Thursday, December 20, 2007
The kicker to the kicker
Kyle and I arrived home from New Orleans at 2:30 a.m. today, slept for a scant few hours and then headed to work (him) and worked on Christmas gifts (me). When I hopped into my car around 10 a.m., I was greeted by an engine that choked, sputtered and jerked as I drove. I promptly took it to the dealer, teeth clenched in anxiety the whole way. I dropped the damn thing off, borrowed Kyle's car, and a few hours later, got the verdict: I was in need of $650 worth of maintenance and repairs. It was little comfort to have the service guy tell me that it was nothing I'd done, just routine work. Which, ya know, is awesome, considering I'm still paying the $1,000 bill for car repairs I incurred over the summer. Bleeeeegh. Time to check the going rates for organs on the black market.
Friday, December 14, 2007
The kicker
There was some sort of screwup in payroll, so we might not get paid until Monday, instead of today. I have $20 in my checking account, I'm leaving this evening for Louisiana, and, wait ... I feel like there is maybe some sort of holiday coming up that involves spending money on stuff?
In other words: FUUUUUUUCK.
In other words: FUUUUUUUCK.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
I guess the jelly of the month club would've been too generous
Or, "Seriously, my job has morphed from Office Space to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation."
I'm still on jury duty, but have so far had the fortune of not getting called for seating so far today (a story about the trial I was on last week is forthcoming).
Anyhoodle, the current state of affairs provided me time to check in with work, as I did just a couple of minutes ago. It was then when I opened one gem of an e-mail from one of The Powers That Be. To wit: Instead of having a review (and, hopefully, raise) at the beginning of the year, we're to have it on the anniversary of our employment. Only ... mine was in September, and I have yet to have the review or see any of the desperately needed cash. Oh, and as to that (paltry, but still needed) holiday bonus? They don't do that sort of thing. Instead, we've been told, we can be eligible for a program that pays out bonuses to select employees for outstanding performances if -- and only if -- the company exceeds expected revenue for the month.
It's called "Lightning Strikes."
Um, I think I have an idea of the liklihood of actually landing one of these.
I'm still on jury duty, but have so far had the fortune of not getting called for seating so far today (a story about the trial I was on last week is forthcoming).
Anyhoodle, the current state of affairs provided me time to check in with work, as I did just a couple of minutes ago. It was then when I opened one gem of an e-mail from one of The Powers That Be. To wit: Instead of having a review (and, hopefully, raise) at the beginning of the year, we're to have it on the anniversary of our employment. Only ... mine was in September, and I have yet to have the review or see any of the desperately needed cash. Oh, and as to that (paltry, but still needed) holiday bonus? They don't do that sort of thing. Instead, we've been told, we can be eligible for a program that pays out bonuses to select employees for outstanding performances if -- and only if -- the company exceeds expected revenue for the month.
It's called "Lightning Strikes."
Um, I think I have an idea of the liklihood of actually landing one of these.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
You got served!!
Or rather, I did. With jury duty.
My coworker Pam said she served the full two-week term without getting called for voire dire (fancy Latin meaning, roughly, "jury selection") once. I was called for it before noon yesterday, my first day. And despite being number 22 of the group of 24 called (the first 12 are automatically seated for questioning, and then if they get the boot, the back 12 serve as replacements), I'm on the thing as an alternate. So much for the hours of Veronica Mars-watching I had planned for my time.
Anyhoodle, jury instructions and such pretty much prevent me from sharing anything more, although I will say this: The $2.80 veggie burger served in the Ben Franklin Cafeteria (Seriously. Ol' Ben would be so proud if he knew) on the 16th floor of the courthouse is not as bad as one might think.
My coworker Pam said she served the full two-week term without getting called for voire dire (fancy Latin meaning, roughly, "jury selection") once. I was called for it before noon yesterday, my first day. And despite being number 22 of the group of 24 called (the first 12 are automatically seated for questioning, and then if they get the boot, the back 12 serve as replacements), I'm on the thing as an alternate. So much for the hours of Veronica Mars-watching I had planned for my time.
Anyhoodle, jury instructions and such pretty much prevent me from sharing anything more, although I will say this: The $2.80 veggie burger served in the Ben Franklin Cafeteria (Seriously. Ol' Ben would be so proud if he knew) on the 16th floor of the courthouse is not as bad as one might think.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Commercial Interruption
OK, I will stop harping on the writers' strike for a moment ...
So, Kyle is promoting a big show tonight featuring one of his all-time music heroes, Eric Bachmann. And while it is sure to be awesome (Bachmann, performing for several years as Crooked Fingers, and before that, as a member of the seminal indie band Archers of Loaf, has this gravely voice that digs down under listeners' skin until it pierces their hearts, an experience that is much more pleasant than one might think. And, oh yeah, he does the best Prince cover I've ever heard.), I think we both are pretty anxious about it. You see, Kyle's put down a pretty big guarantee on this thing, meaning he needs about 50 people to come to this show, a daunting goal considering a.) It's Tuesday, b.) The cover is $12.
But perhaps the scarier thought is that Eric and another bandmate might be spending the night at our house. And that possibility has prompted a cleaning frenzy over here at Friendship Village. There has been sweeping, dusting, de-cluttering, dishes-doing, animal hair removal, and shortly, fridge-cleaning and a total household vacuuming in our effort to trick him into thinking that we don't live in filth. And by "we," I mostly mean "me," as anyone who has checked out my desk at work can attest.
So, anyway, as part of the cleaning madness, I decided to clean that daggone mesh screen in the hood of the stove, even though I totally know it is one of those things that only I would notice. Man, was that thing nast-tay. It was brown, like the brown of an acorn, of milk chocolate, of certain types of poo. And, also thanks to years of neglect, it was rubber cement-sticky. I decided to let my fingers do the walking, and used dear ol' Google to find a cure for the gross. Happily, I quickly found a site that had what I was looking for: A number of postings on different screen-cleaning techniques. Most suggested the use of harsh chemicals, which, although I am no fan of such things, I would have totally employed, had that not required I make a trip to the store to buy 'em.
Because, duh, I am lazy.
So, after a brief -- and failed -- experiment trying to bake the grease off in the oven, I tried another suggestion, and I soaked the thing in a mixture of OxyClean and hot water in our kitchen sink. Man, I have no idea what was in that shit, but it worked amazingly well. The water bubbled and fizzed and turned ever more brown as the screen came clean. Within 30 minutes -- and with no scrubbing -- it was was a shiny silver color and no longer sticky to the touch. Magic.
So, yeah, my new plan for life involves scrubbing down every surface with the stuff, including my own skin. I can only imagine the wonders it will bring.
So, Kyle is promoting a big show tonight featuring one of his all-time music heroes, Eric Bachmann. And while it is sure to be awesome (Bachmann, performing for several years as Crooked Fingers, and before that, as a member of the seminal indie band Archers of Loaf, has this gravely voice that digs down under listeners' skin until it pierces their hearts, an experience that is much more pleasant than one might think. And, oh yeah, he does the best Prince cover I've ever heard.), I think we both are pretty anxious about it. You see, Kyle's put down a pretty big guarantee on this thing, meaning he needs about 50 people to come to this show, a daunting goal considering a.) It's Tuesday, b.) The cover is $12.
But perhaps the scarier thought is that Eric and another bandmate might be spending the night at our house. And that possibility has prompted a cleaning frenzy over here at Friendship Village. There has been sweeping, dusting, de-cluttering, dishes-doing, animal hair removal, and shortly, fridge-cleaning and a total household vacuuming in our effort to trick him into thinking that we don't live in filth. And by "we," I mostly mean "me," as anyone who has checked out my desk at work can attest.
So, anyway, as part of the cleaning madness, I decided to clean that daggone mesh screen in the hood of the stove, even though I totally know it is one of those things that only I would notice. Man, was that thing nast-tay. It was brown, like the brown of an acorn, of milk chocolate, of certain types of poo. And, also thanks to years of neglect, it was rubber cement-sticky. I decided to let my fingers do the walking, and used dear ol' Google to find a cure for the gross. Happily, I quickly found a site that had what I was looking for: A number of postings on different screen-cleaning techniques. Most suggested the use of harsh chemicals, which, although I am no fan of such things, I would have totally employed, had that not required I make a trip to the store to buy 'em.
Because, duh, I am lazy.
So, after a brief -- and failed -- experiment trying to bake the grease off in the oven, I tried another suggestion, and I soaked the thing in a mixture of OxyClean and hot water in our kitchen sink. Man, I have no idea what was in that shit, but it worked amazingly well. The water bubbled and fizzed and turned ever more brown as the screen came clean. Within 30 minutes -- and with no scrubbing -- it was was a shiny silver color and no longer sticky to the touch. Magic.
So, yeah, my new plan for life involves scrubbing down every surface with the stuff, including my own skin. I can only imagine the wonders it will bring.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
What I've been doing
Sorry for being lame and quiet 'n' all. I'm here, at work (at 12:30 a.m.) on election night, which should mark the apex of my lameness.
Meaning tomorrow, I should be un-lame, right? Here's hoping.
A quick story:
OK, so a good portion of my night tonight was spent waiting -- SO MUCH WAITING! -- for elected officials to climb out of their fancy hotel rooms and into the fancy hotel ballroom to celebrate being reelected. I was supposed to leave, to return to work and write my story, by 9:30 p.m. By about 9:15 p.m., I started getting nervous, and began pestering every city staffer I knew to see if they would help me connect with my office-seekers.
No dice.
They finally showed their faces at 10 p.m., said a few things about a city full of optimism and such, thanked a laundry list of supporters, etc. Meanwhile, it was 10:30 p.m. Shit.
I had to get out of there.
So, I busted ass, ran to the parking garage, got my car out and sped down the city streets, going nearly 50 mph in a 35 mph zone. At a certain point, as I zoomed under traffic light as it turned red, I began to think I should maybe slow down.
At almost the exact moment that thought made its way through my caffeine- and carb-addled mind, I noticed a car stopped at the light I was approaching. More precisely, I noticed the police car stopped at the light I was approaching.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I slowly pulled up alongside the car. A light flashed in my peripheral vision. It was the driver, trying to get my attention. He motioned for me to roll down my window. I did it.
"Are your headlights on?" he asked.
Uhhh ... Happily, they were, at least according to my dashboard.
"Yep, they should be -- do I have a headlight out?" I asked.
The lights were on, but looked dim, he said. That's probably because I have a cheap Korean car, I replied.
To that, he made a confused sidelong look at me and his fellow officer, and then, as the light changed, let me go.
Whew.
The end.
Meaning tomorrow, I should be un-lame, right? Here's hoping.
A quick story:
OK, so a good portion of my night tonight was spent waiting -- SO MUCH WAITING! -- for elected officials to climb out of their fancy hotel rooms and into the fancy hotel ballroom to celebrate being reelected. I was supposed to leave, to return to work and write my story, by 9:30 p.m. By about 9:15 p.m., I started getting nervous, and began pestering every city staffer I knew to see if they would help me connect with my office-seekers.
No dice.
They finally showed their faces at 10 p.m., said a few things about a city full of optimism and such, thanked a laundry list of supporters, etc. Meanwhile, it was 10:30 p.m. Shit.
I had to get out of there.
So, I busted ass, ran to the parking garage, got my car out and sped down the city streets, going nearly 50 mph in a 35 mph zone. At a certain point, as I zoomed under traffic light as it turned red, I began to think I should maybe slow down.
At almost the exact moment that thought made its way through my caffeine- and carb-addled mind, I noticed a car stopped at the light I was approaching. More precisely, I noticed the police car stopped at the light I was approaching.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I slowly pulled up alongside the car. A light flashed in my peripheral vision. It was the driver, trying to get my attention. He motioned for me to roll down my window. I did it.
"Are your headlights on?" he asked.
Uhhh ... Happily, they were, at least according to my dashboard.
"Yep, they should be -- do I have a headlight out?" I asked.
The lights were on, but looked dim, he said. That's probably because I have a cheap Korean car, I replied.
To that, he made a confused sidelong look at me and his fellow officer, and then, as the light changed, let me go.
Whew.
The end.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
End times
I am too exhausted to come up with anything clever to write (and I'm afraid if I continue to beg everyone I know for the 'sweet, sweet relief of death' people might start worring about me), I will give you a sampling of the best police reports I looked at this week. Summaries are by me, with info from the police department:
A 39-year-old woman told police she was working at a health care facility in the 1000 block of Kingsmill Parkway at about 7 p.m. Friday
when a client became enraged after finding out there was ketchup on his hamburger, according to police reports.
The victim and a witness told police that the suspect "went off," flipping a table over and damaging the kitchen of the business by throwing glass bottles and jars.
The victim said that during the melee, the suspect threw a glass jar of jelly at her, hitting her in the ribs and injuring her, before threatening,"I'll kick your ass."
Damage to the kitchen was estimated at $200.
A 55-year-old man told police that around 11:45 a.m. Oct. 21 a man -- who had already been ordered by a judge to stay away -- came to his house, in the 4900 block of Sienna Lane and repeatedly taunted and harassed him.
The victim said the suspect stopped his vehicle in front of his house and yelled at him to come out on the front porch.
The victim, who is terminally ill, said the suspect also yelled, "You're not dying, are you? Yeah, you are."
A 22-year-old man told police he was standing outside of a business in the 1000 block of Morse Road at about 2:45 a.m. Saturday and smoking a cigar with a friend when "100 Asians" came out and jumped him, causing $300 in damage to his vehicle.
A woman called police Oct. 24 to report her 18-month-old child had been bitten by another child at a day care center in the 4500 block of Heaton Road the previous day.
She said she contacted police after she discovered that the child who had bitten her child, leaving a bruise, was that of one of the school's instructors.
The woman said that the instructor told her that the victim was bothering her son and deserved to be bitten, and said that she wanted to file charges against the staffer.
The responding officer told the woman that the assault occurred between two 18-month-old children, and that the instructor was not present during the biting.
A woman living in the 4700 block of Beaucroft Court told police that around 5 a.m. Monday she saw her ex-boyfriend in her driveway, using a hose to pour water into her car's gas tank. She said she told the suspect to leave the property and he ran away. Another victim at the residence reported having two driver's side tires flattened that morning and said that two weeks prior to the recent incident, the vehicles belonging to the first victim and her new boyfriend had almost all of their tires flattened. The current boyfriend said the ex-boyfriend has also sent him threatening voice mails and text messages, even though he had changed his phone number. In all, the cars had about $1,800 in damages, the victims reported.
A 33-year-old woman told police that she went Sunday to a function for her daughter at a church in the 4200 block of Morse Road, and that while in her car at around 12:45 p.m. she was approached by her ex-husband's girlfriend, whom she does not get along with.
The victim said she got out of the car and began arguing with the girlfriend when the girlfriend punched her in the head.
The victim said she then kicked the suspect, the pair began fighting and ended up struggling on the ground until separated by their pastor.
In other news: I received a jury summons Saturday. I plan on reenacting Pauly Shore's opus Jury Duty beginning the Monday after Thanksgiving. It's sure to be good times.
A 39-year-old woman told police she was working at a health care facility in the 1000 block of Kingsmill Parkway at about 7 p.m. Friday
when a client became enraged after finding out there was ketchup on his hamburger, according to police reports.
The victim and a witness told police that the suspect "went off," flipping a table over and damaging the kitchen of the business by throwing glass bottles and jars.
The victim said that during the melee, the suspect threw a glass jar of jelly at her, hitting her in the ribs and injuring her, before threatening,"I'll kick your ass."
Damage to the kitchen was estimated at $200.
A 55-year-old man told police that around 11:45 a.m. Oct. 21 a man -- who had already been ordered by a judge to stay away -- came to his house, in the 4900 block of Sienna Lane and repeatedly taunted and harassed him.
The victim said the suspect stopped his vehicle in front of his house and yelled at him to come out on the front porch.
The victim, who is terminally ill, said the suspect also yelled, "You're not dying, are you? Yeah, you are."
A 22-year-old man told police he was standing outside of a business in the 1000 block of Morse Road at about 2:45 a.m. Saturday and smoking a cigar with a friend when "100 Asians" came out and jumped him, causing $300 in damage to his vehicle.
A woman called police Oct. 24 to report her 18-month-old child had been bitten by another child at a day care center in the 4500 block of Heaton Road the previous day.
She said she contacted police after she discovered that the child who had bitten her child, leaving a bruise, was that of one of the school's instructors.
The woman said that the instructor told her that the victim was bothering her son and deserved to be bitten, and said that she wanted to file charges against the staffer.
The responding officer told the woman that the assault occurred between two 18-month-old children, and that the instructor was not present during the biting.
A woman living in the 4700 block of Beaucroft Court told police that around 5 a.m. Monday she saw her ex-boyfriend in her driveway, using a hose to pour water into her car's gas tank. She said she told the suspect to leave the property and he ran away. Another victim at the residence reported having two driver's side tires flattened that morning and said that two weeks prior to the recent incident, the vehicles belonging to the first victim and her new boyfriend had almost all of their tires flattened. The current boyfriend said the ex-boyfriend has also sent him threatening voice mails and text messages, even though he had changed his phone number. In all, the cars had about $1,800 in damages, the victims reported.
A 33-year-old woman told police that she went Sunday to a function for her daughter at a church in the 4200 block of Morse Road, and that while in her car at around 12:45 p.m. she was approached by her ex-husband's girlfriend, whom she does not get along with.
The victim said she got out of the car and began arguing with the girlfriend when the girlfriend punched her in the head.
The victim said she then kicked the suspect, the pair began fighting and ended up struggling on the ground until separated by their pastor.
In other news: I received a jury summons Saturday. I plan on reenacting Pauly Shore's opus Jury Duty beginning the Monday after Thanksgiving. It's sure to be good times.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I know this is old news, but
I freakin' love this SNL digital skit. When it was first released, I vowed that I would watch this daily to ensure that my days started off right. I've since unintentionally reneged on that promise to myself, and I think now is the time to bring it back. I could use a daily dose of goofy bad assery, y'know?
Smash my head on the punk rock
Ah, insomnia. How I've missed you, my dear friend. I mean, sure, I've spent many a sleep deprived night, but for me to be awake now -- 1:40 a.m. early Tuesday, after getting up at 4:45 a.m. Monday, after going to bed at 1:30 a.m. Monday -- is quite the trick.
I am so proud.
So yeah, it's been a while. Sorry 'bout that. I sometimes forget that anyone other than me looks at this thing. Not that the last month hasn't been eventful: we traveled to Ithica, NY, for our friends' wedding, a trip that also included an opportunity to visit the Farm Sanctuary (and for me to take a related guilt trip regarding the inconsistencies in the philosophy backing my ovo-lacto-vegetarianism), I took a trip with friends to an alpaca farm in Pataskala, I kicked all of Kyle's kin's asses in a rousing game of miniature golf at Udders & Putters this past weekend (nothing like beating a 7-year-old to make me feel good), I compared my career trajectory to that of my friends and found myself coming up short, I once again thought about that nagging presence of that daggone ex-pal and wished I could, as everyone has begged me, just let it go, for cripe's sake, I stuck my finger up Sollie's butt at least once a day to give him the medicine he needs in lieu of the surgery I can't quite afford (and which will likely remain unattainable for the foreseeable future, given that the powers that be have eliminated in-house freelancing at work), I cleaned house, did laundry, started tennis lessons again, read a book about the modern American wedding industry that led me to feel that any way we choose to celebrate our union will be a massively materialistic event, I did some vanity googling, I reinvigorated my addiction to online Boggle and, thanks to Anne and Clark, developed a new addiction to computer mahjongg. Oh, and tonight, I drank one-third of a bottle of cheap white wine in hopes that it might lead me to sleep. You can see how well that worked.
Yeah.
Oh, and I drank somewhere around eight cups of coffee today. But I'm sure that has nothing to do with anything, right?
Right.
So, yeah, my apologies to all two of you reading this here thing. My hope is to become less frenzied ... someday.
I am so proud.
So yeah, it's been a while. Sorry 'bout that. I sometimes forget that anyone other than me looks at this thing. Not that the last month hasn't been eventful: we traveled to Ithica, NY, for our friends' wedding, a trip that also included an opportunity to visit the Farm Sanctuary (and for me to take a related guilt trip regarding the inconsistencies in the philosophy backing my ovo-lacto-vegetarianism), I took a trip with friends to an alpaca farm in Pataskala, I kicked all of Kyle's kin's asses in a rousing game of miniature golf at Udders & Putters this past weekend (nothing like beating a 7-year-old to make me feel good), I compared my career trajectory to that of my friends and found myself coming up short, I once again thought about that nagging presence of that daggone ex-pal and wished I could, as everyone has begged me, just let it go, for cripe's sake, I stuck my finger up Sollie's butt at least once a day to give him the medicine he needs in lieu of the surgery I can't quite afford (and which will likely remain unattainable for the foreseeable future, given that the powers that be have eliminated in-house freelancing at work), I cleaned house, did laundry, started tennis lessons again, read a book about the modern American wedding industry that led me to feel that any way we choose to celebrate our union will be a massively materialistic event, I did some vanity googling, I reinvigorated my addiction to online Boggle and, thanks to Anne and Clark, developed a new addiction to computer mahjongg. Oh, and tonight, I drank one-third of a bottle of cheap white wine in hopes that it might lead me to sleep. You can see how well that worked.
Yeah.
Oh, and I drank somewhere around eight cups of coffee today. But I'm sure that has nothing to do with anything, right?
Right.
So, yeah, my apologies to all two of you reading this here thing. My hope is to become less frenzied ... someday.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Batting a thousand
Today is my six-year anniversary at this job. I just attempted to look in the archives, to see how many stories I had in there, and the system maxed out at 1,000. In April, 2005. You can do the math on how many stories I've written during my tenure based on that -- I'd rather not.
At least I have Lil Mama to comfort me.
It's that day again
Six years later, it is easy to make offhanded jokes about Sept. 11., and you can count me among the guilty in that regard. It was a terrible, terrible day followed by yet more terrible days, and I find the only way to cope with such sheer awfulness is to try to find some levity. Anyway, I am going to try and go against my nature for a moment in order to remember someone who was lost that day.
Shortly before Sept. 11, John Willett, my dad's friend and a classmate in the MBA program they'd both recently graduated, took a job with Cantor Fitzgerald (a company that would lose 658 of its employees in the attacks). I heard lots of stories about John from my dad, but only met him once, when the two picked me up at the airport. I remember joining with my dad in teasing him about a fellow classmate he had a crush on. She was cute, he was smitten and he had been convinced to do her work for her. Ah, boys. It's hard to believe I'm the same age he was when he died. Anyway, this is what my dad wrote about him in the days following:
John was a good guy, a hard worker, had brilliant business sense. He was funny and reveled in his bizarre - and sometimes bad - tastes. Most importantly, he remained idealistic to the core. He lost a job and career in politics because he decided to blow the whistle on corruption in Missouri. He lost many weeks and weekends when he could have been studying or putting a new career together because he continuously had to return to Missouri and testify against the bad guys.
It’s a shame to lose him.
Shortly before Sept. 11, John Willett, my dad's friend and a classmate in the MBA program they'd both recently graduated, took a job with Cantor Fitzgerald (a company that would lose 658 of its employees in the attacks). I heard lots of stories about John from my dad, but only met him once, when the two picked me up at the airport. I remember joining with my dad in teasing him about a fellow classmate he had a crush on. She was cute, he was smitten and he had been convinced to do her work for her. Ah, boys. It's hard to believe I'm the same age he was when he died. Anyway, this is what my dad wrote about him in the days following:
John was a good guy, a hard worker, had brilliant business sense. He was funny and reveled in his bizarre - and sometimes bad - tastes. Most importantly, he remained idealistic to the core. He lost a job and career in politics because he decided to blow the whistle on corruption in Missouri. He lost many weeks and weekends when he could have been studying or putting a new career together because he continuously had to return to Missouri and testify against the bad guys.
It’s a shame to lose him.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Everything you've heard about the Lifetime network is true
Saturday, I watched a made-for-TV Lifetime movie (Too Young to Be a Dad, which was totally Canadian-riffic) that was so estrogen-packed, I started my period a week early. Wowsers.
Here's what an Amazon reviewer had to say about the movie (which is packaged with the surely-awesome, Mom at Sixteen:
[Matt] is an [honor student]-or should I say-a "DISHONORABLE" student-who without thinking, goes to bed with a classmate named [Francesca Howell] (played just as terribly by Katie Stuart), and gets her pregnant. He should've been arressted for statutory rape, and for stealing a pregnancy test kit from a drug store. He did realize he'd have to pay for his consequences. Later he and [Francesca] did sign an agreement to put up their baby up for adoption after it was born. The adoption wouldn't be final for six months. When the baby-a girl-was born, [Matt] wanted to see it and hold it. When he did, he decided to keep the baby. It was a stupid idea on his part, for he'd have to take on all the responsibilities of raising the baby all by his stupid self.
This movie was about doing the wrong thing.
Here's what an Amazon reviewer had to say about the movie (which is packaged with the surely-awesome, Mom at Sixteen:
[Matt] is an [honor student]-or should I say-a "DISHONORABLE" student-who without thinking, goes to bed with a classmate named [Francesca Howell] (played just as terribly by Katie Stuart), and gets her pregnant. He should've been arressted for statutory rape, and for stealing a pregnancy test kit from a drug store. He did realize he'd have to pay for his consequences. Later he and [Francesca] did sign an agreement to put up their baby up for adoption after it was born. The adoption wouldn't be final for six months. When the baby-a girl-was born, [Matt] wanted to see it and hold it. When he did, he decided to keep the baby. It was a stupid idea on his part, for he'd have to take on all the responsibilities of raising the baby all by his stupid self.
This movie was about doing the wrong thing.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Boy am I red in the face
Um, so I went to the dermatologist today. The verdict on the newest lumpy rash spreading its way across my face and arms?
Not psorosis. Poison ivy.
There goes my pride in not being allergic to it -- apparently, either I've gotten lucky these last few decades by not encountering the plant, or I've developed an allergy in recent years. The "good news" was that with regular applications of cortisone cream, my face will clear up. In two weeks. My arms, the dermatologist said, would take longer. Damn. I'm gonna give the prescription meds a try, though, before I try the advice from the coworkers, which was to scratch the sores open and then apply hairspray to the wound (David) or straight bleach (Lyndsey). Uh, thanks, guys?
Not psorosis. Poison ivy.
There goes my pride in not being allergic to it -- apparently, either I've gotten lucky these last few decades by not encountering the plant, or I've developed an allergy in recent years. The "good news" was that with regular applications of cortisone cream, my face will clear up. In two weeks. My arms, the dermatologist said, would take longer. Damn. I'm gonna give the prescription meds a try, though, before I try the advice from the coworkers, which was to scratch the sores open and then apply hairspray to the wound (David) or straight bleach (Lyndsey). Uh, thanks, guys?
An update
Last night's dream: I'm going to check out the venue where our wedding might be held. I get there, and I realize I'm confused -- it's the day of my wedding, only I'm not at all prepared for it.
Shit.
Shit.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Maybe this will help
I've had bad stress dreams every night this week. But the thing is, not only do they cause me to wake up each morning in a funk -- I end up feeling embarrassed relating them, because they're all so goshdarned trite. The one I had this morning was no different. I dreamed that I was living with my mom and in school. I had a final coming up the next day, and I really wanted to study for it (I was behind three books in the required reading) but my mom made me clean the house instead, despite my arguments against it. Finally, when I was all done cleaning, she admitted that she was wrong, but it was too late -- I only had an hour before my exam, and nowhere near enough time to do what I needed to do. And then I woke up. Sigh. Other dreams this week have involved missing a plane and chasing after a small child.
Oh, and I appear to have developed The Rash again. This time it's centered on my face. Awesome.
Maybe this video will make me feel better. I could use some concentrated doses of cuteness.
Monday, August 27, 2007
U.S. Americans
Holy crap. I don't mean to just post video content on here -- words will be forthcoming, I swear! -- but this was just amazing. Never have I been so proud to be a U.S. American.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Things you probably don't know about me
I love old-timey gospel music. This song -- Down By The Riverside -- has been a favorite since my hippie camp days, while Sister Rosetta Tharpe has been a newer discovery. Good stuff.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Bangs Bash '07
Before I left for Lyndsey's birthday party, Kyle had but one small request of me: Don't shoot yourself. Not his usual pre-party advice -- typically, most of his admonitions surround my ability to go from zero to hungover in 60 seconds flat -- but an appropriate reminder, nonetheless, given that I once told a college interviewer that the word best used to describe me was "clumsy." Still, I could not be stopped. I was goin' shootin'.Let's get this out of the way: I am a hypocrite. I am no fan of guns, which I think are too easy to get in this country. But, hey, I -- and many others -- have been a big ball of stress the last few weeks, and blowing off some steam via target practice seemed like just the thing to do. So I set out for the party, late (of course), and worried that the quickly setting sun would put the kibosh on all of my plans.
Don't let Lyndsey fool you: Bangs is really far away. It took me more than an hour to make my way up to the Teters' Knox County homestead, driving north through Columbus' upper reaches and then east, through the strip malls of Sunbury and the quaint core of Centerburg. Finally, as dusk began to set in, I arrived.
There were already some partygoers set up in the field behind the Teter house, using a paper plate as target practice. I half-ran up to them, eager to take a shot before the sun went down. Lin, our gunman (so to speak) of the evening generously obliged, showing me the proper way to hold a shotgun, load it and fire it. Remember what I said earlier about guns? Lin is a shining example of a responsible gun owner. He didn't allow anyone to drink before shooting, and gave really great, thoughtful instruction to all of us. Thanks to help from my awesome teacher, I proved to be not a terrible shot, all things considered. I hit that paper plate target, and then the next morning, I managed to hit all of the targets (fire-singed beer cans from the night before).
As it turned out, the shooting didn't even end up being close to the most dangerous activity of the night. That particular honor went to our visit to the House of Nightmares.
The House of Nightmares, about a quarter-mile down the road from the Teters, is, I was told, a former poorhouse-cum-Christian college-cum-haunted house of the professional variety. The hulking Gothic-style building served as a haunted house as recently as Halloween 2006, before it was closed for structural reasons. Being the mature young men and women we are, me, Lin, Lyndsey, Brett and Nikki headed out in the wee hours of Saturday morning to check the place out. We quickly gained entry -- a back door was wide open -- and then walked in, past spray-painted murals and a kitchen redone to look like a murder scene, with red paint spattering the walls.
Brett was the adventurous one, and persuaded us to climb up first one set of stairs and then another, the piles of animal poo of indeterminate origins growing larger as we went. It didn't take long to determine what the source of the feces was. First a high-pitched squeal and then -- Bats! -- someone shouted, and I crouched to the ground, my increasing proximity to the poop be damned. Rabies avoided -- at least for the moment -- we continued on, ducking periodically to avoid the dive-bombing bats. Brett moved on ahead of us, guided by the light of his cell phone, eventually calling us to check out the scene he'd happened upon.
Peering through a doorway, he motioned us over. It quickly became clear what the building's structural issues were. Several of the floors had collapsed on each other, starting right at the threshold. There was a 50-foot drop from where we stood to the first floor, where the pile of rubble, broken beams and plaster, lay. Forget the guns, this was dangerous.
Lesser people would have turned around. Heck, smarter people would have turned around. Did we? Of course not. Brett eyed a ladder hanging from a trapdoor ceiling and continued upward, into the building's attic, and Lin and Lyndsey followed, with me reluctantly bringing up the rear and with Nikki watching from below. In the attic was yet another trapdoor ladder, which Brett quickly climbed, followed again by Lin and Lyndsey after he announced he'd made it to the roof. This time I stayed behind, hunching my shoulders to avoid the bats flying above.
Somehow, everyone managed to not topple off the roof, cave the building in or get us arrested, and we made our way back to the Teters' place, where we drank one last nerve-calming drink by the light of a bonfire and then curled up in our tents, the nylon protecting us from the cool summer night.
More pictures of the weekend's adventures are here and here.
(Above hoto stolen from Lin)
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Busy day
I added a buncha pictures today ... the remaining Japan ones, ones from the fair and, of course, ones from Friday night's Bangs Blast 2007 (more details on that later). You should check them out.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
How hot is it?
It's so hot that the adhesive from the tape holding up my Woody Guthrie poster gave up the good fight tonight, ever so slowly melting away from the wall.
On the up side, it's hot enough that all my bread is automatically toasted, thereby cutting 30 seconds from my typical morning routine.
On the up side, it's hot enough that all my bread is automatically toasted, thereby cutting 30 seconds from my typical morning routine.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
H-O-T-T
For those of you wondering -- and, I mean, who isn't? -- it is hot right now in our house. Like, surface-of-the-sun-hot. In-the-center-of-a-volcano-hot. Frying-the-egg-that-is-my-brain-hot.
Sollie and Rosa have taken to splaying out on our hardwood floors in an attempt to cool down. Myself, I've been binging on Pop Ice (you know, those ultra-cheap frozen tubes of brightly colored goo that are so divorced from the reality of fruit, that it makes more sense, when asked for which flavor you prefer to say "purple, please!" than "grape!"). It is quite delicious, but we've eaten nearly all of the 100 frozen treats our box came with in less than a month and I am quickly becoming convinced that I've replaced the blood in my veins with corn syrup and food coloring.
Anyway, the one window fan we have downstairs cuts the muggy air only fractionally, and I am finding myself rethinking the necessity of central air in these hot hot hot summer days. Presently, the only a/c in this house are the window units chugging along in our upstairs bedrooms, and I've been trying to convince myself that, in itself, is a luxury (which I guess is the case, if I think about things *too* much, so let's avoid that line of thought).
As a kid, my parents had only two window units for our house. One went in their room, the other in my sister's. I'm not sure why my lil' sis got the other a/c, seeing as how she had the ceiling fan my room lacked, but I would imagine it had something to do with the agreement my mom and I struck: I didn't have to clean my bedroom, as long as I kept the door shut. So, yes, on summer nights, my parents and my sister would open their bedroom doors to (theoretically) cool all of the upstairs rooms, but I spent most nights in a tangle of sweat-dampened sheets. And that is when my youthful DIY-er spirit presented itself: The freezer is cold, ergo anything placed in the freezer will get cold, I reasoned. And so each night, I would strip my pillowcases off my pillows and set them in the freezer. The shock of the ice-cold cotton is only a brief pleasure, but man, it ruled.
And so, tonight, I am going to freeze me some pillowcases. Heck, at this point, the ol' slumber party trick of the bra in the freezer sounds pretty daggone good, too. We'll just hafta see how much stuff I can stuff in there.
Sollie and Rosa have taken to splaying out on our hardwood floors in an attempt to cool down. Myself, I've been binging on Pop Ice (you know, those ultra-cheap frozen tubes of brightly colored goo that are so divorced from the reality of fruit, that it makes more sense, when asked for which flavor you prefer to say "purple, please!" than "grape!"). It is quite delicious, but we've eaten nearly all of the 100 frozen treats our box came with in less than a month and I am quickly becoming convinced that I've replaced the blood in my veins with corn syrup and food coloring.
Anyway, the one window fan we have downstairs cuts the muggy air only fractionally, and I am finding myself rethinking the necessity of central air in these hot hot hot summer days. Presently, the only a/c in this house are the window units chugging along in our upstairs bedrooms, and I've been trying to convince myself that, in itself, is a luxury (which I guess is the case, if I think about things *too* much, so let's avoid that line of thought).
As a kid, my parents had only two window units for our house. One went in their room, the other in my sister's. I'm not sure why my lil' sis got the other a/c, seeing as how she had the ceiling fan my room lacked, but I would imagine it had something to do with the agreement my mom and I struck: I didn't have to clean my bedroom, as long as I kept the door shut. So, yes, on summer nights, my parents and my sister would open their bedroom doors to (theoretically) cool all of the upstairs rooms, but I spent most nights in a tangle of sweat-dampened sheets. And that is when my youthful DIY-er spirit presented itself: The freezer is cold, ergo anything placed in the freezer will get cold, I reasoned. And so each night, I would strip my pillowcases off my pillows and set them in the freezer. The shock of the ice-cold cotton is only a brief pleasure, but man, it ruled.
And so, tonight, I am going to freeze me some pillowcases. Heck, at this point, the ol' slumber party trick of the bra in the freezer sounds pretty daggone good, too. We'll just hafta see how much stuff I can stuff in there.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
In the D.I.Y spirit of this blog
I present to you a snippet of WikiHow's instructions on How to Panhandle:
1. Swallow your pride. Most people find it difficult to quietly beg for money from friends or relatives; it’s even harder to beg from complete strangers where everybody can see you. Still, you’re going to have to suck it up and be humble. If you've already exhausted the alternatives (see Tips) and begging is your last resort, it may help to keep in mind that in many countries, begging does not hold the stigma it does in most of the Western World, and in some places asking for alms is considered an honorable profession, such as with Hindu sadhus who pursue begging for spiritual reasons.
1. Swallow your pride. Most people find it difficult to quietly beg for money from friends or relatives; it’s even harder to beg from complete strangers where everybody can see you. Still, you’re going to have to suck it up and be humble. If you've already exhausted the alternatives (see Tips) and begging is your last resort, it may help to keep in mind that in many countries, begging does not hold the stigma it does in most of the Western World, and in some places asking for alms is considered an honorable profession, such as with Hindu sadhus who pursue begging for spiritual reasons.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
This is the part (aka Two Long Islands later)
Where the crying begins anew.
Good thing the alkyhol has hobbled my dexterity, as there is so much I would like to say, but can't.
Good thing the alkyhol has hobbled my dexterity, as there is so much I would like to say, but can't.
Friday, July 27, 2007
The beatings will continue until morale improves
So, yeah, my thoughts on this thing are as such: While this blog began as a way to share all the ever-lovin' deets on our trip to Japan (and I still have stuff to add in that regard), I had some thoughts about eventually turning this into a crafty gig, alongside another blog (to be described later). Indeed, that is still the plan -- with some minor alterations. I *still* have some words and pictures to share about the that trip, and I *still* plan on putting my crafty efforts on this here thing, but I can't go further without acknowledging this: the last 48 hours have been simply awful.
Our company was sold shortly before I left, and the consequences of that sale started to shake out while I was halfway around the world. Yesterday, the other shoe dropped. I got to work late Thursday, delayed by a press conference and a stop to buy band-aids for the oozing sores left behind after I scratched at the bug bites covering my arms, legs and torso. Anyway. I watched as our boss appeared to escort one of our part-timers out the door. And there was whispering ... lots of worried looks and muffled talk around the ol' workplace. When all was said and done, I had a lot fewer coworkers than I had when the day began. The coworker with the cute shoes and the cuter dog? Gone. As was the grandmotherly receptionist with whom I've exchanged the same daily patter with for years, the photographer with the short gym shorts, the verbose sports writer and many more ... They were redundant. There were meetings. Then they were gone.
There's more I could say, more I would like to say, but I need to keep Sollie in kibble and myself in Tofutti Cuties, so I'll stop for now and just say that I haven't cried this much in a long time -- and I'm one of the luckier ones.
So let's try something a little bit lighter, shall we? Here's a blog entry I should have written, well, almost two months to the day, now. Remember that ferris wheel ride? Welp, I left out some details. Most of you have probably heard them by now, but for the latecomers, a story:
Did I talk about how tall that ferris wheel was? It was tall, very tall, and I was nervous to ride it. Fortunately for me, Kyle appeared even more nervous, even though we were there at his insistence. Mike had me convinced that we should skip it altogether and head to a tall building in a livelier part of town, but Kyle protested, puppy dog eyes and all, and we agreed to the original plan of riding it, one he had set on the long drive from the Osaka airport to Ichinomiya, its lights setting off a glow in the nighttime sky.
So yeah, we three clambered into the glass enclosure of the ferris wheel car together, Kyle and I on one side and Mike on another. The windows were etched with line drawings of different sights we could see from the sky -- a mountain here, an Santa Maria replica ship there (don't ask me why). A recorded voice, speaking Japanese and English in turns, described our view. All the while, Kyle glanced over his shoulder, his back to the wheel's axis. He's freaking out about the height and he wants to know when we get to the top, so he knows the worst is over, I explained to Mike. But then when we got to the top, Kyle turned to me and smile, his tight grin forming a perfect U-shape. Jenny, I wanted to know: will you marry me? Me being me, I had to fight the compulsion to make a joke, and kept it simple: Yes.
There's more of course, tremblyness and teary eyes and a moment of Wait. What the fuck just happened? running through my head, but I've already written so much, your tender eyes are probably sore with strain. Anyway, this leads me to what I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. You can now find my (at present limited) wedding and marriage-related blatherings at nochickendance.blogspot.com.
Our company was sold shortly before I left, and the consequences of that sale started to shake out while I was halfway around the world. Yesterday, the other shoe dropped. I got to work late Thursday, delayed by a press conference and a stop to buy band-aids for the oozing sores left behind after I scratched at the bug bites covering my arms, legs and torso. Anyway. I watched as our boss appeared to escort one of our part-timers out the door. And there was whispering ... lots of worried looks and muffled talk around the ol' workplace. When all was said and done, I had a lot fewer coworkers than I had when the day began. The coworker with the cute shoes and the cuter dog? Gone. As was the grandmotherly receptionist with whom I've exchanged the same daily patter with for years, the photographer with the short gym shorts, the verbose sports writer and many more ... They were redundant. There were meetings. Then they were gone.
There's more I could say, more I would like to say, but I need to keep Sollie in kibble and myself in Tofutti Cuties, so I'll stop for now and just say that I haven't cried this much in a long time -- and I'm one of the luckier ones.
So let's try something a little bit lighter, shall we? Here's a blog entry I should have written, well, almost two months to the day, now. Remember that ferris wheel ride? Welp, I left out some details. Most of you have probably heard them by now, but for the latecomers, a story:
Did I talk about how tall that ferris wheel was? It was tall, very tall, and I was nervous to ride it. Fortunately for me, Kyle appeared even more nervous, even though we were there at his insistence. Mike had me convinced that we should skip it altogether and head to a tall building in a livelier part of town, but Kyle protested, puppy dog eyes and all, and we agreed to the original plan of riding it, one he had set on the long drive from the Osaka airport to Ichinomiya, its lights setting off a glow in the nighttime sky.
So yeah, we three clambered into the glass enclosure of the ferris wheel car together, Kyle and I on one side and Mike on another. The windows were etched with line drawings of different sights we could see from the sky -- a mountain here, an Santa Maria replica ship there (don't ask me why). A recorded voice, speaking Japanese and English in turns, described our view. All the while, Kyle glanced over his shoulder, his back to the wheel's axis. He's freaking out about the height and he wants to know when we get to the top, so he knows the worst is over, I explained to Mike. But then when we got to the top, Kyle turned to me and smile, his tight grin forming a perfect U-shape. Jenny, I wanted to know: will you marry me? Me being me, I had to fight the compulsion to make a joke, and kept it simple: Yes.
There's more of course, tremblyness and teary eyes and a moment of Wait. What the fuck just happened? running through my head, but I've already written so much, your tender eyes are probably sore with strain. Anyway, this leads me to what I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. You can now find my (at present limited) wedding and marriage-related blatherings at nochickendance.blogspot.com.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The Long Goodbye
My long goodbye will have to be short. We're leaving in a few minutes for the train that will take us to Kansai Airport, and it feels like I've only just arrived here a short time ago. I mean, I just learned how to add pictures to the blog last night, for goodness sake!
Anyway, much thanks to Mike and Colleen for introducing us to their unfailingly awesome friends and gorgeous adopted home. You two really were the hosts with the mosts.
Also much thanks must go to Kyle, a patient travel partner who helped make this an incredibly fun and memorable trip. (And who kept me from spending these last few nights sans wallet sleeping on the streets!)
Okey, doke, gotta run. I'll continue to post trip stuff after I return home.
Anyway, much thanks to Mike and Colleen for introducing us to their unfailingly awesome friends and gorgeous adopted home. You two really were the hosts with the mosts.
Also much thanks must go to Kyle, a patient travel partner who helped make this an incredibly fun and memorable trip. (And who kept me from spending these last few nights sans wallet sleeping on the streets!)
Okey, doke, gotta run. I'll continue to post trip stuff after I return home.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Ame-mura the Beautiful
Wow, the days are beginning to escape me! Later in the day Tuesday, we spent the evening in Ame-mura, or "American Village." We didn't find patriotic t-shirts or anything there, but what we did find was a slice of youth cuture. There were lots of trendy shops and a pretty awesome Used Kids-esque record store. The prices at the store were, well, pricey, but I managed to find a sale rack of 7" records. For 300 yen (less than $3) we picked up 10 singles in all. Rad. Dinner found us at a nearby Subway restaurant (I wasn't foolin' about Kyle being desparate for American food), and then we made our way home. (An aside: I can't imagine how many miles we've walked on this trip, but "a shit-ton" seems to be a fair description. Good thing, as my main food of late has been chocolate and egg-salad sandwiches.)
Once we got back to our hotel, we checked the selection of free videos we could borrow from extensive selection of B-movie options and started on the evening's featured film: Ghost Dad. It was not as good as you remember, even if you remember that the critics ranked it "top" in their lists of the worst movies of 1990, as the IMDB later revealed.
Wednesday, we went for a ride on what is billed (depending on which sign you read) as either The Biggest or One of the Biggest Ferris Wheels in the World. While I sort of doubt its claims of world supremacy, it was pretty freakin' tall -- enough to make me feel sort of shaky, even though the cars were enclosed in glass. The ride was sort of deserted -- I think we were the only ones on the daggone thing, although business appeared to be picking up as we were leaving.
Afterward, we went to gaze in the windows of Greens, a vegetarian restaurant Mike said was likely closed, since Wednesdays are a typical day off for many businesses. I insisted on torturing myself by checking it out, though, and I was rewarded for my efforts -- the place was open, and for less than 800 yen, we could have a vegetarian buffet! It was rad, as I have really been hurting for veggies on this trip (as Colleen said when we were in Kyoto, "I'm tired of eating shit food!" i.e. the fast-food and convenience store food we all started eating sometime after spending $50 per couple for small plates of Mexican food, which is a rare find in Japan. But I digress.)
Ah ... so, at Greens, we found fresh, non-iceburg lettuce salad, pasta with beans, delicious bread and rice -- heaven. Then we headed back to our hotel, where in the lobby, they were watching Ghost Dad. For reals. Maybe now is a good time for a word about this hotel. Apparently this and other hotels in the region used to cater to day-laborers, but since the economy here has soured, they started reaching out to 20-something travelers. The price for a room is beyond-reasonable for a U.S. hotel, nevermind a Japanese place -- it is costing us about 3,000 yen a night apiece, and includes free internet and coffee, free videos, air-conditioned rooms with VCRs and mini-fridges ... in all, pretty amazing. And this place isn't even the cheapest spot around -- next door, a room can be rented for 1,500 yen for rooms on the lower level (less than $15) down to 1,000 yen at the top (we're guessing there aren't any elevators in the five-story building). Anyhoo, we have what appears to be some day-laborers here, but mostly foreigners, a pretty even number of whom are traveling or are in search of work. For those who are looking for work, this place becomes like a dorm, I think, and many of them hang out in the lobby all the time -- hence, the Ghost Dad incident. We're going to see later if we can repeat the phenomenon, although last night's flick pick, Airheads, would probably be even more challenging to convince people to watch.
So far today, Thursday, we've done some more wandering around department stores and through the city's streets. There's some good people-watching here, for sure, and checking out all the Engrish is pretty fun, too. I think I should be able to post some more pictures in a bit.
(Oh, and there are more new pics on the Flickr page)
Once we got back to our hotel, we checked the selection of free videos we could borrow from extensive selection of B-movie options and started on the evening's featured film: Ghost Dad. It was not as good as you remember, even if you remember that the critics ranked it "top" in their lists of the worst movies of 1990, as the IMDB later revealed.
Wednesday, we went for a ride on what is billed (depending on which sign you read) as either The Biggest or One of the Biggest Ferris Wheels in the World. While I sort of doubt its claims of world supremacy, it was pretty freakin' tall -- enough to make me feel sort of shaky, even though the cars were enclosed in glass. The ride was sort of deserted -- I think we were the only ones on the daggone thing, although business appeared to be picking up as we were leaving.
Afterward, we went to gaze in the windows of Greens, a vegetarian restaurant Mike said was likely closed, since Wednesdays are a typical day off for many businesses. I insisted on torturing myself by checking it out, though, and I was rewarded for my efforts -- the place was open, and for less than 800 yen, we could have a vegetarian buffet! It was rad, as I have really been hurting for veggies on this trip (as Colleen said when we were in Kyoto, "I'm tired of eating shit food!" i.e. the fast-food and convenience store food we all started eating sometime after spending $50 per couple for small plates of Mexican food, which is a rare find in Japan. But I digress.)
Ah ... so, at Greens, we found fresh, non-iceburg lettuce salad, pasta with beans, delicious bread and rice -- heaven. Then we headed back to our hotel, where in the lobby, they were watching Ghost Dad. For reals. Maybe now is a good time for a word about this hotel. Apparently this and other hotels in the region used to cater to day-laborers, but since the economy here has soured, they started reaching out to 20-something travelers. The price for a room is beyond-reasonable for a U.S. hotel, nevermind a Japanese place -- it is costing us about 3,000 yen a night apiece, and includes free internet and coffee, free videos, air-conditioned rooms with VCRs and mini-fridges ... in all, pretty amazing. And this place isn't even the cheapest spot around -- next door, a room can be rented for 1,500 yen for rooms on the lower level (less than $15) down to 1,000 yen at the top (we're guessing there aren't any elevators in the five-story building). Anyhoo, we have what appears to be some day-laborers here, but mostly foreigners, a pretty even number of whom are traveling or are in search of work. For those who are looking for work, this place becomes like a dorm, I think, and many of them hang out in the lobby all the time -- hence, the Ghost Dad incident. We're going to see later if we can repeat the phenomenon, although last night's flick pick, Airheads, would probably be even more challenging to convince people to watch.
So far today, Thursday, we've done some more wandering around department stores and through the city's streets. There's some good people-watching here, for sure, and checking out all the Engrish is pretty fun, too. I think I should be able to post some more pictures in a bit.
(Oh, and there are more new pics on the Flickr page)
Konichiwa Osaka!
After several days in Kyoto, Colleen split from us yesterday and headed home, leaving us once again to Mike's care. :( Without her as our culinary voice of reason, we ended up at a Wendy's. Not too bad -- Kyle was very adventurous, food-wise, at the start of this trip, but after an unfortunate convenience-store dinner of a mystery meat sandwich and meat－flavored Doritos, he's become a bit more particular about what he consumes.
Anyway, Kyoto was a blur of overwhelmingly beautiful shrines, ranging from "Thousand-armed" Buddhas to a seemingly unending procession of orange gates (and spiders that had made their homes in the gates, eep!). One of my favorite stops wasn't ａ ｓｈｒｉｎｅ ａｔ ａｌｌ， ｔｈｏｕｇｈ （ｍｙ ａｐｏｌｏｇｉｅｓ ｉｆ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｎｔ’ｓ ｇｏｎｅ ａｌｌ ｗｏｎｋｙ －－ Ｉ ｃａｎ’ｔ ｆｉｇｕｒｅ ｏｕｔ ｔｈｉｓ ｃｕｒｓｅｄ ｉｎｔｅｒｎａｔｉｏｎａｌ ｋｅｙｂｏａｒｄ [hopefully this all works now]）， ｂｕｔ ａ ｐｅａｃｅ ｍｕｓｅｕｍ ａｆｆｉｌｉａｔｅｄ ｗｉｔｈ ａ ｌｏｃａｌ ｃｏｌｌｅｇｅ． Ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｐｒｅｔｔｙ ｉｎｔｅｒｅｓｔｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｓｅｅ ａ ｐｅｒｓｐｅｃｔｉｖｅ ｏｎ ｗａｒ， ＷＷＩＩ ａｎｄ ｃｕｒｒｅｎｔ -ｄａｙ ｍａｔｔｅｒｓ ｏｕｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ Ｕ．Ｓ．
Ｗｅ ｓｐｅｎｔ ａ ｇｏｏｄ ｄｅａｌ ｏｆ ｔｏｄａｙ ｉｎ Ｎａｒａ， ｈｏｍｅ ｔｏ ａ ｇｉｎｏｒｍｏｕｓ ｗｏｏｄｅｎ ｓｈｒｉｎｅ ｃｒａｍｍｅｄ ｗｉｔｈ Ｊａｐａｎｅｓｅ ｓｃｈｏｏｌｃｈｉｌｄｒｅｎ ｐｒａｃｔｉｃｉｎｇ ｔｈｅｉｒ Ｅｎｇｌｉｓｈ ｂｙ ｓｈｏｕｔｉｎｇ "Ｈｅｌｌｏ！" ａｔ ｕｓ （ｈｏｗ ａｎｎｏｙｉｎｇ ｉｔ ｍｕｓｔ ｂｅ ｔｏ ｂｅ， ｌｉｋｅ， Ｆｒｅｎｃｈ, ａｎｄ ｈａｖｅ ｅｖｅｒｙｏｎｅ ａｓｓｕｍｅ ｙｏｕ’ｒｅ Ａｍｅｒｉｃａｎ） ａｎｄ ａ ｒｉｄｉｃｕｌｏｕｓ ｎｕｍｂｅｒ ｏｆ ｓｍａｌｌ ｔａｍｅ ｄｅｅｒ． Ｔｈｅ ｄｅｅｒ ｗｅｒｅ ｓｕｐｅｒ－ｋａｗａｉｉ， ｉｆ ｍｏｒｅ ｔｈａｎ ａ ｂｉｔ ｐｕｓｈｙ －－ ｗｅ ｗａｔｃｈｅｄ ｏｎｅ ｔｒｙ ｔｏ ｓｔｅａｌ ｔｈｅ ｌｕｎｃｈ ｆｒｏｍ a ｓｃｈｏｏｌｂｏｙ’ｓ ｌａｐ． Ｌａｔｅｒ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ａｆｔｅｒｎｏｏｎ， ｗｅ ｂｏａｒｄｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ ｆｏｒ Ｏｓａｋａ． Ｉｔ ｗａｓ ａｒｏｕｎｄ ｔｈｅｎ ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｓｔａｒｔｅｄ ｔｏ ｇｏ ｗｒｏｎｇ， ａｌｔｈｏｕｇｈ Ｉ ｗｏｕｌｄｎ’ｔ ｒｅａｌｉｚｅ ｉｔ ｕｎｔｉｌ ｌａｔｅｒ． Ａｎｙｗａｙ， Ｉ ｂｏｕｇｈｔ ｍｙ ｔｒａｉｎ ｔｉｃｋｅｔ， ｓｈｏｖｅｄ ｍｙ ｗａｌｌｅｔ ｉｎ ｍｙ ｐｏｃｋｅｔ ａｎｄ ｔｈｅｎ ｒａｎ ｗｉｔｈ Ｍｉｋｅ ａｎｄ Ｋｙｌｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ． Ａ ２０－ｍｉｎｕｔｅ ｒｉｄｅ ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈ ｌｕｓｈ， ｕｎｄｕｌａｔｉｎｇ ｓｃｅｎｅｒｙ ａｎｄ ｗｅ ｗｅｒｅ ｈｅｒｅ， ｉｎ Ｏｓａｋａ． Ｗｅ ｇｏt ｏｕｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ ｔｏ ｓｅｅ ｔｗｏ ｍｅｎ ｙｅｌｌｉｎｇ ａｔ ａｎｏｔｈｅｒ ｍａｎ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｇｒｏｕｎｄ． Ｆｒｏｍ ｗｈａｔ Ｍｉｋｅ ｃｏｕｌｄ ａｓｃｅｒｔａｉｎ， ｉｔ ａｐｐｅａｒｅｄ ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｅｙ ｗｅｒｅ ａｃｃｕｓｉｎｇ ｈｉｍ ｏｆ ｓｔｅａｌｉｎｇ, ａｎｄ ｗａｎｔｅｄ ｔｏ ｌｏｏｋ ｉｎ ｈｉｓ ｐｏｃｋｅｔｓ． Ｍｉｋｅ ｈａｄ ｗａｒｎｅｄ ｕｓ ｏｕｒ ｈｏｔｅｌ ｗａｓ ｉｎ ａ ｇｒｉｔｔｉｅｒ ａｒｅａ ｔｈａｎ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｗｅ’ｄ ｓｅｅｎ ｓｏ ｆａｒ (at this point, ｅｖｅｎ ｔｈｅ ｂｉｇ ｃｉｔｉｅｓ ｈａｖｅ ｂｅｅｎ ａｍａｚｉｎｇｌｙ ｃｌｅａｎ）， ｂｕｔ ｅｖｅｎ ｈｅ ｓａｉｄ ｈｅ ｈａｄｎ’ｔ ｓｅｅｎ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｌｉｋｅ ｔｈａｔ ｈｅｒｅ． Ａｎｙｈｏｏ， ｗｅ ｗｅｎｔ ｔｏ ｐａｙ ｆｏｒ ｏｕｒ ｈｏｔｅｌ ｒｏｏｍ， ａｎｄ ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｔｈｅｒｅ ｔｈａｔ Ｉ ｄｉｓｃｏｖｅｒｅｄ ｍｙ ｗａｌｌｅｔ ｗａｓ ｍｉｓｓｉｎｇ． ：（
Ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｆｒｅａｋ ｏｕｔ， Ｍｏｍ ａｎｄ Ｄａｄ －－ Ｉ’ｖｅ ｇｏｔ ｉｔ ｕｎｄｅｒ ｃｏｎｔｒｏｌ．
Ｆｒｏｍ ｗｈａｔ Ｉ ｃａｎ ｔｅｌｌ， ｉｔ ｐｒｏｂａｂｌｙ ｆｅｌｌ ｏｕｔ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｗａｓ ｒｕｎｎｉｎｇ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ． Ｉｔ ｓｕｃｋｓ ｔｏ ｈａｖｅ ｌｏｓｔ ｉｔ， ｂｕｔ ａｌｌ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｃｏｎｓｉｄｅｒｅｄ， ｉｔ’ｓ ｎｏｔ ｅｖｅｎ ｃｌｏｓｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｗｏｒｓｔ ｔｈｉｎｇ Ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｌｏｓｔ. Ｉ ｈａｄ ｎｏｗｈｅｒｅ ｎｅａｒ ａｓ ｍｕｃｈ ｃａｓｈ ａｓ Ｉ ｈａｄ ｂｅｅｎ ｃａｒｒｙｉｎｇ ｅａｒｌｉｅｒ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｔｒｉｐ， ｆｏｒ ｏｎｅ， ａｎｄ Ｉ ｗｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｂｅｅｎ ｗａｙ ｍｏｒｅ ｂｕｍｍｅｄ ｔｏ ｈａｖｅ ｌｏｓｔ ｍｙ ｃａｍｅｒａ , oｒ ｅｖｅｎ ｍｙ ｃａｍｅｒａ’ｓ ｍｅｍｏｒｙ ｃａｒｄ． Ｆｏｒ ｎｏｗ， Ｋｙｌｅ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｍｙ ｓｕｇａｒ ｄａｄｄｙ， Ｃｏｌｌｅｅｎ’ｓ ｃａｎｃｅｌｉｎｇ ｍｙ ＡＴＭ ｃａｒｄｓ， ａｎｄ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｇｅｔ ｈｏｍｅ， Ｉ ｗｉｌｌ ｊｕｓｔ ｈａｖｅ ｔｏ ｄｅａｌ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅ ａｎｎｏｙａｎｃｅ ｏｆ ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ＤＭＶ, ｒｅｐｌａｃｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｃａｒｄｓ， ｅｔｃ． Ｔｈｅ ｍｏｓｔ ｌｏｎｇ－ｔｅｒｍ ｉｍｐａｃｔ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｔｈｅ ｌｏｓｓ ｏｆ ｍｙ ｓｔｕｄｅｎｔ ＩＤ， ａｎｄ Ｉ’ｖｅ ｐｒｏｂａｂｌｙ ｂｅｅｎ ｍｉｌｋｉｎｇ ｔｈａｔ ｐａｒｔｉｃｕｌａｒ ｄｉｓｃｏｕｎｔ ｌｏｎｇ ｅｎｏｕｇｈ．
Ｓｏ ｙｅａｈ， ｔｈａｔ’ｓ ｔｈａｔ． Ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｅｓｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ａｇｅｎｄａ ｆｏｒ ｔｏｄａｙ： ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ "Ａｍｅｒｉｃａ" ｓｅｃｔｉｏｎ ｏｆ ｔｏｗｎ －－ "Ａｍｅｒｉｃａ，" ｉｎ ｔｈｉｓ ｃａｓｅ， ｓｔａｎｄｉｎｇ ｆｏｒ "ｙｏｕｔｈ" -- ａｎｄ ｐｅｒｈａｐｓ ｔａｋｉｎｇ ａ ｎａｐ ｕｎｄｅｒ ｔｈｅ ｗａｌｌ－ｍｏｕｎｔｅｄ ａｉｒ-ｃｏｎｄｉｔｉｏｎｅｒ （ａｆｔｅｒ ａ ｃｈｉｌｌｙ ｓｔａｒｔ ｔｏ ｏｕｒ ｔｒｉｐ， ｔｈｅ ｌａｓｔ ｃｏｕｐｌｅ ｏｆ ｄａｙｓ ｈａｖｅ ｂｅｅｎ ｈｏｔｈｏｔｈｏｔ)． Ｎｏｗ ｔｈａｔ Ｉ ｈａｖｅ ｒｅｇｕｌａｒ ａｃｃｅｓｓ ｔｏ ａ ｃｏｍｐｕｔｅｒ （ｉｆ ｎｏｔ ａ ｒｅｇｕｌａｒ ｃｏｍｐｕｔｅｒ ｋｅｙｂｏａｒｄ） ｆｏｒ ａ ｆｅｗ ｄａｙｓ， Ｉ ｗｉｌｌ ｔｒｙ ｔｏ ｐｏｓｔ ｍｏｒｅ ｒｅｇｕｌａｒｌｙ ａｎｄ ｐｅｒｈａｐｓ ａｄｄ ａ ｆｅｗ ｍｏｒｅ ｐｉｃｔｕｒｅｓ．
Anyway, Kyoto was a blur of overwhelmingly beautiful shrines, ranging from "Thousand-armed" Buddhas to a seemingly unending procession of orange gates (and spiders that had made their homes in the gates, eep!). One of my favorite stops wasn't ａ ｓｈｒｉｎｅ ａｔ ａｌｌ， ｔｈｏｕｇｈ （ｍｙ ａｐｏｌｏｇｉｅｓ ｉｆ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｎｔ’ｓ ｇｏｎｅ ａｌｌ ｗｏｎｋｙ －－ Ｉ ｃａｎ’ｔ ｆｉｇｕｒｅ ｏｕｔ ｔｈｉｓ ｃｕｒｓｅｄ ｉｎｔｅｒｎａｔｉｏｎａｌ ｋｅｙｂｏａｒｄ [hopefully this all works now]）， ｂｕｔ ａ ｐｅａｃｅ ｍｕｓｅｕｍ ａｆｆｉｌｉａｔｅｄ ｗｉｔｈ ａ ｌｏｃａｌ ｃｏｌｌｅｇｅ． Ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｐｒｅｔｔｙ ｉｎｔｅｒｅｓｔｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｓｅｅ ａ ｐｅｒｓｐｅｃｔｉｖｅ ｏｎ ｗａｒ， ＷＷＩＩ ａｎｄ ｃｕｒｒｅｎｔ -ｄａｙ ｍａｔｔｅｒｓ ｏｕｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ Ｕ．Ｓ．
Ｗｅ ｓｐｅｎｔ ａ ｇｏｏｄ ｄｅａｌ ｏｆ ｔｏｄａｙ ｉｎ Ｎａｒａ， ｈｏｍｅ ｔｏ ａ ｇｉｎｏｒｍｏｕｓ ｗｏｏｄｅｎ ｓｈｒｉｎｅ ｃｒａｍｍｅｄ ｗｉｔｈ Ｊａｐａｎｅｓｅ ｓｃｈｏｏｌｃｈｉｌｄｒｅｎ ｐｒａｃｔｉｃｉｎｇ ｔｈｅｉｒ Ｅｎｇｌｉｓｈ ｂｙ ｓｈｏｕｔｉｎｇ "Ｈｅｌｌｏ！" ａｔ ｕｓ （ｈｏｗ ａｎｎｏｙｉｎｇ ｉｔ ｍｕｓｔ ｂｅ ｔｏ ｂｅ， ｌｉｋｅ， Ｆｒｅｎｃｈ, ａｎｄ ｈａｖｅ ｅｖｅｒｙｏｎｅ ａｓｓｕｍｅ ｙｏｕ’ｒｅ Ａｍｅｒｉｃａｎ） ａｎｄ ａ ｒｉｄｉｃｕｌｏｕｓ ｎｕｍｂｅｒ ｏｆ ｓｍａｌｌ ｔａｍｅ ｄｅｅｒ． Ｔｈｅ ｄｅｅｒ ｗｅｒｅ ｓｕｐｅｒ－ｋａｗａｉｉ， ｉｆ ｍｏｒｅ ｔｈａｎ ａ ｂｉｔ ｐｕｓｈｙ －－ ｗｅ ｗａｔｃｈｅｄ ｏｎｅ ｔｒｙ ｔｏ ｓｔｅａｌ ｔｈｅ ｌｕｎｃｈ ｆｒｏｍ a ｓｃｈｏｏｌｂｏｙ’ｓ ｌａｐ． Ｌａｔｅｒ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ａｆｔｅｒｎｏｏｎ， ｗｅ ｂｏａｒｄｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ ｆｏｒ Ｏｓａｋａ． Ｉｔ ｗａｓ ａｒｏｕｎｄ ｔｈｅｎ ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｓｔａｒｔｅｄ ｔｏ ｇｏ ｗｒｏｎｇ， ａｌｔｈｏｕｇｈ Ｉ ｗｏｕｌｄｎ’ｔ ｒｅａｌｉｚｅ ｉｔ ｕｎｔｉｌ ｌａｔｅｒ． Ａｎｙｗａｙ， Ｉ ｂｏｕｇｈｔ ｍｙ ｔｒａｉｎ ｔｉｃｋｅｔ， ｓｈｏｖｅｄ ｍｙ ｗａｌｌｅｔ ｉｎ ｍｙ ｐｏｃｋｅｔ ａｎｄ ｔｈｅｎ ｒａｎ ｗｉｔｈ Ｍｉｋｅ ａｎｄ Ｋｙｌｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ． Ａ ２０－ｍｉｎｕｔｅ ｒｉｄｅ ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈ ｌｕｓｈ， ｕｎｄｕｌａｔｉｎｇ ｓｃｅｎｅｒｙ ａｎｄ ｗｅ ｗｅｒｅ ｈｅｒｅ， ｉｎ Ｏｓａｋａ． Ｗｅ ｇｏt ｏｕｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ ｔｏ ｓｅｅ ｔｗｏ ｍｅｎ ｙｅｌｌｉｎｇ ａｔ ａｎｏｔｈｅｒ ｍａｎ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｇｒｏｕｎｄ． Ｆｒｏｍ ｗｈａｔ Ｍｉｋｅ ｃｏｕｌｄ ａｓｃｅｒｔａｉｎ， ｉｔ ａｐｐｅａｒｅｄ ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｅｙ ｗｅｒｅ ａｃｃｕｓｉｎｇ ｈｉｍ ｏｆ ｓｔｅａｌｉｎｇ, ａｎｄ ｗａｎｔｅｄ ｔｏ ｌｏｏｋ ｉｎ ｈｉｓ ｐｏｃｋｅｔｓ． Ｍｉｋｅ ｈａｄ ｗａｒｎｅｄ ｕｓ ｏｕｒ ｈｏｔｅｌ ｗａｓ ｉｎ ａ ｇｒｉｔｔｉｅｒ ａｒｅａ ｔｈａｎ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｗｅ’ｄ ｓｅｅｎ ｓｏ ｆａｒ (at this point, ｅｖｅｎ ｔｈｅ ｂｉｇ ｃｉｔｉｅｓ ｈａｖｅ ｂｅｅｎ ａｍａｚｉｎｇｌｙ ｃｌｅａｎ）， ｂｕｔ ｅｖｅｎ ｈｅ ｓａｉｄ ｈｅ ｈａｄｎ’ｔ ｓｅｅｎ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｌｉｋｅ ｔｈａｔ ｈｅｒｅ． Ａｎｙｈｏｏ， ｗｅ ｗｅｎｔ ｔｏ ｐａｙ ｆｏｒ ｏｕｒ ｈｏｔｅｌ ｒｏｏｍ， ａｎｄ ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｔｈｅｒｅ ｔｈａｔ Ｉ ｄｉｓｃｏｖｅｒｅｄ ｍｙ ｗａｌｌｅｔ ｗａｓ ｍｉｓｓｉｎｇ． ：（
Ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｆｒｅａｋ ｏｕｔ， Ｍｏｍ ａｎｄ Ｄａｄ －－ Ｉ’ｖｅ ｇｏｔ ｉｔ ｕｎｄｅｒ ｃｏｎｔｒｏｌ．
Ｆｒｏｍ ｗｈａｔ Ｉ ｃａｎ ｔｅｌｌ， ｉｔ ｐｒｏｂａｂｌｙ ｆｅｌｌ ｏｕｔ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｗａｓ ｒｕｎｎｉｎｇ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｔｒａｉｎ． Ｉｔ ｓｕｃｋｓ ｔｏ ｈａｖｅ ｌｏｓｔ ｉｔ， ｂｕｔ ａｌｌ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｃｏｎｓｉｄｅｒｅｄ， ｉｔ’ｓ ｎｏｔ ｅｖｅｎ ｃｌｏｓｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｗｏｒｓｔ ｔｈｉｎｇ Ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｌｏｓｔ. Ｉ ｈａｄ ｎｏｗｈｅｒｅ ｎｅａｒ ａｓ ｍｕｃｈ ｃａｓｈ ａｓ Ｉ ｈａｄ ｂｅｅｎ ｃａｒｒｙｉｎｇ ｅａｒｌｉｅｒ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｔｒｉｐ， ｆｏｒ ｏｎｅ， ａｎｄ Ｉ ｗｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｂｅｅｎ ｗａｙ ｍｏｒｅ ｂｕｍｍｅｄ ｔｏ ｈａｖｅ ｌｏｓｔ ｍｙ ｃａｍｅｒａ , oｒ ｅｖｅｎ ｍｙ ｃａｍｅｒａ’ｓ ｍｅｍｏｒｙ ｃａｒｄ． Ｆｏｒ ｎｏｗ， Ｋｙｌｅ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｍｙ ｓｕｇａｒ ｄａｄｄｙ， Ｃｏｌｌｅｅｎ’ｓ ｃａｎｃｅｌｉｎｇ ｍｙ ＡＴＭ ｃａｒｄｓ， ａｎｄ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｇｅｔ ｈｏｍｅ， Ｉ ｗｉｌｌ ｊｕｓｔ ｈａｖｅ ｔｏ ｄｅａｌ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅ ａｎｎｏｙａｎｃｅ ｏｆ ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ＤＭＶ, ｒｅｐｌａｃｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｃａｒｄｓ， ｅｔｃ． Ｔｈｅ ｍｏｓｔ ｌｏｎｇ－ｔｅｒｍ ｉｍｐａｃｔ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｔｈｅ ｌｏｓｓ ｏｆ ｍｙ ｓｔｕｄｅｎｔ ＩＤ， ａｎｄ Ｉ’ｖｅ ｐｒｏｂａｂｌｙ ｂｅｅｎ ｍｉｌｋｉｎｇ ｔｈａｔ ｐａｒｔｉｃｕｌａｒ ｄｉｓｃｏｕｎｔ ｌｏｎｇ ｅｎｏｕｇｈ．
Ｓｏ ｙｅａｈ， ｔｈａｔ’ｓ ｔｈａｔ． Ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｅｓｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ａｇｅｎｄａ ｆｏｒ ｔｏｄａｙ： ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ "Ａｍｅｒｉｃａ" ｓｅｃｔｉｏｎ ｏｆ ｔｏｗｎ －－ "Ａｍｅｒｉｃａ，" ｉｎ ｔｈｉｓ ｃａｓｅ， ｓｔａｎｄｉｎｇ ｆｏｒ "ｙｏｕｔｈ" -- ａｎｄ ｐｅｒｈａｐｓ ｔａｋｉｎｇ ａ ｎａｐ ｕｎｄｅｒ ｔｈｅ ｗａｌｌ－ｍｏｕｎｔｅｄ ａｉｒ-ｃｏｎｄｉｔｉｏｎｅｒ （ａｆｔｅｒ ａ ｃｈｉｌｌｙ ｓｔａｒｔ ｔｏ ｏｕｒ ｔｒｉｐ， ｔｈｅ ｌａｓｔ ｃｏｕｐｌｅ ｏｆ ｄａｙｓ ｈａｖｅ ｂｅｅｎ ｈｏｔｈｏｔｈｏｔ)． Ｎｏｗ ｔｈａｔ Ｉ ｈａｖｅ ｒｅｇｕｌａｒ ａｃｃｅｓｓ ｔｏ ａ ｃｏｍｐｕｔｅｒ （ｉｆ ｎｏｔ ａ ｒｅｇｕｌａｒ ｃｏｍｐｕｔｅｒ ｋｅｙｂｏａｒｄ） ｆｏｒ ａ ｆｅｗ ｄａｙｓ， Ｉ ｗｉｌｌ ｔｒｙ ｔｏ ｐｏｓｔ ｍｏｒｅ ｒｅｇｕｌａｒｌｙ ａｎｄ ｐｅｒｈａｐｓ ａｄｄ ａ ｆｅｗ ｍｏｒｅ ｐｉｃｔｕｒｅｓ．
Friday, May 18, 2007
Thanks for your patience!
Hey dudes, I finally got off my duff and got some of my pictures onto Flickr. They can be found (in no particular order, especially the rainbow photo, which was taken in Columbus) at: www.flickr.com/photos/10bagspacking/
On kawaii and kancho
Oooof. Sorry the last post was so long! I'll try to be more concise.
Anyhoo, Thursday was another day of the kiddies, as Colleen (off of work because it's time for midterms at her school and she doesn't have any tests for the kiddos), Kyle and I joined Mike for his lessons at a local elementary school. But before we left the apartment, he had a warning: watch out for kancho. What is it?, you might wonder -- It's sort of an extreme wedgie, and apparently the kids love giving it, adult or no. Basically, to kancho you, a kid will clasp his hands together, stick out his first fingers and then try to shove them up your butt. For reals. I took care to walk holding my purse behind me, to serve as a make-do kancho shield, but as it turned out, even though the kids appeared to have injested five Red Bulls apiece, no attempts were made on our posteriors. That was probably aided in no small part by our decision to forgo lunch in the school cafeteria and the resulting playground time (during which many of the kids ride unicycles, apparently -- wow!) in favor of McDonald's. No, really. Mike wanted to try the shrimp fillet, and I was just excited about the thought of ice cream, as Kyle and I have been fighting nasty head colds since our arrival. McDonald's, was, well, McDonald's -- you have to give them credit for consistency, even if I was left scraping bacon bits off of my salad.
After lunch, we returned to the school and for more lessons -- we helped them with introductions, the alphabet, days of the week and a card matching game. The kids were super-kawaii -- cute -- during the games, settling any dispute with a spirited match of Rock-Paper-Scissors.
Later in the day, we headed to Colleen and Mike's favorite bar/eatery in Ichinomiya, where the proprietor, a guy in his mid-30s with surfer-feathered red hair and baggy cargo pants, mixed us drinks and made us dinner -- a huge salad, two kinds of pizza (including one with asparagus and eggplant, yum), two kinds of pasta, and for dessert, homemade mango gelato. The mango, he said, came from a friend -- and indeed, it must've been a very good friend, as, he told us, one mango costs about $100 in Japan. Ouch.
A good dinner deserves a good TV show, and we returned home to watch a copy of this week's episode of Lost. Yay for the internets.
We were fairly slow getting up this morning, Friday, but eventually headed out to Himeji, to see its famous castle, which is on the world registry of historic places (or something like that -- I can't remember the exact wording). But first -- and this seems to be the theme of this trip -- we headed out for food, finally opting for a homemade udon shop. As we ate, we watched the cook quickly roll out the udon batter and then use a special knife to chop it into uniform strips before rinsing the noodles in the sink. Yum.
Next up was the castle itself, a prime tourist destination. The castle -- which dates back to the 1600s and which was rebuilt in the mid-1950s -- was gorgeous. We toured the grounds before going up six flights of ever more-steep stairs, checking out historical artifacts along the way. We'd been required to remove our shoes on entering the structure, but the steps of thousands of people making this trip before us meant the wooden stairs had been worn smooth, leaving no danger of splinters. The top of the castle provided a panoramic view of the city and was a nice reminder of how modern life and history can co-exist.
After the castle, we headed out to a small park for some Japanese-style fair food. Kyle and Colleen shared some takoyaki (batter balls with diced octopus inside), while I opted for mochi (a sticky rice cake) on a stick. We did some shopping and then it was time for the main event -- Kyle and Mike's show at Cafe Ease.
Kyle was pretty nervous, but sounded great -- the cafe was small, but had a relatively powerful and clear sound system. His pop culture references and puns didn't quite connect with the Japanese audience, but elicited some laughs from the expats in the crowd. And Mike, welp, anyone who can seguey from Mims' "This is Why I'm Hot" to a cover of "Love Will Tear Us Apart" wins my undying affection. The Japanese acts -- whose names my overly tired brain is forgetting -- were also great, particularly the headlining act, which combined lilting lyrics with flute, sax and melodica. And again, we had an overly gracious host in the bar's proprietor, who gave me my berry liquer drink for free, among other things. I told Colleen and Mike that I was happy to be friends with such awesome people as them, because it meant they have ridiculously kind friends, too. (Hope that makes sense -- it's 2:30 a.m. here now. ;) )
Speaking of which, I should go -- we're getting up early tomorrow to head out to Kyoto. From there, we will visit Nara, after that is Osaka and finally, home. Not sure how much internet access (if any) I will have, but I will post something if I'm able. (And will try tomorrow morning to post some pictures, although I'm not making any promises!)
Anyhoo, Thursday was another day of the kiddies, as Colleen (off of work because it's time for midterms at her school and she doesn't have any tests for the kiddos), Kyle and I joined Mike for his lessons at a local elementary school. But before we left the apartment, he had a warning: watch out for kancho. What is it?, you might wonder -- It's sort of an extreme wedgie, and apparently the kids love giving it, adult or no. Basically, to kancho you, a kid will clasp his hands together, stick out his first fingers and then try to shove them up your butt. For reals. I took care to walk holding my purse behind me, to serve as a make-do kancho shield, but as it turned out, even though the kids appeared to have injested five Red Bulls apiece, no attempts were made on our posteriors. That was probably aided in no small part by our decision to forgo lunch in the school cafeteria and the resulting playground time (during which many of the kids ride unicycles, apparently -- wow!) in favor of McDonald's. No, really. Mike wanted to try the shrimp fillet, and I was just excited about the thought of ice cream, as Kyle and I have been fighting nasty head colds since our arrival. McDonald's, was, well, McDonald's -- you have to give them credit for consistency, even if I was left scraping bacon bits off of my salad.
After lunch, we returned to the school and for more lessons -- we helped them with introductions, the alphabet, days of the week and a card matching game. The kids were super-kawaii -- cute -- during the games, settling any dispute with a spirited match of Rock-Paper-Scissors.
Later in the day, we headed to Colleen and Mike's favorite bar/eatery in Ichinomiya, where the proprietor, a guy in his mid-30s with surfer-feathered red hair and baggy cargo pants, mixed us drinks and made us dinner -- a huge salad, two kinds of pizza (including one with asparagus and eggplant, yum), two kinds of pasta, and for dessert, homemade mango gelato. The mango, he said, came from a friend -- and indeed, it must've been a very good friend, as, he told us, one mango costs about $100 in Japan. Ouch.
A good dinner deserves a good TV show, and we returned home to watch a copy of this week's episode of Lost. Yay for the internets.
We were fairly slow getting up this morning, Friday, but eventually headed out to Himeji, to see its famous castle, which is on the world registry of historic places (or something like that -- I can't remember the exact wording). But first -- and this seems to be the theme of this trip -- we headed out for food, finally opting for a homemade udon shop. As we ate, we watched the cook quickly roll out the udon batter and then use a special knife to chop it into uniform strips before rinsing the noodles in the sink. Yum.
Next up was the castle itself, a prime tourist destination. The castle -- which dates back to the 1600s and which was rebuilt in the mid-1950s -- was gorgeous. We toured the grounds before going up six flights of ever more-steep stairs, checking out historical artifacts along the way. We'd been required to remove our shoes on entering the structure, but the steps of thousands of people making this trip before us meant the wooden stairs had been worn smooth, leaving no danger of splinters. The top of the castle provided a panoramic view of the city and was a nice reminder of how modern life and history can co-exist.
After the castle, we headed out to a small park for some Japanese-style fair food. Kyle and Colleen shared some takoyaki (batter balls with diced octopus inside), while I opted for mochi (a sticky rice cake) on a stick. We did some shopping and then it was time for the main event -- Kyle and Mike's show at Cafe Ease.
Kyle was pretty nervous, but sounded great -- the cafe was small, but had a relatively powerful and clear sound system. His pop culture references and puns didn't quite connect with the Japanese audience, but elicited some laughs from the expats in the crowd. And Mike, welp, anyone who can seguey from Mims' "This is Why I'm Hot" to a cover of "Love Will Tear Us Apart" wins my undying affection. The Japanese acts -- whose names my overly tired brain is forgetting -- were also great, particularly the headlining act, which combined lilting lyrics with flute, sax and melodica. And again, we had an overly gracious host in the bar's proprietor, who gave me my berry liquer drink for free, among other things. I told Colleen and Mike that I was happy to be friends with such awesome people as them, because it meant they have ridiculously kind friends, too. (Hope that makes sense -- it's 2:30 a.m. here now. ;) )
Speaking of which, I should go -- we're getting up early tomorrow to head out to Kyoto. From there, we will visit Nara, after that is Osaka and finally, home. Not sure how much internet access (if any) I will have, but I will post something if I'm able. (And will try tomorrow morning to post some pictures, although I'm not making any promises!)
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Ohayo!
Ah, time -- and jet lag -- is trampling over my hopes of doing a daily blog post! Let's see if I can catch up.
Tuesday, after watching the sumo meet (and Dawson's Creek, during the foreign television hour) we headed to the nearest "mall" -- similar to a multi-level grocery store and a department store combined. I was in search of cute Japanese fabric as well as the finest items the 100 yen store could provide me, including, I hoped, some fresh socks and undies. I was successful on all accounts, buying some gifts for others and two pairs of underwear (pickins' were limited, as I needed something that would cover my chubby, non-Japanese butt). I put on the first pair Tuesday night, and they were comfy, in a boy shorts sort of way. Wednesday's pair was a whole 'nother story. The I was just about rip the tag off the pale blue cotton undies when I noticed the tag had what looked like a large oversized raindrop on it, with the phrase "Irretention Shorts" on it. Below that, in smaller print was a French phrase. Now, I'm no Francophone, but "culotte d'incontinence" reads the same in pretty much any language, I think. I touched the crotch and it gave a plasticy crackle. I'd bought myself obaasan underwear!
Also Tuesday, when I wasn't busying myself buying grandma underwear, I was taking part in "American Conversation Hour" with some adult students of Mike's. The night's students were Tamako, Kobayashi and the Yamadas, who owned the preschool where we met and who made us dinner. The meal was composed of these savory, egg-and-batter concoctions with veggies and fish cake that Colleen said roughly translated as "as you like it," udon noodles with basically the same flavoring, sushi with mayonaise (which is actually quite delicious -- mayo is a big condiment here, after soy sauce) and, for dessert, a yummy strawberry custard-like dish made from tofu. Not a bad dinner, although I an unintentional bite of tuna and the taste of bonito powder confirmed for me that I am not meant to be a fish-eater. Tamako, the preschool's cook, said she was shy, but was probably the biggest talker of the group and spoke the most English, showing us cell phone photos of some of the crafts she's made, and teaching us how to say "oishiso,""it looks delicious." After some beeru, Mr. Yamada, already proving himself to be a bit of a character, got even more animated, getting up from the floor to teach us some puns (the particulars of which escape me right now, oops).
Jet lag appeared to catch up with me Wednesday, as I woke up just as the sky was beginning to grow light, the birds' chirping not yet quieted by the white noise of traffic. It was just before 5 a.m., and there was no way I was going back to sleep. So I went on a walk, up the hill behind their apartment, past a small graveyard and near the stadium that hosted a sports festival last year, and then down around the residential area to Ichinomiya's small commercial area. Colleen and Mike are the only foreigners in this side of town, so my walking attracted some attention, which made me feel shy, particularly since I was so tired that I couldn't remember how to say "good morning!" (which, duh, is "Ohayo!, pronounced the same as our dear Buckeye State).
Just as common as the rice patties out here are small shrines tucked into the landscape, befitting for a town whose name translates as "first shrine." Many of the statues inside them are wearing fabric bibs (I'm not sure why, I keep forgetting to ask) and have food placed out in front. The plants are beginning to bloom here, although the trees -- with the exception of the sakura, or cherry blossom, which peaked in April -- have yet to flower, a sight Mike and Colleen say is particularly lovely.
Late Wednesday morning, our luggage arrived and I was able to finally take a shower. The bathroom here is separated into two rooms, the toilet in one and the shower/tub in another. The warmlet, which I mentioned before, is proving to be a favorite of mine, and applicance I've found nearly everwhere. The seat heats up when you sit down, which in my opinion, is genius. The model Colleen and Mike have in their compact bathroom actually has the sink tied into the toilet tank, so when you flush (turning the knob a different direction, depending on whether it's a "big flush" or a little one), a faucet allows you to use fresh water from the tank. Pretty neat. But back to the shower.
The room housing the shower is probably sixteen square feet or so and includes a small sink, a narrow but deep recessed metal tub, a tiled floor with a drain and a showerhead hanging on the wall, on the edge of the tub. The idea is that a tall person can stand in the metal tub to shower, while a shorter person can just shower without getting inside of it, Colleen explained to Kyle and me. The shower was great -- perfect pressure, warm -- it was hard to get out. If I had one like it in Columbus, my hygeine might improve by leaps and bounds!
After we were dressed and ready, Mike took us to Joyfull, a sit-down restaurant with "American"-style food as well as the big draw, a soup and drink bar. On the menu were foods such as spaghetti with bacon strips and fried egg, but I opted for something a bit more tame: a salad with tofu and what was basically scrambled eggs with soy sauce and other flavorings. Mike told us that Joyfull has a bad reputation as being a place where the microwave is the main cooking tool, and while Kyle's chicken skewer lent creedence to that belief, the delicious fried root dish Mike ordered for us proved the microwave isn't the only weapon in the restaurant's arsenal. While I opted out of the soup bar, I was thrilled by the drink bar, which gave me a chance to check out some of the sodas I'd been curious about. First up was a melon drink, which despite its unholy green glow, was actually not too strong-tasting, reminding me of Midori liquer. An orange soda was a bit of a letdown, with a pretty weak taste, but White Water proved to be my favorite. Living up to its name the drink was a milky white, but tasted like cream soda. Yum.
Next up was a trip to Monkey Park, in a nearby town. After paying the entrance and a pit stop at the park restroom ("pit stop" being fairly literal, as this was my first time using the traditional, pit-style toilet) we climbed up a steep trail to where we would encounter the monkeys. While the monkeys are wild, they congregate in one particular place on the hill, because an area for them to play on ropes, spinning wheels and the such has been built, and more importantly, there is an enclosed place for visitors to feed them. We saw a rare golden monkey hanging out on a rooftop as well as, from afar, a tiny baby monkey, which was pretty much the cutest thing I've ever seen.
After a few "oh, shit!" moments involving the monkeys running precariously close to us, we entered what Tamako and Kobayashi had termed the "human zoo," (the people are inside the cage, and the monkeys are on the outside). I bought a can of monkey food for 100 yen and then dropped the pellets in a small trough accessible to the monkeys through the fencing. A particularly aggressive female monkey ate most of the food -- I understood why none of her fellow monkeys tangled with her when I ended up on the receiving end of her aggression; I made the mistake of making prolonged eye contact with her, and she screamed and threw herself against the cage, making me happy I'd already made a trip to the bathroom.
After leaving Monkey Park, we headed to the Yamadas' preschool -- a miscommunication involving me wanting to take photographs at dinner the night before had led to an invitation to take pictures the next day -- and Mike, at six-foot-something, was clearly a crowd-pleaser, with the children using him as a jungle gym, lining up to climb on him. Shortly after we arrived, Tamako greeted us with a surprise: small cookies she made to look like each of us. It was an incredibly touching and sweet surprise.
Later in the evening, we headed to the home of Osaki, a woman who has been a mentor and friend to Colleen since her arrival. Her home was gorgeous, and unsurprisingly so -- the same company who built the castle we'd visited also built her house -- and was filled with cozy nooks behind sliding doors, as well as art and crafts from her travels around the world. Dinner was amazing. Osaki had set aside vegetarian versions of the meal for me, which was a tremendous kindness -- and included miso with lightly fried tofu, tempura, edamame, pickled onions, and for everyone else, roasted salmon. After dinner, Mike, Kyle and I watched television -- a special about the Mall of America, which appeared to have been taped somewhere in the late 1990s/early 2000s, while Osaki and Colleen readied themselves to host a traditional tea ceremony.
The ceremony was held in a room set aside especially for that purpose, and Osaki showed me the proper way to enter, crawling and bowing before contemplating a scroll and vase of flowers and finally coming to rest on a mat. The ceremony is hard to describe, as each move required remarkable precision, but basically Kyle, Mike and I sat on the floor while Osaki took Colleen (and, at times, us) through the paces, giving us sweets, balls of sticky rice filled with red bean paste and wrapped in leaves, before we drank the tea, green tea Colleen made by whipping the tea powder with hot water using a bamboo whisk. Despite the caffeinated tea, Kyle and I were dragging by the end and we headed home, on our way to sweet, sweet sleep.
In keeping with the tradition of being a step behind in writing this thing, the update on Thursday's activities will come later. ;)
Tuesday, after watching the sumo meet (and Dawson's Creek, during the foreign television hour) we headed to the nearest "mall" -- similar to a multi-level grocery store and a department store combined. I was in search of cute Japanese fabric as well as the finest items the 100 yen store could provide me, including, I hoped, some fresh socks and undies. I was successful on all accounts, buying some gifts for others and two pairs of underwear (pickins' were limited, as I needed something that would cover my chubby, non-Japanese butt). I put on the first pair Tuesday night, and they were comfy, in a boy shorts sort of way. Wednesday's pair was a whole 'nother story. The I was just about rip the tag off the pale blue cotton undies when I noticed the tag had what looked like a large oversized raindrop on it, with the phrase "Irretention Shorts" on it. Below that, in smaller print was a French phrase. Now, I'm no Francophone, but "culotte d'incontinence" reads the same in pretty much any language, I think. I touched the crotch and it gave a plasticy crackle. I'd bought myself obaasan underwear!
Also Tuesday, when I wasn't busying myself buying grandma underwear, I was taking part in "American Conversation Hour" with some adult students of Mike's. The night's students were Tamako, Kobayashi and the Yamadas, who owned the preschool where we met and who made us dinner. The meal was composed of these savory, egg-and-batter concoctions with veggies and fish cake that Colleen said roughly translated as "as you like it," udon noodles with basically the same flavoring, sushi with mayonaise (which is actually quite delicious -- mayo is a big condiment here, after soy sauce) and, for dessert, a yummy strawberry custard-like dish made from tofu. Not a bad dinner, although I an unintentional bite of tuna and the taste of bonito powder confirmed for me that I am not meant to be a fish-eater. Tamako, the preschool's cook, said she was shy, but was probably the biggest talker of the group and spoke the most English, showing us cell phone photos of some of the crafts she's made, and teaching us how to say "oishiso,""it looks delicious." After some beeru, Mr. Yamada, already proving himself to be a bit of a character, got even more animated, getting up from the floor to teach us some puns (the particulars of which escape me right now, oops).
Jet lag appeared to catch up with me Wednesday, as I woke up just as the sky was beginning to grow light, the birds' chirping not yet quieted by the white noise of traffic. It was just before 5 a.m., and there was no way I was going back to sleep. So I went on a walk, up the hill behind their apartment, past a small graveyard and near the stadium that hosted a sports festival last year, and then down around the residential area to Ichinomiya's small commercial area. Colleen and Mike are the only foreigners in this side of town, so my walking attracted some attention, which made me feel shy, particularly since I was so tired that I couldn't remember how to say "good morning!" (which, duh, is "Ohayo!, pronounced the same as our dear Buckeye State).
Just as common as the rice patties out here are small shrines tucked into the landscape, befitting for a town whose name translates as "first shrine." Many of the statues inside them are wearing fabric bibs (I'm not sure why, I keep forgetting to ask) and have food placed out in front. The plants are beginning to bloom here, although the trees -- with the exception of the sakura, or cherry blossom, which peaked in April -- have yet to flower, a sight Mike and Colleen say is particularly lovely.
Late Wednesday morning, our luggage arrived and I was able to finally take a shower. The bathroom here is separated into two rooms, the toilet in one and the shower/tub in another. The warmlet, which I mentioned before, is proving to be a favorite of mine, and applicance I've found nearly everwhere. The seat heats up when you sit down, which in my opinion, is genius. The model Colleen and Mike have in their compact bathroom actually has the sink tied into the toilet tank, so when you flush (turning the knob a different direction, depending on whether it's a "big flush" or a little one), a faucet allows you to use fresh water from the tank. Pretty neat. But back to the shower.
The room housing the shower is probably sixteen square feet or so and includes a small sink, a narrow but deep recessed metal tub, a tiled floor with a drain and a showerhead hanging on the wall, on the edge of the tub. The idea is that a tall person can stand in the metal tub to shower, while a shorter person can just shower without getting inside of it, Colleen explained to Kyle and me. The shower was great -- perfect pressure, warm -- it was hard to get out. If I had one like it in Columbus, my hygeine might improve by leaps and bounds!
After we were dressed and ready, Mike took us to Joyfull, a sit-down restaurant with "American"-style food as well as the big draw, a soup and drink bar. On the menu were foods such as spaghetti with bacon strips and fried egg, but I opted for something a bit more tame: a salad with tofu and what was basically scrambled eggs with soy sauce and other flavorings. Mike told us that Joyfull has a bad reputation as being a place where the microwave is the main cooking tool, and while Kyle's chicken skewer lent creedence to that belief, the delicious fried root dish Mike ordered for us proved the microwave isn't the only weapon in the restaurant's arsenal. While I opted out of the soup bar, I was thrilled by the drink bar, which gave me a chance to check out some of the sodas I'd been curious about. First up was a melon drink, which despite its unholy green glow, was actually not too strong-tasting, reminding me of Midori liquer. An orange soda was a bit of a letdown, with a pretty weak taste, but White Water proved to be my favorite. Living up to its name the drink was a milky white, but tasted like cream soda. Yum.
Next up was a trip to Monkey Park, in a nearby town. After paying the entrance and a pit stop at the park restroom ("pit stop" being fairly literal, as this was my first time using the traditional, pit-style toilet) we climbed up a steep trail to where we would encounter the monkeys. While the monkeys are wild, they congregate in one particular place on the hill, because an area for them to play on ropes, spinning wheels and the such has been built, and more importantly, there is an enclosed place for visitors to feed them. We saw a rare golden monkey hanging out on a rooftop as well as, from afar, a tiny baby monkey, which was pretty much the cutest thing I've ever seen.
After a few "oh, shit!" moments involving the monkeys running precariously close to us, we entered what Tamako and Kobayashi had termed the "human zoo," (the people are inside the cage, and the monkeys are on the outside). I bought a can of monkey food for 100 yen and then dropped the pellets in a small trough accessible to the monkeys through the fencing. A particularly aggressive female monkey ate most of the food -- I understood why none of her fellow monkeys tangled with her when I ended up on the receiving end of her aggression; I made the mistake of making prolonged eye contact with her, and she screamed and threw herself against the cage, making me happy I'd already made a trip to the bathroom.
After leaving Monkey Park, we headed to the Yamadas' preschool -- a miscommunication involving me wanting to take photographs at dinner the night before had led to an invitation to take pictures the next day -- and Mike, at six-foot-something, was clearly a crowd-pleaser, with the children using him as a jungle gym, lining up to climb on him. Shortly after we arrived, Tamako greeted us with a surprise: small cookies she made to look like each of us. It was an incredibly touching and sweet surprise.
Later in the evening, we headed to the home of Osaki, a woman who has been a mentor and friend to Colleen since her arrival. Her home was gorgeous, and unsurprisingly so -- the same company who built the castle we'd visited also built her house -- and was filled with cozy nooks behind sliding doors, as well as art and crafts from her travels around the world. Dinner was amazing. Osaki had set aside vegetarian versions of the meal for me, which was a tremendous kindness -- and included miso with lightly fried tofu, tempura, edamame, pickled onions, and for everyone else, roasted salmon. After dinner, Mike, Kyle and I watched television -- a special about the Mall of America, which appeared to have been taped somewhere in the late 1990s/early 2000s, while Osaki and Colleen readied themselves to host a traditional tea ceremony.
The ceremony was held in a room set aside especially for that purpose, and Osaki showed me the proper way to enter, crawling and bowing before contemplating a scroll and vase of flowers and finally coming to rest on a mat. The ceremony is hard to describe, as each move required remarkable precision, but basically Kyle, Mike and I sat on the floor while Osaki took Colleen (and, at times, us) through the paces, giving us sweets, balls of sticky rice filled with red bean paste and wrapped in leaves, before we drank the tea, green tea Colleen made by whipping the tea powder with hot water using a bamboo whisk. Despite the caffeinated tea, Kyle and I were dragging by the end and we headed home, on our way to sweet, sweet sleep.
In keeping with the tradition of being a step behind in writing this thing, the update on Thursday's activities will come later. ;)
Gomennasi
Before we left, co-worker Jen told me gomennasi, or, "so sorry," would be a phrase worth knowing, as we'd inevitably find ourselves making mistakes left and right in Japan. Welp, I haven't had opportunity to use it since our arrival last night, when we were on the receiving of several "so sorrys."
We were in Osaka. Our bags, said the man who greeted us at the entrance to the baggage claim area, were ... somewhere else. And they still are somewhere ... else. Where they are remains unclear.*
And I, I smell, thanks to a.) using hippie deodorant b.) last showering Saturday (today is, er, Tuesday, although I did leap ahead by a day thanks to the magic of time zones, making me *slightly* less disgusting than the timeline would imply) c.) hiking twice already today in Haga, a nearby town, where we saw a waterfall, and a castle, two snakes and an unbelievably clear, blue stream.
Anyway.
Japan so far -- and Ichinomiya, the town Colleen and Mike live in, is amazing. I would show you pictures, but the card reader is in my luggage, which is ... you get the idea. We made the three-hour drive last night in the dark, so it wasn't until this morning that we got a good look around. Flying on a pole outside of our bedroom window -- and throughout the village, we later discovered, are fish-shaped windsocks, one for each child in a family. The houses are small and close together, perched on the edge of narrow winding roads, and many with small rice patties along side them, the first green sprigs of the rice plants beginning to poke out. Mountains, lush with trees, surround the village. The trees, Mike, our tour guide while Colleen worked, were actually planted post-World War II as part of the reconstruction effort and are beginning to tumble in their old age.
Colleen and Mike's apartment is small and reportedly overrun with what Mike has named the "mold monster," - humidity is quite the problem here, apparently -- but it is, just like the brand of their television, Precious. Downstairs is their small kitchen, with a dorm-sized fridge and equally wee (and pastel-colored) food processor and coffee maker. The stove range has two burners, with the oven, slightly larger than a toaster, separate. Also separate are the toilet and the shower/tub rooms, of which I will get into greater detail later.
But now you must excuse me -- I have sumo to watch. Later: a recap on the visit to Seattle and our near-missed flight, the Honolulu airport and the "warmlet."
*Ah, Mike got a call while I was writing this! Our suitcases are here! And by "here" I mean, "here, in Japan," but they will be here at the apartment by tomorrow afternoon. Clean underwear might be more than a dream after all.
We were in Osaka. Our bags, said the man who greeted us at the entrance to the baggage claim area, were ... somewhere else. And they still are somewhere ... else. Where they are remains unclear.*
And I, I smell, thanks to a.) using hippie deodorant b.) last showering Saturday (today is, er, Tuesday, although I did leap ahead by a day thanks to the magic of time zones, making me *slightly* less disgusting than the timeline would imply) c.) hiking twice already today in Haga, a nearby town, where we saw a waterfall, and a castle, two snakes and an unbelievably clear, blue stream.
Anyway.
Japan so far -- and Ichinomiya, the town Colleen and Mike live in, is amazing. I would show you pictures, but the card reader is in my luggage, which is ... you get the idea. We made the three-hour drive last night in the dark, so it wasn't until this morning that we got a good look around. Flying on a pole outside of our bedroom window -- and throughout the village, we later discovered, are fish-shaped windsocks, one for each child in a family. The houses are small and close together, perched on the edge of narrow winding roads, and many with small rice patties along side them, the first green sprigs of the rice plants beginning to poke out. Mountains, lush with trees, surround the village. The trees, Mike, our tour guide while Colleen worked, were actually planted post-World War II as part of the reconstruction effort and are beginning to tumble in their old age.
Colleen and Mike's apartment is small and reportedly overrun with what Mike has named the "mold monster," - humidity is quite the problem here, apparently -- but it is, just like the brand of their television, Precious. Downstairs is their small kitchen, with a dorm-sized fridge and equally wee (and pastel-colored) food processor and coffee maker. The stove range has two burners, with the oven, slightly larger than a toaster, separate. Also separate are the toilet and the shower/tub rooms, of which I will get into greater detail later.
But now you must excuse me -- I have sumo to watch. Later: a recap on the visit to Seattle and our near-missed flight, the Honolulu airport and the "warmlet."
*Ah, Mike got a call while I was writing this! Our suitcases are here! And by "here" I mean, "here, in Japan," but they will be here at the apartment by tomorrow afternoon. Clean underwear might be more than a dream after all.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Okay, the bags are packed, the work is ... well, not yet finished, meaning I will be writing things out by hand and then re-writing when I arrive in Seattle at midnight tonight (my three-day detour to the other side of the world), but still ... I'm on my way.
Over and out,
Jaydubs
Over and out,
Jaydubs
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Testing, testing ... Is this thing on?
Okey-doke, this is just a test spin here, while I tweak the colors and such. But after I'm done with all of that annoying fiddling, what you will find here is the epic tale of a woman, her man and their journey into The Future, aka Japanland. We leave a week from today. I know -- you're already riveted, I can tell.
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