritchie

It's been a while since I've posted anything interesting and I apologize. I've been keeping busy the past week because Ritchie's here and we are having many adventures.

Adventure 1: Staying in the financial district of Tokyo where nothing happens and everything is closed on public holidays.
Adventure 2: Teaching the same lesson plan six times at elementary school on Tuesday morning to screaming/crying/running/jumping kids.
Adventure 3: Getting caught in Friday evening traffic on the drive from Kobe to Himeji. A one hour trip took three and a half hours - I blame Ritchie and his lack of a map.
Adventure 4: A night out in Himeji (or, as Ritchie's prefers to call it it: the Hi-minge) that resulted in a next-day vomit session in the McDonald's parking lot.
Adventure 5: Sending the wrong phone numbers to Carlton and Sindy so that they couldn't reach us and almost didn't make it into town. Luckily, however, they perservered and today I'm at school, wishing that I hadn't taken part in . . .
Adventure 6: Watching blessed shrines carried by drunk and exhausted Japanese men fight each other in the streets of Kinosaki to the beat of the Taiko-drum, followed by a traditional Japanese dinner and washed down with traditional Japanese beer and sake.

So far we've had a great week and there's still one more to go. This week we're going to Kyoto and Nara, and then meeting Carlton, Sindy, and The Crew in Tokyo before Ritchie flies back to Seattle. I will update with more adventures when time allows.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

"I want to be a pirate when I grow up!" the boy said.

"Really? A pirate?" Though taken aback by the creative answer, I inwardly laughed at the idea of this boy wearing a striped shirt and an eyepatch, yelling 'Aaargh!' while hobbling around on a peg-leg.

"Yes, a pirate! I want to fly in the sky!" he continued, enthusiastically.

Confused, I sneaked a quick peak at his paper. "Oh," I said. "A pilot. You want to be a PILOT when you grow up." Sadly, my hilarious image of the kid pillaging villages with his one good eye quickly deflated.

"A pirate!" he said again.

"A pirate!" the class echoed. "He wants to be a pirate!"

Maybe it's still funny, after all.

It's not all fun and games here, you know.

Doorjamb: 3, Ailey's head: 0

The doorjamb made three strikes this morning in it's on-going war against my head. Once when I stumbled out of the sleeping closet to turn off the alarm, again when I stumbled back into the sleeping closet to make my bed, and AGAIN when I was running out the door to school. The doorjamb is good at catching me unawares and I have very little knowledge in fighting guerilla warfare. Therefore, I have a sinking suspicion that the doorjamb is winning. I would kill it first, only I don't know how. The doorjamb seems invincible, like Goliath, only not as tall and therein lies the origin of this war.

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!

The lesson I had planned for the 2nd year junior high school students today was occupations and asking 'Am I?' So I arranged for them to play 'who am I,' standard language game in which you have the name of a famous person taped to your back and you have to ask everyone 'yes' or 'no' questions in order to get closer to your answer. Toward the end of the game, most of the students had already guessed their identities and sat down, but I was questioning a girl with 'David Beckham' taped to her back. She went through the prescribed questions and still didn't know - she was at a loss and I thought I'd help her out.

'Your wife is a singer,' I whispered.

She stared at me blankly. 'You know, the Spice Girls?' I urged. Come ON! She continued to look totally nonplussed. 'You have to know the Spice Girls! They sing: SO tell me what you want what you really, really want! I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I really, really, really wanna as;fksj;kdfjas;dfsjka;ds (who knows what they say there anyway).'

I was dancing around the room! I was really getting into it!

'If you want my future, forget my past! If you wanna get with me, better make it laaayaast! So don't go wasting my precious time! Get your act together and we'll be just fine!' The student was no longer looking confused, but now looked at me like I was crazy and giggled behind her hand.

'Miss Ailey,' Kanda-sensei called. 'It's okay, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know who the Spice Girls are.' A boy walked by and pretended to kick a soccer ball.

'Oh!' the girl said. 'Am I Beckham?'

I'm in Osaka!

This morning I took the train down to Osaka and I've spent the day trying to find my hotel (approximately one hour), trying to find Osaka castle (approximately 45 minutes), trying to find somewhere to eat (approximately 20 minutes), and trying to find my drive to have one last night of studying before I take the GRE tomorrow(approximately 4 hours). Actually, the day has been great! It's exciting to get out of the countryside and be in an urban setting again. There are so many people and lights and sounds! It's quite overwhelming. Luckily, I did eventually find my hotel with the help of a man on the street who walked me fifteen minutes out of his way to the hotel door. And I did find Osaka castle by sheer luck, as most people on the street had no idea where it was. Finding somewhere to eat was easy, but it was more a matter of building up my courage. Sometimes I get tired of constantly looking like an idiot who doesn't know how to order, read Japanese, or slurp noodles properly. Anyway, tomorrow I take the test and then head back to the countryside for a busy, busy week at school. Wish me luck!

I never know what's going on

You know how queens and kings used to adopt mottos for their lives? I've decided that, were I a queen (and we all know that I actually am), my motto would be, 'I never know what's going on' as evidenced by morning here in Japan.

Almost as soon as I'd arrived, the other teachers filed out of the teachers' lounge and disappeared. Apparently today is 'sketch day' so there are no classes and the students are scattered around town working on watercolor paintings. For the better part of the morning, the vice-principal and I sat there staring into space. Sometimes he'd stand up, at which point I'd frantically begin working on a project in case he happened to come and peer over my shoulder as vice-principals love to do. But he never did and I hadn't gotten anything done.

Finally, Doi-sensei (pronounced 'doy' which always makes me laugh inwardly) asked me to come do the rounds of town with her on our bikes. We rode around for about an hour, stopping once or twice to chat with people working in their gardens, one of whom is an acquaintance of mine, Yutaka-san. Yutaka-san and I briefly discussed my friends staying at his pension and agreed to meet next week. Doi-sensei and I rode away to check on the rest of the students.

When we completed our rounds, Doi-sensei said, "Okay, now let's go talk to Yutaka-san," and began riding her bike back towards his pension. "Ugh," I thought. "I already agreed to meet with him NEXT week. Not today." But when we got to the pension, Yutaka-san didn't want to talk about my friends staying in one of his rooms. Instead he said:

"Let's eat grapes!"

Which made about as much sense to me at the time as someone saying, "Let's turn this dog inside out!" or "Let's change the rotation of the earth!" But I followed him and Doi-sensei for a few blocks until we came to his grape arbor. We went in and were surrounded by low-hanging branches, heavy with the meatiest grapes I have ever seen. "Please, eat them," Yutaka-san said, so I tentatively bit into one. And it was The Best Grape I Have Ever Eaten.

These grapes are unlike any other grapes that I've had. I mean, the grapes that you buy at Safeway are crunchy and watery and taste a bit like you're drinking a glass of semi-tart water, but these grapes are fat and firm and filled with thick, sweet juice. These are the grapes that I imagine Julius Caesar eating while being fanned by slim boys in loin cloths. These grapes actually taste like grape juice.

After eating an entire bunch of grapes, Doi-sensei and I said goodbye to Yutaka-san and returned to school with about two pounds of fruit. So I'm back in the teachers' lounge, staring into space and avoiding eye-contact with the vice-principal. The grapes are in the kitchen, chilling in cold water and I can't stop thinking about them. I want to eat some, but I'm not sure what the protocol is. Like I said, I never know what's going on.

And this (because who doesn't love a monkey?)

I can feel my life slowly trickling away

It's a beautiful, breezy day today. The sun is shining, the air is warm but not too hot, and I am sitting in my apartment studying for the stupid GRE. I could be doing any number of awesome things right now. I could be running, or riding my bike around town, or reading at the beach, or taking advantage of this three day weekend to see some sights, but instead I'm trying to remember how to compare fractions. Remember fractions? I seem to recall learning about them back in seventh grade or prior. For the past two weeks, I have stayed at home reading through this book. I've canceled plans with friends and avoided any type of fun because I am thinking about my future. When I begin to feel stressed about things like fractions, I calm myself by saying, "Don't worry, it's just your future." My life has somehow become a fun-suck. But even now I'm wasting precious study time. The wind is blowing and the air smells nice, like grass and trees and ocean, or at least that's what I'm imagining from my sad and fun-less desk.

New Pictures!

I've posted new pictures to my Flickr account, just check under 'Japan pictures.' Unfortunately, Flickr will only let me load about ten every month so I can only put a few up at a time. Stupid Flickr. Always leaves me wanting more.

Typhoon Number 12

Typhoon number 12 is passing over Japan. In truth, it has completely missed Toyooka, though it has managed to blow all kinds of rain our way. I have seen drizzle-y rain, pellet-like rain, soft-ish rain, and angry, agressive rain. The angry, agressive rain is the most prevalent type and it will rage for hours on end. Right now it is dropping away outside, filling our sports field with puddles the size of Lake Union and reminding me of life in Seattle. When I walk to school in the morning, my neighbors look at my bare-head in horror. I stare right back at them and want to say, "You think this is bad? I'm from Seattle, bitches! I was born for this. I use rainclouds as my damn pillows." Unfortunately, the only part I know how to say in Japanese is 'I'm from Seattle' and, anyway, it's probably best that I keep these thoughts to myself. Secretly, I love Typhoon Number 12 and don't want it to heave it's last on us. For some reason, the rain makes me feel at home and I'm glad of that.

Ailey's car goes to the beach

I took my car on a trip to Kumihama beach yesterday. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so I took this picture with my super-awesome Japanese cell phone. It's small, but look at how NOT pixel-y it is! Please note how small the car is. When I drive it, I have to sit in the back seat.

Driving in Japan

The paperwork was signed, the money was handed over, and I took the receipt in my sweaty, shaking hand.

"Okay, okay," I thought. "It's not that different. No big deal. Look right, turn left. Remember look right, turn left. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

I turned the key and the tiny Daihatsu roared (well, more like meowed) to life. "Hey," the American leasing agent yelled, "Remember that we drive on the LEFT side of the road here!"

I reached for the blinker and the wiper blades began squeaking across the windshield. I tried for the brake and accidentally hit the gas. And that is when I knew - I was going to die.

Do you feel like a voyeur?

At Eryn's request, here are a few pictures of where I spend my late nights, my early mornings, and free moments in between. Welcome to my house! But, please, take off your shoes before entering:

Indoor shoes wait to be slipped on.

Yes, I really am this tall. Either that, or my doorjambs really are this short.

My kitchen/living/sleeping space. There is another room, but this one has the air-conditioner.

Notice the space-saving sink on top of the toilet reservoir.

The outside of my wee house.

And there you have it. Please feel free to pull up a futon anytime. There's always rooms for a few more!

Oh, sweet air-conditioning

Right now, I'm sitting in the teachers' lounge at my school. I do this every day - come in a little before 9 AM, cruise the internet, attempt to study Japanese, attempt to prepare for the GRE, cruise the internet some more, then leave at around noon to eat lunch, nap, and find other creative ways to fill the rest of my day, which usually includes some kind of excuse to catch the train into the city and drink a Mocha Blast. School starts at the end of next week and, from that time, I'm sure I'll be fairly busy. I've already committed to teaching an adult conversation class on Monday nights, as well as Japanese lessons on Wednesdays, and salsa lessons on Friday nights. 'Salsa lessons in Japan?!' you might say. Yes, salsa lessons in Japan, and I am as baffled as you.

After work yesterday, I wasted away my afternoon in a local internet cafe (We don't have a grocery store, but we DO have an internet cafe. Priorities?). I spent almost four hours talking to Ritchie via webcam and e-mailing with a travel agent to plan various trips and further mentally escape the life abroad. When I finally left, my eyes were burning with all of the gratuitous internet-surfing that I had done. I even found time to read Perez Hilton and find out just how far behind the news I actually am. Depressing. This might be the driving force behind me paying for internet at my house. Also depressing.

Tonight I'm catching a train to the next town over, Takeno, to take part in the festivities for Bon Odori. My friend Colin lives there and is helping his community set-up for the festival so my friends and I volunteered ourselves, as well. It should be an interesting time with fireworks galore. And hopefully street vendor food. And vending machine beer. All of these added together equal a satisfying Wednesday night for me in Tajima.

Well, I really should get some 'studying' done. And by 'studying' I mean that I'm going to study perezhilton.com to find out what's REALLY going on in my absence. Who needs Japanese?! Who needs graduate school?! Celebrity gossip is what matters in this world!!!

Until next time . . .

The missing blogs!!!

Okay, so there were only two really awesome, unpublished blogs. Apparently I haven't been working as hard as I thought I was, but there you have it - my thoughts, fears, moans, and tears from the past two weeks. All wrapped up in two new posts.

Genki Foreigners 8/6/06

It’s Sunday night and I just got back from a long run through the rice fields and mountains. As I was jogging along, an endangered white crane flew out of the rice field next to me and winged off into the trees. Cicadas were chirping, the sun was setting behind the hills, and I thought to myself, “Damn, me, I love Japan.”

Strangely enough, this was about one hour after I had been sitting in my apartment thinking, “Damn, me, I really hate Japan.”

Ah, the life of a foreigner in a strange country. The language is new, the people all look the same but nothing like YOU, and you bump your head on the doorjamb every time you leave the room. One week into my journey here, I can definitely say that it’s been a roller-coaster ride of emotions – not all good, but definitely not all bad.

There are a lot of things I absolutely hate about Japan:

1. The mosquitoes. I’m beginning to look like a leper with all of the bites up and down my legs. I will soon be assigned to a village even smaller than the one I’m currently living in. Eventually I’ll probably find out that it’s a leper’s colony and I’ll die there. It will be sad, but not unexpected.

2. The humidity. People in Texas complain about the humidity, but people in Texas have things like swimming pools and cars and abundant air conditioning. People in Japan have semi-warm tap water, poor insulation, and their own two feet to get them around. I’m sweating just thinking about it.

3. The distance. What can I say? I miss my friends, my family, and my boyfriend. I love Seattle and always will. That hasn’t changed just because I’m in a foreign country.

4. The language. Okay, this could be misinterpreted. In no way do I hate the Japanese language, I just hate that I don’t speak it. However, it’s to my advantage that I’m the only foreigner and English speaker in my village because I’ll be forced to learn in order to survive. My mom claims that I have an ear for languages, but I think it’s just a desperate will to live.

There are also a lot of things that I absolutely love about Japan:

1. The Shinkansen!!! Two words – bullet train. Does America have one (and, no, the mini train at Billy McHale’s doesn’t count)? The answer is no. America also doesn’t have electric toilet seats that are heated, make nature sounds to cover your body noises, and clean your bum with a gentle spray of misting water.

2. The friendly people. The people in my town are so friendly; I don’t even know how to describe it. Already I have a ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ who live across the street and look out for me. I can’t walk to the post office without someone trying to speak with me. Everyone has been awesome and so appreciated by the lonely American girl who’s far from home and doesn’t speak a word of Japanese.

3. The mountains, the ocean, the overall beauty.

4. The food. I don’t care how much you love Blue C Sushi, the sushi here is better. So is the bento, the teriyaki (this could be a lie because I haven’t tried it), the Sapporo, and the rice. Yeah, that’s right, even the rice is better here.

Overall, though, the best part about my trip so far has been The Challenge. I was looking for a challenge when I left Seattle and I have definitely found it here. The past seven days have been so difficult and stressful and rewarding and exciting that I can’t ever regret my decision to leave my life behind and come here for a year. No matter how much I cry, mope, or complain, I am still the genki foreigner and I am here to have an awesome time. So to that I say, Ganbatte!

Village life - 8/3/06

I arrived in my village two days ago. After a full day of traveling on buses, bullet trains, and kurumas (cars) I found myself in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by mountains and river. I’m a fifteen minute walk from the Japanese Sea – or the Inland Sea for those of you who are more Korean minded – and a fifteen minute walk in any other direction to rice fields and trees. If I’m looking for humidity I don’t have to walk anywhere because here it is! Everywhere I go, it’s there.

I’ve spent my first couple of days here watching Japanese television, exploring the village and local Shinto shrines, and generally stumbling my way through life. When at a loss yesterday for what to eat for lunch, I went to a local café where the menu was only in Japanese and without pictures! The waitress and I awkwardly stared at each other for about five minutes before I pointed at the woman’s food across the way and said, “That!” So that is what I got and it was delicious. I consider it a successful interaction.

I have also spent a lot of time with my landlord’s family who has adopted me as a sort of freakish, unintelligible, gaijin child. On my first night here, they took me to see the fireworks in town and then to a sushi dinner. The restaurant had a conveyor belt like Blue C Sushi (or, as Ritchie said, “Blue C Sushi was like the restaurant that you went to”) and offered such fair as bacon sushi and weird-purple-vegetable sushi. Afterward, we walked around a street fair where I fished for goldfish. I had several unsuccessful attempts and the woman manning the booth finally scooped six fish into a plastic bag for me to take home – most of the fish died overnight and I flushed the rest down the toilet. I’m convinced that the death of my fish isn’t a bad omen.

The Mystery of the Starbucks Coffee Press (far from home)

On Wednesday night, the teachers at my school and I celebrated my arrival here. We played Grand Golf, the female teachers went to the hot-springs, we barbequed, and we drank lots of local beer and imported Carlos Rossi wine. The festivities took place on a mountaintop about an hour away from Toyooka, the closest city of any size in this area. The mountain, Cannabe (easy to remember, as the name reminds me of Cannabis), is very popular with Japanese tourists, but little known to outsiders. The ski slopes are small and unchallenging, the hot springs are isolated, and the views are nothing in comparison to larger mountains. So, once again, I was the only blonde, green-eyed person in sight.

The alcohol tolerance level in Japan is zero, so the majority of the teachers were unable/incapable of driving the long distance back to their homes that night. We ended up staying in the small inn that catered our barbeque. It was a quiet, nondescript place, run by a local family. The floors were slanty, the mattresses were sunken, and I didn't step out on the deck for fear of losing my life. But it was comfortable and convenient, so I happily curled up in my western-style bed for a heavy night of sleep.

The next morning, as I was having a breakfast of cold omelette with ketchup and watery rice, I took a moment to look around and noticed something very surprising. There, in a glass-fronted chest, tucked among the tea-kettles, glasses, and ceramic cups, was a Starbucks coffee press. A Starbucks coffee press, all the way on top of that isolated mountain!

I couldn't help but wonder how it had gotten there. Of course, there are Starbucks in Japan, but none in Toyooka and many people don't even know what it is. Did some worldly Japanese person bring the press with them in the hopes of having a savory brew the next morning and leave it behind? Or did it come from further away - an American tourist far from home, perhaps, or an adventurous traveler just passing through?

I don't know why I'm thinking so much about that Starbucks coffee press, but it has crossed my mind several times in the past few days. Maybe because it looked as out of place as I have often felt in the past two weeks. Maybe because it reminded me of home in the middle of my totally foreign surroundings. In any case, I wish that I had nabbed it because I could really use that in my town. Though finding the actual coffee would be a challenge.

I have some really great blogs!

Unfortunately, theyre all on my home computer which isnt hooked up to the internet. I would burn them to a CD and bring them to work to upload, but the disc drive on my computer doesnt seem to be working. Damn. Thus, my friends, you will need to sit tight for just a while longer. Then you can bask in the abudance of my blog posts and pictures.

Ailey, you might be saying, Why dont you just write a blog post from your work computer? To that I respond, My friend, my work computer doesnt have apostrophes and the font keeps changing into Japanese script. This is something that I dont wish to subject anyone to, much less myself.

So, please, believe me when I say that I have some really great blogs! And you will be seeing them very soon (I hope).

Tokyo: Day 1

I arrived in Tokyo last night, travel weary and numb. After being ushered through customs, the baggage claim, and onto a bus, I got to the hotel where I somehow resisted the urge to fall into bed and sleep away the night. It was only 8:30 PM in Tokyo time and past experience has taught me to stay awake as long as possible. Deny the urge to sleep! Instead, I met up with some other JETs in the hotel lobby and we meandered out of the hotel and into the balmy Tokyo night. We found a noodle house where you pay for your selection at an automated teller before eating and sat down to a dinner of chicken cutlet over rice, miso soup, and cabbage salad - the chicken cutlet didn't look, or taste, like you'd expect. Welcome to a foreign country.

Anyway, I woke up at 6:30 this morning with a desire to explore, so I roused my already-awake roommate and we wandered the streets. This morning I found: three Starbucks, a homeless village in the park, thousands of pedestrians, and some interesting vending machines.

Now it's time for snore-ientation (what an awesome play on words!). Hopefully I'm lucid enough this evening to see a little more of the city before I head out and become too cheap to spend money and too afraid to ride buses or trains.

Vancouver, BC

It's 8:00 AM on a Saturday morning and you might ask what I am doing up so early. Well, I'm going to Vancouver! Right now I'm waiting for Kelli to pick me up along with Jess, Maggie, and Denise and we are going to spend a girly weekend in BC shopping, eating, and going-out. Also (and this is the best of all) we're going to the Vancouver aquarium - I can't wait to see the beluga whales. Damn, I'm such a nerd. Anyway, I can't seem to locate my camera, so I'll have to contrive a way to steal pictures from everyone else to post here. Maybe I'll also try to get some poutine when I'm up there. French fries with cheese and gravy is hard to come by south of the border. I think Kelli's here, so I have to go. Fingers crossed for no searches at the border!

Two weeks to JET!!!

It is officially my last day of work and two weeks until I leave for Japan. Where has the time gone? I remember getting my acceptance letter three months ago and thinking that I had eons to prepare . . . I'm really excited to get to Tokyo and wake up in the morning with the realization that I am somewhere new. I love the way traffic sounds in new cities - for some reason the sirens are always different and car horns are always a little louder. Heat feels hotter and smells are more powerful. It's hard to describe, but there's something extremely vibrant and energetic about enveloping yourself in a new culture - I obviously love this feeling. I'm also scared - I don't know Japanese, I don't know much about where I'll be going, I'm leaving behind my family and friends and my boyfriend . . . Sometimes I wish I could flip to the end and find out what happens (but that would be cheating). Anyway, wish me luck. In 45 minutes, my last day of work will be over and the true countdown will begin.

My blog is growing mold

I think that I've left my blog unattended for too long. I've been so busy lately trying to get everything taken care of before the big move to Japan that I've neglected my little ego-based web project. I leave in a little less than three weeks - crazy! So far I have NOT: sold my car, packed my apartment, signed the necessary paperwork, learned Japanese, kissed my Mom goodbye, or piled anything on my bedroom floor. In fact, this might be the only list I have made on the subject. I am totally and completely underprepared and totally and completely stressed-out about it. Wish me luck! I leave for Texas in one week and only have one more week following my return to get everything taken care of.

This said, I'm told I'll have copious free time in Japan, so I'll be updating my blog hourly and checking it obsessively for comments. Let this be a warning to you.

Gross

I was walking to the bank during lunch today and two guys in their late twenties/early thirties pulled up alongside me. "Hey!" one yelled. "How does a guy like me get a girl like you?!"

Gross.

Tip number one, guys: Leave the female pedestrians alone.

A successful trip (AKA no deaths)!

On Friday night, Ritchie and I left straight from work to meet up with Eryn, Breen, and Ryan south of Chehalis. We stopped along the way for dinner, gas, and firewood (twice) and were too late to meet them and caravan to the campsite, so we decided to risk it on our own. Five hours after departing from Redmond, we made it to the national forest east of White Pass. We were greeted by two dogs, three drunk climbers, and an elk spine (thanks to Noah). The tent was ready so we drank a few beers and settled in for a night of no rest (the tent was pitched on a hill) in preparation for a long day of climbing.

Ailey belays Ritchie

Ailey climbs the 5.8 on the crags after Eryn's lead

Eryn led this 5.10 and completely dominated it.

Ritchie was feeling feisty and decided to climb the same route twice.

Overall, it was a great trip. I'm still sore in my shoulders and back, which I THINK is the hallmark of a good time. I'm lucky to have such an awesome sister and brother-in-law - it works out well for me that they are into adventure (and have all the equipment for it). It's also lucky for me that Ritchie is willing to join me for a weekend of dirt, sweat, precipices, and no showers or toilets. Good times to be had by all!

Rock-climbing this weekend!

I'm going rock-climbing this weekend! This is all very exciting. Ritchie and I are going to REI tonight to pick-up our shoes and other necessary implements. We're meeting Eryn, Noah, and Brian tomorrow evening and then driving out to the campsite for a weekend of hanging off ropes and clinging desperately to rock faces. I have to say that, though I really like rock-climbing, I'm not particularly good at it. In fact, it kind of scares me. I don't know what happens when I'm suspended twenty feet off the ground with a rope, a knot, and a belay device, but my hands start sweating in a way that no chalk bag will fix and my heart starts beating like a Jamaican on a steel drum. I just KNOW that the person will drop me and I will die. This is a given. I'm looking forward to sharing this experience with Ritchie who is a nice guy and probably doesn't want me to die. If I survive the weekend, maybe we'll even be able to laugh about me crying on the rock and refusing to unclench my fingers. But in the meantime, I'm saying my prayers.

It doesn't look as high as it feels.

My legs are shaking in this picture.

I look happy here, but I'm actually near tears.

P.S. My friend just randomly told me about an acquaintance who died in a freak climbing accident. Awesome.

An awesome weekend away:

It rained a little . . .

But we were protected from floods (and well hydrated).

Actually, it kind of rained a lot.

But there was dancing!

And badminton (SUCH a shortage of shuttlecocks)!

It was really quite tiring.



But a great weekend overall! We danced, played in the sun (when it was around), and saw a great concert at the Gorge. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for being generous enough to hand your cabin over to ten kids!

The confrontation!

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

"Ailey, I need to talk to you!" The girl from upstairs yelled through my door. When I got up to answer it, she was swaying in the hallway and wreaking of booze.

"I want to know what the hell is the deal with you making all of these noise complaints about us!" she said, obviously looking for a fight.

I had been doing my laundry and packing for my long weekend away. Needless to say, I was a little surprised to be verbally assaulted in the middle of my peaceful domestic chores. I was also surprised because (a) the girl doesn't even live in the apartment above mine, (b) we almost never speak to each other, and (c) she was approaching me while drunk.

I calmly explained myself to her - I work during the week, I get up early, I'm a light sleeper, I NEED to sleep. What I didn't mention was that I couldn't help but wonder who stays up until 5 AM on a week night anyway? And who gets drunk every night? And who, at our age, still thinks that the party outweighs the need for other people to carry on with their lives?

"What do you want, to come home to this quiet sanctuary or something? Because, I mean, sometimes I come home from work and I want to get wasted, but there's no one here and I can't. That's frustrating, but I deal with it. So, I mean, maybe you shouldn't expect to have this quiet sanctuary."

I don't expect a quiet sanctuary. I come home to the bass pounding from upstairs, doors slamming, people yelling, marijuana smoke curling underneath my door. I don't mind as long as I'm not trying to sleep. So, I'm at a loss. Can't we all just get along? Can't they all just shut up?

"Drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, Son."

Ah, my favorite quote from Animal House . . . I want to direct this to my upstairs neighbors who kept me awake until 5 AM last night and who, regularly, wake me up in the middle of the night with their music, drunken wrestling, and yelling. Who are these characters, you ask? Well, one is 22 and the other is a startling . . . gasp . . . 37. They work for the 37 year old's parents doing construction. I have nothing against construction and I'm not entirely opposed to working for one's parents. I AM opposed to being drunk and stoned EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. And I AM opposed to being an adult, but living like an irresponsible teenager. When will these guys grow-up? When will they let me sleep through the night? I grow weary of calling and having doorstep 'talks' the following day. The next time I'm kept awake, I will call the police and I won't feel bad about it. That way, the police can tell them to shut the hell up for once and chastise them by saying, "Drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, Son."

Exciting Developments

Despite the fact that Sean's dad told me I looked like a 'gay longshoreman', things are going really well for this soon-no-longer-Seattleite. Next weekend is Memorial Day which should be an extravaganza of awesomeness. My friends and I are renting a jet ski, going to Sasquatch at the Gorge (Death Cab for Cutie and the Decemberists are playing) and hanging out in what I hope is a lot of sunshine. Sadly, Climberchica and Corporate Media Whore will not be in attendance because they fear good times and socializing. We will enjoy ourselves despite their absense.

Also, I got my placement, sort of, in Japan! All I currently know is that I'll be living in the Hyogo Prefecture, which is on Honshu and close to Kobe. There was a huge earthquake in Kobe in 2006 and that's all I know about the area. Perhaps it's time to do some research.

So many exciting developments. So difficult to focus on other things. Like work. Which is where I am right now, typing on my blog. And thinking about Memorial Day and Japan.

How accurate are these translators? I mean, really?

Because this is what my friend Carolin's blog looks like, translated from the German to the English:

Small summary

Since my time in Boston the end leans, I will offer now a small summary to you: - so far ever so much rent for a so beschissenes room did not pay (185$ per week!!) - this was in Boston the cheapest room which I find could - cooked only eimal, with Jacqueline, because I have no kitchen - not 10 Kilos increased, separate approx. 2 Kilos decreased, despite Burger!! - in 3 months approx. 5 cigarettes smoked, perhaps also 7… - was nevertheless only 5 times joggen - 4 times Lobster ate (more would actually have had to be) - 3 time with the Karaoke sang (Ain't NO Mountain high enough, Mrs Robinson and Creep - me thereby probably quite disgraced - 5 nice Americans became acquainted with, whom definitely better all Bush can hate and sing than I - 2 of the Americans will see perhaps next year in Greece - was 2 times in the Atlantic swim - has definitely more vacation made than I has might - were in 5 different Federal States (Massachustes, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont and New York) + Canada - to New York town center will drive tomorrow!!! - in addition, are glad, if I am on Wednesday again at home

I'll stop there, namely because that's as much as the translator would process at one time and I'm too lazy to continue. My favorite quote is, "not 10 Kilos increased, separate approx. 2 Kilos decreased, despite burger!!" I think that this is referring to the fact that she didn't gain any weight, despite all of the burgers. Ironically (correct use of the word?), I gained about twenty pounds when I went to see Carolin in Germany, probably from eating too much Bratwurst.

Why doesn't someone create a grammatically accurate translator? And why doesn't Carolin blog in English?

Communal laundry protocol

Is there a set of rules for using communal laundry rooms? I ask because it seems like everyone has a different idea of what is polite and what is correct. Last night I needed to wash socks (desperately), but when I went to the laundry room, I saw that the girl from upstairs had left her clothes in the washer AND dryer. Rather than throwing her clothes on the floor or on top of the nasty washer, I placed her dry clothes in her laundry hamper on the floor and put her wets in the dryer (but did not dry them). I even hung her puffy jacket to dry! Was this wrong? Did I overstep my boundaries? Because she got PISSED. I could hear her yelling about it from my apartment and was completely at a loss. Something about her jeans . . . I honestly have no idea. But, really, she shouldn't have left her crap in the machines for an hour. Because THAT definitely goes against protocol.

Things that the Filthy Rich have and I don't

After catering a party last night for some Filthy Rich, I realized that there are many things that the Filthy Rich have that I don't. I'm of the mind that they actually want to keep these things secret from the Other People, perhaps to perpetuate the idea of a 'classless' society. My friends, this 'classless' society is a hoax! You read it here first! Please don't be too upset by this revelation, I'm just trying to keep it real. Let the listing begin:

1. Filthy Rich own the entire floor of a high-rise building in downtown Seattle. This entire floor is their home.
2. Filthy Rich have foreign butlers that live with them. The butler's apartment is nicer than your house. It is also nicer than your neighbor's really nice house. It is nicer than that Guy-at-work-with-the-really-nice-house's house. I could go on.
3. Filthy Rich have 360 degree views of the city. Oh yes, the Filthy Rich also have glass walls.
4. Filthy Rich host catered dinners for a friend's birthday. Filthy Rich present this friend with a gift of Chihuly glass.
5. Filthy Rich age beautifully. Because they can.
6. Filthy Rich are patrons of the arts and they have a LOT of it. Their art is worth more than Other People's lives.
7. Filthy Rich have a faux-driftwood horse actually made out of iron. Because it is cute, this iron horse is 'eating' out of a Chihuly trough.
8. Did I say 'entire floor'? I meant to say that the Filthy Rich own two floorS of high-rise buildings in downtown Seattle. My mistake.
9. Filthy Rich have things that Other People have never seen before - like doors that look like wooden walls. They have these because doors are unattractive.
10. Filthy Rich have an entire room for their security system. This is to keep Other People from coming in and seeing their things or, even worse, taking them. It is important to have thousands of flashing red lights because this will intimidate Other People.

So, as you can see, Filthy Rich have many, many things that we Other People might never even dream of. For example:



I am currently thinking about how much I could sell this chandelier for, because I'm hungry and broke. I am so obviously an Other Person.

In the market for new legs

I had my first indoor game of the spring season on Monday and, aside from the fact that I always forget how unbelievably hard indoor is, I had a great time! Indoor is perfect for someone with a short attention span because there are only two twenty minute halves, compared to two forty minute halves in outdoor. The game is over before you have the opportunity to get bored! Despite the short halves, I had shaky legs when I walked off the field at the end of the game. Another girl on the team was asking me if I thought she could run around Greenlake in her indoor shoes and I almost puked a little into my mouth. A different girl talked about her ultra-marathon relay that she'd raced in the day before. "I ran thirteen miles, so I might be pretty useless today," she chirped as she bounced onto the field. I am still sore. I can't wait for next week's game.

It's that time of year

Now that it's gotten warmer, stays lighter later, and my bike has been tuned-up, it's time to ride as much as possible. This morning I woke up with stiff calves and burning quads. It's awesome! My sister once told me that my bike was too old and heavy. 'Real' cyclists use clip-in pedals and would have a newer, lighter bike. Well, maybe I'm not a 'real' cyclist, but I do have a good time. And that, Nopo Girl, is really all that matters.

Rest and Relaxation

After weeks of going and going and going and going and . . . well, you get the idea, I decided that it was time for some sleep and unaplogetic television watching and reading and running as long as I want to. Because Seattle has too many distractions and noisy neighbors, I came to the serenity of my parents' house. I slept for four hours yesterday afternoon, woke up and watched a movie, then slept for twelve more hours. As I was stretching in bed and thinking about how wonderful it is to actually rest and, for once, not worry about what I could be doing, my Mom knocked on the door. "Ailey," she said with obvious concern, "are you depressed?"

"No," I replied. "I'm just well-rested."

The small, still voice

Last week, I received my invitation for the JET program (to learn more about JET, check-out the website at http://www.jetprogramme.org/). If I want to go, I need to send in my letter of acceptance by April 24th. I've been hanging on to my letter for over seven days now. I know what I need to do, but I feel like I'm waiting for that small, still voice to turn into a bolt of lightening and strike me down with the correct answer. A year in Japan would definitely be, as my friend Nick says, sadical (sad/radical). Sad because I'd miss my friends and family and, of course, the city, but it would be an awesome experience and completely radical. Sadical - get it? Well, stay posted to find out if I'm wise enough to trust the small, still voice. I could be posting from Japan in four months.

Do you like to do Awesome Stuff?

Because I like to do Awesome Stuff. For some reason, it's hard for me to find people that also like to do Awesome Stuff. I live in one of the most active cities in the United States, but it seems that most of my friends have differing interests. In case you're wondering, Awesome Stuff includes skiing/snowboarding, camping, hiking, rock climbing, surfing, cycling, and running. Most people like to do one, or even some, of the above, but few (a staggering few) like to do them all. Don't get me wrong, I'm not expert or even particularly good at most Awesome Stuff, but I still like to do it. I especially like to do Awesome Stuff with my sister, Nopo Girl, my brother-in-law, Corporate Media Whore, and Noah the Dog. This blog entry was inspired by the fact that it's spring again and the time has arrived to do Awesome Stuff. In fact, Nopo Girl, Corporate Media Whore, Noah the Dog and I are going to do Awesome Stuff in two weeks. So, if you like to do Awesome Stuff and want someone new to do Awesome Stuff with, just let me know. There's lot's of Awesome Stuff to do around Seattle, but it's definitely more fun to have someone to do it with.

Retrospect (introspect?)

I just realized that it has been almost exactly a year since I was medically discharged from the Peace Corps. This week, I've been celebrating my year anniversary by reading old posts and reminiscing about the good and bad times. It's hard to believe that a little over twelve months ago I was walking through ankle-deep mud (buttcock - seriously, that's the Kyrgyz word for 'mud') to get to school, bathing once a week, and using a hole in the ground. It's hard to believe that Kyrgyz was my main language of communication. It's hard to believe that I witnessed a revolution.

Sometimes I have dreams that I'm back in Kyrgyzstan. In my dreams, I'm given another chance to make it work. I reunite with my students and my host-family and, always, my friend Umut and our reunions are exciting and hope-filled. Sadly, though, even in my dreams I know that I'm dreaming and that I can't stay. In my dreams, I always wish that I could stay.

Sometimes I'm filled with regret that I couldn't stay. I miss my host-family that I never had the chance to say goodbye to since I was whisked away in the Peace Corps all-terrain vehicle to the capital city without any notice. I miss my students. I miss the other volunteers and our nights of pseudo-pizza and involved discussions on bowel-movements (VERY important to a Peace Corps volunteer). I wish that things could have been very, very different.

This has been a really good year for me and I am so happy right now. It doesn't mean, however, that I don't think about what could have been.

Training again

I gave up skiing this weekend to purchase new running shoes. It's a sad, sad realization that I can't afford to do both. I can run, or I can ski. My sadness about missing out on this weekend was compounded by the fact that 'the snow was totally-gnarly, man!' Buying the shoes wasn't really an option, since it's time to start training again. Ah, yes, the race season is starting-up and the Olympia half-marathon is only a few short months away. My knees and shins were screaming daily from running on my old, broken shoes and I knew that this wasn't a splurge, but a necessity. I love to run, but I love to ski. If only I didn't love to eat, as well, I might be able to do both.

My desk is producing flowers

It's inexplicable . . . When I left the office last night at 5 PM, there were no flowers on my desk. But when I came in this morning, there were two bunches of red, white, and purple flowers! I looked for a card, but there was none. I looked around at my co-workers - could the flowers have been placed on my desk by mistake? But none of my co-workers jumped up with an accusing finger pointed at me shouting 'THIEF'. They all continued to stare glassy-eyed at their computer screens and I finally concluded that the mysterious flowers must be meant for me.

After doing some research, I discovered that one of my clients had dropped them by the office last night. When I talked to him this morning, he said, "You've worked so hard for me. I figured there's no harm in say 'thank you.'" What he didn't realize is that I have been in a terrible mood all week - antisocial and grumpy - and I've been hating my job. Getting flowers on my desk has made my day and my week. Who knows, maybe even my month. So thank you, Bob, if you read this. They are the most beautiful flowers I've seen in a long time.

These are cranberries

These are also cranberries

Cranberries are good for more than just bladder infections

I'll bet you didn't realize how good for you cranberries actually are! Aside from curing and preventing bladder infections, they are full of vitamins and nutrients, including vitamin C. Cranberries are packed with fiber, too, so if you're concerned about your inner-workings, you can rest peacefully knowing that they will help keep you regular. Dried cranberries are especially delicious - they taste good in salads and on top of my cereal in the morning. Frozen cranberries can be blended into smooth and fruity shakes. Cranberries are not so tasty without sugar added.

Cranberries also make very good music! I know, you are just as surprised as I was to discover this! They're a little before my time, more from my older sister's era, but they are great. They rock out with their Irish accents. I don't know what makes them Cranberries, but they are excellent bus-ride music, bored-at-work music, and long-hot-bath music. Check it out.

Cranberries should be included in your every day life.

ANTIGUA!!!

Did I mention that I went to Antigua for New Year's? Oh, I forgot to tell you? Yeah, I went there. Antigua. Have you heard of it? It's in the Caribbean. In case you want to look it up or something, it's spelled A-N-T-I-G-U-A. I laid on the beach and swam in the Caribbean Sea and snorkeled and danced and ate and explored and drove a moped as a moped has never been driven before. It was amazing! Don't get me wrong, there were bad parts, too. For example, the mosquitos that descended like a plague every night that we actually moored the boat. Or having to administer first aid to Kelli after she ate gravel on her moped. Or what about Liat Airlines (Leave island any time) delaying our flight in Anguilla for an hour so that we missed our connection to Chicago? So, as you can see, Antigua wasn't all glitz and glamour. At times it was quite rough. If you need proof, just look at the pictures. Antigua.
A-N-T-I-G-U-A. Don't you just love the way it rolls off your tongue?

Sailing (kind of)

The lack of effort was a lifestyle for me.

New Years at Nelson's Dockyard

Note the painful sunburn on Ailey. Mom, I swear I wore sunscreen that day.