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.

Ailey and Kelli enjoy pina coladas in Antigua.

This rare sunshower hit between torrential rainstorms.

Vote for Pedro

This picture has made my life better in so many ways.

The Return of the Cat General

This is the type of cat that I am:

If you were to buy a car from me, and the car turned out not work, I would say fu** you . . . in the a**.

A study in buses around the world

It still amazes me how striking cultural disparities between places can be. For example, this morning I was at the bus stop, prepping myself for the fight to get on the bus. When the 7:20 slowed in front of those waiting and opened its doors, everyone stood back to let someone else, anyone else, go ahead of them. No one there was elderly, or disabled, or carrying six shopping bags, but no one wanted to be the one to charge ahead – me first – and run up the steps, taking two at a time. Usually I find that I’ve somehow edged me way to the front of the line. Months of fighting for a space on buses in other countries has created an anxiety in me, much like a sprinter feels before the gun goes off at the start of a race. In Kyrgyzstan, getting on the bus was like fighting your way through a crowd of citizens in the bread line. There was no mercy and nothing spared for those not willing to lay it all down. In Spain, my roommate used to joke: “No one in this country is in a hurry until it’s time to get on the bus.” Elbows were thrown, people were shoved aside, and heated words exchanged. It’s almost a let-down when here, in the United States, where life moves at a rapid pace and the mentality is to achieve, achieve, ACHIEVE, there is absolutely no rush to get on the bus. Have we become a culture of bus-wusses? Maybe Americans (or perhaps softy Seattlites?) have lost their basic need for minor confrontations. We have espresso and Hollywood to keep us sharp. In the end, though, riding the bus here is MUCH less stressful. And you walk away with fewer bruises.

Practicing to be a Pirate

In order to prepare for my New Years sailing trip around Antigua, I will start honing my pirate-ness for several hours every day. This will include saying a gravely 'YAAaargh' over and over again, as well as running people through with a wooden dagger.

I'll also be wearing an eyepatch.

Me duele mi espalda

Well, my bad back and I have finally moved out of our parents' house! That's right, for the last two nights I've been packing, heaving, lifting, and sorting, much to the chagrin of my aching espalda (that's Spanish for lower-back, in case you're a complete idiot, or a French speaker. Wait, is that redundant?). It's been a long time since I've been out on my own. After graduation, I moved in with a family as a live-in nanny for several months. When I arrived in Kyrgyzstan for my Peace Corps service, I was placed with a HUGE family (they all lived in one room while I had two to myself - does that seem a little unbalanced to anyone else?) for training and then a different family when I arrived at my permanent site. After I returned, I stayed with my parents. It's been . . . cough . . . five months now and I've finally found a job, bought a car, and moved out. Oh sweet freedom! Oh sweet back-pain! Who needs a back when you have the freedom to do whatever you want - as long as your roommates approve, of course.

Why Ryan Adams sucks

Yes, that's right, I said that Ryan Adams sucks. Our love affair is over. Ever since he cancelled BOTH concerts in Seattle I see him for what he really is - a hope stealing, cigarette smoking (heroine shooting?)musician that produces too many CDs and not enough love for me. I was so ready for the concert last night. I had my outfit ready so that he would be overwhelmed by my effortless beauty and hence invite me backstage. Once there, he would realize our overwhelming compatability - how can one deny destiny - and ask me to be his bride, or at least to bear his love child. But now all of that is ruined and I don't even care. You know what, Ryan Adams? I didn't even buy your last album! What do you think about that?! Sucker.

Allow me to share with you my constitution

I am the sort of cat that not only says 'F*** you,' but says, 'F*** you . . . in the ass.'








This post is dedicated to Sean and Andy.

Kyrgyzstan Story

My host-grandmother was kidnapped by my host-grandfather. Their eldest son kidnapped his bride. Their middle son, my host-father, went about it in the more widely accepted, western way - by asking.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0507240351jul24,1,1130165.story?coll=chi-newsnationworld-hed&ctrack=1&cset=true

This link provides a really interesting story on Kyrgyzstan, where I served as a Peace Corps volunteer for seven months.

'So this is a rave.'

On Friday night, I had my eyes opened. Much to my shock and surprise, techno is not only admired by e-bombed kids wearing white pants and waving glow sticks, but by Seattle yuppies as well! I went to my first techno show with friends to see Deep Dish who, I am told, is ‘pretty old-school’ when it comes to Progressive House. Huh? In my ignorance, I didn’t even know that techno had sub-forms! I made my first blunder of the night by attempting to wear flip-flops into the club. When I had located some appropriate footwear and was admitted by the bouncer, I made another mistake by saying, “So this is a rave.” My friends were peeved, to say the least. “This is NOT a rave!” They yelled. Oops. I guess I just have a hard time understanding the difference. Here’s what I’ve gleaned over the past couple of days: a)Rave – takes place in a warehouse with flashing lights, kids on party drugs, thumping beats, and crazy outfits, b)Show – takes place at a club (this is apparently a key difference) with good DJs, flashing lights, and kids on party drugs. The only thing missing is the crazy outfits, as the downtown Seattle crowd tends to dress a little more to impress. I’m not going to lie, though, it was a great time. I haven’t been so sweaty on a dance floor since 80’s Night at the 3B in Bellingham. I wish that I could post some pictures of my gnarly blisters and torn-up toes. I’m excited – now I will feel more at home in my future travels! I will no longer be intimidated by Euro trash clubs and pulsing beats. But don’t worry; I’ll leave my glow sticks at home.

Rain, rain, go away!

Above is a picture of my friend, Quinn, peeing into the abyss on Kendall's Katwalk. Note the fog and rain. Welcome to a Seattle summer! Don't blink, or you'll miss it. We have two weeks of absolutely beautiful weather, a couple days of it's-not-raining-but-it's-still-kind-of-dismal weather, and the rest is just rain, rain, and more rain. It's the same as a Seattle winter, only slightly warmer. I love Seattle, but I have begun to feel bitterness toward the incessant rain. True, the grass is always green. True, our trees always have leaves (okay, needles). Yes, you can play outside all year, as long as you don't mind a decent soaking. Are these positives a fair trade for the constant gray? I am especially upset because all week long the weather was hot and sunny, but now that it's Friday everything goes to crap. I guess I'll be wearing a poncho to my friends' barbeque and the festival tomorrow afternoon. One really good thing about Seattle weather is that, wherever you go, you are always appreciative. Blazing heat? Hey, at least its not rain! Blizzards? Still not rain! Tornadoes? Don't even talk to me about it . . .

Innocence Lost

I have no idea how technology functions. Television, for example. How do they get those pictures on a screen in my house? I'm curious as to how television works, just as I'm curious as to how the book I'm reading right now ends. Maybe I'll skip to the end and read the last page, but I know that if I do I'll lose most of my interest in the plot. It's like eating desert before dinner or finding out who won the Superbowl before you watch it (granted, you are in Kyrgyzstan and you have to wait two months for the tape to arrive, but still . . .). Yesterday, I drove down to Portland to pick up Noah the Dog where he was patiently waiting for me at the news station. My brother-in-law decided to show me around 'the compound' so that I could see what a real TV station looks like. Oh bliss! Oh lucky day! But when we got inside, it looked a lot like my office, only less nice and with lots of televisions on everywhere. Where did the magic go? I don't want to know that my local anchorman is cracking jokes to himself because no one is operating the camera. I don't want to know that on the other side of my television screen is a disgruntled, unshaved tech-guy who sits in front of hundreds of switches for hours on end, choosing which images to display. It's just too weird. I do, however, like to know that my brother-in-law sat outside some guy's house in Idaho for three hours in a van with tinted windows, waiting to get a story - now that is magical. From now on I want to know as little about TV as possible. In fact, I don't really want to watch it at all, unless it's the Laguna Beach marathon or Queer Eye for the Straight Guy extravaganza. For those I will make an exception, but I definitely don't want to visit the set and find out that Carson is actually manly and straight and making jokes about hitting-it. Ignorance is bliss.

Come and Take It!

This weekend my family celebrated not only my mother's graduation from college, but my Dad's fiftieth birthday. My aunts flew in from Texas, friends from Arizona, cousins from wherever they were in the US, and my sister and her husband drove up from Portland. It was a great party and so much fun, until the family togetherness began to wear a few of us down - namely myself and my older brother who are easily sparked.


Now, I want to precede this story with a anecdote that my father tells me every time we are driving through south-central Texas. It is the story of a small town called Gonzalez which, during the Texas war for independence, made a big name for itself. This town of a few hundred people (maybe less) was harboring a cannon owned by the Mexican army. When the war began, the Mexicans demanded the cannon back. The townspeople refused. The Mexicans again asked for their cannon, flexing their muscles and threatening attack if the cannon was not relinquished. In response, the hardy people of Gonzalez hung up a banner at the entrance to their town which read, clearly and proudly, "Come and take it!" The Mexicans came, but never got their cannon back because the Texans fought long and hard.


This little piece of history is a reflection of an argument my brother and I got into this weekend. My father has a bike. "A classic!" the REI people yell every time I bring it in for tune-ups. This bike is only ten years old, but it is vintage in the bike world and generally awesome. I love this bike. When I ride to the park, I sleep with arm across it. Sometimes I even talk to The Bike. As it happens, when I was still living in Kyrgyzstan, my father told my older brother that he could take the bike. He didn't pick it up while I was gone, but once I had returned and already replaced the seat, rewrapped the handlebars, and had it tuned-up, he demanded The Bike. I refused. Again he demanded The Bike. Again, I refused. "Fine," he said, "I'm just going to take it then," and began preparing to load the bike onto his girlfriend's truck. I felt like a fire had been lit inside of me. This is how women who lift cars off of children feel! I ran outside in my bare feet and t-shirt and jumped on The Bike. "Come and take it!" I screamed and pedaled away.


After riding around the block, I realized that I couldn't go back home with The Bike while my brother was still there, so I stashed it in a neighbor's garage and walked home. "Why don't you have your shoes on?" my Dad asked when I walked in the door. "I don't really want to talk about it," I said. But I was vibrant from my victory. Come and take it.

Me and My Swollen Eye

Something extremely mysterious is going on here in Sammamish and it has to do with my swollen eye. The mystery is, how did I get this swollen eye? Why does my swollen eye hurt so badly? Most importantly, will my swollen eye reduce in size before I leave for Las Vegas on Friday? I'm curious as to why I have only one swollen eye and not two, but I guess I should be thankful. Apparently it's not that noticeable, but I feel like Quasimodo and think that everyone is constantly looking at my eye. I hope that this is not permanent. In yoga this morning while doing the Downward Dog, I could feel the blood pumping in my swollen eye and it felt like someone punching me repeatedly. Then, while drinking a capuccino and reading at Victor's Coffee, I had to hold the book directly in front of my left eye because the other was too swollen and blurry to use. I hate my swollen eye.

Summarizing

In an attempt to more accurately focus my forward-thrusting efforts, I want to take a moment to step back and look at some things that I have accomplished in the past two years. These follow no particular pattern.


Schools graduated from: 1
Schools attended: 2
Languages learned: 2.33333337
Countries travelled to: 5-8
Time spent abroad: 1 year
Books read: Infinite
Houses lived in: 6
Boys been dumped by: 2
Boys I have dumped: 1
Been in love: 1.25
New sports attempted: 3
Car crashes: 0
Flights taken: ~34
Letters written: ~50
Classes taught: 92
Pounds of plov consumed: 110
Horses ridden: 1
Donkeys ridden: 0
Turkeys slaughtered: 2
Official government buildings viewed: 9
Jobs worked: 5
Smallest salary ever: 100$/month
Marathons trained for: 1
Marathons completed: 0
Training related injuries: 2


Hmmmm, very interesting. I wonder if achievement levels dwindle post-college?

Long Time

It's been a pretty long time since my last post, mainly because I have very little to write about. I'm back in the greater-Seattle area, living with my parents, and out of work. I've only been home for four days and have been filling my time with riding bikes and seeing old friends. I feel like I could ride my bike all day, every day, if only I were in better shape. As it is now, my legs feel like noodles every time I step off the damn thing and try to walk. Gone are the days when I was athletic and trim, though I have a feeling they are on the come-back. As to the old friends, I had totally and completely forgotten what it was like to have a social life. After seven months of spending my nights with my best friend (a heater) and our companion (a book), it seems a little exhausting to hang out with people every night. Perhaps I'm over-doing it. My social arena in The Stan consisted of Sean and Umut and a bottle of wine. After Lamar sent Sean the You Don't Know Jack computer game, we felt like our wild college days had returned - an entire hour of trivia! You have to be kidding me! After a night of You Don't Know Jack, I would go home exhausted and then sleep until 11am the next morning. Maybe sometimes I even had a trivia-induced hangover. Anyway, I'm readjusting to life here, or at least trying to, and sometimes its really hard. It's kind of like that old Kyrgyz banya when you step out of the sauna and then jump into the icy pool. Eventually it's refreshing, but for those first few moments you feel like your heart will stop beating. That's me right now, still in those first few moments.

Re-entry and isn't it hilarious to be alive?

Well, it's Saturday night and I am lame. I think that I have begun to experience reverse culture-shock, which is the term for how freaked-out you get when you come back to the United States after living in the third-world for seven months. This is why the US is freaking me out right now: This afternoon, at around 1pm, I decided to hop on the metro and head to the Smithsonian to see the Holocaust Museum. For some reason, possibly because it was Saturday, possibly because the Cherry Blossom Festival was going on (beautiful, truly), the metro was absolutely packed. I mean, Tokyo at rush hour packed. This was not a big deal. I have sat in circa 1980 mini-vans (marshukas) for hours at a time over roads paved with boulders. I have sat in mini-vans so incredibly crowded that unknown women set their babies, or chickens, on my lap. I have had drunk Kyrgyz men grope my ass. Crowded metro cars in Washington, DC where people are freshly showered and afraid of causing offence to anyone are no problem Or, at least, I thought this was the case until today. The car was so packed that I was joking about the packedness of the car with strangers. It was funny until we came to the Foggy Bottom stop - this was when The Woman decided to snap. "You are standing in the DAMN DOORWAY!" she yelled at the people clinging desperately to poles and seat-backs, unable to move because other people were standing behind them, to the left of them, breathing down their necks. This was when she started pushing the Other Woman, the innocent one, and yelling again, "Will you move out of the F-ing doorway!" The Other Woman, being normal, didn't respond. I said, audibly (snapping in my own, particular way), "Are you freaking kidding me?" People looked away. What causes people to snap like this? Obviously we have all been in frustrating situations, but this is what they are - situations. They are not life. Usually they don't last longer than ten minutes, which is enough time to remember to breathe into your abdomen and use that breath to laugh at how ridiculous things have gotten. I hope that this tendency to snap and forget the hilarity of life, the waste of this hilarity on anger, is a trait of The Woman and not of America in general. Anyway, I made it to the Holocaust Museum. I saw pictures of the children who were euthanized for being imperfect (aren't we all?). I read about women and men who risked their lives to resist imprisonment and enslavement. I listened to the story of two starving men who, after years of starvation, ran to embrace each other because they were both alive and wasn't it something to be joyful about? After seeing this shadow of tragedy, I want to say to The Woman (at the risk of sounding condescending and preachy) - suck it up, you wuss. Suck it up. You know nothing of frustration.

I get my news from Wolf Blitzer.

I was getting my hair cut today in DC when the stylist, David, who is French and utterly fabulous, leaned down and whispered that Wolf Blitzer had just come in. Apparently he had been doing work in Iraq. "Oh, was he reporting?" I asked from underneath my hair. "Non," David replied, "he is no reporter. He is anchorman (imagine the statement being made with a French accent)." Then I felt like an asshole for not knowing what exactly is was that Wolf Blitzer did for a living. To make up for my ignorance, I watched this man with the famous name very carefully. Wolf Blitzer sat down and read a magazine. Wolf Blitzer stood up and went to the bathroom. Wolf Blitzer came back and announced that the Pope had passed. "When did it happen?" David asked. "About two minutes ago," Wolf Blitzer replied. Of course, being Wolf Blitzer, he would know. What I'm curious about is, why did he wait to announce this? Was he letting the tension build by sitting to read his magazine, by going to the bathroom? Maybe Wolf Blitzer always announces world-changing breaking news when he goes in to get his beard touched-up and he was just kidding around with the stylists by making them wait. Maybe, because he is Wolf Blitzer, he does not have to honor the important information code, which is that you announce really important information as soon as you enter a room. I don't know. What I do know is, nobody questioned Wolf Blitzer when he made his statement. This was not true for me. When I got back to the hotel, I announced to the room at large, "I saw Wolf Blitzer at the hair salon and he told me that the Pope died." Nobody believed me, especially the part about Wolf Blitzer being at the hair salon. Hopefully Wolf Blitzer was not playing a late April Fool's Day joke about the Pope. First of all, because it wouldn't be funny and, second of all, because it would make me look like a total fool. But isn't that the kind of power that Wolf Blitzer has?

America is boring

Welcome to the United States. Now that I've been here for a couple days and have settled in (by this I mean: have taken several showers, washed clothes in a washing machine, and retrained myself to NOT throw toilet paper in the trash can after use) I've come to the conclusion that America is boring. I haven't seen any ass-carts since I've been here. No random drunk men have tried to fight me on the street over the state of our country's foreign policy. I haven't sat on the floor to eat in a week. Maybe it's boring in a good way, but today when someone asked me what the most interesting thing that happened to me yesterday was, I had to respond, "I saw a cute guy on the subway." If this is the most stimulating thing in my daily life then things have really gone downhill. Mostly its my own fault since I am still captivated by the readily available book stores and English television programs. Tomorrow I am determined to go see some stuff. Oh wait! Something interesting DID happen to me today! Not only did I eat at Baja Fresh, but I hypnotized myself. Yes, that's right, I hypnotized myself. Is that too weird? Is it even possible? Well, that sums up things for now. I'll update when I see George W.

So this is our nation's capitol.

I arrived in Washington, DC the day before yesterday. When I stepped off the plane, I almost cried with the wonder and joy of being in America again. Unfortunately, the customs agents didn't share my joy and demanded my passport and tickets when I said, "Can you believe it? It's America!" No one understands. Since I've been here I've gone shopping, had a massage, eaten at a deli, shopped at Safeway, and spoken English to everyone. The English part is a little bit weird. I'm not used to understanding other peoples' conversations in the bathroom and on the subway and, honestly, I find it a little disconcerting. In-country, when people would speak in Russian I always imagined they that were discussing something incredibly interesting. Now I realize that they were probably just saying, "Could you pass me some toilet paper? My stall is out." or "Did you hear about the newest recipe for plov? I can't wait to try it at our sheep slaughtering this weekend." Plus, it is exhausting to process information about other peoples' lives. Of course I always listen in and make mental notes - this one's neurotic, this one's an insomniac, this one's life is driven by work, and so on and so on. They're probably thinking: This one has a bad haircut. I have a lot of free time here and am trying to think of ways to fill it. Its an entirely different problem than the one that confronted me in Kyrgyzstan. There my options were either read a book or watch television in Russian. Oh, or sit in my room for an hour straight mechanically putting chocolates into my mouth (not that it ever happened). Here I can go to a museum, see a movie, get a coffee and read the paper - so many things to do that it makes decision making difficult. Alright, I'm going to go try and sleep again. I woke up, as usual at 5am and was wide-awake. Thank you jet-lag! Bye for now.

Still in Germany

I lied, I'm updating from Germany again because I have HUGE news - I saw a Starbucks!!! It was closed so I couldn't go in, but I saw one. I recognized the green table-tents from afar and my heart started pounding. Just seeing it was enough to convince me that I'm back in the western world. I walked around this morning looking at old buildings and eating German pastries. It is cold here right now. There is a park along the Rhine river and the entire area was covered in chilly fog, but it was nice to walk through anyway. Since last night I have met people from Malta, India, America, and, of course, Germany. Travelling is always so interesting. Alright, back to my hotel to pack up and catch the subway back to the airport. Goodbye, Frankfurt! You were amazing.

Hello from Frankfurt

I want to begin this post by apologizing for any misspellings, particularly `y` where there should be `z` and vice-versa. I'm writing this in Frankfurt, Germany and, for some reason unknown to me, the keyboard is switched-around. First of all, Kyrgzy news: the president fled the country, the opposition party took over the government buildings, the mob looted various stores around the city, and Peace Corps volunteers are consolidated. As far as I know, the only people who have been evacuated are the volunteers from Osh and Jalalabad who are now living in various surrounding villages. My home-town, Bazar-Korgon, has welcomed its fair share of volunteers recently. In response to Ian's post - BK remains peaceful and Kyrgyz-Uzbek relations remain as they ever were. By the way, I know your old host-family and they still speak of you. When militia officers were being beaten to death by an angry mob in Jalalabad City, the people of Bazar-Korgon didn't even know that there was a problem half an hour away from them. Speaking of Bazar-Korgon, it seems far away right now, considering the fact that I just ate at McDonalds, withdrew euros from an ATM, and am about to go drink some German beer. The initial plan for my medevac was to leave last night on Turkish Airlines and stop over in Istanbul; however, foreign carriers cancelled all flights out of Bishkek, so my options were limited to flying from Almaty, or taking Kyrgyz Airways to Germany. Since I don't have a Kazakh visa and the borders were closing down, Kyrgzy Airways was the better option. I should be in DC tomorrow evening. I'm feeling extremely overwhelmed right now by the recent events. First of all, I get whisked away from my village for medical. Then, while in the city, an angry mob takes over the government. I was just sitting down for lunch in a nice cafe (I had even ordered a cappuccino), when a Peace Corps staffer came running in. 'We have to go now!' she said. 'Why,' I asked. 'They're just bringing my coffee.' 'The people are coming!' she said. 'The people are coming!' We ran outside to where the Peace Corps vehicle was waiting and, sure enough, thousands of protestors were marching down the street. While I was sad to leave behind my coffee, I preferred not to be in the path of so many volatile marchers. To make up for this loss, a friend and I decided to go to the Hyatt for lunch. When we came back, stuffed and glowing from our delicious meal, we discovered that the opposition had taken over the White House and that Akaev had fled. I felt like such a tool. I was eating lunch at the Hyatt while other people were witnessing revolution. But anyway, this entire situation is just too weird. In fact, I'm really weirded out that I'm in Germany right now. I mean, honestly, Germany? Just this morning I was stoked to have a luke-warm shower at the hotel. When I asked the woman at the desk here if the rooms have showers, she laughed in my face. Apparently I have some adjusting to do. Alright, sorry this blog is so long. If you have read this far, you are a dedicated type of person. Next update will be from Washington, DC.

Escape!!!

Due to increasing unrest in the city centers (Sadie heard gunshots outside of her house and Scott saw people handing out Molotov Cocktails), Jalalabad City has been evacuated to Bazar-Korgon and Kochkor-Ata. Sean put up four extra volunteers in his apartment and life was easing and the living was free for a day or two. We played frisbee at the stadium, watched movies, and walked around. We also ate pizza. Unfortunately, it is easy to go crazy when you can't leave a village for an unknown amount of time. I was ready to bang my head against the wall, if only to knock myself unconscious and sleep for a couple hours. Myself and three other girls in the Jalalabad Oblast needed to travel to Bishkek for medical reasons, but whenever we would begin to prepare our trip something new would happen. For instance, the opposition would block all traffic from the south to Bishkek. Or, the opposition would pour rocks all over the airport runways so that planes couldn't land or take off. Finally, Doctor Yelena decided to chance the odds and drive down in the Peace Corps Vehicle in order to pick us up. We left Bazar-Korgon yesterday at noon and had no problems driving up, except for when we almost got stuck crossing the mountains, but that is another story. Now I'm in Bishkek, waiting for my appointment with the doctor. I am here indefinitely as all Peace Corps volunteers are now on Stand-Fast, which means they can't leave their sites and have to check in regularly with the office. Stand-Fast is the first step of evacuation, if the situation here leads to that. I've run into some other volunteers who are also stuck in the city. They are unhappy about it, but I say great! A hot shower every day and cheeseburgers at my disposal? I'm stoked to be here. I'll let you know how it turns out.


By the way, if you are using my blog to back up the premise that America is funding the opposition party in Kyrgyzstan, you are a fool. America doesn't even know that Kyrgyzstan exists.

Trapped and Nasty American Rumors

Well, today is our six month anniversary in Kyrgyzstan and, to celebrate, we are trapped in our villages. Thank you Civil Unrest Fest! Thank you Kyrgyz people! You have succeeded in making my life that much more boring and tedious. Things, apparently, are heating up around here. For instance, the mayor of Bazar-Korgon was captured and held hostage by angry protestors, only to be rescued by special task-force militia. Now he is in hiding somewhere, we don't know where (because he is hiding). The same thing happened in a village in Talas. In Osh city, the first reports of injuries were made when protestors took over a government building there. What is this craziness? Though it sounds interesting, things appear to be as quiet as ever in day to day life. Sean, Umut and I, strapped for things to do, ended up watching Six Feet Under on Sean's laptop for FIVE HOURS straight yesterday. I think I developed a bed-sore. We snuck into Jalalabad City today, feeling very anti-establishment and courageous, only to discover that it is alright to travel during the day, only overnight travel is restricted. Well then. Anyway, I am going crazy in my site, which should be obvious by the stress-induced hives that curiously appeared on Thursday night. There is no relief in sight, either, as we have a two week vacation to look forward to and nothing to do. Excellent.


The second half of this entry will be devoted to dispelling nasty rumors that Americans have about themselves. I was inspired to write this on our taxi ride into the city this morning -honestly, guys, Kyrgyz people KNOW about America. The nastiest rumor that Americans have about themselves (and I really hate to be the one to break it to you) is that Alaska is actually a state. It's really on lease from Russia and the sooner we realize this the better. This comes as a relief to me, because I hate people from Alaska. Another nasty rumor we have is that there are fifty states. In truth, there are anywhere from thirty to sixty-five states, depending on who you talk to. I think the numbers change based on the weather and what Arnold Schwarzenneger, who is actually the president, decide. In America, we do not have tall mountains, big rivers, or notably large lakes. We don't have snow, cold weather, or rain because California, Florida, and Texas have taken over the country. We also don't have walnuts. I don't know what it is that you're eating right now, but its not really a walnut and you should probably throw it away. Some dirty capitalist developed that walnut look-alike in an attempt to take over the world and enslave the working classes. The sooner you realize these things, the better. Perhaps you should spread the word to everyone else - we don't want to look stupid in the eyes of the world.


Alright, I've got to go back to my village and stare at the wall for a while. Check out Eurasianet.com for information and updates on the Kyrgyz situation. Don't forget to click on Kyrgyzstan.

My Kyrgyz Haircut

Well, I just had my first hair cut in eight months and, though it was much needed, I have to be honest and say that my hair looks like shit. I look like a blonde Kyrgyz woman. It's not as bad as the euro-mullet haircut that crazy man gave me in Spain, but it's similar to the bowl cut my Mom blessed me with for the first twelve years of my life. I didn't think it was so bad at first, but my Kyrgyz friend Umut saw what the woman had done and asked me, "Oh! Are you okay?" which is when I started realizing that things had gone horribly wrong. I guess this is what I should expect for paying 1.50$ for a haircut. Wondering about the reasons behind a cheap bad haircut is kind of like wondering why a bottle of 40 com vodka gave you such a nasty hang-over. Anything for a dollar is just not worth it. But don't pity me and my bad hair, I put myself into this situation and I will live with its consequences. Bye for now.

Shout-Outs

This blog entry is dedicated to the people I rarely communicate with, but think are awesome. If you feel that you are not one of these people, read no further. If you are bored by the idea of reading about people who are not you (you self-centered asshole), read no further. If you would rather watch reruns of the Real World, read no further. If you can't read at all, stop looking at this, you're wasting your time. Let the shout-outs begin!


1. Kathryn Stickney - You are awesome and I wish I had your e-mail address! Congratulations on seminary - I'm really proud of you. In Kyrgyz, we say 'ak jyrek,' which mean 'pure-hearted.' This makes me think of you.
2. Lamar Brown - Though we have never met in my life, you are my own personal hero. Thank you for the walkie-talkies and all the delicious treats you send to your son, which he then shares with me. You seem cool - I'm sorry that Sean is such a bitch.
3. Reuben Person - If I could, I would drop the Peace Corps and move to New Zealand to hang out and have adventures with you. You better not be sharing the Reuben Tiggle Jiggle with other girls, because I will kill them with my own two hands.
4. Katie Grimes - When will the old hotness and the new hotness be reunited? When?
5. Chris Patnode - Thank you for always commenting on my lame blogs and for sending me delicious chex mix. We ate it in one sitting and it was irresistible.
6. The Makers of Clone - You have remade my life from something lost and floating into something with drive and direction - the need to watch Clone every night at 7pm. My life has a purpose again.
7. The US government and all you taxpayers - Thank you for giving me a job, you suckers.
8. Ayn Rand - Even though you are dead, maybe someone will get you this message: you are amazing! I don't know how right-on the whole Objectivism thing is and sometimes I find you rather heartless, but keep on rocking for all those above-average people out there!


This concludes my shout-outs for today. Stay prepared for the next update - maybe you'll be on it.

Civil Unrest Fest

Salam! After receiving nervous e-mails from my family and reading news quotes talking about protestors rioting and taking over government offices and such, I thought I would say that the news is blowing this movement out of proportion. True, groups of anti-Akaev protestors have taken over the government office in Jalalabad and their supporters have set up yurts of solidarity handing out bread and tea and vodka (of course). True, an armed guard dressed in full riot-gear is surrounding the office to make sure that things stay peaceful and that no one else can enter, but they don't even have guns. True, the volunteers living in Jalalabad city were asked by the Peace Corps to pack their bags and be prepared to evacuate to Osh should violence arise, but nothing has happened and things are as calm as they ever were.
The Civil Unrest Fest began last Friday, the same day that I decided to go to Osh to visit some volunteer friends there. When we arrived in Jalalabad city, there was a crowd chanting, "Down with Akaev! Down with Akaev!" outside of the government offices. As we prepared to catch the taxi out of the city, the crowd was swarming the office gates despite the militia men fighting to keep them out. In Osh, we heard reports of protestors setting up tents in the offices, the government workers had fled, and volunteer evacuation to Osh city might be necessary. "That's conventient," we said. "We're already in Osh." And then we went to the park to play ping-pong and eat ice cream.
I'm interested to see what happens here. The protestors are calling for Akaev's early resignation and a sped-up presidential election. They also want a new parliamentary election to make up for the last one, which was a total farce. What will Akaev do? I seem to recall something he said along the lines of, "Any resistance will be seen as a show of force and proper military action will be taken." I hope he was bluffing, otherwise I might be out a job and back in America before you know it. Either way, even though as a representative of the US government (does that mean I'm just a grossly underpaid ambassador?) I have to walk disinterestedly through crowds of protestors, I secretly feel a little thrill of pride for the Kyrgyz people tying pink ribbons around their arms and yelling 'Dwn with Akaev!' I hope they succeed in creating a better country for themselves. I hope they break out of this post-Soviet lock that seems to be hold Central Asia back. I also hope they come up with a better color than pink for their next revolution.

Holiday (every day?)

Hello again! It's Thursday and, yes, I definitely should be teaching class right now, but the mayor of Bazar-Korgon has declared it School Cleaning Day! This is not a joke, class is actually cancelled so that the students can clean their school as a crucial element of their instruction on how to be good little Soviets. This week I taught school a total of . . . (pause for Ailey thinking) . . . two days! Why only two days, you ask? Because who needs eduation! I flippantly reply. Actually, Wednesday was International Man Day, which is definitely needed here in Central Asia - men just don't get the respect they deserve. So, no school on Wednesday and, because no holiday is complete without a half-day the day before, no school on Tuesday either. Next week is International Woman Day, so there will be no school on Tuesday and, as I have already said, no holiday is complete without a half-day the day before, no school on Monday either. Of course, the post office will be closed for two weeks straight in celebration of International Man Day and International Woman Day. International Man Day doubled as Army Day, so there was a lot of drunk men in the street all week last week. When I pass a drunk man in the street on the way to my 11am class, I never know where to look. If he's walking straight, but slightly lurching, I don't make eye-contact. If he's sober enough to walk, he's sober enough to talk and I hate making conversations with drunks early in the morning. If he's walking, but veering all over the place, I have to watch because, first of all, maybe he will fall over and that is interesting and, second of all, maybe he will walk into me and that is bad. I'm curious, are they still drunk and awake from the night before? If so, that is an impressive feat. Or did they just start drinking really early in the morning? The thought honestly turns my stomach - to be honest, the thought of vodka turns my stomach at any time, day or night, but in the morning when respectable people are eating their bread and tea! I just don't understand. Alright, I'm going to go enjoy the weather. Its around seventy degrees today! This is great, but its only March. What will happen in June, or July, or August? For those of you who were tired of hearing me complain about the cold - prepare yourselves. I'm going to complain a lot about the heat. Honestly, I'm from Seattle. Its sixty degrees year-round there.