Sumeba Miyako

Moving Blogs....and Moving to Prague!

2011-10-17T05:48:00.002+09:00

Moving blogs....and Moving to Prague! Come have a look...Wanderlusing Expat

I won't say Siyonara, I'll just say "farewell"

2010-07-16T16:07:00.002+09:00

Today marks my final blog post from Okinawa, that little green fuzzy island on the other side of the planet. What a time it's been! My paradigm was cracked open - worlds and people I never thought I'd be exposed to seeped in and became part of me. And I'm not just talking about the Texans.

"Sumeba Miyako" - wherever one lives, one comes to love it. It's all in the attitude, there's really no other way to to face a challenge like moving to Asia for 3 years.

When John got the call from the JAG corps, they offered him Dayton, Ohio or Okinawa, Japan as his assignment options. Neither were anywhere on the "dream sheet" he had submitted. (Dream sheets, as it turns out, are just that - 10 places you'll dream about but never get assigned.) We both went to work that day, totally bummed out. Sitting in our sterile air conditioned offices, we googled "Okinawa" and photos of the clearest blue seas and greenest jungles popped up. By noon, we were ready to give it a shot.

Living in Asia for a limited time forced us to seize every opportunity. How many experiences could we squeeze into 3 years? Turns out, quite a few. We each logged 5 new Asian countries onto our passports. We attempted a few new languages. We made more friends in 3 years than I've made since I was a kid. Good friends, too. The friends are what have made this the amazing experience what it was. I have no doubt that we will be close for years to come. The rub of it is, we keep meeting really fantastic and fun people up until the end - it makes it so hard to leave.

We climbed mountains (Fuji, Himalayas, Pizza in the Sky). Bore witness to Angkor Wat and the Taj Mahal. Met Generals and a Prime Minister, Peace activists and Buddhist monks. We mountain biked, we scuba dived - swam with sea turtles and out-swam a REALLY BIG MAN-EATING shark. We sank deep into the tunnels underneath the land-mined border of North and South Korea. Cruised down the Mekong Delta and the Holy Ganges River. We took innumerable airplane flights. John even hitched a ride on an F-15 for a bird's eye view of Japan. I planted potatoes and cauliflower in India and John planted a "Hollywood" sign on the sandy mountains of an undisclosed location in southwest Asia. John got his chops trying eight courts martial, and I knocked out a grad degree. Best of all, we got married.

But most of our memories will come from just bumming around the island. Crocheting and watching movies on Cortney's couch, dropping by the Bowman's for some Mad Men and home cooking, or running into friends at Uroko's and sharing a bottle of Awamori. Living on the Sunabe Seawall reminded me what I loved so much about college, and what I've missed since then: living in a walkable community, surrounded by friends who take care of one another. It makes life so much more enjoyable. Doors on the seawall are always open. I hope we find the same sense of community in Spokane.

We even had some international visitors, who will forever hold special places in our hearts for braving the journey. Andre, Masumi, Scot, Renee and Mark, I hope you loved Japan as much as we did! (BTW...Prestons & Lawlors, you had better make it to Spokane, because John's side of the family is out-representing you big time!)

I think about where we'd be if we'd said "no" to this adventure. Would we always lament what we had missed? Or like the people who stayed in Plato's cave, would we not even know we missed anything at all? I have John to thank for putting the fire under me to close my eyes and jump. I always thought seeing the world was something I would do later in life, on my two weeks of vacation a year. I'm so grateful that I was forced to move out of my comfort zone. I hope that I never get too comfortable, and that I continue to seek out adventure every place we go.

Off to Spokane at 5 am tomorrow. Gunner Bunner is hiding under our hotel room bed right now, dreading the inevitable 25 hours and 4 flights of travel. Eegads, so am I.

I will especially miss the Okinawans I've gotten to know. When you say "goodbye" in Japan, you say "Mata ne" which is loosely translated as "see you later". You never say "Siyonara!" because that means a final goodbye. "Siyonara" is what action heros utter before they blow up the bad guy. It is permanent. My Japanese sensai, Miyagi-san, told me I could say it when I finally left the island. So, the other day, after waiting for 2.5 years, I said it to my wonderful hairdresser, Rumiko, after my last appointment. She said "No! No Siyonara! You must come back to Okinawa!" Maybe some day we will. But for now, all that's left to say is:

So long Okinawa, and thanks for all the fish!

Our lives on the Seawall

2010-06-16T21:55:00.004+09:00

The family portraits are in! My friend Aviva gave me the most generous gift for graduation - she did a photo shoot for us!

The shots of Gunner are TO DIE. John looks pretty darn cute too. You can see more here on her blog:

Aviva-Photography

Aviva and her family have been some of our closes friends here on this island. Ever since the first day she stalked me on the internet (same way she found her husband) our lives together on the seawall have been an absolute blast. They feed us, entertain us, and keep me sane when John is deployed. I will miss them more than I can say.

writer's block.

2010-06-14T17:19:00.004+09:00

I'm sitting here working on a project. School is done and jewelry is done until September so of course, and in typical fashion I find it IMPOSSIBLE to sit still for our remaining month on island, so I've got not one but two writing assignments I've given myself. One is a children's book and one is a grown-ups book. Both fiction. Both impossibly difficult and gut-wrenching. I am constantly beset with waves of inferiority complex, uncertainty and the urge to crawl back into my mother's womb and call for a rematch. On life. Good grief, no wonder writers drink.

Went to watch John's trial today. I have spent a good many years sitting in court watching trials - I always feel like I am watching Broadway performances of Law and Order. But when it's your husband who you knew way back when he was a goober, hockey-jersey-wearing-law-school-hopeful, it is easy to become swollen with pride. He has a natural way about the court room, and I could tell that he was putting the very nervous witnesses at ease, thereby getting the best testimony. I wish you all could see it first hand.

Must get back to the writing. Promised myself 1000 words a day. I'm using the "driving across country at night" approach - basically writing one sentence at a time. I have no idea where that sentence will take me, but all I can do is go along for the ride.

wrapping up

2010-05-28T10:05:00.009+09:00

I just left you hanging there in Vietnam, didn't I? No, we didn't decide to pack up and move there. I just got a little lazy about the updates. After Vietnam was a wonderful 4 day stay in the Smiley Kingdom of Cambodia to visit with some of the happiest people I've ever met. Happiness, as we all know is relative - especially in the context of Cambodia. But the Cambodian's joy was sure contagious.

It was the closest to the equator I've ever been, and hotter than sin, but I'm sure I will be back there.

So, In a whirlwind tour, we got back from Vietnam and Cambodia, our cousins from England came to visit for two weeks...

I graduated from grad school...

we went to Tokyo...

had our photos taken by the talented chef and photographer Aviva... (Photos to come. REALLY AWESOME PHOTOS to come.)

...and now I sit here on my rented Government couch, pooped and in need to some strong coffee. In a mere matter of weeks (7!) we will be on the road AGAIN. This time for good. John, Gunner and I are moving West (East?) to Spokane Washington. I haven't fully processed this, but I need to because this house is going to be a nightmare to pack.

Now that I'm done with my schooling for now, I can enjoy some pleasure reading, so I've joined this website "GoodReads" which I'm totally hooked on now for reviews and recommendations. I changed the Widget at the left to reflect what I've now reading, and you can become friends with me to see all of my recent books. Click on the books to the left to go to the site.

Oh and PS, Gunner says "hi". Actually, no, wait- I believe he actually said "fill my bowl with milk or I will claw your face off." They sound very similar. Gotta run.

April 18-21

2010-04-23T16:29:00.000+09:00

Perhaps because my last trip allowed for weeks at a time to absorb a city, this 5 day tour of Vietnam seemed like a whirlwind. First of all, Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) is as developed as Seoul, as it seemed to us. The streets are incredibly clean, there are gorgeous buildings boh new and old. Despite it's socialist roots, Vietnam seems to be hurling itself at the market economy with breakneck speed. The streets are
completely dominated by endless throngs of motorbikes, some carrying entire families. Much like India, there is little regard for traffic signals, but the lack of errant bovine makes the ride a little more predictable, I'd assume. Walking around the city streets at night felt a little like New York City in the peak of summer. Much like in India, life happens on the street, from gambling to gossiping to slurping up their famous Pho soup on mini plastic stools.

Up north in UNESCO Heratage City of Hoi An, the unyielding temperature had us stopping for a zesty beverage about every hour or so. John got some shirts made at one of the tailoring shops. Hoi An mirrored a phenomenon I noticed in India: in each town, there are only three or four different kinds of souvenirs to buy, and every single shop carries them. In Hoi An, literally every third shop was a tailor with the exact same clothing in the display. Same fabric, same samples. So after a few blocks, the average shopper gets either gets bored, or is able to bargain down a new wardrobe to practically nothing. It seems the locals would be better served by adding some variety. Say a basket shop or something. To carry home all the newly sewn clothes. While hoi an was lovely and picturesque, it did appear to be expressly created for tourists.

After we could take no more shopping we drove off to explore the marble mountains, these three lumps of marble jutting out of a flat expanse of nothingness. From the peak there is a lovely view of China beach. The hike to the top (more likely the raging heat) almost put me in a bad mood, but the Giant cave inside was one of the most serene and awe inspiring places I've been.

Hoi An

2010-04-19T11:27:00.000+09:00

Greetings from hoi an! Located half the way up the Vietnam coast from Ho Chi minh city. We were in HCM city for half the day yesterday and it was smolderingly hot. We stayed at the historic Majestic Hotel on the river. Last night we arrived at our gorgeous hotel, on recommendation fro Lu and Tracey. The lush grounds sweep around a beautiful pool and line the oceanside. Every hotel here offers complementary breakfast buffet. The tropical fruits! The cheeses! The pastries! If there is anything good (anything at all) that can come out of Frech colonization it's a tradition of delicious breads and pastries.

I have to say, though, that as we are swept down the absolutely crazy streets in our air conditioned SUV, dodging oncoming mo-peds, I keep looking longingly at the congregating locals on the side of the road. Backpacking on my previous trip, I seemed to be traveling in a different dimension. John and I are both looking for a little more "authentic" Vietnam and hopefully we'll find it in the historic city of Hoi An today! Get this, you can even work for a day at a local farm, and as excited as I was about his, John did not really consider that to be good use of our limited vacation time. I'm going to try to convince him to rent bikes today, but the madness of he mo-ped circus has him a little nervous. I say, if you want to live like the locals, you gotta be closer to the ground.

Away we go!

2010-04-17T08:41:00.001+09:00

That's right kids, it's adventure time again! Vietnam & Cambodia, here we come. I'll be blogging along the way so stay tuned...

winding up and winding down

2010-03-31T17:09:00.007+09:00

I am cramming for my comprehensive tests this week. I wish I could say that I'm cramming for my comprehensive tests this month or this quarter, but like most things in my life, I am doing it at the very last minute. This entails going over dozens and dozens of my typed notes and papers, and thinking to myself "wow, this stuff's pretty good. Fascinating, really. I wish I had the FAINTEST IDEA WHAT ANY OF IT MEANS." This is the inherent dilemma with being a student for 20-some odd years. For self-preservation's sake, you master the art of cramming all the info onto a temporary cerebrum loading bay, spilling it all onto a few bluebooks, then purging it immediately upon exiting the classroom that evening. A shot or two of sake always helps clean up the remnants. There's just no other way to do it. The typical brain simply cannot hold that much information - especially when other things, like the lyrics to 'Parent's Just Don't Understand" or every line in the Sound of Music simple REFUSE to dislodge themselves from the grey matter. I'm starting to wonder how useful this method of education really is, and if it has qualified me to do anything but, well, pass a test. I can always retake if I fail. And retake again. Cringe.

John and I are planning what will be the second to last of our Asian-persuasion-vacations. This one to Vietnam and Cambodia. Let's just sit here an reflect on my current situation. I live on the beach in Okinawa where my grandfather fought about 60 years ago, and I'm planning a vacation to a place that only 4 decades ago saw one of the longest wars in American history. I'm not sure what this says about American history or American foreign policy. (Although I probably should...NEED TO STUDY.) It's just amazing how the world can change in a few generations. Can any of you imagine in 25 years planning a spa vacation in Iraq? Or learning to mountain climb in Afghanistan? I said to my mom when telling her about my trip to Vietnam, "I'm so lucky to be able to travel there!" She remarked that she didn't really call that "lucky." No doubt for her generation, Vietnam was a place you tried to stay away from. And the world turns. One of my favorite places in Korea was the demilitarized zone, where you could actually take a tram down into the tunnels dug by the North Koreans. I do like history in my vacations. Even it if it is tragic and relatively recent. I like to walk on the bleeding edge of how the world is changing. Beyond all that, I hear that the Vietnamese people are wonderful and that they really do like Americans.

We are working largely off the itinerary of our friends Lu and Tracey (who just got engaged, yay!). They went to Vietnam a couple years ago and raved about it. Who would have thought our lives would have taken us from a tiny apartment in West LA to traipsing around Asia in only two years?

Our friends the Bowmans introduced us to a man who brews his own beer here on the island. It was scrumptious, and it inspired John to attempt a batch of his own. We purchased all the equipment and now there is a giant vat of honey-cream ale brewing in our dark and temperate bedroom closet. Washington state is apparently the birthplace of Microbrewery, and so we figured we should get a head start learning the process. Will also be a good way to entice new friends once we get there. I'm looking forward to renditions of pumpkin beer in the fall and cranberry ale come the holiday season.

That thing you think you cannot do.

2010-03-18T16:42:00.005+09:00

Over at the Foster library, there's an exhibit with influential people and their quotes. Closest to the table where I normally do my work, there's a photo of Oprah Winfrey, and the quote "Do the one thing you think you cannot do." I pass by it about 10 times a day, every time I get up to buy a zesty japanese beverage from the vending machine.

The one thing I think I cannot do, but would really like to do, is write a book. Not just for the sake of writing one, but because I have an idea of something I'd really like to say. I fear I cannot do this because I can't possibly imagine that I can create something that would actually be taken seriously. Who am I to be offering my opinion? There will always be someone more qualified to write it. There will always be someone who could write it better. This self-defeating attitude is really sticking in my craw, but I can't seem to shake it.

I have mastered the art of giving a prof what he wants to read. I can dissect a prompt, do adequate research to compile 30 pages of work enough to get a good grade. But even in the best papers I've written, I'm really only sampling the ideas of others. When the topic is "The Israeli/Palestinian conflict" or "the monetary policy of the EU", there is nothing truly original I could claim as my own. It's all been said, by smarter people than I. I'm simply reading all the arguments, deciding which makes the most sense, and then regurgitating it back in some stylized prose. If someone were to say to me "write a book about this particular topic, using these resources, addressing these issues," I could churn it out, no problem. It's the insecurity that I feel from having to own the entire thing - the idea, the execution, the argument. It's the argument I'm afraid of. I'm afraid I'll make an easily defeated argument. Thank god I didn't go to law school. You'd think that I would have more confidence in my own brain after all this freaking schoolwork. I had more confidence before I even started.

I'm fired up by the idea. I come up with thoughts about the project in my dreams. (Usually I'm having these thoughts on the jungle island in LOST, since we've been watching about 3 episodes a night in an effort to catch up to the current season.) I'm terrified that if I don't follow through with this, that I will have caved to my fears, my mediocrity. I will have taken the easy way out. And this is why I'm putting this on the darn blog. Because I need to say it out loud so that the embarrassment of never following through with it will actually force me to do the one thing I think I cannot do.

these rainy days

2010-03-09T09:26:00.003+09:00

It's a dark and rainy day on the Sunabe Seawall, I lurve it. Can't wait to get to Spokane where it really knows how to rain!

John has been back in town for almost a month now. He got in amazing shape (belly be gone!) while in the desert and now he's got me dragging my sorry tush to the gym every day. Peer pressure is good in that department. He got the opportunity to be chief of military justice while deployed and also to advocate in three courts martial (trials) so I think the whole deployment really amped up his experience level. The 5 month separation, while lonely, was worth it.

I just finished a class on Islamic Fundamentalism which was equal parts annoying and informative. Annoying because it was taught by a history PhD with a specialty in African-Islamic studies, so while I was expecting to apply all I've learned about realism and rational choice, none of this really applied. It was basically a history class for which I had absolutely zero background.

Although the class was not taught in Arabic it might has well have been, what with all the "urf'", "hadith", "Qutb", "takfir" and other really high-value scrabble words he just assumed we knew because this was a Master's level class.

"This class really should require a prerequisite in Islamic studies" he says. Fantastic, since I've spent the last two years studying the Cuban Missile Crisis. "That's why I've assigned you the Qur'an as one of your text books, to get acquainted with Islam." UGH.

"Any suggestions of things you think should be on the final exam?" He asks the class.

"Yes," I plead. "Can you in some way relate all of this BACK TO POLITICS? - You know the stuff we actually study and understand??"

I will say that the class readings were really interesting, and totally separated out for me the various strains of Islamic Fundamentalists, from Hamas to Al Qaeda, which have little in common. Perhaps it's because of our history with the monolithic Soviet enemy that makes Americans think we're up against one giant Islamic Fundamentalist monster. After taking this class I'd say that's not really the case. The student presentations (each of us had to write on a separate group) were really informative too. In the end, I'm glad I took the class.

Having lunch with a friend from school today and excited to catch up since I haven't seen her since October! Then off to the travel agent to start planning out trip to Vietnam and Cambodia. After having the freedom to jaunt acound India for 2 months, I just don't know how we can squeeze two countries into 10 days, but I'm going to try my best. Quite the spoiled traveler am I.

Reunited

2010-02-09T18:05:00.008+09:00

John got back last night after 5 months in an undisclosed location in southwest Asia. I got to meet him on the flight line. It's funny how I have been used to being completely alone in my home for 5 months and then all of a sudden there's this other person there, which is kind of strange, and yet it feels like he never left. It's great.

It was a hot and sweaty day, odd since last week was chilly with sideways rain. And just as I type this I hear the thunder and pitter patter on the roof. Man, i love weather.

For some reason John's homecoming triggered in me a kind of Julia Child madness and I spent the last 4 hours making (and simultaneously eating) some serious food. No wonder the chef never eats with the table - by the time the food is done they are completely stuffed!

Rustic Shrimp Bisque

Chopped Miso Salad

No-Knead Bread

My mom is a great cook, and very frequently we'd come home to a steaming hot bowl of Leek & Watercress Soup, or powdered sugar-crusted Pound Cake, or individual shells with creamy Coquille St. Jacque. Not a pot or pan in the sink - just the end result, ready for our greedy bellies. As we scarfed down the goods, she'd tell us with pride about how the recipe called for such and such, but she thought such and such would taste better, and doesn't it? Can you taste it Jenny? It's easy when all you see is one pot of soup to dismiss the hours that went into making it perfect. She used to do that with other things to. Like hand-scrub the entire white carpet, and "doesn't it look good Jenny? I just used a little bleach and voila! like new!"

"Sure does" I'd mumble, swallowing a slice of pound cake whole. Why she put so much time into hand-scrubbing a carpet, I'd never understand.

But, after spending all day in the kitchen, making the first meal for my husband in 5 months. I finally get it. Every detail is done with love. Every precise measurement and impromptu ingredient swaperoo makes the dish taste that much better. The rug that much whiter. And after using every pot in the house to make one soup, and washing them all before we sit down to dinner, I finally get it. And it was worth every minute.

A Bad Case of Senioritus

2010-02-01T15:59:00.005+09:00

This weekend kicked off my final master's class - Islamic Fundamentalism. It was the only class offered this quarter that I had not previously taken. After several hours of mind-boggling dissection of the various Caliphs of early Islam, the professor looked at our blank faces and repeated his admonishment that this was an advanced class that required some previous study of Islam, which sorry to say, I do not have. So, I went to the library and checked out "Islam for Dummies" which I hope to credit with saving my academic tush.

It seems to me that if a master's program offers a course that requires a prerequisite, they should also OFFER that prerequisite, but I am too tired to fight, and so off to the Qur'an I go. (The Qur'an is one of our 4 textbooks, as is "The Al Qaeda Reader") Unfortunately this is not a Middle Eastern politics class (which seems to be the point of a masters in politics, no?) but a religion class. I'm so irritated. I was hoping to read book #7 on the Cuban missile crisis and call it a day.

In college I took a a Greek Mythology class, and after a few classes of countless indecipherable names, jealousies, battles, deaths, rebirths, it occurred to me that I was being forced to memorize someone else's fairytale, which seemed like an incredible waste of brain power. The wave of deja vu is washing over me.

Recently, I started to think that teaching religion in school wouldn't be such a bad thing. I stand by my feeling that creationism needs to steer clear of science class. Things taught in science must be subjected to the scientific method. But in a world where so much of history and current events revolve around the religions of the world, shouldn't we at least be getting as much of an introduction to Islam as we do to Greek Mythology? I mean, here I am, at the tail end of a Master's program in International Relations and I barely can tell the difference between a Sunni and a Shi'ite. And by barely, I mean that I know that they're spelled differently. For example, I've written entire papers on Hamas from a "how do we deal with them" perspective, but I really know nothing about them or how they came to be.

The information is out there, sure, and any curious person can take the time to find out more. But I also think that a world religion class taught in high school might open up a group of say, Christian Fundamentalists, to see that even though everyone they've ever met is Christian, that a good portion of the rest of the world is not. Might a few of those kids then be encouraged to find out more about those non-Christians instead of thinking of them all as heathens? Maybe not all, but definitely a curious few.

Of course, this can never happen in the public schools - I mean can you imagine development of the curriculum? Activist school boards, trying to skew the way certain religions are presented. Parents, refusing to sign the waiver to let their kids learn about certain religions. The Gubernator, appointing a panel of theologists on the government payroll to come up with a testing scheme? It would be a nightmare. Even if you say that religion is the reason for so many of the world's problems today - that's the best reason to teach about it I think.

Until then, I will continue to lament my public school education and make up for lost time.

2010-01-26T19:23:00.002+09:00

My tree necklace made it in a Travel Channel Commercial! My Seattle penpal tivo-ed it for me. I'm a one-hit wonder with that darn thing. But I guess that's better than no hits at all.

I'm fighting off yet another post-India cold, but mind over matter - I think I'm winning.

Another nail in the coffin

2010-01-22T21:08:00.006+09:00

I'm sitting here stewing in my own juices - a nauseating feeling oddly similar to the night of Nov. 2, 2004. Just like that fateful night, here I am in a kind of mouth-open, stupefied slump. Although this time, my cupboards are cursedly devoid of booze to lull myself to sleep. I just read that the Supreme Court has handed lobbyists and the corporations that employ them, the power to spend unlimited amounts of money to intervene in our supposedly democratic process.

I sound dramatic, I know. I'm sure many people would say, "well that sucks, but what can you do?" Indeed, what can you do? Don't worry, this is a democracy! And every 2 years you get to go to the polls and do your part to make this country great! (sorry, my "facetious" font is not working).

Increasingly, I'm finding that so many of the problems I concern myself with studying - the food industry and global hunger, the demise of independent media, the alleged health care reform - stem from a problem that has to do with corporate personhood. Corporate personhood is the (in my non-J.D. opinion) absurd notion that a corporation is a person, and entitled to the same rights are individual citizens. Did you know that it's illegal for a person in Texas to criticize the beef industry? After all, beef companies are people, and you might hurt their feelings. Just ask Oprah - who spent upwards of a million dollars defending herself in a Texas court for saying she didn't want to get mad cow disease from a hamburger. So please, if you're in Texas reading this, I beg of you to close your browser, because frankly, I can't afford a lawyer.

So, I went to the library tonight and rented The Corporation - a really fantastic documentary about these issues. I'd seen it for free on the internet - and you can too, although it's worth a purchase of the DVD, which is much better quality, and a mission worth supporting.

Here is a particularly savory slice of the film. This clip is only about 11 and a half minutes of your time, and it shows a real world example of just why these issues affect you and me every single day. You will never watch corporate media in quite the same way. And you might never want to drink milk in the US again.

Meanwhile, I have to figure out a way to channel my anger. I'm thinking... a white russian at Eclipse - who's with me?

2010-01-19T03:08:00.002+09:00

Yesterday, my Grammy died. She had 9 children, and 18 grandchildren.

She used to call me "Lamb" or "Lover" or "Jenny Penny".

She was beautiful. And she will be missed.

Home Again Finnigan

2010-01-13T22:09:00.005+09:00

So here I am, back at "home" (a tiny speck of an island in the East China Sea). Funny that Japan is "home" to me now. And, ironically, only for about 4 months longer. After India, I was exhausted, dirty, beaten down. Osaka airport was a clean, disinfected pillow on which to rest my dreary head. The first chance to give my hands a thorough washing in two months.

I arrived in Delhi at 5 am from Jaipur, not having slept. Like I had done after many middle of the night train station arrivals, I sat down amidst the sleeping bodies and rats and waited for day to break so I would feel comfortable enough to venture out to the rickshaw drivers. I did have a bit of fun with the lookie-loos while I waited though. I must have been delirious from lack of sleep, but I started combating the stares with cross-eyes, tongue tricks, and other childish antics. After months of politely lowering my head and accepting the somewhat violating stares, I'd had enough. I should have done that weeks ago, because it worked, no one dared stare at me after that! They even moved a few feet farther away. Ah, peace.

After aimlessly walking around a freezing Delhi all day, just waiting to leave, I made it to the Delhi airport, which was a madhouse (what were you expecting? Order? Lines? HA!) Our 10:00pm departure time kept getting pushed back - first 2 hours, then 3, then 5, then 7. They kept moving us from gate to gate. But here's the kicker, the Air India people would only tell one or two of the passengers. There was no announcement, no flashing marquis. Only if we were paying attention would we know to move. So, TWICE I woke up wondering why I was the only one sitting at my gate. Then I'd run frantically through the airport looking for the group of Japanese tourists who were also presumably Osaka-bound.

After about 50 hours of sleepless travel, I finally made it home.

I want to thank all of you who actually read this blog throughout my trip. I can count on one hand those who were really concerned about my whereabouts. And that's okay. This blog was really for me a place to make light of the loneliness I felt. The hardships to joke about. To make it all seem like an adventure was just a "Bollywood Movie" that would hopefully be over by the time the popcorn ran out. The trip for me was always a challenge of sorts. The "your-husband-is-off-serving-his-country-what-are-you-doing-with-your-life?" challenge. And I made it home alive, and I have to say, a better woman for it.

So what have I learned in the past 60 days?

- A rickshaw ride should never cost more than 50 rupees and negotiate the price up front. Don't be afraid to jump out and refuse to pay if they take you to somewhere you don't want to go.

- Never say it's your first time in India. Never walk through the market place with a bewildered look. March straight - let the oncoming foot traffic jump out of the way (or hoof traffic, as the case may be). The only way to fit in in India is fake it till you make it.

- I've become an unabashed pilferer of toilet paper. I've been finding it everywhere - in my pockets, in my purses. I will never again be caught without it.

- All the material possessions that I need in this world can fit into one backpack. Not sure if this is really true, but it worked for 2 months! Not once did I think "golly, I really wish I'd brought more crap along with me." As a matter of fact, I would have been happy to leave half of it by the roadside.

- From the hour I was leaving Delhi for the airport, I had this urge to run out on the street, and drink chai with whomever I could find. I miss the closeness of the people on the street. The Delhi Dance. The human interactions that have been bred out of our culture. Try as you might, you are never alone in India.

Ironically, the day I got home, I seemed to have contracted some food poisoning of sorts. Ha! I think I probably was on the way to being sick in India, but my body was like, "Oh hellz no you are NOT getting sick in this country." I'm more than happy to roll around in pain in the comfort of my own bed.

John gets home in mere weeks! Then we've got 4 months to take Okinawa by storm. Adventures to come.

Jaipur - city of gems

2010-01-08T14:32:00.003+09:00

Well, it was going to be difficult to match the beauty of Udaipur, and unfortunately Jaipur did not. The highlight of my 3 day stay there was a rendezvous with my friend from college, Rachel and her husband Scott. They had hired a tour guide and a driver, so we got to see some sites together in the comfort of an actual car and with a very knowledgeable guide. We hadn't seen each other in over a year and so we had quite a bit of catching up to do. Funny that we used to live less than a mile from each other in LA, and did not see each other nearly enough when we had the chance. When you move 5000 miles away, your perspective changes, I guess. And last night I saw my first Bollywood film called "Three Idiots" which was about 98% in Hindi but it was FANTASTIC. IT was 3 houts long, even had an intermission. All I can say was that it had it all. Love, suicide, some seriously emotional male freindship (tears in almost every scene), dancing, singing, potty humor, an emergency birth on a pong table, and the engineering geek wins out in the end! I was surprised how much we understood. And the audience was roaring.

Another highlight for me personally was the gems. Oh. My. God. The Gems. Jaipur is the world hub for gems, so of course I scouted out several factories and got to see how the serious stuff is made. We're talking 20 karat diamond necklaces, massive door-khocker rings, and some serious artistry. I was in heaven. I'm also smuggling some home in my undergarments. I figure that will distract the authorities from the contraband seeds I got at the farm.

I should never have opened my mouth that I was a jewelry designer because at one point in a 6-hour sitting in one factory, (and after about 7 chai teas) I was surrounded by every diamond dealer in a 10 mile radius. I wasn't even in the buying mood, but this guy called every dealer he knew and before you knew it, I was sifting through bags and bags of diamonds - fancy, marquis, rose cut. Shades of champagne. Lovely. All stunning. While I was there, a Japanese woman who lives in Paris came to pick up her orders - she has a fine jewelry line and it's all made in Jaipur. I wish I had thought ahead about this, but oh well, this just means I'll have to make a buying trip to India.

I arrived in Delhi at 5 am today and will fly out at 10pm tonight. I'm now going to trapse through the bazaars of Delhi and waste away the day. Funny how it's not nearly as intimidating than when I first got here. I've already even given out a bunch of travel info to newbies I ran into at breakfast. I've learned the delhi dance!

Farewell Fair City!

2010-01-04T20:32:00.003+09:00

Today I spent my last day in Udaipur, reluctantly. So far this has been my favorite destination. There's just something beautiful about a rajistani sunset over a floating lake palace. Today I took a boat ride from the city palace to the lake palace, where James Bond's "Octopussy" was filmed. I saw the movie for the first time last night at my hotel's open air lounge. Apparently they've been showing it every night for the past 9 years. So has every other hotel in the city. They're really milking that 15 minutes of fame. There's a fantastic scene in the movie where Bond gets into a car chase in autorickshaws through the streets of Udaipur. There are women in saris running for their lives, cows to be avoided, street market carts overturning. I was watching it with 6 other foreigners and we were laughing hysterically because a "car chase scene" is exactly what it's like driving in this town on any old day of the week.

Udaipur is covered in these glass mosaics, made with fragments of mirror. It lends a certain Marrakesh feeling to the buildings (I'm just guessing, since I've only been to Morocco in my dreams). The palace is full of them - usually in the pattern of flowers, trees and peacocks. I spent the first half of my day in this guys studio watching him make one from scratch. Some are small, for tables or chairs. Some are huge mural sized. They are stunning creations. He could live a cush life if he set up a shop in Beverly Hills. I'm going to try to attempt one when we get to our new home in Washington. (Just what I need, another hobby.) This town is filled with artists. Even the guys on the street are handcarving blocks of marble into works of art. My kind of city.

Onto Jaipur next where I am thrilled to be meeting up with Rachel and Scott!

Udaipur - quite a little gem

2010-01-03T20:30:00.004+09:00

Udaipur is described as the "Venice of the East" and I think perhaps that this time, Lonely Planet got it right. Flanking both sides of Laike Pichola, the narrow streets rise and fall among clusters of shoips and eateries. Sipping a rose-flavored lassi (yogurt shake) on the top of a haveli five stories up, I can see rooftop cafes from which to choose for my next meal. This arial layer of the city reveals a breezy atmosphere from which to get your bearings. It's easy and yet tres, tres difficile to plan my menu for the four days I'll spend in this town. The food is outrageously good and there are many options. Oui, c'est magnifique! (I've taken to musing in French after spending three days with a french woman in Agra. It's fitting, as Udaipur has a European feel to it.)

I arrived in Udaipur at 6 am and my hotel of choice was filled, so I let my rickshaw driver take me to a recommendation of his across the lake. My instincts were sharp, as this beautiful Lake Shore guest house has an open air cafe with cushy bed-style seating for lounging and contemplating the day's itinerary. My ornately-decorated room has three windows from which I could jump into the lake if the mood struck. $11 a night left plenty of rupees for he endless parade of meals which would follow.

Walking through the Saijhan Niwas gardens, I came upon an elephant who graciously got down on his knees and offered me a ride. Quite the attraction the two of us were! The blonde foreigner in a punjabi suit atop a painted elephant, trapsing around the lake. When we came upon a camel or two, my guide made a great effort to keep the elephant from seeing the camel. He would turn him around or feed him to distraction. The camel's guide also took great care to pass waaay on the other side of the road. ON the third encounter, the elephant got wind of the camel and started to freak out a bit, shaking and squirming. "No problem, madam, no problem!" It was then that I took inventory of the distance between my noggin and the pavement below, and so I decided to dismount and let the animals duke it out (if it came to that) sans moi. A med-evac to god knows where is not really in my budget.

I had the meal of my trip last night at the Whislting Teal on the east bank. A vegetarian Thali - a "thali" consists of a few types of curry, a dal, rice, raita (yogurt to calm the spice), naan bread and a delicious dessert. I love thalis because I don't have to choose between several dishes - I get to try them all! It was absolutely superb, and it was set in beautiful candle-lit gardens. The only thing slightly out of place was the steady stream of Bon Jovi's greatest hits. Not that I minded it one bit. And the staff liked it when I sang along.

Some Oddities and Observations

2010-01-01T14:38:00.002+09:00

1. When you walk into a shop in the US, most shoppers appreciate a brief greeting and then the freedom to browse without pestering. But at a restaurant, you usually want prompt and repeated visits from your waiter, attending to your every whim. In India it's exactly the opposite. You cannot enter a store without the salesman unrolling every rug, draping you in countless saris and insisting you sit for chai while trying on every shoe in his inventory. Protests only make this worse - his staff work doubletime to body-block the exit. Meanwhile, you sit unnoticed in a restaurant while your waiter eats, talks on the phone, goes out for a smoke, or leaves entirely.

2. The infamous Indian head bobble is exactly that, a bobblehead motion in a side to side manner, much like the 6 inch baseball player versions on the hood of people's cars. It can mean "yes," "no," "I don't speak English," or "your train left hours ago." it's one thing when being led down the wrong street by a bobblehead policeman. It's another thing when getting your nose pierced and asking the girl if the nosering has been disinfected. In something other than water, preferably. Sometimes the situation calls for a definitive answer.

3. Dogs here love foreginers. They don't really care for the Indians, it seems (and Indians have told me this) but they can smell a sucker when they see one. Foereigners are the only one's who pet them, talk to them, and give them leftover chicken Masala.

4. Grown men walk around holding hands. So9 do strapping male teenagers. Sometimes its a complete interlace, walk in the park style. Sometimes its just a casual pinky-finger link as they navigate through traffic. They also spoon each other when sleeping. I came home one night to find two of the male coworkers canoodling in the hallway in front of my door. Now if you're thinking India will be the next to jump on the gay pride bandwagon, you're dead wrong. It's just the way men hang out together. Meanwhile men and women are all but forbidden from and physical contact in public. Go figure.

5. It's not rude to stare. It's actually quite permissible to gather in large groups around a lonely foreginer and stare at her FOR HOURS, particularly when she's waiting at the train station. It's also quite acceptable to get close enough over her shoulder to read the blog entry she's typing on her iPod, and if this gets a trifle boring, to request that she take you through her digital p[hoto collection instead.

6. Being a celebrity must be the worst life ever. Particulalry one that people recognize and request photographs with. I'm just guessing, but based on my experience in a park the other day, I'd say incognito is the life for me. I was the only non-Indian in this small, non-touristy town, and the entire park stopped and watched every step I took, the whole time I was there. I was stopped by two girls for a photograph with them. Then two more braved it. Then their mom's wanted photos with me. Then their dads. Then came the babies. Lots and lots of babies. 45 minutes and countless photos later, I'm ready for the silver screen. Nah, not the life for me.

Tous les Touts

2009-12-31T14:06:00.003+09:00

Agra is a war zone. It's a war between the foreigner and the local, the gullable and the savvy. Many foreigners feel like victims and with just cause. It's hard for me to gauge how the Indians feel - it's a completely different psyche. It's a battle for personal space and peace of mind, for the best bargain and for the contents of your wallet, and even for your own health.

Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal, is a tragic mess. In 1653, Emperor Shah Jahan beuested on this city a gift that would last a millennium - a white marble monument dedicated to his dead wife - sure to attract kings, paupers and everyone in between. Yet Agra in 2009 is a polluted, dirty, festering blister of a city. The air is so thick with smog that you can barely see the Taj Mahal. Grown adults, mothers in front of children, dispose of their trash all over the streets. Done with that coke bottle? drop it on the ground - I'm sure the cows will eat it. I saw a woman throw the entire remnants of her family's meal out the window of a train while it was stopped at the station - paper plates and all. Nobody blinked. Worst of all are the 'touts' - the scammers who drum up business by annoying the crap out of you until you give them the contents of your purse in a plea for mercy. The touts are aggressive and they are everywhere.

"Where are you from Madam? US? Michael Jackson! Obama! Come in my shop! Batteries, Madam? I give you good price. First customer good price. Madam! Batteries! You need batteries, I have!! BATTERIES!!"

What they don't seem to understand is that it's not usually the sales pitch that gets me to the battery isle. They're also pushing water bottles, rickshaw rides, postcards and taj mahal snow globes. Someone even offered me a helicopter ride. Do I really look that flush? They grab at you and if you ignore them they get closer and louder. The kids are even trickier and masters of the game. On our street there was an insanely loud Mulim festival the other night for 24 hours straight. You cannot imagine the decible level of the music, which blasted from permamnent speakers installed on the streets. I was out taking pictures and dancing, eardrums-be-damned. I group of beautifully adorned children and women in saris approached me smiling. A few yound girls took my hands and coerced me into the parade with them. After about 50 feet, they started tugging at the small wallet I had around my neck, persisting that I give them "pens! pens!" I've offered to buy food for the kids, but they usually just want the rupees. The other night there were six of us trying to negotiate a jeep ride home from a fort about 24 miles away. After a lot of back and forth nonsense with the driver, we settled on the price that our guidebook told us to pay, and we were on our way. Half way there, we stopped at a gas station on an abandoned strip of road. The driver demanded his full fee to pay for gas. We said he could have half now, which was more than a full tanks worth. He get the gas station attendeant involved, telling us he needed all the money. Once he realized he wasn't getting it, he got back in the jeep, in a huff and WITHOUT GAS, and continued to drive us back. If we had given him the full sum, we might have been stranded at that gas station.

A few years ago a scandal was uncovered in Agra. Restaurants frequented by foreigners were in cahoots with the local doctors and hotels. Cooks purposefully put bacteria (use your imagination) in the food to make the patrons sick, then the hotels recommended the doctors. Several people actually died. We are still cautioned not to eat within 500 meters of the Taj. SO far I have met several tourists who have been violently ill since they arrived - my roommate included.

On the flip side (and there's always a flip side) there are more tourists here than anywhere in India and many could use a good spanking - throwing fits over little inconveniences, like inconsistent hot water in their $4/night hotel. We march into town with 40 lbs backpacks chock full of souveneirs. We whip out our $400 cameras to take photos of women preparing their family's meals on the side of the road next to a filthy cow, but won't give money to beggars. We haphazardly flash 1000 rupee notes while rummaging through our wallets after bargaining down a rickshaw ride to 25 rupees (50 cents). We blatantly ignore people who speak to us and yell at the people who persist. We clutch our bags tightly when walking by children, and step around the legless beggars who beg for a rupee or two. Most of the locals live on less than a dollar a day, and are desperate to make a living. And we haggle over cents.

I can't determine which came first in this chicken-egg scenario: the cheating Indian tout or the miserly foreign tourist. I have been driven to the brink in this town and have laid into a few touts and one lying travel agent. I actually sat in front of his agency threatening to drive away customers until he refunded my friend's money, much to the amusement of the Indian bystanders. Agra calls itself the "city of love". But I hate to say that the Emperor's monument to love only brings out the worst in the locals and it's foreign visitors.

Onto Pushkar next, with great hope for a renewed faith in humanity.

***I just realized that I wrote nothing about the Taj Mahal. It was stunning. Amazing. A feat of human skill and artistry. And I'm still not sure it's worh the trip to this city.

Happy Christmas! Jesus would be proud...

2009-12-25T15:05:00.000+09:00

When I was a kid, we lived next to an orthodox jewish family, the 5 kids in their family matched up to the ages of my siblings. Miryam was my age. We spent a good amount of time at each others homes. I remember the day that it finally sank in that her family did not celebrate Christmas. Of course, growing up in Encino, I understood that Jews didn't believe in Jesus and all, but Christmas was another story, surely. Wasn't it?

"so no baby Jesus ornaments on your tree?"
"nope, no tree."
"but where does Santa put the presents?"
"no Santa."
"wait but who brings the presents?"
"no presents."
"...say what?"

This was mind boggling enough but when she told me that keeping 'kosher' meant she had never tasted a cheeseburger, I nearly fell out of my chair.

Fast forward 18 years and I'm spending Christmas in a country that celebrates countless amounts of gods and holidays, none of which I include a nativity scene, and certainly no red suited giver of gifts. I'm feeling discombobulated all over again. How and why am I here on this day, thousands of miles from my friends and family?

Suffering from a decent bout of homesickness, I responded to a flyer that advertised a Christmas Eve gathering at the Oasis Cafe. There, we were served spiced milk tea, cookies and popcorn and they played a movie about Mary and Joseph and the birth of Jesus. A German girl got up and explained the basics of the Christmas holiday, and a Tibetan translator translated for the monks in attendance. Then an Israeli girl got up and explained that although Jesus was from Israel, Jews don't believe he is the mesiah. This left the Tibetans quite confused, and even I had to sit and ponder that one. Meanwhile the Muslim guys in the back are reading the subtitles out loud and the Canadian at my table is explaining to the Hindus sitting next to her what the word 'Mesiah' means.

Passing popcorn and Christmas cookies around during the film, I'm feeling so happy that I've found myself in a welcoming place on this day. When the credits rolled, the two Muslim guys at my table say "wow, that is such a great story, how brave Mary was! And Joseph, what an amazing man.- this is such a wonderful story." that's one of the beautiful things about mcleod ganj, everone here is truly here to learn about and appreciate each others cultures. Needless to say, the warmth of he holiday spirit was all around me. You cannot imagine the feeling of all of these different faiths gathered in one place out of respect for your holiday. Another generous gift from the strangers in this foreign land.

I finished off the night with a king fisher beer at a pub with some Tibetan guys I've gotten to know. They too are all alone in this strange country (planet?) - many without hope of ever seeing their families again.

So tonight, my so cal family is hanging out on the beach in del mar - will anyone brave the waves? My norcal family, no doubt, has a crackling fire going in the den. Luca Shallenberger and Finn Griffiths, sons of two of my best friends are celebrating their first christmas, and i will be pleased to make their acquaintance when i return this summer! Santa's logging extra mileage to bring Mia Bowman her gifts all the way to okinawa. Gunner is enjoying a belly rub from Scuba Steve. And John is celebrating with his co-workers in an undisclosed location in south west Asia. He's such a joyful dude that I'm sure he's having a great time. I will be boarding a 13 hour bus to Delhi on Christmas night and then on to Agra. Merry Christmas to all of you, I miss and love you!

Traveling Solo

2009-12-22T15:49:00.000+09:00

I can't tell if I'm a people-person or a loner. At certain points in my life I have been a people magnet, consolidating large groups of unrelated individuals into one big happy family. At other times I have been painfully alone, watching the groups around me with sadness and a tinge of envy.

This trip has not made things any clearer on that account. On days when I'm alone, I find myself looking around longingly for someone to share a meal with. Then on some days where I've managed to attract companions, I've found myself counting the hours 'til I can be alone reading a book. I think that in order to be one of those really engaged travelers who gets to know anyone they share a bus-stop bench/train ride/random glance with, I'd have to be genuinely interested in what others have to say. And truth be told, after 5 and a half weeks, I'm just not interested every hour of every day, in everyone I meet. Often it's the Indian dudes wanting to hold me indefintely in conversation and Ive found myself just ignoring their "namastes" and walking on by. Believe me, that conversation can go from "Namaste" to "Do you want an Indian boyfriend?" in 30 seconds flat.

The more I think about this companionship problem, the more akward I become around strangers. For example, this evening as I was reading a book at dinner, a buddhist monk got up from his table, paid his bill and walked up to me smiling, "where are you from?" he asked . "U.S." I responded.

**On an side note, I'm starting to hate this part of the conversation, and you can't have a conversation while you're traveling without someone asking where you're from. First of all, "U.S" is a horribly boring name for a country, as I've realized after repeating it 500 times in 5 weeks. And for those of you who haven't traveled internationally of late, I assure you the response to an American in the post-Bush-era is exactly what you thought it would be! The Europeans I do talk to never fail to tell me over the course of the conversation all that they hate about Americans. Now, I like America-bashing as much as any good liberal but when I'm the only yankee around it gets kind of annoying. In case you were curious: we are insincerely friendly but really only care about ourselves. We use the word 'awesome' and 'amazing' in nauseating excess. We are frightfully ignorant of any other languages, and often, even our own. And this is their opinion of the Americans who TRAVEL. God forbid they ever make it to the heartland.

Many Americans, I've found, also try to avoid anything other than the briefest contact with me, afraid that any extended affiliation might expose the Canadian flag patch on their backpack for the fraud that it is.

So far the friendliest person I've randomly met and spent a few days with was a Korean girl who sold beauty salon products and smoked like a chimney. She told me no one wanted to hang out with Koreans. We became fast friends.

Anyway back to the monk.

So the monk comes up to me while I'm reading and asks me where I'm from. In the next sentence, he tells me that he has written a book, and its for sale right over there! He was a political prisoner for 6 years in Tibet. The Chinese fired bullets into his legs. He was in a french hospital for 2 years. And he has written a book about it and it's right over there! Yes right over THERE! This entire exchange takes place in about 12 seconds. At this point I'm kind of stunned. If this had been any old Joe I would have not been that keen to the sales pitch and told him to move along. But he's wearing a freaking monk robe, prayer beads, and pointing to the bullet holes in his leg. I say I will definitely take a look at the book. He smiles at me, expectantly. I say, akwardly "well it was good to meet you, thank you for pointing out your book!" And he shakes my hand and leaves.

So at this point I'm feeling incredibly akward and on all accounts unpersonable. I feel like i should have asked him to sit down. "So tell me, exactly how many bullets were there? What was the prison food like? And the Chinese - good hosts? Does being a refugee, like, totally suck? I bet the journey to India was AMAZING." Im being flip here, but only partially. I need to be in a certain frame of mind to engage in that kind of conversation, and I definitely have to be eased into it. The truth is that sometimes I just want to be alone, reading about OTHER people having interesting conversations. Does that make me so odd?

some photos!

2009-12-21T21:24:00.005+09:00

Finally I found a place to upload some photos. Here is one of me and my Guru on the Ganges, in Rishikesh. He practically fades into the background. See his dred locks draped around his legs?

This is atop the so-called Beatle's Ashram.

The Tibetan Prime Minister in exile, Samdhong Rinpoche

The view from my hotel balcony. Yesterday some women from the farm and I hiked up to the top of the closest mountain range, right above the red pole in the picture.

The peak of our climb, 2850 meters (9350 feet). It was a bit tough (read: steep) at the end, but so worth the view of the Himilayas when we got to the top, and were greeted with a warm cup of chai masala! We were tempted to spend the night at the top with other trekkers, but it started to snow, and we were totally underdressed and unprepared for that cold of an evening.
All the towns in India are flush with stray dogs, although they seem to be the healthiest in McLeod Ganj. On our way up, which took 4 hours, we were followed by a pack of 5 dogs, which eventually dwindled down to 1. He was an excellent guide, loyally staying with us the whole 9 km and got us safely to the top. Once we departed the top, in order to make it safely back before dark, a beautiful black collie (?) decided to leave his resting spot at the top and show us the route home. He was really amazing, staying with us even when passed by other dogs, and led us directly into the main square of McLeod Ganj at rush hour. He looked up at us as if to say, what next? Can I show you the Dalai Lama Temple? Or perhaps you'd prefer a hot meal? Later we surmised that these wonderful dogs were likely buddhist reincarnations of souls who were looking for a better gig in the next life, so they spent their days guiding foreigners in an act of good karma.

Back to school

2009-12-18T13:48:00.001+09:00

One great thing about India and particularly mcleod ganj is all the lessons and schools you can attend while visiting. It's a lot like summer camp (or college, depending on your major). I'm taking Tibetan cooking class today - we are learning to bake five kinds of Tibetan bread. There's also woodcarving which I really wanted to do but it required a 5 day commitment at 6 hours a day, so I had to pass. I am however, teaching English to Tibetan refugees this afternoon at a little cafe. The cafe is decked out with Christmas decorations and was playing Celine Dion's Christmas album which made it a unique place in India on both accounts, and made it feel oddly like my mothers kitchen. The German and swede I met there yesterday said that they are hosting a Christmas eve party complete with Christmas movie. I'm very tempted to stay here until Christmas, but I don't want to devote such a large chunk of time to only one place. But if I stayed, id have time for so many more classes! I saw a sign today that read "December 24: learn self-defense, just in time for Christmas!" This made me think that the Tibetans had not been properly briefed on Santa's raison d'etre, apparently mistaking him for a 250- pound bearded burglar rather than jolly giver of gifts.

There are Hindi lessons, yoga lessons, political movie screenings, Ayurvedic massage lessons. Yesterday I saw a man sitting on the road with a little box of cotton balls and tooth picks and a sign that said "world's best ear cleaner". If it had read, "world's best ear cleaning LESSONS" I might have signed up.

McLeod Ganj

2009-12-16T16:53:00.000+09:00

Since this is my first backpacking trip, I'm learning as I go. This style of travel is actually much more condusive to my personality, as I hate to plan. I do not know from day to day, or hour to hour what I would like to be doing at any given moment. Some call me flakey. I prefer the term 'spontaneous'. At the very least, traveling alone makes me accountable to no one which is kind of nice. Case in point, my beautifully detailed itinerary is now in my waste bin and I am currently staying in a town I didn't know existed till last week. I find myself relying on word of mouth rather than my guidebook and it's turned out swimmingly so far.

It's easy to take it day to day india. Transportation reservaions generally require a day or two of notice, but hotels can easily be found on the fly. When I showed up in McLeod Ganj at 7am yesterday after a brain-jarring 15-hour bus ride, I was easy pickin's for the 'hotelier' who was stalking the bus depot looking for customers. His cottage was a bit of a walk, but the room is huge, the view is outstanding, there is a hot shower, and the price is right at $4 a night.

I made friends on the bus with a Dutch med student. We went to a small theatre last night to see Darjeeling Limited, which was a hoot to watch in India (and made me miss Lauren and John!). Tonight were going to see a film about the life of the dalai lama.

The Tibetan population in McLeod Ganj definitely gives it a different feeling than the rest of India. It feels like a village in the Swiss alps, with quanit shps and cafes and brisk mountain air. It would be great to have some family here with me as Christmas is around the corner!

Ways to pass the days

2009-12-14T14:33:00.000+09:00

Rishikesh is stunning. I am sitting at the DevRaj Coffee Corner at the Laxman Jhula bridge at dusk. The ganges river winds between soaring green mountians and the temples nestled on the banks look like 10 story castles in a children book. There are two walking bridges, the laxman jhula, where I am staying, and ram jhula where many of the ashrams are located, about 2 kil away. There are many foreigners here. Mostly Brits and israelis. My Indian friend tells me that the Israelis come here after their 2-3 years of mandatory military service is done. Everyone here seems to be on some sort of yogic spiritual journey which includes hours and hours daily to loll about in cafes and smoke until you can't see throuh the haze. People come here to stay until their visas run out.

My favorite cafe/hang out spot so far is the pyramid cafe in laxman jhula, on recommendation from a 65 year old french lady i met at the farm. You have to climb a fairly steep hill about 200 meters to get to it. It's cosy, away from the chaos, and has a great view of the river and town. They serve all organic here and they even make their own kombucha! (the vinegary carbonated drink with live cultures that repulses pretty much everyone but Camilla and me.) They have wi-fi access and phenomenal vegetarian food, which explains how I've managed to spend half my waking hours there.

I had day four of cooking lessons today and then just laid out on the roof and read all day, feeling guilty that I wasn't power walking to all the pilgrimage destinations. Then an Israeli girl materialized on the roof with a thick rope, attempting to tie it to the rickety balcony guardrail. She is trying to teach herself how to tightrope walk. Apparently her guru can do it, so she thought she'd try it on our roof. After we deduced that this particular roof might come crashing down, based on the spiderweb of faultlines at the base of the railing, she went back to her own roof. In the distance, over the ashrams of rishikesh, I could see her very steadily and successfully navigate the rope accross her roof. An odd but im sure very pleasureable way of wearing out your visa.

Guru on the Gangez

2009-12-12T15:38:00.000+09:00

I've seemed to have unwittingly attracted a tour guide/eager companion - a nice young guy who leads treks in the mountains and speaks English very well. Two days ago he showed me some waterfalls near town and yesterday he took me to see the Beatles ashram (of monkey-substance fame). It is a stunning piece of land with these beehive looking meditation rooms made of small stones. The ashram has been slowly retreating back into the earth for the last 17 years, and is covered in vines, wild chickens and monkeys. And of course handfuls of tripping hippies that appear to have been sitting there since the 1970s. I have a particluar affinity for historial spaces, especially spaces where great art was created. The story goes that the Beatles wrote much of the White Album while staying there with their families.

On the way back along the path next to the Ganges river, my friend asked me if I wanted to meet a guru with 7 foot long dred locks. I mean really, who wouldn't? He took me to a teeny tiny hut down on the beach and inside was a fire, an alter to several gods, three painted, dusty men in loin cloth, the guru, and his famous dred locks wrapped about his torso and legs. They are so heavy that he has to fashion them into clothig to keep his neck aligned. They were either so stoned or so enlightened that I don't think they were consciously aware of our presense. After about two hours in there, i verified it was a lot of both.

So we sat next to them and mused about Indian gods v. christian god (only one? How boring. How many wives did he have?) and about the population of america (only 250 million people? How quaint.) About an hour in, the cushion I had been leaning against moved and I realized that it was a man under a blanket. Even more startling was his clean-shaven face and tidy hair and western looking sweater, when compared to the other guys, who were essentially covered in dried mud and decades of dredlock growth. Realizing that he spoke some English, I asked him how long he had lived in rishikesh? He said he lives in Agra, but was just visiting rishikesh to pray with the long-dreded guru. He comes once a year. He's a political scientist who works for a non-profit, and needed respite from the city. And dred-guru is his spiritual teacher.

An American might rent a room on the pacific ocean and down several bottles of Pinot Noir to get away from the madness of city life. An Indian might snuggle up on the corner of his guru's Ganges shack and get stoned for a week. Tomato, tomaaaaaato. We're not that different after all.

Delhi Belly

2009-12-11T21:10:00.002+09:00

A month plus in India does not make me an expert on anything but the daily confusion of an American tourist, but let me see if I can take a stab at the source of the phenomenon called "Delhi Belly".

Delhi Belly is what occurs when foreigners get a crippling bout of food poisoning in India. Even putting this to print is really tempting my own fate, but I have always had a relatively strong stomach. Once in France, Nikki, Camilla and I ate the same salmon for lunch and the two of them spent the night on the train writhing in agony while I did not feel a thing. So we'll see how it goes in the remaining 28 days here. Fingers crossed.

Lonely Planet guidebook explicitly tells you not to eat street food unless it has been fried in front of your face, not to drink fruit lassis (smoothies), not to eat salad and not to eat any fruit that lacks a peel. I have so far had fruit, salad and lassi and have been fine.

The cause of the Dehli Belly is not poisonous apples or lettuce, nor an intolerance of hot spices, but the bacteria that abounds on every surface in the country. I'm trying not to speak disparingly of the hygene habits of an entire people, but it is fair to say that American hygene far exceeds the norm here. The result is that an indian's constitution can simply handle more bacteria in their diet than we frail Americans. Hence, the Delhi belly.

Yesterday, after climbing a steel ladder in an abandoned (except for monkeys) ashram, I noticed a peculiar yet identifiable brown substance on one of my fingers. I immediately began rummaging in my purse for my antibacterial wipes only to realize that they were missing. Bottled water and vigorous rubbing would have to do until I found a bathroom. Well bathrooms in India do not offer soap or even toilet paper. (One might put two and two together to determine this as the source of Delhi Belly.)

So I spent the rest of the day obsessively compulsively wiping, wetting, and smelling my finger to direct if any offending microbials remained. At one point I considered holding the finger over an open flame and then just decided to leave it ungloved and out of my pants pocket hoping the frostbite would sever it.

Cows do their business all over the streets. People inevitably walk in the dung, walk in their homes, then sit on their floor and prepare a meal. This is how we do it in the home of my cooking teacher, Purnima. If a piece of cauliflower jumps out of the pan onto the floor, she makes a noble and obvious effort to wash it off before she puts it back in the pan, but I'm sure that this show of concern is only for my benefit.

What can one do? Live on the handful of Powerbars I brought with me? No, I just have to close my eyes and eat the food and convince myself that a little dirt never hurt anyone. Or at least not yet.

And I'll remember the antibacterial gel next time I'm climbing monkey ladders.

2009-12-07T15:54:00.001+09:00

This morning, I stood in a steam filled bathroom, drenched in hot water flowing like manna from heaven. I could ruminate on the pleasures of my first non-bucket shower in weeks all day long.

Just wanted to share.

Last night I ran in two British ladies who'd ID met at the farm, so we stuck together and had a nice dinner together. It's nice to see familiar faces in such a foreign place.

Rishikesh

2009-12-06T19:30:00.001+09:00

Ahhh rishikesh. I feel like the locations have been getting better. Dehradun (the city near the farm) was way too intense although not as bad as Delhi. Rishikesh has a beautiful charm to it. The Ganga (Ganges river) is a stunning milky pale green. As we walked over the second bridge to laxman jula, the people hushed their voices in reverence of the holiest river in India. I had to walk about 20 minutes to get to the hotel a friend recommended. On the way down a steep hill, a group of elderly Indian women started
laughing and talking to me in Hindi. The ones closest to me grabbed my arm to steady themselves down the hill, all the while looking up at me a smiling with gapped smiles and gold-adorned faces. Lovely ladies. Hate that I know so little Hindi.

On the way to my recommended hotel, an older man asked me if I needed a room. I'd already declined several offers, but my bag was getting heavy so I followed him to his newly built hotel run by his son and his sweet wife. I have a clean room, my OWN shower and toilet with HOT WATER and a mirror. By the looks of my reflection it seems I could have used a mirror in my room weeks ago. But hey, I've been living on a farm! And the best part? $3 per night. I really like what I see so far in his town so I might be here for a week or so. If I can overcome the intimidation factor I might even join a yoga seminar in the birhplace of yoga! We'll have to see about that as there are copious westerers who look quite serious about their yoga studies here and I am clearly an imposter. Odd how the most critical eyes come from other foreiners?

And this is being sent via a wireless cafe at 75 cents an hour. It is cheaper to live here than in my own home.

Where to go from here?

2009-12-05T14:07:00.002+09:00

It's really hard to put into words all that has happened over the past two weeks of the course. Today the remaining attendees are catching rickshaws, buses, trains and planes scattering them about India and the globe. I will head via bus to Rishikesh tomorrow.

Yesterday during our final lecture, an older French woman asked the Prime Minister of Tibet a question. They each struggled in English to understand each other, English being neither their second nor probably third language. It struck me that all these people - Indians, French, Germans, Japanese, Portugese - were participating in the course in what was not their mother tongue. It felt like an incredibly generous gift, one that I couldn't return if I had to. If the course had been in any other language, I wouldn't have been unable to understand. So one of my goals when I return is to become proficient in at least French or Spanish. It's hard to be a global citizen when insisting that everyone know your language.

The theme of the course was "Gandhi & Globalization". We were exposed to the very real, tangible result of our way of life, how what we consume and shape the world, affects the global south and the ecology of the planet.

On a very cynical level, at several points during the course, I felt like taking out a red white and blue switch and flogging myself. Whenever the "west" was mentioned, it was in a negative connotation. Whenever he U.S. was mentioned, it was followed by a scowl. When I brought up the excessive population, I was shot down immediately and lectured that 1 American child consumes the resources of 30 Indian children. Ironically enough it was he Americans who jumped on me. I had already been aware of this statistic, and it's implication. But still it felt that I garnered a different response simply because of nationality.

My initial reaction was to defend my own country, our way of life, our military adventures around the world. But the objective facts are not on my side.

In assisting my young Austrian friend with her Tibetan article and interview with PM Rimpoche, I summoned all my recently acquired international relations knowledge to explain to her exactly why international law doesn't really matter. Why the UN will never force China to move on the Tibetan issue (or on Darfur) because China has veto power. Why the US can use torture, even though it's against the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, without consequence. And why at the end of the day, in the world we've created, the country with the most dollars and the most tanks win. She is an incredibly intelligent 19 year old with a good understanding of world events. And yet when I finished explaining why no one can do anything about Tibet, she looked at me like I was crazy. How do ethical people, intelligent people, capable and powerful people let this happen? After living in the world for a while, you start to accept things as unchangable But through the eyes of a (relative) child, you can see the madness.

We've all decided that it will be hard going back to our daily lives. Hard to constantly explain why we don't eat meat without sounding preachy and holier-than-thou. Hard to pay taxes that support violent endeavors but don't pay for the healthcare of my loved ones. Hard to ease into consumerist world around us. Even this paragraph sounds preachy! I don't want to be that girl. But I have seen a sort of raw truth come from our experiences here and overlooking it does not mean it ceases to exist. My challenge will be to bring what I've learned into my world and share it wiht others when hey are curious, rather than force it upon them.

So yes, I'm setting out to the wilds of India. I am much more comfortable with the country than when I arrived. I've learned a few steps of the dance of the busy city streets. I no longer fear the rickshaws rides. I know a bit of Hindi. I think I will be fine. I'll try to update as I go!

What did we do back in the olden days?

2009-12-03T19:33:00.003+09:00

We've been spoiled with wireless internet on the farm all this time and when it went out last week we were like puppies without chew toys. So much has happened during the course, but I can't go into it now because there is a queue behind me of salivating internet junkies trying to get their fix on the one computer we must share. I will write more as soon as I get some access. Doing fine and eataing (too) well!

Earth Pilgrim

2009-11-28T11:41:00.002+09:00

Last night we sat around the campfire (an in-door campfire - it's fuh-reezing here at night) to listen to one of our teachers, Satish Kumar, tell the story of how he and a friend walked from the grave of Gandhi in India to Moscow to Paris to London to D.C. and Jfks grave to protest nuclear weapons. It was 8000 miles, it took them 2.5 years and 8 pairs of shoes. This was 1962, the height of the cold war. And they left without a rupee in their pocket.

Their first border was to cross over into Pakistan, a country with which India had had 3 wars. When they go to the border, a concerned friend met them there and pleaded with them, "please at least take these sacks of food I've prepared for you. The pakistanis will not feed and shelter you because you are Indian." Satish said that he equated the food with "beautiful delicious packets of mistrust" for if he were to go to a pakistan with his own food, it would be a sign that he did not trust the goodness of he Pakistani people to feed him as a guest. His friend cried and told satish he feared he would not ever see him again.

Within 5 minutes of crossing over into Pakistan, a pakistani man approached him and said "I've been looking for you every day! I heard about your journey on the radio and I too believe in stopping all this nonsense war." the man took them in immediately for the night and fed them and introduced them to many others who gave them food and shelter along the way.

His story is truly amazing (especially because they entered the Russian border in the midst of winter, Napoleon-style and almost had to stop because of the cold.)

He's written a book about it called No Destination. He is a riveting story teller and I'm sure that translates into his writing, if anyone is interested in hearing more about this fascinating man.

Community stew

2009-11-23T23:26:00.004+09:00

The course participants have started to trickle in. There is a farmer from washigton state. A 65 year old travel addict from Bordeaux who is here for 7 months (don't you miss the wine and cheese?!) there's the yogi fm Canada, the German coeds, the Canadian doctor, the Aussie on a post college tour, the international studies teacher from Denver who is on a 2 year tip around he world with his wife. And of course the British ladies who adore their oneness with nature and abhor Delhi. On this we can all find common ground.

The rest of us seasoned volunteers (I'll indulge myself with membership in this crowd) have been simmering and carmelizing in a pot of Navdanya spices and are now called upon to flavor the newbies with membership in the farm community. What a fragrant and delicious dal curry we make! It's like summer camp for earth lovers! Tomorrow will bring even more ingredients and from what I understand, even an Okinawan girl! I bet a touch of Goya would add a tasty flavor...

20 points for the bovine

2009-11-19T23:16:00.002+09:00

Commandment for Surviving in India #23:

Thou shalt maintain complete and utter faith in thine driver. Failing to heed this commandment could expose you to cardiac arrest, hysteria, or cause you to inadvertanlty fling yourself from a bus window in a fit of madness.

In any instance where you feel your faith slipping, You shall reassure youself repeatedly with the following mantra:

"This man is a PROFESSIONAL driver.
I do not understand the roads of India.
I'm SURE these breaks work.
No that tire doesnt look THAT flat.
Of COURSE the driver sees the cow in his blind spot.
Those children are TOTALLY going to jump out of the way.
That oncoming truck will DEFINITELY stop before it t-bones the passenger side of this rickshaw.
This fully-loaded bus is most certainly NOT going to topple off that cliff, it has the center of gravity of a 15-passenger van!" (inside joke for mom).

Repeat these words as necessary. It is best to sit back, RELAX, and enjoy the scenery as if you were playing a driving video game or some other such diversion.

Oh, and an add-on to commandment #23 which was tacked on during the 2nd Delhi Council of Rickshaw and Bus Drivers in an attmept to adjust the Word to more modern times: if your rickshaw is driving on the wrong side of the road, dead straight for a manuere truck and your driver is checking out the girl on the side of the road, a quick "twack!" to the back of his head is recommended and may even be appreciated. After all, he may be a professional drivers but no one's perfect.

Mussoorie - the Queen of the Hill Stations

2009-11-19T15:51:00.000+09:00

My lodgings in mussorie were wonderful. The hotel is surrounded by terraced gardens and it hangs off a hill. My room had a little enclosed glass solarium with one of those wicker bird swings so I could sit inside while I watched the stars and the night life across the valley. The shower was hot as can be, although the pressure left much to be desired. Finally I just started filling up a small bucket with warm water and dumping it on myself which felt lovely. Also having a bathroom IN your room and not having to venture into the night air is something I will never again underestimate.

The night time views are stunning. Mussoorie hangs from what seems to be a bottomless mountian and glitters like the raj's jewelry box. The road up here twisted and looped about. I don't think they have the same 6% incline max on roads as they do in california. It reminded me of the road to hanna in Hawaii. I was defintiely nauseaus but made it with my dignity intact.

Daytime views are just as beautiful. The main road that links both ends of the city wraps around a valley that is fillled with fog, but is clear enough for you to realize that you are way the he'll up there.

Since this is a vacation destination, and they are perhaps used to seeing people of different stripes, I know longer feel like a fish walking around on legs. Also the store keepers are attentive but respectful when you choose to browse but not purchase. I remember in Korea they'd practically snarl at you if you failed to buy after taking up their time.

This morning I'm going to enjoy some chai and some gohbi parantha, a thin torilla like bread stuffed with a spiced cauliflower mix. Then I will walk up to a town called Landour via a 5k trail and absorb some of the mountain air.

"Just Don't Sleep With a Samosa Under Your Pillow" or "Comfort is Relative"

2009-11-17T18:12:00.004+09:00

Me: So where did you stay in Mussoorie? I'm looking for a good hotel.

Volunteer Kate: Let me think... oh, the Broadway Hotel

Me: Yeah I saw that in the Lonely Planet Guide. Was it nice?

Kate: Oh yearh It was really nice. Very peaceful and spacious and kind of quaint.

Me: So you'd recommend I stay there?

Kate: Definitely. I mean, we had rats in our room but just don't keep food in your bag and you should be fine.

Me: Alright, good tip. Thanks.

---

*** note to concerned husband and parents, i splurged for the $20/night place and it has a toilet AND a shower. Higher roller baby.

You can take the girl away from her laptop...

2009-11-16T11:27:00.001+09:00

I wish I could figure out how to upload my photos from my camera to my blog. There are so many great visuals in this country! But alas, we must make do with with the written (typed) word. I should be more than happy - after all, I am blogging wirelessly from an iPod touch on which I just scandolously downloaded and watched the season finale of Mad Men this afternoon while the other volunteers were off chanting sacred mantras or some jazz. Shhhhh don't tell anyone. Sometimes a girl needs a little Don Draper escape every now and then. (I KNEW they'd bring Joanie back!!)

I walked down the main road today to buy some sweets - the road consists of two lanes with the occaisonal motorcycle or truck passing by and then a metal shack every 50 yards or so that sells something. Of course there are the cows and goats everwhere. And the children no older than three crossing the road as they please, not even flinching at the blaring honks of the trucks swerving to miss them. Is the US the only country on earth where kids get runover by cars or is this an old wives tale? In japan it's the same - kids seem impervious to the threat of traffic. Nor do their parents bat an eye.

Anyway, I brought my Hindi phrasebook with me and repeated the phrase over and over in my head - "I'd like to buy 8 sweets please". I delivered the translation to empty stares and they had to bring some guy over who knew a bit of English to figure out what I could POSSIBLY be saying as I pointed to the candy and held up 8 fingers.

Defeated, but with candy in hand I got home and downloaded a Hindi Lesson podcast on to my iPod. And a "This American Life" podcast for later tonight. Steve Jobs, how do I love thee? let me count the ways...ek, do, teen, chaar, paanch...

Why I'm here

2009-11-15T12:12:00.000+09:00

Nov 15
So I don't think I've actually ever explained to most friends or fam what I am actually DOING at the navdanya farm. Let's see if I can boil it down to it's choice bits:

The global food system is a wreck. Currently, large corporations such as monsanto and cargill are trying patent seeds - patent LIFE as it were - and prevent farmers the world over from saving seeds for the next years harvest, by forcing them to buy this patented seed every year. This is wrecking lives and livlihoods amongst the worlds poor. These companies have gone so far as to take natural pesticide plants (the neem plant, indigenous to India) and patent it to sell back to farmers at a cost then suing them and putting them out of business should they reuse to pay! (even though Indian farmers have been using this plant for years and years). They also take seeds for corn that have been honed and selected over thousands of years by seed keepers (usually grandmothers), add one little genetic tweek to it in a lab, and then patent it as their very own to sell back to the farmers! What was the modification they added in the lab? To make the seed require monsantos very own brand of chemical (toxic) fertilizer to stay alive! Great business plan. Oh and if the farmers don't comply by paying each year for the seed, the court systems intervene and make them. This has happened in the US and in Canada as well.

If there was any doubt as to the intentions of these seed corporations (actually they are chem corporations- the ones who gave us agent orange) they have now created the "terminator" seed. What does this technological innovation do? It up and dies after 1 generation of harvesting. So instead of being replanted every year like has been done since the beginning of the agrarian age, this seed acts as monsanto's own little patent enforcer and keeps the farmer from being able to use it again. He must instead by more from monsanto. What do you think this terminator seed does for world hunger??

The us supreme court has ruled that life can be patented and the WTO tries to enforce these patent laws world wide. There is a giant campaign funded by these chemical companies to make us believe that these patented and genetically modified seeds will save the poor of the third world and anyone who disagrees is a Luddite and an environmental nut who does not care about the starving in Africa.

Chem company represnetatives write for influencial publications such as foreign affairs magazine. They contribute MILLIONS to universities so that they can influence the research that comes out, such as one scientist who was denied tenure for his work against gmos at berkeley. Yes we'd all like to hope that the university is the last bastion of independent thought, but research needs funding, and corporations are increasingly the ones providing the dough.

The yields are not necessarily bigger with the new seed and the monoculture destroys the variety that is needed to keep healthy soil for future generations of harvests.

There is so much more to this that I can't fit on a blog post and that I don't yet understand. The thrust of the reasearch navdanya does is to show that poverty is a result of political choices, and cannot be solved with a scientific fix. The planting and seed keeping on this organic and sustainable farm is actually very scientific and based on thousands of years of knowledge passed down through the women of India.

Many students are here to learn how to farm organically - to make potent fertilizer from cow dung and worms instead of chemical fertilizer (which by the way uses a ton of fossil fuels to make.) this farm teaches farmers how to take these sustainable practices back to their own farms. My particular interest is in the politics of agriculture globalization, and in particular the extent to which the World Trade Organization acts as a patent enforcer and what that does to third world farmers. 99% of economists would argue that the principal of comparative advantage means that if one country produces grain best, another should produce corn and yet another cotton and thentrash trade through the market. But does this really make sense to do with with food when you have communiies who cannot even afford to buy food at the local market and all they grow is cotton that they cant then sell becuase the US subsidizes its cotton to make it cheaper than african cotton? Not to mention the enormous waste of fossil fuels that it takes to ship the stuff around. These are areas I am examining.

We have a tendency in the West to think that the Global South is backwards - that progress means creation in a lab and that reductionist science can cure all ils. The navdanya organization attempts to view the entire system - the politics, the ecology and the PEOPLE to come up win real solutions to hunger that do not include destroying the earth with chemicals or putting the wealth of a third world county in the hands of multinational corporations.

Anyway that's my little tirade. I worked for two hours last night preparing this mornings breakfast (naash-TA) so I am not going to miss it! Tootles.

Whatchyu lookin' at

2009-11-14T12:57:00.000+09:00

This afternoon I walked with another volunteer to the local Friday market in a nearby village. The other volunteer is American but of Indian descent, although her denim pants give her away. We went to check things out and to by some fixings for a salad. The Indian cooks don't serve us raw vegetables - just cooked, and we were hankering for a salad.

As I approached each booth, people would stop and stare at me. My natural reaction is to give a brighter-than-normal smile and the occaisional "namaste" with hands in prayer position. I also throw in an okinawan bow for good measure. In japan you might not get a smile but you will definitely get a bow, and you feel the exchange is complete and you can move on. In India I am constantly left hanging with nothing but an emotionless stare in response - my presense a seemingly personal affront to them.

In all likelihood, I am over-analyzing the situation. I usually assume they think of me as an imperial oppressor or a peace corps volunteer on some self-fulfilling mission here to save them from themselves, or a rich tourist with a grip of 500 rupee notes who needs change when she wants to buy a shawl from your stand for 50 rupees ($1)

...(on a side note, in japan, 500 yen ($5) is a coin instead of a bill and here they have 10-rupee bills, the equivalent of $0.20)...

In Okinawa, I walk around with a lot of American guilt. My cheeks flush red with shame when the f-15s screech by as if I had some control over the flight pattern or our imperial overreach. "Gomen nasai!" I apologize, ears covered, "i hate the noise too!" But I have learned the rhthym of Okinawa. I know that most okinawans blame their government and ours, but they are kind to us as individuals.

In contrast, i have no idea what to make of indian stares. Perhaps they are just curious and smiling is not part of their normal interaction. Perhaps the lack of smiles should not be intepretted as disdain? I really dont know what to think or what they think of me. It's the intense stares I cannot handle - from both the men and the women. I'm speaking as someone who shrank from the prospect of walking down the aisle at her own wedding for being the focus of so many eyeballs. Imagine you walk into a party and everyone just stops and looks at you - not scornfully, but not pleasantly either. And then it happens again and again EVERYWHERE YOU GO.

I'm a bit worried about leaving the farm and traveling again on my own. Hopefully by then I'll have knowledge of some more Hindi which will make these interactions somewhat easier to bear.

This is LIFE

2009-11-13T12:33:00.001+09:00

Yesterday we were visited by about a hundred students from a nearby boardingschool of Tibetan refugee children, grade 8. They were here to study ecology. The English they spoke was quite impressive. "ma'am, can you please tell me was this plant is? Ma'am can you please tell me what is the county with the largest apple exports? Ma'am at what latitude is best for growth of papaya?" and then they'd scribble furiously in their notebooks.
Once they'd uncovered that I was from the US, they wanted to know if ID been to the inaguration of president obama, if I knew Harry potter (?) and Hannah Montana. Also, had I ever met the dalai lama? Well, they all had - of course, and told me that when I did (not if) my heart would be filled with immeasureable joy.

As their Teacher attmepted to corral them for the walk home, a few of them walked out with one of our puppies. They assured me that the kitchen staff said they could have him. "no!" I said "he's not old enough! (only a month). Jeetpol says to me "Anne marie, everyone must eventually go- I livey family too, this is LIFE." I suppose he is right but I missed the pup all night long.

sweet leaves

2009-11-12T19:03:00.000+09:00

Newsflash - farming is physically demanding. Who'd a thunkit? Yesterday I planted basil and cut down massive amounts of it for drying. When planted in a field ( not a windowsill planter) it grows quite high and study. You have to hack at it with a sickle then prune it more than put it through a manual grinder. We ground bales of it. Today I pruned weeds, which is not technically even fieldwork but gardening. It was still very hArd on the knees and back. Elena, a yeAr long volunteer from Myanmar, says that since 'my people' are not familiar with this field labor, I should only work for half the day. Astute observation.

Jeetpol is my best Indian friend here so far. He calls me Anne Marie because apparently I look just like his white friend Anne Marie who was here last year. Now I'm sure everyone here is confused what my name actually is. He made me the best chai I've ever had - he adds black tea to hot water, basil, lemongrass, mint & stevia. Stevia is this magic sweet plant that tastes like it's leaves have been soaked in honey. It can be used in place of sugar. I'm planting pots of it when I get back home.

Last night we walked about 35 minutes to the home of bindu, a woman who works atthe farm, for her daughters bday. Literally throngs of children flocked to our entourage as we approached. They live in a small two bedroom house on the main road with about 7 people. Four of the kids kept trying to drag me away so finally I acquiesced. They took me to a temple and had me pray to each of the statues od goddesses and gods, giggling like mad whenever I would repeat after them. The kids were so happy and fun to be around.

I caught a bit of a cold last night (cow flu?) so I'm layinglow. Most of the volunteers are going to Delhi for a climate change conference this weekend, but im staying put. You couldn't drag me from here back to Delhi with 100 barrels of stevia.

Redemption in the north

2009-11-11T00:02:00.001+09:00

This morning I left the chaos of Delhi behind for the unknown (but very likely much improved.)

On the train i sat next to a german couple who are visiting India for 5 months. They had been delayed in my hotel for 3 weeks while recovering from typhoid (yikes!) and a nasty case of street food poisoning. Cautiously, I ate nothing but naan yesterday so as to avoid that predicament. The train ride was very pleasant, as was the scenery.

Dehradun, 6 hours from Delhi, was it's own chaotic amalgation of smells and sights. But it was clean and more inquisitive than intruding. I suppose they see even less foreigners up here.

I arrived at the farm via a rickshaw outfited with a lawnmower engine after only one flat tire, a very close head on collision with a truck, and completely uncertain of what I'd find. Having had my romantic notions of delhi rather rudely upended, I was afraid that either I would never find the place or that once I got here, i would be sorely disappointed.

It seemed that the bazaars of Delhi were my test, and the farm is my reward. The sprawling 55 acres are beautiful. The lead volunteer here took me on a tour of the grounds and introduced me to countless varieties of vegetables, millets, seeds, cows, worms, puppies, mango trees (35 varieties of those alone!) This was after I was offered a meal of course - "I must warn you it is nothing fancy- simple organic, vegetarian, all grown on this farm, is this okay with you?" um... Yes please! There are several volunteers: Aistrian, potugese, colmbian, Japanese and a few from California. (C-town always represents.) There's a large library on the farm and we are viewing a documentary on global food issues after dinner.

My room has an outlet! It is a crisp cool evening. There is a meteor shower this weekend. I bathed for the first time on the trip so far (no facllities at the last place) with a bucket of warm solar heated water. And this post is reaching you through wireless Internet!!! Yes, I am one very happy camper. If only my hubby and gunner could be here too, i just might make a home here.

Redemption in the north

2009-11-11T00:02:00.000+09:00

This morning I left the chaos of Delhi behind for the ownknown (but very likely much improved.)

On the train i sat next to a german couple who are visiting India for 5 months. They had been delayed in my hotel for 3 weeks while recovering from typhoid (yikes!) and a nasty case of street food poisoning. Cautiously, I ate nothing but naan yesterday so as to avoid that predicament. The train ride was very pleasant, as was the scenery.

Dehradun, 6 hours from Delhi, was it's own chaotic amalgation of smells and sights. But it was clean and more inquisitive than intruding. I suppose they see even less foreigners up here.

I arrived at the farm via a rickshaw outfited with a lawnmower engine after only one flat tire, a very close head on collision with a truck, and completely uncertain of what I'd find. Having had my romantic notions of delhi rather rudely upended, I was afraid that either I would never find the place or that once I got here, i would be sorely disappointed.

It seemed that the bazaars of Delhi were my test, and the farm is my reward. The sprawling 55 acres are beautiful. The lead volunteer here took me on a tour of the grounds and introduced me to countless varieties of vegetables, millets, seeds, cows, worms, puppies, mango trees (35 varieties of those alone!) This was after I was offered a meal of course - "I must warn you it is nothing fancy- simple organic, vegetarian, all grown on this farm, is this okay with you?" um... Yes please! There are several volunteers: Aistrian, potugese, colmbian, Japanese and a few from California. (C-town always represents.) There's a large library on the farm and we are viewing a documentary on global food issues after dinner.

My room has an outlet! It is a crisp cool evening. There is a meteor shower this weekend. I bathed for the first time on the trip so far (no facllities at the last place) with a bucket of warm solar heated water. And this post is reaching you through wireless Internet!!! Yes, I am one very happy camper. If only my hubby and gunner could be here too, i just might make a home here.

Delhi

2009-11-09T13:20:00.003+09:00

Arrived in Delhi last night, and all I can think is... naive, naive, naive. Me with my romantic notions of India. Apparetnly when the Lonelyplant guidebook said the Paharganj Area had a "seedy reputation for drugs and dodgy characters - not everyone's cup of tea" I eroneously pictured something like Mission Beach, where I lived in college, where your neighbors all sold pot, but the vibe was chill and artsy. Recall that hotel room in Leo Dicaprio's "The Beach" where his acquaintance OD's on heroine? Well apparently that hotel is a chain and I'm staying in the India branch! It's my own fault - who could resist $4 per night lodgings? I'm going to have to up the budget a bit.

I have a day to kill in Delhi, but it seems that I'd have to get in a car or rickshaw to leave this area, and let me tell you there is no roller coaster ride that compares to my ride home from the airport last night. Lane lines do not apply, cows are everywhere, pedestrians are for target practive, people bicycle on the highway with carts at their backs. lights don't mean much either.

I never really comprehended what it was like to be a woman in a country like India. perhaps it is better for locals, but the searing glances and advances from Indian men are a bit demoralizing. And they come at you 10 at a time. This morning, I resolved to stiffen my back and I threw a shawl over my head and neck and donned some mirrored sunglasses, which gave me a nice "rich Dubai girl" look. You basically just have to not respond to them, even when they are right in your face insisting you respond. If you say no, or respond in any fashion, it only eggs on the conversation further. The next time I hear an American bitch about the political correctness of treatment of women, or the next time I hear an Anerican, man or woman, claim not to be a feminist, I'm going to scream. We don't know how good we've got it.

Happy to find an internet room, though. Going up to get a bite on the roof of this place and watch the bazaar pass by. I will be in Dehradun tomorrow and at the farm shortly thereafter. I keep picturing Vandana Shiva as my Mother Mary, knowing that if I can just reach her, she will provide safe, clean lodgings and a respite from these pestulant men. Will write from there! Please disregard the somber tone of this email - it was a tough night, but I'm sure once I leave the city it will be much better!

Ronery, So Ronery

2009-09-01T22:06:00.004+09:00

John left for his 5-month deployment today. I've had about 15 hours now to digest, and resist the urge to be overly dramatic. I feel a bit of perspective is in order - or at least the situation requires it of me:

First, we've been living the life of tropical island bums disguised as a "military family" when there are ever-increasing numbers of active duty members deploying to very dangerous places every day. Our time had to come eventually. Secondly, he is only going to be gone for 5 months, when many are deployed for 9-12 months, and often repeatedly deployed. It's not the time or place for complaining. And still, this whole military world is not quite my reality. I'm used to a very pedestrian life back in Los Angeles. We wake up, go to work, come home, watch Project Runway, eat bagels, go to Del's, roll over to Vic & Judi's to read magazines, play with Gunner, go for bike rides. Eat, Drink, Be Merry.

Providence seemed to be having some fun with me this morning. I came back from the airport to a flat tire in the car, a kitty "situation" (the "bootie-drag-boogie" I think Aviva called it?) and a broken Skype phone I have no idea how to fix. But I'm sure this is only fate's way of pointing out that I have become way too dependent on the pillar of stability that is my absent husband. It's time to remember how to take care of myself again - if only till February.

It's odd to realize, but I'm kind of a loner. Which is strange, because I have been particularly social in stages of my life that called for it. I seemed to have a million friends when I was in school and never at a loss for a companion, even for a mini-drive around town at night. I loved that time actually. But because of my current mix of school and jewelry company and applications and plans for my Indian travel adventure, I am not as inclined to try to crash every social gathering on island. In fact, most of my friends have their own families, and their own goings on. It's more difficult to insert myself. Especially since some of my close single friends have left this summer, it's a bit lonely.

Of course, most obviously missing from this "Woe-Is-Me" post is John and what he is going through. He has forgone our insanely comfortable memory-foam mattress to stay in a bunk in the scorching hot middle east, work pretty much 7 days a week, away from his family. But the thing is, and anyone who knows John can attest to this - he will be fine. He is an eternal optimist and can find the best in any situation. I can't decide if that makes me sadder and miss him more, or happy because we're both going on our separate adventures and will have some pretty awesome stories when we see each other again. He would vote for the latter. So, I'll lean towards that angle too.

Anyway, if any of you would like John's PO address while he's in the Middle East, let me know and I'll email it to you. I'm sure he'd like even a postcard from you!

A scuba-heavy weekend

2009-08-03T13:11:00.004+09:00

I'm exhausted from a fantastic weekend. John got back in town Friday night - he had been sent on a ONE DAY work trip to Virginia, if you can believe that one. His total travel time was twice as long as his work conference. Luckily, he was able to parlay the trip into a stateside visit, and see friends and family for about two weeks. I, on the other hand, wet a little nutty by myself. Probably because this short trip was foreshadowing of his diployment to come - less than a month from now. I will have school to keep me busy and jewelry designs to come up with, and a voyage to India! But I'm still sad in anticipation of the months to come.

So this weekend, yes. I completed my four ocean dives and am now scuba certified! Saturday we dove off our local beach and Sunday, we took a 45 minute boat ride out to the Kerama Islands and dove there. John was able to come with us and it was a great day. I apparently am still trying to excise the Nitrogen from my blood because I am exhausted. Last night I could barely lift my arms. Scuba diving felt like flying. There are these underwater landscapes with sandy bottoms and great jutting mountains of colored coral. You can stand in front of a cliff of coral, and just bounce up and swim right over it. While I did feel a bit constrained by the amount of gear, once you get used to the slower speed, it's a heavenly feeling.

Saturday afternoon, we picked up some friends-of-friends and took them to Pizza in the Sky to enjoy some Okinawan views. They are Americans living on the mainland and were just down for a visit. One thing living and traveling abroad does is really open you up to a sort of global "community". You make fast friends in exotic places - both because you want to share your experiences with people and because you realize that the world is much smaller than you had imagined. The networks of people I've met these past couple of years have made the experience that much better.

Trying to earn a good gig in the afterlife.

2009-05-30T21:43:00.011+09:00

Here's a cute picture I found of John and me in Kyoto. That's our tour guide Yui, and her pet monkey. That little primate knew all the hottest spots in town.

So, I'm not too familiar with Buddhism - but isn't there some tenant that says that each time you are reincarnated, you are born to specific parents and put in specific life situations that really test a certain part of your personality that needs improvement? Like if you are a soul that latches on to very materialistic possessions, you will be born to a pauper. I haven't quite figured out the specific purpose of being born to my parents or my family - perhaps in a past life I was an attention-seeker, so in this life I was born as the oldest of 10 children, so as to put me in my place? Perhaps I was a lazy soul in a past life and therefore born to two incredible over-achieving parents so as to get my derrière in gear? Not sure, I'm still trying to figure it all out. I like the idea though.

One flaw I have started to discern in myself is an unfailing need to convince and persuade someone to my point of view. I don't like this tendency, as it always makes me feel really irritated for days after a confrontational conversation. What good does that do me? My most recent example was my (8 hour long) lecture today. By the end of the lecture, I was literally shaking with anger at about 9-10 things the professor had to say. Clearly we came from different view points, this is not unheard of - I have some unorthodox opinions. But I just couldn't wrap my head around (nor could I be quiet about) so much of what he was spouting (something about the innate beauty of a bomb when is is dropped from a B2, about Nixon being the best president of the 20th Century, Gandhi being a moron who destroyed India, and Sadam having somehow caused 9/11, among other pronouncements). Yet, something must be wrong with me that I cannot just let this person exist, in harmony with me, and accept that these are his opinions. They just... make me a little insane.

What do I know? I'm young and have not lived in the world half as long. It's absurd really - what makes me think that I could have any affect on this person's opinions? I just don't get how we could look at the same set of events and come to totally opposite conclusions. I should be able to learn, live and let live. But I can't, and it makes me crazy. See now I'm getting angry just writing about it. I really need to work on this. I should be doing homework, and instead I'm venting in the blogosphere. Ugh, that makes me even more mad.

So yes, my point: I think (or I would if I were Buddhist) that the Universe plucked me out of my Southern California pool house and plunked me right down on to an Air force base in the middle of Kansans and Arizonians and Nebraskans and Texans (oh so many Texans) to remind me that I do not have the monopoly on wisdom - not even close.

Oh it's hard, so very hard for me to get down off my high horse. But I'm going to sit through my second 8 hours of class tomorrow (I should get reincarnation bonus points) and meditate on the cushy gig I'm working towards in the next life.

A celebration and good-bye

2009-05-17T20:34:00.000+09:00

In Okinawa, we have a great tradition called the Olympics. No, this does not involve javelins or lap pools, balance beams or 50-meter dashes. But it’s definitely NOT a spectator sport. The Olympics is the whirlwind of events preceding a PSC (Permanent Change of Station) that usually involves trips to as many Okinawan hot spots as you can squeeze into a 2-week period. Said PCS-er determines what restaurants, hikes, scuba spots, and tourist destinations they absolutely must see before they leave the island for good, and then all their friends make it happen.

Ironically, I believe the term Olympics found its origin because one particularly popular girl had about 12 going away dinners and someone compared it to the real Olympic ceremonies that, well, never seem to end. But now we cherish our Olympics. It’s our last chance to bid our friend farewell, and to get in our seasonal trips to Okuma beach, the Okinawa Aquarium, and Pizza in the Sky. During PSC season, it becomes an absolute marathon of activities, exhausting even the most energetic participants.

Today, we climbed Hiji Falls for the Becca Olympics. It was a beautiful May day, just cool enough to be able to breath without an inhaler. Becca is a flight nurse who has been on this island longer than any of us and most of her close friends have already gone. She was here when we arrived, and made us feel at home.

We’ve come to find military life (well, so far – this is only our first assignment) to be like college life. (Sometimes a little too much like college.) You arrive on the island, not knowing anyone, or what the heck all those darned acronyms mean.
Then, some kindly upperclassmen will take you out to lunch, show you the ropes. Tell you that the cafeteria food sucks, but happy hour at the local pub is a great time. You will feel part of the group – this amazing group of people that have been happily living in a foreign country and sucking the marrow from it. With each new year, a few more of those upperclassmen leave, and before you know it, you are the Seniors, ready to take on your final year. Senior year is great, but it’s never quite as good as those freshman days, when college life seemed never ending, and there was not where to go but up.

This is why it’s important to participate in the Olympics. It’s a proper send off to those who came before, who trekked through the jungle to find the best hikes, who ate at all the bad sushi restaurants so you could eat at the best. It’s a thank you for making this island so welcoming.

Good Friends, Good Bagels

2009-05-15T14:11:00.005+09:00

What a beautiful day. It is starting to push the limits of my heat tolerability index, but sitting in my favorite shady cafe, reading a travel memoir, is just about the best way I can think of to offset the humidity. We have an amazing bagel shop here in Okinawa, called Cactus Eatrip. The interior is lovely and odd - wide, cool, cement floors, white stucco benches with scattered pops of brightly-colored pillows. It is staffed (and owned?) by three young Japanese - two men and one woman. They speak almost no english, but since I order the same bagel sandwich every time, it's never been an issue. The bagels are PHENOMenal. They boil them in a wok and then toast them in a pizza oven. They are never more than 1/2 hour old, and so incredibly soft. Could it be possible that the best bagel in the world is made by Okinawan hands? Think of the consequences of that....

I had lunch with a schoolmate of mine - a guy who's been in the Navy for 9 years. He did his undergraduate and graduate work since he's been in, very impressive. He's one of those wicked smart people that knows a little about everything. Definitely a good meal companion. Then I ran into another workout buddy of mine. This whole life here is so interesting - these are people I would have never met had we not taken this adventure. I'm not generally the type that seeks out new people, that's more John's department (although I reap the rewards). It's so easy, past a certain age, to stop making new friends. My closest friends are the ones I met in college - but I had just stopped there. That was 9 years ago! I find myself incredibly lucky to be surrounded by these fantastic new people. Some sadly moving along - we lost Cortney to the plains of New Mexico last month. Some to leave soon, Lauren's heading off to Los Angeles (JEALOUS!) Most sticking around. I am a lucky duck.

John is acting out his "ahoy matey!" fantasy right now as he is participating in a lawyer exchange with the Navy. Somehow I think that sleeping in a foldout bunk with 3000 other dudes is not quite as romantic as his 2001 voyage across the Atlantic on a 4 person sailboat. But John will make the best of it, he always does.

Happy Spring Welcome Summer!

2009-05-13T15:03:00.009+09:00

You know you're a blogging disappointment when your blogging partner won't return your emails (at my other online home), your grandmother enlists your father's influence to get you to post more, and your sister says "oh you still write that internet thingy?" Yes, I get the point. I'm a bad bad girl.

The thing is, and I've stated this before, I have only so much capacity, and I generally put all efforts towards one project at a time. This wouldn't be so bad if I didn't come up with a new project every day. I just finished my latest quarter of school work. My last paper was an examination of American unconditional foreign policy support for Israel and the resulting consequences...(I know you're begging me to post it cause you're DYING to read something so intriguing, but trust me on this. I'm sparing you.)

In April (seems like only days ago) my good friend Masumi and her boyfriend Scot came to visit. I met them up in Tokyo and then they flew down to see our life here in Okinawa.

It was a glorious spring in the capital city.

Here's a lovely one of Scot and Masumi.

Scot and Mas are rapacious foodies, much like myself. Scot came armed with a culinary itinerary that included Kyubei, what is considered the most famous sushi restaurant in Tokyo. They served the nigiri at room temperature which was surprisingly delightful and the subtle flavors were well worth the insane journey to actually find the place (the kindness of Tokyan strangers is not to be underestimated).

The Benito, with a subtle garlic, ginger flavoring was truly out of this world.

Overall, it was a marvelous trip.

The day my friends left, I had a glance at my calendar and realized that from that moment until, oh about 2 hours ago, I had only barely enough time to finish all my papers and finals. So, in a nut shell, that's where I've been.

Now summer is upon us (the humidity fairy has struck) and I'm looking forward to enjoying our last summer in Japan!

Namaste

2009-03-15T00:19:00.005+09:00

I love a good rant...why is that? What else is dinner conversation for? Religion and politics, of course. I wonder where I got it...it's not like my parents are especially opinionated. Ha, yeah right. Have you met them?

Good grief, no wonder no one wants to dine with me.

MAN there is a lot to rant about these days. But, sometimes it's good to just take a breaaaath. I think it's time to offer a nice appreciative "Namaste" to the lovely little life we've created for ourselves here.

John's been gone for three weeks and thankfully returns tomorrow evening, as I was starting to speak cat. Gunner's a faithful companion and all, but I think I'm starting to get on his nerves. John's return gives me a reason to do the dishes, and really, they need to be done.

Met lots of good new friends this week, some just arrived on island, some just about to leave. Went to the Kadena wine festival last night and talked extensively with someone who happens to know a lot about grass-fed cows and the perils of ethanol, which is, interestingly enough, what I'm reading about right now. Then we went off to the Kadena Officer's Club where I took tons of video footage of men in onsies (pilots) dancing the electric slide (although the kids today call it the Cuban Shuffle). Really, it's like Saturday Night Fever, disco balls and all. Even got out in the dance floor a bit myself, and managed to keep from falling off the stage like I did last week. Home at a reasonable hour, listened to the storm all night. What an island.

Tonight I joined some new friends at their lovely beach-front home, watched the sunset from their porch and ate delicious food and enjoyed sparkling conversation. People in the military can be one-dimensional if that's all you think they are. Or they can be witty and hilarious and generous and remind you of your best friends from home if you just open yourselves up to them. Guess that's true of most situations.

John gets back tomorrow and Gunner and I are beside ourselves. Classes start on Tuesday and although I only got about a book and a half of "pleasure" reading done in the interim, I'm happy to be back on heavy diet of dense political reading. Yep, I'm a big geek. Give me a highlighter and a deadline and I'm happy as a clam. Oh, I'll rant the whole semester. But inside, I'm beaming.

Mother Nature doesn't do bailouts

2009-03-08T22:59:00.006+09:00

Thomas Friedman put into words in Sunday's NYT exactly what I've been mulling over for about 6 months now. Basically this:

Our economy is in large part based upon stuff we don't need. Entire industries are floating on the fact that we are obsessive over-consumers. A different pair of sneakers for walking, hanging out, hiking, cross-training, etc. Baby-wipe warmers (saw that one at a baby shower today). Wine tags so you don't drink the wrong glass of wine at a party (I mean, it's not like I have cooties, geez).

Basically, the way you can draw money out of the system, provide for you family, etc., is to come up with something no one else has thought of, and market it to the point where no one would consider living without it. Hiking up a mountain in walking shoes? (no traction! no balance! no ankle support! no way!) And so we buy our 4 pairs of specialized sneakers. We know deep down that young women in China are getting paid next to nothing to make them. 90% of goods in Walmart are made in China. 90%! It's a buzz-kill to talk about but it's the truth.

I'm reading Omnivore's Dilemma right now. The author spends a great amount of time on corn - just how pervasive it is in the American diet. Food companies have twisted and mixed and chemically altered corn into pretty much everything we eat. Marketers sit around and try to come up with new products made from corn all the time - breakfast cereals, chicken nuggets, energy drinks, you name it. Why do they do this? Because corn is what we have. It's cheap (though nutritionally vapid) and it grows like wildfire in this country. So even though our diet certainly could do without high-fructose corn syrup (1 in 5 Americans being obese and all), that's what we get. It's not what's good for us, it's what's good for shareholders in General Mills. Hmmm....bad for our health, good for the market, that's a poignant dichotomy.

Which takes us back to this economy. Friedman says "the whole growth model we created over the last 50 years is simply unsustainable economically and ecologically and that 2008 was when we hit the wall — when Mother Nature and the market both said: 'No more.'"

I don't think it was in anyone's plans to have half the world working for a pittance just so the industrialized West would be able to afford 4 pairs of $60 sneakers per person. We refuse to work for less than $10/hour, yet we won't pay more than a dollar or so for the labor of making those sneakers (most of that ticket price going to marketing). It's an unequal equation. Someone takes the hit. I think we'd all be happy to pay $200 a pair if we knew that the girl making them could afford a pair too. But we weren't asked to make that sacrifice, and so we'll just avert our eyes. Perhaps that's the underlying picture behind this economic chaos. We've all been living like mini-Madoffs, knowing we were getting wealthy (and tons of cheap stuff) off the backs of others. Maybe this is mother nature's way of righting the balance.

It's 2009 already??

2009-02-21T18:52:00.007+09:00

Where does the time go?? School is going well. Knee deep in the Vietnam war. I had never been that aware of France's colonial involvement at the genesis of that quagmire. Maybe I wasn't paying attention in school, but my history classes never really went into it. Interesting....

Speaking of those pesky French, I just finished my little research paper, and realized that my vocab could use some work. When a professor asks you for 6000 words, there are only so many times you can write "Becuase, you know, like, France is like, totally anti-hegemonic." Ugh. Happily moving on....

...In case anyone was wondering, my husband has one of the coolest jobs ever. When he's not taking a field trip to the Supreme Court....

Or jumping out of black hawks...

He's backseating in an F-15 plane.

Truth be told, I wasn't all that excited about it. The prospect of vomiting in the back of a $30 million rollercoaster is just not one of the things I look forward to in life. But when I showed up in the F-15 parking lot to take photos of him upon arrival, I have to say it was a pretty amazing feeling. And I didn't even make it into the air!!

So yeah, go to law school kids...see how much fun it is to be a lawyer??

John is back in the states for 3 weeks so Gunner and I will be spending a lot of quality time together, cleaning the guest room as we prepare for Masumi and Scott to get here in April. He's promised to clean up all the mini-Gunner dust bunnies as long as I give him hourly rubs.

ADHD and one too many projects

2009-02-05T15:02:00.005+09:00

Turns out I have massive Adult Onset ADHD. This is self-diagnosis, of course, as I'm not going to waste the air force's medical resources just for them to tell me that yes, I bounce around a lot and need to learn to concentrate. On one project. At a time. Clearly they don't know me at all.

I just completed a final on GeoStrategy that kicked my behind. What is geostrategy, you ask? Well since the entire class was only NINE DAYS LONG (two 16-hour weekends and 1000 pages of reading), I stored all the info needed for my test in my short term memory compartment, which I promptly dumped all over an US Weekly the minute class was over. (US Weekly is the girl version of beer, just dumbs you down in a really comforting way.) So - sorry, you're going to have to go to Wikipedia for the definition because I can barely muster the word.

So now I just need to write the paper for that class, but I swear, I cannot summon the intellect. I tend to stick with subjects I understand (hence that dramatic hole where math and science should be on my transcript) but this class was just a little too much.

Anyway the point was (see how I drift?) that I have been a horrible blogger lately because of other commitments. Actually that's not true, I've been blogging, just not here. I guess I never really mentioned it, but last year my friend Judi and I started another blog - Creme de la Mode - with an eye towards fashion and design. It's gradually getting more readership in the design-field which is great. I think with the demise of certain magazines, like the recent shut down of Domino, there is an opportunity for taste-makers in the blogosphere. Anyhoo, if you are so inclined, you can read it here: thecreme.wordpress.com

Other than that, I have another midterm tonight. (But instead of studying, I'm writing a blog.) Just heard confirmation that my friend Masumi and her BF are coming to visit us in April. Astonished by this news as even my family has made no mention of visiting prospects. Oh and John and I are heading to Kyoto next week for a much deserved mini-honeymoon. I will be sure to take lots of photos. Jewelry designs due in the states March 1....other jewelry designs due in Tokyo mid-february...John has a mini-trial set for mid-february....it's a busy little factory over here at the Preston-Tomans!

Oh and BTW, it's about 80 degrees without a cloud in the sky. Don't you wish you were coming to Okinawa?

The Erin Brockovich of the Auto Industry

2009-01-30T09:12:00.005+09:00

Hi Everyone. I've been so busy with school that my blog has been tragically neglected. But I thought this warranted special attention - my mom is being awarded tonight for Consumer Advocate of the Year for her decade of work trying to make cars safer. Thought I'd share the article with you. Isn't she puuurty?

PHILADELPHIA, Jan. 27 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ -- Paula Lawlor, a former legal assistant, now independent contractor to attorneys nationwide who represent victims of automobile rollovers and the founder of the non-profit People Safe in Rollovers will receive the Consumer Advocate of the Year award from the Consumer Attorneys of San Diego at the Annual Awards & Installation Dinner at the U.S. Grants Hotel in downtown San Diego on Thursday, January 29, 2009.

The dinner and program, in the Presidential Ballroom will begin at 6:30 p.m. Other award categories are Trial Lawyer of the Year; Legislator of the Year; Judge of the Year and the J. Alexys Kalafer Award.

For the past 10 years Lawlor, who sees herself as a "social entrepreneur" -- one who believes that "to get things done and change society, you must be willing to go outside the normal channels" -- has been on a mission to fight for a stronger roof strength standard and to inform the motoring public about the devastating effects of "roof crush" while alerting consumers about the ramifications of the proposed inadequate Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standard, FMVSS 216.

Due to the efforts of Paula Lawlor and Kevin Moody, a father from Oklahoma who lost his son Tyler to injuries sustained from "roof crush" in a rollover 6 years ago, and Senator/Dr. Tom Coburn, there was a June 4th, 2008 Senate Oversight Hearing on Vehicle Roof Strength in Washington, D.C.

Despite the fact that every year in the U.S. 10,000 die in auto rollovers and 24,000 are catastrophically injured, the roof strength standard has not changed in thirty-six years and the deadline for a new roof strength standard has been repeatedly postponed. The July 1st, 2008 deadline imposed on National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, NHTSA, was derailed by the June 4th Senate Hearing because both Republican and Democrat Senators alike objected to the new weak standard proposed by NHTSA and the insertion of a preemption clause that would have robbed litigants of their constitutional right to sue and preempted all common law liability for manufacturers.

A new deadline was set for October 1st, 2008 and missed.

A second deadline was set for December 15th, 2008 and missed. The third deadline for the new roof strength standard is now April 30th, 2009.

It was while working with attorney Michael Piuze on the Robbie Lambert vs. General Motors trial in 2000, which resulted in a $25.7 million verdict for rollover and roof crush victim Robbie Lambert, that Lawlor realized that General Motors was not only aware that its roofs would not hold up in a rollover but that General Motors wrote the woefully inadequate standard to ensure that its own vehicles would pass the test.

Lawlor wanted the public to know what she knew and what juries were hearing: American auto manufacturers are fully aware that there is no occupant survival space built into many of their vehicles in the event of a rollover. The problem was that the documents Lawlor unearthed were protected and went back into protective status after trial and were not allowed to be given to the press or others to inform the public.

So Lawlor changed course and began urging attorneys to help her get documents free of their protective claim. She persuaded Alabama attorney Dana Taunton, to ask the judge to declassify the videos and test reports of the early GM drop tests from the late 1960's. Taunton walked out of court with a judge's order in her favor. The visual evidence of the early GM drop tests provided proof that GM knew its roofs would not hold up when subjected to forces in a rollover. Yet these same vehicles passed the government's static strength test FMVSS 216.

Then in 2006, Lawlor with Dallas attorney Todd Tracy, gathered the "roof crush" documents that Lawlor had worked to declassify and wrote Deadly By Design (which is linked to www.PeopleSafeInRollovers.org).

For Lawlor, it has been a battle every step of the way with setbacks, roadblocks, threats and intimidation from auto manufacturers and others opposed to her mission to change the standard for roof strength and save thousands of lives annually.

NHTSA's proposed rule, which now appears to have been categorically rejected, would only save 13-44 of the 10,000 people that die annually in rollover related accidents. "This," says Lawlor, begs the question, "Who is protecting the people?"

My foray into socialized medicine

2009-01-09T10:26:00.004+09:00

I don't like going to doctors or hospitals, and tend to try to cure my ailments with "Eastern remedies" as john would call them. This can mean herbs, vitamins, acupuncture, a serious anti-oxidant diet, or really just letting the old immune system do its job, even if I have to wait it out. (Note to reader, never try this with an aching tooth. Your immune system will not "fix" it. And you will find yourself crying in an oral surgeon's chair begging him to rip it out.) Generally, my health is pretty good, and managed to dodge some medical land mines when I went home (flu, colds, poison oak).

I can't remember going to the doctor when I was young, except to get my ear pierced. It's not that I dislike doctors, I just have very rarely had decent medical insurance, and it semed like more of a hassle to go to one than to just stay home. Sometimes, though, the garlic/spinach/eye-of-newt concoctions I whip up at home just can't crack the problem, and so off to the doctor I go.

This was my first time using the socialized medicine that the Military so graciously offers its active duty and their dependents. I called up at 7am, said I'd like to see a doctor. "Ms. Preston, how does 8:40am today sound?" Sounds like good service to me. Within an hour I was out, on my way to get my prescription (in the same building). I asked the pharmacist how much I owed him for the little brown bag, and he says "surely, Ms. Preston, you must be new. Your medical care is our first priority, it's all on the house!" Imagine that. Medicine that is timely, free and doesn't drag a sick person through the mud in order to just get in her car, drive home and go back to bed.

Okay, I left one little part out. When I was waiting for the MD to come in the little room, a "tech" (not a nurse, but a very early 20's young lad) had to run down a list of my medical history with me. Typical questions:

Q: Are you a smoker?

A: Not for a year now. (yay!)

Q: Do you drink coffee?

A: Not for about 5 months now. (another yay!)

Q: Do you drink alcohol.

A. That would be a yes.

Q: How many drinks would you say you have a week?

A: (let's see, one while making dinner, one while eating dinner, a few at the club, a beer at the beach....boy am I glad I quit drinking for New Years) "I'd say ten. About ten."

Q: I'm going to go ahead and put down 3. 3 is a much more acceptable Air Force Number.

Excuse me? Acceptable Air Force number? What exactly does that mean? I have visions of being summoned to AA meetings by John's commander. Who exactly sees these records anyway? Does HIIPA even apply? What about doctor-patient confidentiality? Who is this kid anyway, he doesn't even look old enough to work here. Is there a camera in this room? I start to glance around. What if my illness is directly related to the number of alcoholic beverages I consume weekly, and because you are trying to shield me from Big Brother, the doctor might never find the cure for me. This is how episodes of House begin.

All in all, I'd give socialized medicine an 8 out of 10. Especially when I think of the various times in my life when I did not have insurance. Yes, the Big Brother aspect of it creeps me out. But it's better than sitting at home sipping that stinky garlic tea waiting for my immune system to kick in.

Back to school, back to school

2009-01-08T21:26:00.002+09:00

I started classes again today! Tonight's class was contemporary Foreign Policy with Dr. Bosworth, who is a really great teacher and all-around interesting guy. I went to Coffee Casa, a Japanese coffee shop about a block from my house to start my reading. Reading "Rise to Globalism" by Stephen Ambrose & Douglas G. Brinkley. It's highly readable and a good recap of the last 70 years of US military actions. It seems the more I read, I feel like the less I know. How does one accumulate so much knowledge that they feel like they can speak authoritatively on a subject? I was thinking that today when Dr. Bos was teaching - granted he's got about 15 years on me, and an PhD. But will I ever get there? I read one author and think - yeah, that argument totally makes sense, and then I read another author who disagrees with author number one, and think - no wait, he's right, clearly. Being "smart" used to mean acing tests. Smart it a whole other thing now. Sometimes the smartest people are dead wrong (also reading Halberstam's the Best and the Brightest re vietnam). How can I begin to have an opinion that would be worthy of writing something scholarly (which I will have to soon) when I am still so unsure of my own opinions? I'm in this class that is pretty much 90% active duty military officers. Wouldn't they clearly know more about foreign policy than I? I guess I'm just taking it all too seriously tonight. That and because we dealt with the Spanish-American War tonight - an event that mysteriously escaped my 18+ undergrad history classes. Sigh.

So anyway, I was in Coffee Case, a lovely wooden cafe, drinking some tea, listening to an American Jazz compilation on the speakers, and reading an interesting book. I got this swell of happiness that I have not gotten since 1. I returned to UCSD to graduate; and 2. I was studying at Dartmouth. It is a warm contentment that is better to me than even Christmas Bonus Day (basically, I can't buy it). I love being a student. I love using my brain every minute that I'm a student. I love hearing theories and trying to disprove them. I love the freedom of a student - instead of having to have my derrière in a seat 8 hours daily even if my mind is turned off. I'm so lucky right now that I can be a student while still having this incredible overseas adventure.

Cortney's BF is in town, so john and I are going to go over to her place tonight for som e zesty beverages. She's trying to break my new years resolutions, but I will not be broken.

Happy 2009!

2009-01-01T15:00:00.004+09:00

Wow, 2009 already! We are sitting around just lounging on the couch today, contemplating New Years resolutions. Here are some photos from yesterday...

Gunner bunner and me.

A typical weekend morning pose.

Last night at the New Year's eve party

Sadie, my friend and trainer - can you believe she's 5 months pregnant?

Becca, Jen, John and Cortney

Packing....

2008-11-18T09:09:00.002+09:00

...on my way to my California Tour 2008! I leave tomorrow, and can't wait! I am leaving John and Gunner and Deuce Fishalo Fish Gigolo (our beta) for Thanksgiving and am feeling very guilty about this. John already has about 6 invitations to various holiday parties without me. I've also heard him make secret plans to have Guitar Hero parties with his friends which will involve beer, pizza boxes and couch-sleeping.

It's about 70 degrees today which is a great deal colder than it has been (November? I thought it was still August.) I'm looking forward to a crisp clear San Francisco trip and am packing accordingly. Can't wait to see all my friends and family!

The Power of Words

2008-11-05T21:14:00.006+09:00

In 1971, Archie Bunker lit up television screens with what would now be seen as shocking political incorrectness. His views stemmed from his experience, from his hard life, from what he knew. He was liked by audiences - thought of as a decent man, if not somewhat misguided. A product of his times.

Watching "All In The Family now," in 2008 - the jokes don't even seem that funny. We've left that dialog behind... it doesn't resonate. From the Greatest Generation to the Boomer Generation, to Generation X, Y, Z (Can't we do something noteworthy already?) the discriminatory language and animosity against other races has faded. Political correctness has won the day.

And everyone makes fun of political correctness, but I'll tell you what I think it's brought. It allowed a black man to receive 62 Million votes today. 9/10 people polled at the booths said "race is not an issue". How is that for the power of kitchen table conversation? Because my parents and their parents would not tolerate racism or any talk resembling racism in their homes, my brothers and sisters and I didn't blink at the thought of electing a black president. And because millions of other homes around the country did the same, we've made a seismic shift in less than half a century.

Only 40 years after MLK was shot. Whether you voted for him or not, that is something that should give us pride.

Halloween

2008-11-01T13:28:00.003+09:00

The Japanese kids LOVE the trick or treat holiday. Oh boy. With pitch perfect English, these midget pumpkinheads and witches would ask "Trick or Treat?" and say "Thank you!" Not a one needed to be prompted on the "thank you." So adorable. So very wee.

From what I understand, Okinawans don't celebrate Halloween, but because there are so many Americans here, the kids get into the spirit. Not every one of the houses in my neighborhood were giving out candy last night, but apparently word got out that C-17 (ours) was flinging bags of M&M's like it was goin' out of style (and we were). At about 6:30 pm, I had to leave to pick up John from the office. I walked over to my car in the driveway, and out of no where comes a pack of two-wheeling 5 year olds, biking past all the other condos, then promptly flinging their bikes on our doorstep and furiously knocking on our door. They didn't even notice that the mistress of the house was standing 5 feet from them. The word on the street was "C-17's got the goods!" and that's all they needed to hear.

After several rounds of this dance (me trying to escape my own driveway, then going back in to get candy) I finally got John and we went to Gordie's for the evening. Gordie's is a hamburger joint in the neighborhood run by a lovely Okinawan couple. It's pure 1950's hawaii, complete with surfboards and palm leaves. Limited menu, but the best onion rings in town. Even some of the tables are made from 1950's school desks. You can count on hearing the Beatles, Elvis or oddly Jack Johnson (Okinawans are obsessed with Jack Johnson, it seems). John had arranged to have Gordie's play Ju-on, the Japanese version of the Horror movie "The Grudge". They have an outside deck complete with projector and huge screen. It felt like we were at a drive in.

The scariest part of all was the bats. They flew overhead the entire movie. I'm always afraid one is going to dive-bomb me. Two nights ago we were standing underneath a giant tree just infested with bats. We had flash lights, and we would try to illuminate them. They are more monkey than bird - they have these creepy little hands that climb through the branches like monkeys, trying to find the perfect branch for upside-down hanging. Up close their faces even resemble frightful little monkeys, with blonde goatees that stick straight up when they sleep upside down. How fun to have a Halloween complete with herds of bats flying overhead!

2008-10-31T11:17:00.003+09:00

Happy Halloween! I tried to carve an elaborate pirate pumpkin and it ended up as pumpkin soup. Oh well.

John got a defense verdict this week! Yeah! He's so much fun to watch... I try to go to his trials when I can. I feel like I'm back working in a law firm, sizing up the jury, etc.

I finished this session of bootcamp today - 5lbs and 3 inches trimmer. It is still 85 degrees here if you can believe it. I am just so excited to come home for Thanksgiving.

Protests

2008-10-28T15:02:00.004+09:00

I'm reading this book - Blowback, by Chalmers Johnson, a UCSD professor (although I never had him). Prophetically written just prior to 9/11, its title refers to CIA terminology for the unintended consequences of secret American foreign policy actions. Interestingly for me personally, a large portion of the book talks about Okinawan and the continued American military presence on this island. I'm not sure if I've expressed it in previous posts, but Okinawans are not Japanese. Their history includes Chinese colonization, then Japanese, then American, (it actually became part of America from '45-'72), then America "gave" it back to Japan. That's fairly recent. That's Watergate recent.

Without going into Dr. Johnson's entire thesis, I found as I was reading that his account of Okinawa and their feelings towards the US Military to be a little.... extreme. He details a deep seated resentment by the Okinawans (and many mainland Japanese) at our foreign policy and it's implications for their country. He warns that the results of this resentment have been, time and time again, a blowback, or some form of terrorist attack on American interests. (like I said, pretty prophetic that it was written just prior to 9/11.) Still, his inclusion of Okinawans in the book seemed so extreme to me. The Okinawans are lovely people. Sure, I can't converse that well with them, but they always greet me with a smile when I run into them on the street. I haven't noticed any outright hostility. Sure, there are some restaurants that shoe us out, pointing to signs that say "no Americans." And some of the places we do like to go definitely give us the cold shoulder and bad tables. There are the hand-painted wooden signs in our neighborhood that say "No more Sunabe Airbase." And obviously when the alleged attack of the young girl by the Marine happened several months ago, the island was pretty hostile to Military.

All in all, I think it's really easy for the military to live in a bubble as to how our hosts really feel about us. After all, it is the Japanese government, not the Okinawans that have acquiesced to our residual bases here. The word on the street is that Japan relies on us for safety in the treacherous Asian continent, what with Kim Jon Il, et al. Although, Johnson really refutes that theory as a cover for our own interests.

Yesterday, I was driving home from the gym, and as I crossed out of the Kadena gate, I noticed large film crews filming cars as we exited the base, and a good sized mob of protesters, all Okinawan/Japanese. The signs were in Kanji, and I could not read them. I presume that they were not protesting Johnny's Used Cars, which is located across the street from Kadena AFB, but rather the base itself. No info on the news about this protest (the only English TV we get is AFN, provided by the military, and not likely to cover a protest to our base). Japanese TV may have had a story, but I really can't understand Japanese enough to get much from it.

What is my point? I'm not quite sure. Much of the point of Blowback was that it was the result of SECRET foreign policy actions taken by our government (in our name). Like our role in the coup of Mossadegh in Iran. Like arming the Taliban in the 80's. The secret part is key. But it does not have to be a deliberate secret. An ignorant population has the same effect as a secretive government. I did not even know that we had military bases in Japan until my husband's job dragged me into the middle of it, nor did pretty much anyone I know. There are thousands and thousands of Americans on this island. An island the size of Los Angeles... U.S. bases take up one fifth of it. So maybe it's not that US foreign policy is secret - the information is out there for those who search. But these protests are not on the news. As an American citizen and a military wife, I am interested in knowing why my neighbors are upset. And yet, I can't seem to find out the details of this protest directed at one of our bases. But I think I can make a guess.

Just trying to make sense of it all.

Takashimaya

2008-10-24T18:32:00.009+09:00

So, certain readers have complained recently about my lack of bloggage. I have no one to blame but myself. Those of you who know me... (and lets get real, the only people who read this blog are my father, mother in law and father in law. And George. Hi George.) ... those of you who know me, know that I can be focused to a fault. These days, graduate school is sucking up the majority of my focus, which also entails a ton of political reading, and then, naturally the election which is driving me insane. My poor overworked husband is not home enough to distract me out of this hole, so I'm left here stewing in my own juices. The jewelry biz has also been taking a lot of time. We put together a really great photo shoot last month, and I will be posting the photos on the Jib & Genoa site soon. Lord knows that the first thing to go in a bad economy is JEWELRY, so we'll see how long we can stay afloat.

So speaking of jewelry, I realized that I never posted Tokyo photos other than the Mt. Fuji ones. The second day we were in Tokyo, we stopped by Takashimaya, the Japanese department store that carries our jewelry.

Takashimaya is like a Neiman Marcus only much bigger. I'd compare it to Harrod's of London, and they have many many stores around the world. They are one of our biggest customers.

We even made it into their Christmas catalog last year!

Lauren and I were milling around the jewelry section, looking for remnants of our jewelry (they had ordered for Holiday '07, so if they had anything left, I figured it would be in a sale bin.) Very shortly thereafter, I spotted the Jib & Genoa case. I was so excited to see it, and Lauren said I should snap a photo. I know that most department stores forbid photography, but I thought I'd take a shot. In my broken Japenglish, I asked one of the shopgirls if I could take a photo. She politely declined my request. So then I said "I am the designer" trying to tell her that I'm only taking a photo of my own pieces. Meanwhile, I couldn't have looked less stylish. I'm pretty sure I was wearing a beanie, a baggy t-shirt and baggy jeans not in an interesting, Kate Moss sort of way. There is no way she's going to buy that I am a designer.

WELL. She just about fainted. She starting waving her hands around and putting them over her mouth. Then she told another shopgirl and that one put her hand over her stomach and her heart and started smiling and giggling. Then those two go tell two more shopgirls and they are literally freaking out. Yammering to each other putting the back of their hands to their foreheads. thankfully, they composed themselves long enough for me to take a photo.

Meanwhile, Lauren, who has the most infectious laugh you've ever heard, is laughing hysterically at this ridiculous gaggle of Japanese girls who are freaking out because I am an actual designer and clearly look like a fool. It was the most embarrassing and flattering moment that I can recall.

I think I should get a videographer and just go around to clothing stores here and tell people I am the designer of this or that, and just film them freaking out. I love Japanese people.

I am counting the days till I get to go home for the holidays. I am craving some heirloom tomatoes from the Santa Monica Farmer's Market. It's odd how you can miss certain types of produce. Daikon radishes and bitter mellon just don't do it for me.

Welfare and Pork

2008-10-05T15:27:00.003+09:00

Want to know how those bi-partisans in congress got that dirty diaper of a bailout bill passed? How they garnered the support of those liberal Democrats looking out for main street tax payers and conservative Republicans who are ideologically opposed to corporate welfare?

They bribed them. Works every time. Here's some fun ones:

1. Repeal of a $.39 excise tax on wooden arrows manufactured in Oregon;

2. $128 million of tax relief for the manufacturers of car racing tracks, aimed at congressmen in Nascar states, such as Virginia and North Carolina;

3. A provision to give $10 million in tax breaks to small television and film producers (thankfully not my congressman Waxman, because he had already, amazingly voted for it. At lease he's not being bought);

4. $223 million to Alaskan fishermen who were affected by the 1989 Exxon Valdez disaster.

5. An increase in limit on the excise tax of RUM to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands

6. $19 billion for companies doing research and experimentation in the United States, (Microsoft, Boeing, United Technologies, EDS, and Harley-Davidson)

7. $148 to clothing manufacturers that use imported wool fabric.

8. $3 million to businesses doing business in American Samoa.

Full list here, in full Orwellian prose.

Testy Armchair Punditry

2008-10-03T18:00:00.006+09:00

Andre left today. We had a great time, did some jungle hiking, drinking habu-sake with cross-dressing performance artists, got some acupuncture, went to McDonalds...the complete Okinawa experience. Much of the time we sat around and watched the American economy flush down the toilet. Fun times.

Ah, the election that never ends. Everyone's an armchair football coach. Everyone's got a better strategy, a better plan for victory. If only there was a direct line to the QB's headset from the red phone on my coffee table, surely the darn Chargers/49ers/ Patriots would win. Right?

This is how I approach this election. Sitting on my leather recliner, O'Douls in hand, (have to keep the mind clear during the debates) I can shoot down at least 1/3 of everything these candidates say. And all I can think is WHAT IS STOPPING THEM from just GOING THERE. I guess Biden's not supposed to attack a woman because he's a loudmouth and it would look bad, but she sure got off some snarky and sarcastic remarks, but laced with that twinkle in her eye, it passes for charm?

So she says that McCain is a warrior who's been in wars and knows how to win wars, and I can't help but ask, "what war would that be? what war was he in that he knew how to win?" I don't understand the touchy-feelly nostalgia that haunts the baby boomers about Vietnam that makes it a subject that can't be brought up, but hello? Did we not LOSE THAT WAR? Can we say that yet, cause it's been 33 years. Did it not take tens of thousands of lives and years to realize that? Have the books not been written? When McCain says "we're safer today than we were 7 years ago" this is your chance, big O, this is where you say "NO WE'RE NOT. We've unleashed a virtually unilateral, illegal war in the center of massive cluster of really pissed off people and created generations of potential terrorists, our ports are not an ounce safer, and we're making enemies out of former allies." But no, Obama agrees with him.

And McCain had the perfect opportunity to gather a ton of public support and re-energize his conservative base voting no on this crazy bailout. The public is overwhelmingly against it. My Senator Feinstein got 95,000 phone calls, 85,000 of which told her to vote no. Voting "no" falls right in step with what had once been the republican party line of fiscal conservatism. I don't get it. Now he's wishy-washy and said something to the effect that Gee-Dub should now veto it? Amazing. Then again, what the heck to I know?... they're the politicians. They see these big crisis' coming, except, when of course THEY DON'T.

So I learned something interesting today. The Democratic and Republican candidates actually made a confidential contract this year regarding the "terms" of the debate, presumably to determine what was off limits. The public does not get to see this contract. The organization that conducts the debates (every debate since 1984) is run by a private corporation, funded by none other than (.....wait for it.....) corporations that have regulatory interests before the congress!! Yep, that sounds just about right. Anheiser Bush is the largest contributer, and that's why the debate took place in St. Louis. Corporate sponsored debates!!

Originally, debates had been funded by the League of Women Voters ('76-'84) who would refuse to implement any secret contracts between candidates, and would also allow third party candidates. In 1987, the parties created a private organization, run by two lobbyests, who has, ever since, had 100% control over the moderator and the subject matter that can be discussed. No third party candidates are allowed, unless the two-party candidates allow them to come in (as was the case with Perot - Dems wanted him in, Reps agreed if they cut the # of debates).

So, No Cynthia McKinney, No Ron Paul, No Ralph Nader, No Bob Barr. Oh and BTW, McKinney, Paul, Nader and Barr are the only people running for president that don't want to bail out wall street with tax revenue we don't actually have. They are the candidates that want to limit the military industrial complex and end the Iraq war. We don't get to hear from them. Because those apparently aren't options worth debating with Obama and McCain. Both parties are complicit in this wall street/sub-prime mess, but we don't get to hear any dissenting voices.

Instead we get a weak debate with sound bites, repeating everything we already know about the two corporately funded candidates. How do we expect to have candidates that represent us when I can only contribute $2000 but there is practically no limit to the money that corporations can run through their campaigns.

Anyway, that's all the news from Lake Wobegon. Johnny has another trial on Monday, will keep y'all updated!

New to the Island

2008-09-26T19:50:00.003+09:00

Ron-Dre has finally arrived. That is "Andre" to those unaffiliated with the Toman family. Our first visitor. Today I took him to hit some balls and the #1 driving range in the Pacific. Then we patronized the "Partridge and the Pear Tree" a Japanese supermarket, given it's name by unknowing Americans because of it's twin bird logo. There we found a de-rish-us assortment of Nori (seaweed leaves) Pockey sticks (Japanese cookies) Asahi Beer (Naturally) and vats of Kimchi for Andre whose taste buds have been depleted by one too many government-issued MRE's in the dessert. Blech.

John won his first trial today!!! The defense had no idea what was coming, and no idea that he has years of experience in the Demonstrative Evidence field....he blew them away with an animated powerpoint presentation. A man after my own heart.

My International Relations classes are so exciting. I basically sit in a classroom and argue politics for two hours a day. Happy as a kid in a candy store. John is now pleased he's off the hook as my political punching bag.

Feeling grateful at this moment that I am too broke to worry about a stock portfolio. Here's apropo quote that a friend of a friend wrote the Washington Post:

"While witnessing, but not participating in, the home real estate frenzy in 2005 and 2006, I kept asking: Who is the idiot buying up all these mortgages issued on inflated home prices to all these people who have neither the capacity nor the intention to repay the loans?

Now I learn it was me."

Darn.

Typhoon "Siniaku"

2008-09-10T17:12:00.004+09:00

Siniaku is making a visit to our shores. It's a good thing because all that beautiful grass was drying up and it was starting to look pretty dismal. Good thing that this entire island is built from slabs of cement, which I now thoroughly embrace and am thankful for, even if it makes for a less than aesthetically pleasing landscape. Hopefully we won't lose power for too lone. As Aviva said, clearly I've irked someone upstairs because this typhoon is interrupting our jewelry photo shoot, which was supposed to happen on a lovely serene beach just as Siniaku is hitting the shore. I think it could make for some interesting shots, but I don't know if our models would be into the whole 150 mph wind thing.

Updates as I have them.

Fuji-san!!!

2008-08-28T07:52:00.016+09:00

Back from Fuji! What a beast that was. It was not snowy like in this photo, but it was just as high. My friend Lauren convinced me to leave the comfort of my tropical island to see what the mainland had to offer. I had in my mind the idea that it would just be a few hours of hiking and snapping pictures. It was quite a bit more involved than that.

We left the hotel at 2 am to get to the mountain at 4:30 am, bags packed with liters of water, energy goo, tuna triangles (japanese treat) and government issued-peanut butter. I decided to be on the safe side and buy canned oxygen and a walking stick - no sense in being unprepared.

The hike started out in a foggy mist through a forest, the outline of the trees barely visible in the dark. The only time I actually felt out of breath on the hike was in this initial stage, and I think it was just getting used to hiking with all that junk on my back. The breathlessness quickly subsided.

You can climb during the day, or at night. Obviously, it seemed a better choice for us to climb in the day light, as much of the terrain was rocky, sharp basalt rocks that required some skill even in day light. But looking back, one of the most mentally challenging parts was seeing a rest stop just above you, thinking it was about 10 minutes away, then not getting to it till an hour later. Also, it always appeared we were at the top.

Then, once you get to that point, the mountain, inexplicable seemed to grow taller. I think I would welcome the cover of darkness just to keep my expectations in check.

After a few hours, we emerged above the cloud line.

Every now and then, there were leveled off "check points" where you could take off your pack and get a brief rest. Towards the top, I started to nap at each one for about 10-20 min, which was not a good sign. At each check point, they would burn a stamp into your walking stick, to show your progress.

Lauren refueling. We ate about 2000 calories before noon.

Most of the walk was barren basalt with no foliage above the cloud level.

One of the check points

I was really surprised to see so many children on the hike! I think these kids spent the night on the mountain (the checkpoints have a large room that I think you can camp in). That way, they could break down the hike and adjust to the altitude.

They were enthusiastic and even carrying there own stuff! I honestly cannot imagine American kids hiking up hill all day without complaining - especially this American kid....

There were many older Japanese people as well - I'm guessing 60-70. Maybe even older. I read somewhere that one of the reasons Okinawans live the longest on the planet was that extensive walking is part of their daily routine. This was becoming evident as many of the Americans were peeling off and feeling the pain, getting whooped by 70 year old grampas hiking to the top.

Here we are at 3000 meters above sea level. (9842 feet)

This is about where it started to unravel for me. I wasn't breathless - and I used my can of oxygen just in case. My legs weren't even really tired (not until I was hiking down hill, and that was more of a knee/shinsplint issue). I was well hydrated and well-nourished. It was the altitude sickness. Basically my organs were expanding. I had consistent nausea and a migraine that seemed to increase with each foot of altitude. I started to take mini-naps at each stop to relieve the headache, but as soon as I would stand up, it would return. I made it to the last stop before the top, about 300 m, and then decided it was best for me to head down. Knowing I would probably never attempt this climb again, I was a little disappointed that I couldn't make it to the top, but I was afraid I would get really sick.

Here I am grinning through the pain.

It's hard to see perspective in this photo, but the clouds were so far beneath me it felt like I was in an airplane.

Lauren powered through, and made it up to the top, and took a great picture, which I will post as soon as I get it from her. I mean come on, would you expect any less from an Air Force 1st Lt?

I did meet some Army guys who turned around where I did, so I didn't feel so bad. We got to the bottom at 5:15 pm - 12.5 hours of hiking. When we got back on the bus, I overheard a guy say "Why did I think that was a good idea?" That pretty much sums it up. Except that as I was descending as quickly as I could, trying to relieve my altitude sickness, I glanced up at this volcano, and I couldn't believe I'd gotten up so high under my own power. That moment was worth it.

More about Tokyo in next post!

"The fastest I ever swam" or "How not to become lunch"

2008-08-09T21:30:00.013+09:00

It was a bad plan from the start. We were too casual. We didn't have a buddy system. Looking back it was just a badly executed dive.

We went snorkeling today. Correction, I went snorkeling, John, Cortney and Dick went scuba diving. There is a big difference. Scuba divers sink to the bottom of the basin to check out the the intricacies of the underwater netherworld. Snorklers flail about on the water's surface looking like bait.

We went as a foursome, and we ended up as a twosome and two loners. I was one of those loners. We went to a place called "Toilet Bowl" which you have to hike in to on really sharp coral. It is very deep and wide, and so deep that when the scuba divers drift down to the bottom, you can't even see them. Once I couldn't see John, Cortney and Dick anymore, I just shrugged my shoulders and started swimming. The water was beautiful.

There were some fish to see. There were Emperor Anglefish

Clown Fish

There were long skinny baracuda-looking fish that hung out on the surface. I swam through massive schools of tiny fish, thousands and thousands of them moving in incredible synchronicity. As long as I stayed on the reef, I could see clearly to the bottom (about 3-10 feet).

Then, about 45 minutes into it, I found myself hovering over some very deep water. The fish coming up from the bottom were huge - 2.5 feet long and fat. The face of the wall of coral went down over 90 feet, as I would later find out, that's how far down John and Cortney were. Big fish and cool fresh water just kept streaming up from the dark below.

I find myself mezmerised, and at this point I'm just kind of floating and staring down. I started to get kind of irritated that I was floating there alone. I'm a pretty good swimmer, but this is the ocean. I am no match for nature. I have fins on, and I know that if this tide gets too strong, to swim parallel to the shore till I'm out of it's grip, then in to shore. These life guarding lessons are going through my head when I look straight ahead of me and see this.

He was about 6 feet long, about 200 lbs. he did not have a white underbelly like this one in the picture - just solid gray. He was staring right at me, with his tail waving behind him. I'm pretty sure I saw him lick his lips.

Here's what was going through my head. My brothers and sisters and I were raised on terrifying shark tales. It was like my stepdad mentally filed away every terrifying shark tale in history and would tell the stories to us at night while we were vacationing on the beach in Del Mar. To be fair there were stories of deadly snake attacks and mountain lion attacks as well. The thing about those land animals is that you could reason with them. There were strategies to avoid becoming lunch. Play dead. Never run. Stay quiet. Show no fear. Appeal to their maternal instincts. Somehow you know that you and that mountain lion could lock eyes and possibly come to some arrangement. She lets you go, you promise to return tomorrow with some filets for her cubs. Trust can be established.

Not with a shark. A shark is a perfect eating machine. There is no reasoning with a shark.

So at this point, I'm thinking - holy irony batman - I am actually going die in a shark attack. I should have played the lottery with those kind of odds.

You understand of course that these thoughts are flashing through my brain in nano-seconds and I am actually swimming as fast as I can to a piece of jutting coral that has formed an island about 20 feet from me - about the same distance from the shark but in the opposite direction. The islands is about 5 feet wide and completely covered in very sharp mollusk shells which then cuts the crap out of my hands and legs. So I'm hanging on this rock, bleeding and completely losing my mind, muttering "no, no, no" in a whimpery voice.

I have no idea where John, Cortney & Dick are, and I have no way of finding them. Minutes later, John and Cortney surface right in the area where the shark had been. Thankfully they were able to keep calm, and after a few minutes they talk me off the rock. We booked it back to the cove as fast as we could. I was basically hugging the coral wall the whole time. Meanwhile, there are fishermen overhead with lines of bait hanging right by us - footlong, bloody fish bait. I don't think I've ever swam faster in my life.

Once we get back to the cove, we become worried about Dick, the other loner, who they have not seen in a while, even though their air is pretty much at the end. They take off their gear and reluctantly get back in the water to go look for him.

Meanwhile, I'm on the shore and a woman diver surfaced, and she had apparently seen the shark too. She seemed to have handled it better than I, although she was in a pack of divers, and crawling on the floor of the sea. Apparently the sharks go for floating food, snorkeling food, like yours truly. The ram you and then the eat you, she tells me with a grin. I don't think I am ever going in the ocean again.

Thankfully Dick was already on land, by the car. John and Cortney return and we all get in the car in the pouring rain to head home.

So there you have it. We returned home, John was nauseous with dive sickness, from going too deep. I am pretty banged up from scaling the mollusk-cover rock in 2.5 seconds. The adrenaline has sapped me. I'm sticking to land sports for the time being.

Pandora's Box

2008-08-08T19:18:00.003+09:00

Hello, loved ones. I sure miss you all. I wish that you were here to experience this crazy country with me. Man these Japanese are funny. The children on this island run around from about age 4 without trace of an adult. They hold hands and run across the street in a row. They all wear uniforms - black skirts/shorts, white shirts, shiny red backpacks. The smart ones go to school on Saturdays too. They ride like 3 to a bicycle, hanging off the back, no helmets. Just out there having fun. This is what I picture when my dad tells me about his childhood in Palo Alto. I caught the very tale end of that carefree independence in American cities.

I was shopping in a department store this week, and whenever the Okinawan children would stare at me, I would offer an "Konichiwa, ii desu ne??" which would make them giggle. Oversized blonde glamazon speaks Japanese! Just a bit. I actually found 2 dresses in my size....in the "Big & Tall" store. I'll take what I can get.

I start graduate school in 4 days!! Very excited about this. Have been doing a good amount of reading in anticipation. Lots of books about the CIA. Just finished Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA. According to the author, it is based entirely on recently declassified (2005-2007) documents, revealing an inept and quite frightening secret police/military paid for by our tax dollars. Yikes. I've opened Pandora's box.

Conspiracy central over here! John and I listen to Democracy Now! every night before bed, which he [jokingly] calls "Conspiracy theory radio" but I have to remind him that it's merely radio without corporate oversight. There is a whole underground flow of power and pressure and influence that is completely removed from democratic oversight. Oh I'm so going to enjoy these classes!!!

Putting the finishing touches on this season's jewelry line. I'm doing a one-of-a-kind line for the Tokyo stores as well, I hope it goes over well. I've gone slightly over the design deep end as well.

John says Hello! Gunner is freaking out right now because apparently our house is haunted. More about Okinawan ghosts at a later date.

new adventures

2008-07-30T08:28:00.002+09:00

Here are some recent photos from the Torii Beach Wine Festival.

Kimono girl

Jazz all day long

Jazz all night long

hanging out on the grass

serious fireworks

John is back, yay! Before he came back I got a chance to go rock climbing with some friends. It was at an indoor "gym" here, and really fun. I wasn't sure if I would be able to even make the first couple of steps, but it's surprisingly easy when you use your legs instead of hands to force your weight up. The wall that I was able to climb was about 30 feet high, and straight up. Most of the walls actually slant backwards, so you are not only gripping on the tiny rocks to keep from falling down, but to keep from falling backwards. I made it about 75% up one of those more advanced walls before I fell backwards, but you have a friend attached to a rope that keeps you from falling to your death. It was so fun that I actually found myself the following day kind of itching to climb a wall. We're going again next week and I', sure John will love it.

Then, saturday, Lauren and I went snorkeling off the Kadena steps. It was the best snorkeling spot I've seen so far - the fish were really diverse. I saw a black and white striped water snake, which was apparently poisonous, although the sly little sucker swore he wasn't harmful when he was cozying up near me. Then I saw a fish that was square around it's girth. It was black with neon tiny spots of pink and yellow all around it. It looked like a tacky-Pier-1-Imports-table-art-tchochky version of a fish. I can't imagine how these fish evolve to be neon pink, blue, yellow, and square???

Lauren swam up to me, and said, "are you getting stung?" and I was like "no, what are you talking ab.....ah? ouch! ouch! ouch! what is that?????" And I was getting stung all over my legs. I couldn't even see what was stinging me, there was nothing there, but I hi-tailed it out of the ocean lickety split. I had puffy irritated spots all over me. Microscopic jelly fish? Toxic nuclear waste from the Chinese subs?? I'm hoping it's the former, as I'd like to snorkel again soon. Ironically, I had been mocking our friend Dave for wearing a full body wetsuit. Needless to say, he did not get stung.

Camilla & Lee

2008-07-29T09:41:00.000+09:00

Thought I'd share some pics of Camilla and Uncle Lee

The Haps

2008-07-23T23:17:00.005+09:00

Just got home from my Japanese final. Such a great feeling. I remember when I got on the bus on the way home from my last final at UCSD - art history. It was 5 years late, but like grapes left on the vine too long, it was only that much sweeter. I rode the shuttle around the campus an extra loop, looking for ghosts who lurked amongst the eucalyptus trees.... DDcones, TylerCones and all the 80's guys, Andris and Ani and all the people who had been a part of that campus for me. They had flown the coop back in 2000, and here I was, riding the loop in June 2005, extra unused bluebook in hand. It was my best accomplishment yet. I did it alone - my only friend all year was my roommate Lu.

So now, I'm starting my masters...here in Japan! What unbelievable circumstances have brought me to this point? Marriage? I thought that would never happen. Living in Japan? In my wildest dreams! And yet...here I am. Okinawa ni sunde imasu!

Had my first "driving-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-road" experience today. It was bound to happen. At least it was on base - I don't think the japanese police would have gone easy on me for that one. People were looking at me funny, yes, but I thought they were just thinking, "wow, she must really like that song cause she's got no shame in singing it out loud." Really they were wondering how drunk I was. Anyway, situation resolved itself once I got to a stop light.

John is in Ohio on a TDY, and as much as I say that, I don't know what it stands for. I'm thinking... Temporary Duty.....Y-something. Acronyms have become a part of life here. I can also identify the type of plane flying over head BY IT'S SOUND. Yes it's true. The F-15s are flying quite frequently these days. Lets just hope they don't go the way of the B-52s and start falling out of the sky.

Speaking of DDcones, I am beside myself with the time that has flown....her babies are no longer babies. Here are some photos she was kind enough to share.

Oh man, Keira is going to cause her daddy to lose sleep - what a beauty. I have not met Jaxon yet, but I feel like I have because he looks just like Marc.

Colbert Nation is on, must run. Sweet dreams....

SHISAS!

2008-07-11T10:42:00.004+09:00

In case you're wondering what those crazy looking dogs are in my header, those are our new shisa dogs. Every house in Okinawa has them... We went shopping on Kokasai Street (big shopping district) to buy Clay some Shisa dogs before he moved off the island. I saw these and there was something about the bright colors and just the lunacy of these guys that made me think they'd fit in well at our house. And they do.

Natalia, my vigilant intellectual property watchdog back in the states emailed me from this photo she took in a store in Venice Beach - selling my trees!!! Thankfully, these appear to be the designs that our partner company has produced for us, so rather than getting worked up, I am pleased to see they are out there on the market. Funny that the tree was the first thing I ever did in metal, on the first day of class.

Our new designs are looking spectacular, and I'll be sure to post as they come. John's heading back to the states tomorrow for two weeks, and I'm jealous...i am itching to come home, but I think it would be best if I waited till Thanksgiving.

There is a persistent rumor that our lovely ex-neighbor Vic is going to spend her precious vacation time and come to visit us this summer. I've also been told that Andre might come and stay with us for a bit? I'm thrilled at the prospect of both, and I'll tell you what - first one to reach the shores of Okinawa gets the fresh sheets!

Speaking of the shores of Okinawa, we were told that when the US troops came ashore during the Battle of Okinawa, they came up in a stretch of beach exactly where I live. My grandfather was in that battle. It is astonishing for me to think about.

Critters

2008-07-03T10:03:00.003+09:00

We were driving to Japanese class last night at dusk, and a huge black bird was flying along side the car. No. Wait. That's a....oh my god, that's a BAT. Bats instead of birds. They are everywhere. This one was like a Gunner bat, nice and round around the belly, no doubt from sucking children's blood. They hang out in the trees, come out at night.

In other trees, the cicadas loom large. These are knarly bugs, although I haven't actually witnessed one up close. By the sound coming from certain trees, you'd think there were thousands and we are being visited by a plague. Here's a video of the sound.

John has a 4 day weekend for the fourth. We're off to the Tori Wine fest and AMERIKA fest. Photos to follow. Happy fourth of July!!!

Nihongo

2008-06-28T19:51:00.005+09:00

Today we spent a good many hours studying for our Nihongo (Japanese) midterm on Monday. A couple weeks ago, I made the mistake of articulating out loud that I was really getting the hang of the language, and that it was starting to click. Then something tragically unclicked, as I seemed to have reached saturation point. I had to beg Miyagi Sensai to please stop repeatedly calling on me as I had no idea how to answer her socratic badgering, and the jeers from my 19 year old class mates did not help.

Mostly we are learning the types of things you would need to use in every day conversation... "John walked from home to work yesterday" = "Johnsan wa kinoo uchi kara kaisha made arukimashita." But occasionally, there's the odd phrasing that has somehow slipped on to my vocab list... "Omikoshi o katsugite, kudasai" which translates to "Will you please carry my portable shine?" This makes me recall the portable training potty I used to use as a two year old, but I don't think this is what it means. Now you can understand why I'm at mental capacity.

After one too many flash cards this evening, we decided to take a stroll around the block... the seawall is lovely this time of night. And the locals are quite handsome....

You'd think we were in Mexico.....
Little buddy must have gotten baked in the sun.

John's mom and Maurice gave me a sewing machine for Christmas two years ago, and unfortunately, I hadn't gotten to use it much until recently. I'm teaching myself to sew which means no patterns and a lot of improv. I made some pretty curtains and two dresses so far. Project Runway here I come. You think I'm joking.

Our friend Clayton, the one who went to Korea with us, left on Wednesday (for good!) I drove him and Homer, his dog, to the airport. It's sad, since he was one of our better friends here. I guess this is how it goes in this lifestyle...but in a way, it's really amazing, because there are people that you meet, become great friends with, and then they go, and you always have a friend that lives in ... Qatar, in Clay's case. Ok so I'll wait till he gets back to the states to visit. Booster, who has graced the pages of this blog several times (so photogenic) has left us for Saudi Arabia, although he will be back in about 6 mos.

I'll try to keep up on the blog more these days. And more photos of Gunner for Captain Ron!

Dewa Mata! (until Tomorrow!)

Taco Rice, Cosmopolitans and Political Incorrectness in the Jungle

2008-06-14T12:18:00.007+09:00

Thank you to everyone who sent birthday wishes! On Sunday we went to watch some dragonboat races down the block from our house. It was steaming hot out, and there was a festival going on. They had booths selling tasty sweet-potato flavored icies, and ramen. Hot ramen. I don't know about you, but when I think of summer festival in 90 degree heat, the last thing I want is to slurp some ramen. But then, I'm not Japanese.

Our motto on this island is, "Why not?" Why would you put a car dealership on beach front property? Why not? Why would you sell tacos in the form of sushi rolls, wrapped in seaweed and rice instead of tortillas? Why not?

After the dragon boat festival, John and I had a little Cocktail party at our house and then about 10 of us dressed up in dresses and heels to go see Sex & the City the movie. There were cosmopolitans. There were tears shed. Mainly female tears. It was a grand ole time.

Feeling like crossing into a new decade is cause for reflection, I was looking for bits of wisdom in the subtext of the movie and came to a couple conclusions:

1. Laughter really can cure any ill.

2. Loyal friends are truly a blessing and not to be taken for granted.

3. Truly fantastic fashion, although superficial, really does make me happy.

4. Life is not linear, it is wonderfully spherical. Life is wide open in ways you can't imagine if you just step from the path you thought you should be traveling

5. 30 is soooo far from old. It's not even in the same area code.

We finished boot camp last week, and I can't believe I did it. Final results - 1.5 mile run in 14:02 (and that was in asthma-inducing 85 degree humidity) - and I went from 35 push-ups in a minute to 80, brandishing me the PUSH-UP CHAMPION...ROAR!! Okay, I admit these were girl-pushups (knees, not toes), but I can bust out at least 30 real ones in a minute, and that is better than my before-bootcamp number, which was zero. My victory won me a lovely Nike purse. I loved my group and trainer, and we really supported each other a lot, which is the only way we made it through 8 straight weeks. I may have an athletic gene after all.

Our friendly neighbor Lauren was recently promoted to 1st Lieutenant, and she threw a fantastic Jungle themed party. Relishing any opportunity to don some body paint, I did a cheetah/Wilma Flinstone combo.

John, preferring the thinking-man's costume, dressed as a traveling Mormon, tragically wounded with an native's arrow.

There was some debate as to where his costume ranked on the political incorrectness scale, but we determined that it was like the proverbial tree in the forrest - if no Mormon's were at the bar to be offended, it wasn't offensive.

1st Lt. Lauren Calhoun on the left.

We're off to the Tsuboya district of Naha to check out the Okinawan Pottery. Then perhaps some afternoon snorkeling at high tide. Cause why not?

Found my camera cord

2008-05-31T13:46:00.008+09:00

We have a drawer with about 23 different white Apple cords. My camera cord has been hiding in there. So now you get to see photos!

A tasty meal at Thai in the Sky

As if eating the shrimp wasn't mockery enough, John has to give it the bunny ears.

The lovebirds at sunset.

A view of our neighborhood from a penthouse bar.

Booster enjoying a girlie drink inside the bar

Tropical flowers at every turn

A garden path at Shuri Castle

John, once again mocking the wildlife.

Absurdly large coy fish, turtles and talapia (yum!)

I'm king of the rock!

Shuri Castle, where the king of Okinawa lived.

The king's throne

The king's crown. Excellent beadwork.

A photo of the gang of 9 at the G8 summit, held in Okinawa a few years ago. Look closely and you can see Tony Blair and Bill Clinton

A view from Shuri Castle

Watch for wild boars. I feel like I live in an episode of Lost.

Me and Aviva, my walking buddy.

Our local ferris wheel at night

A roadside ice cream stand on Highway 58...cause why not?

Saturday is protest day.

The nice Okinawan ladies who had no idea where the train station was.

Misadventures

2008-05-29T14:09:00.002+09:00

phew...

so the jewelry samples c'est fini. They are sitting in a little row, waiting to be stuffed into a fed ex package off to China by way of Santa Barbara, where Chinese factories will stamp out millions of them and I can get back to blogging.

So much has been happening in the past two weeks, and then, really nothing out of the ordinary. We've gone on 2 foiled yet totally hilarious road trips with friends. The key to those kind of adventures is the right mix of easygoing driver (hubby dearest) a good sense of humor, breathing exercises for temper control, zesty beverages, and fun friends.

I will indulge you in one particularly telling moment of the road trip, for you to get a taste of the past two weeks...

So there are 5 of us heading up to Hiji falls, what I understand to be a beautiful waterfall area lush with jungle foliage about 1.5 hours to the north. We are about 100 yards from the entrance to the park, and yours truly makes the executive decision that we should use the bathroom facilities at the small store at the bottom of the hill, for god only knows what the penalty for public urination is in a sacred Japanese waterfall/jungle site.

About 5 minutes later, we are at the entrance to the park, only to be told that we are 6 minutes late, and although the park closes at 6pm (it is now 4:06), we cannot be trusted to enter, as we might not make it back in TWO HOURS. John suggests we just run for it, as the little man working the gate really didn't look like too much of a challenge for 5 burly Americans. We decide against that plan. Defeated, we opt to play a loud game of freesbie in the parking lot, because if there's one thing the waterfall and jungle gods do not appreciate, it's loud Americans who do not appreciate their park hours.

Then, I suggest we go on another hike in an open mountain somewhere around...and does anyone know of any? So John pulls out the map and leads us to a park he once hiked, about 10 miles away.

Cartography in Japan, we are soon to realize, is not something to be taken seriously. If you have a pen and a paper, and can spell (sort of), YOU CAN DRAW A MAP! And PUBLISH it! Don't worry if it's totally inaccurate. Don't be bothered to mark it with actual highway numbers. Just make sure the East China Sea is on the left, and the Pacific Ocean is on the right. The rest of the map is not that important! Besides, the more the Americans get lost, the more they will have to stop to buy sustinence on the side of the road. Vending machine business will skyrocket!!!

But I digress.

So we're winding up in this mountainous terrain, around a lake, nothing but fields and local farmers, far away from civilization. We pressure John into asking for directions to the Park from two little old Okinawan Women. My Johnny - he's no rube, he busts out the Japanese to these ladies and they are tickled pink that a 4Runner full of giggling Americans can ask for directions in their native tongue.

"Excuse me, we are lost, can you tell us the Such-and-Such Park is?" The ladies look confused.... "The Dam?" they ask? And we're thinking, no we just passed the dam, the dam is obviously visible from the road.

John repeats, in Japanese "No, we're looking for the park."

The women indicate that there is no park, which is funny because on the cartographer's rendition of the map, there is clearly a hiking park about 300 yards away. I start to think that these women have lived here, probably their whole lives, and had no idea that there is a park so close? They really need to get out more. See the world.

They shrug their shoulders, indicate that there is no park, and do we want to see the dam?

John, seeing where this is going, and not wanting to be rude, says, "Ok, yes, we'd love to see the dam" and the woman point us to the quite obvious dam that we just passed.

So, we start to head home. Then about ten minutes down the road, John blurts out "Doh! That is not the word for Park, that is the word for train station. I was asking them where the train station is."

bad blogger

2008-05-28T22:38:00.002+09:00

so sorry for not posting. I will update soon.... I'm chained to my jewelry bench to get out next season's samples. Action packed adventures to report. I'll blog soon.

toodles!

Saturday Night Fever

2008-05-15T21:18:00.006+09:00

On Sat., we went to a party at the Metroplex, a penthouse apartment inhabited by some F-15 pilots. Unfortunately, it was too dark to get any good shots of the view. The costumes cast plenty of light, though...

I am the disco girl with the blue hair. I've always wanted blue hair, and relish the opportunity to embarrass John at my monthly JAG wives meetings. Crazy hippie that I am. Just to my right is Sadie, who is my Extreme Fitness Challenge trainer. I told her I was only drinking gatorade in that cup. Due to my dance moves later in the evening, I don't think she believed me. My pink haired doppelganger on the far left is Cortney, John's coworker, and frequent cohort.

This bat is the squadrons' mascot. He was caught 25 years ago by elder members of the squadron, and they tote him to parties in this cozy jar of formaldehyde. I woke up and he was on my kitchen counter - John had decided in his jello-shot-induced stupor that it would be a funny idea if the lawyers kidnapped him and sent a ransom note. We told him that no one likes lawyers and he should probably not mess with F-15 pilots and their pets. The bat was promptly returned the next morning.

This imposter on the right was not part of our costume plan...in fact I think she followed us to the only costume store on the island and then bought the exact outfit we bought so she could hang with us.

Booster decided not to come in costume, but oddly, fit right in anyway.

Kayak

2008-05-10T12:49:00.004+09:00

Finally, a photo of us in the water. Thanks to Cortney and her digital camera for risking a watery destruction, just to get a shot of John and me kayaking to share with our families and friends.

Tonight, we're headed to a 70's party at the penthouse apartment of 2 of our friends. I will try to get a photo from their seaside balcony. It might very well be the best view on the island.

Can't we all just get along?

2008-05-08T07:40:00.003+09:00

Pay no attention to that music widget on the sidebar. Those are not in fact my picks, but I am trying to figure out how to upload my own favorite music - have thus far been unsuccessful.

The Okinawans like to protest. Now, I like a good protest. At Dartmouth, there was a big brouhaha about the administration interfering with extra-curricular activities by limiting alcohol consumption, and boy did we get organized fast. Moved by the unwarranted restrictions to their underage freedoms, hundreds of students lit candles, donned their greek letters, and marched arm in arm to the president's front lawn, singing the alma mater (or in my case, mouthed wa-ter-mel-lon to the tune). So committed were we to the cause that we cut of our own noses to spite our face by canceling our own Homecoming Carnival. That'll show em! Even the writer of Animal House (a Dartmouth grad) showed up with news teams to cover the injustice.

No doubt there are more important things to protest these days, both in the US and abroad. Okinawans, are up in arms (and by arms, I mean cardboard signs and bullhorns) about Americans in Okinawa. There is the American noise, a lot of noise. Our planes our incredibly loud - to the point where John and I cannot hear each other in the same room when they fly overhead. Then there is a the dog poop. There is a turf war happening in our neighborhood, and the dogs are winning. The Okinawans blame the Americans (every American here has a dog) and the Americans blame the Okinawans because they let their dogs out to walk themselves. Whose ever fault it is, the results dictate that I have to run with my head down.

Additionally, there is the chaos that ensued with the alleged rape of a 14 year old local girl by a marine. I understand that the charges have been dropped by the Japanese government, because of a lack of evidence. But the sting of that world news event has not dissipated. We (Americans) are no longer forbidden to walk outside (that lasted about 3 weeks) and we can now drink alcohol off base, but we have a curfew of midnight. If you are caught walking to your neighbors' house, you will be prosecuted and it has happened. I think this will stay in effect for a while. This only applies to John, and not to me, but still.

So, the other day, I was biking down the hill (on the wrong side of the road because it was raining and there were less puddles) and I come up to a 5-man protest. There are 5, symetrically distributed individuals holding signs (totally in Japanese). The center figure was holding a microphone attached to a speaker box and the MICROPHONE IS A PLASTIC ICE CREAM CONE. So very Japanese. I'm fearing that they are protesting American presence on their soil, and here I am, a behemoth American woman, barreling down the wrong side of the road. I never quite figured out what they were protesting, but each and everyone bowed as I rode by. The Japanese are nothing if not polite.

A shot of our seawall.

What will they think of next?

2008-05-05T07:19:00.004+09:00

Take a close look at these roses. These are REAL roses, and each petal is a different color. We've all seen blue roses....you just stick the stem in some blue food coloring, and bam, blue roses. But I have no idea how they do this.

Yesterday was about as close to perfect as you can get. We packed a picnic lunch and 7 of us went to the beach to kayak and snorkel. Once we got there, there were some serious model airplane enthusiasts flying these 4 foot long planes and helicopters. They were out there like an auto show, lining them up, shining them up, tuning the innards. I think I rode on one of these babies into Bozeman, MT. More fun to watch from the ground.

The Kayaking was even better this week because we brought our snorkel gear. I'm really going to have to get an underwater camera, because words doesn't do the experience justice. We saw 2 blowfish, although they were not fully blown up. Apparently you can try to get them worked up so that they blow, but I try not to make small strange animals mad at me. (speaking of which - this weekend, I've seen several bats, a pack of roving prairie dogs, and a pet mongoose.) We saw a few black and white striped sea snakes. Apparently these are poisonous, but the don't bite? So I supposed they are poisonous for ME to eat THEM, but there was no way that was going to happen. Also there were Angel fish, which are bright yellow black and white striped. And these glorious little cerulian blue fish - the brightest blue color I've ever seen - oh! and purple star fish. Bright purple starfish everywhere. John rowed the kayak and I hung on the tail with my head underwater, it was like an amazing underwater roller coaster.

Didn't have a camera

2008-05-02T13:48:00.002+09:00

"I'm writing you to catch you up on places I've been
And you have this letter, probably got excited, but there's nothing inside it
Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hopin' i would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm in the mood to lose my way with words....
Today I finally overcame
Tryin' to fit the world inside a picture frame
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I m in the mood to lose my way
But let me say you should have seen that sunrise
With your own eyes
Brought me back to life."
-3x5 by John Mayer

This song was playing in my head several times this week. The first time was on a glorious kayaking trip that John and I took with our friend Cortney. We couldn't bring the camera because we were sopping wet the whole time. The East China Sea is getting bluer every day.

Then, I was running the 3 mile run which my whole fitness group has been dreading for three weeks. You must understand, I don't think I've EVER run 3 miles without stopping. I did it in 30 minutes, so I'm pretty proud of myself. We ran on a half mile course surrounded by grass and trees, and overlooking the ocean. This beautiful song comes over my iPod. And I'm wishing I could snapshot myself and take that photo to my poor, unhealthy, pathetic self 4 years ago, working in a sad, over-airconditioned office, and frustrated because I didn't have time to do my schoolwork. I wish I could have said "keep slugging away because the view only gets better from here." You can never imagine what that view is, but it does always get better.

The Update

2008-04-26T11:52:00.006+09:00

Hi there, it's your delinquent sister/daughter/long-lost friend. Happily, I'm becoming involved in many new projects of late, but unhappily, I've been neglecting the Sumeba Miyako. For my own personal reasons, not blogging because I'm too busy is better than posting everyday how much I miss Pinkberry, the Santa Monica Farmer's Market, and sitting in traffic on the 405. So, sorry for being neglectful, but I hope you understand.

I've been writing a little column over at OkinawaHai, an online magazine for Americans living in Okinawa. I post on Saturdays with an emphasis on traveling, but sometimes I take (hopefully interesting) detours into the topics of health, exercise, and cool stuff to do on our own little island. Check it out if you get the chance.

I started a fitness program up at the gym called "Extreme Fitness Challenge" which is contorting my body into a sore mass of slowly expanding muscle. We do all sorts of bootcamp-esque challenges, liked timed push-ups, sit-ups and 3 mile runs. We meet for an hour a day, 5 days a week, for 8 weeks. I plan to turn 30 this summer looking like I just turned 20.

Mortechai's passing was sad, but after 3 days of mourning we replaced him with an even feistier beta fighting fish. John has named him Deuce Fishalow, Fish Gigolow. But we call him Pagoda for short.

John and I are headed up to the track to do a little work out and then we're going kayaking this afternoon. Here are some recent photos of our adventures!

This $60 piece of fruit is called durian...it smells like moldy garlic and tastes like garliky-passion fruit. Despite that riveting endorsement, I thought it was pretty good.

The tastiest of treats

2008-04-22T09:25:00.003+09:00

Hellooooo, Lover.

Sex & the City is coming to theaters, though I'm bettin' not here. Does anyone know how to start a letter writing campaign to whomever controls the military movie selections? Would it be just a tad indulgent to fly home this june just to see it on the big screen? I guess for that price I could buy one of those great flat screens and watch the DVD on that. Nope, just not the same.

Oh and HELLO, Mr. Big? Full Name John James PRESTON???? And I'm married to JOHN??? And my godfather/uncle's name is John Preston??? And we both love Carrie??? I knew we had a connection. That's it I'm bookin' a flight.

The trailer won't dissapoint.

Morty R.I.P.

2008-04-14T11:34:00.005+09:00

[Scene - couple walks into apartment]

John: Gunner Bunner? Hey Gunner! What's a matter buddy? Gunner won't come out from under the table.

Jen: He did something wrong.

John: Gunner, what did you do?

Jen: Check upstairs for kitty puke.

John: Gunner, what did you do?

Jen: He totally did something wrong! look at him, he's totally hiding-

John: GASP!!!!!!!!

Jen: What, what did he do? What...

Jen: Oh gross....is that....is that poop?

John: That's MORTECHAI!!!!!!

Jen: Oh my god, Gunner you better run.

[--20 minutes earlier--]

Mortechai: You're goin down cat.

Gunner: What are you gonna do from that bowl? huh? splash me? wah.

Mortechai: Sometimes revenge means the ultimate sacrifice.... [jump, flop flop plop]

Gunner: Damn you fish, I will not take the heat for this! Get your tail back in that bowl!!!

Mortechai: You're....[wheez]...goin....[cough]....doownnnn...[expire].

Stuff We Like

2008-04-12T22:09:00.004+09:00

How is it that with the infinite amount of sites out there, we all end up reading the same blogs and watching the same YouTube videos? A friend of mine in Okinawa tells me about this funny YouTube video that people keep sending her, and it turns out it was just a little (& hilarious) dance video created by my good friend Judy in her LA cubicle. Not only had my friend seen Judy's video several times, but her friends back in Texas loved it so much that they performed the video and re-shot it for YouTube.

For those of you over 40 reading this post, and getting a little lost....let me break it down: Let's say you come up with a funny joke and tell it to your neighbor. They you fly to Chicago for business 2 days later only to have a cocktail waitress in the hotel bar tell YOUR joke back to you. Later that night in your hotel room, you hear John Stewart talking about your joke on The Daily Show, and how Bush tried to tell your joke at the White House correspondent's dinner, but messed up the punch line. It's a little eerie, and gives the impression that you have your finger on the world's pulse. Well, I should say, Judy has her finger there.

Some viral blogs take a little longer to reach us over here in the sticks....at least 36 hours longer. But we catch on eventually. It helps that I have some...er...time on my hands to surf the net.

Most recently I was alerted to this site called "Stuff White People Like" which has apparently gained a rush of popularity. Ironically, I was alerted to this website by a podcast (SWPL #40) of an NPR show (SWPL #44) talking about viral blogs.

Hoping my blog will one day become viral, I was intrigued. Apparently, I like a lot of the stuff white people like. And so does my husband. In fact, this website is reading like a list of our monthly itinerary. As I read the list to John, he thinks I am making it up to frame him as "whitest white man alive." I start to ponder. I glance down at our coffee table, strewn with Netflix (SWPL #39) of our favorite TV shows. #38 and #85 (greatest show ever). This freaks me out a bit, so to calm my nerves, I reach for my cup a joe (SWPL #1) but since it's cold, and it's already 2pm on a Sunday, I just go for the vino (SWPL #24) The wine starts to get me paranoid and my mind starts to wander in two directions.

Either A: I am so white and so predictable that I in fact contain not one original bone in my body and only really THINK that I like the things I like after years of forming opinions, and really, I am just a carbon cutout of every other white person in my age and socio-economic group.

Or B: The entire website is an elaborate ruse cooked up by Judy to freak me the heck out. I'm really hoping it's the latter.

Pizza in the Sky

2008-04-09T08:47:00.007+09:00

It's easy to get into a groove. I think, even the luckiest girl living in Paris would start to unwittingly walk the same path around the city, walking her toy yorkshire terrier in the same park, noshing on croissants in the same cafe, shopping for her louboutins at the same boutique....sigh....where was I? Oh yes, the groove. We are notorious groovists. So we've made a goal of one new exploration every weekend.

This Saturday, we went to a wine tasting event at Kadena. Apparently a Napa collective sent over $250K worth of wine, there were 100's of different bottles to choose from. Great time.

This Sunday we went to "Pizza in the Sky" a pizza restaurant that serves 1 flavor salad, 1 flavor pizza. The pizza has sausage, corn, peppers and beacoup cheese. The real treat is the view. It takes about 1.5 hours of driving on windy highways and through gorgeous, ropey jungles. You emerge from the botanicals atop a viewpoint that spans miles and miles.

On the road to Pizza in the Sky

We ate on the patio balcony

The view from the outdoor seating area

The menu

Lauren and I

Tasty pie

The cutest coffee presentation

Angelinos

2008-04-08T23:28:00.004+09:00

I am nursing a persistent itch to be in Los Angeles right now. I'm sitting here, trying to come up with something interesting to say about Okinawa, and it's just not coming to me. It's raining here and there's some decent lightening, although the thunder is nothing to write home about. I'm getting a little sweaty in this mugginess, and any time I mention how muggy it is to anyone, I only get a condescending chuckle and a "you have no idea." Like when I moved to New Hampshire and broke out the down jacket, scarf and hat when the leaves started to change. I HAD NO IDEA. I can't help it, I'm the spoiled offspring of spoiled offspring. My grandparents and great grandparents made their courageous journeys west until the sun hit at just the right angle and said, yep, this is it. The good life. Why live a miserable muggy, sodden, wet, frozen existence when you can just live in flip flops. All year long.

So yes, LA. I'm having that "man, why did I break up with that girl - she looks so good now" moment. I did her wrong, I tell you. The last couple years we lived there we didn't even go out that much. We dined in the same 3 places. Hollywood was such a trek, and the traffic and the noise and blah blah blah. I think we both agree that if we ever go back, we have to approach it like transplants - see the city with open eyes. Take in a show. Do the Star Tours. Renew our vows, so to speak.

A couple months ago, my friend KMAC sent me images of a gorgeous little New England town she and her husband recently moved to. I turned to John and said "someday, WE should live in a little town by the sea." He turned to me and said, "Are you seriously kidding me right now? We're live on a 10x10 foot ISLAND." hmm. point taken.

Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying the island living respite. But I look at a lot of the locals and their internal clocks are just putt-puttin' along. Live goes slooowly here. I miss some of the excitement of LA. I miss the options.

So who knows, someday we could be back in LA. Will she even take us back?

New Jewelry Designs

2008-04-04T10:59:00.004+09:00

Something to wear to those last minute tea invitations at Versailles.

Happy Friday!

2008-04-04T07:51:00.002+09:00

There is hope for the future.

Love is...

2008-04-02T18:09:00.003+09:00

I never pictured my own wedding. I don't particularly like being the center of attention. There are so many components of a wedding that are too cliche. The staged photos, feeding each other the cake...no way. I like other people's weddings, I have a blast at other people's weddings. I just really never wanted to play the roll myself.

I think what I dislike most is the instantaneousness of the moment. Is it the "I do" moment? Is it the "first kiss," the "first dance?" We are going to spend the rest of our lives together, and it has to begin in one single moment? Not for me. I like to move sloooooowly. Like 7 years slowly. Year 1: friends. Years 2-4: date. Year 5: cohabitate. Year 6: nice, lengthy engagement. The pressure of 'instantaneous' is just too much for me. Love should reveal itself just as slowly, I think. I mean, we've got another 60+ years together (we have EXCELLENT genes) so why do all the fun stuff right up in the beginning?

And those moments keep on coming. For the past 6 years, when I cook, I have only fed him vegetarian meals with the occasional piece of fish, because I have a raw meat and poultry phobia. Can't touch it, can't cook it, can't eat it. I used to tell my mother that my family (should I ever have one) would be vegetarian or make their own meals because I would not go near the stuff.

And then the other day, I find myself blankly staring down into a bowl of slimy raw chicken breasts marinating in homemade sauce I had thrown together. How did this transgression occur? At what point had I so unknowingly crossed my own boundaries? But then, in typical unceremonious fashion, I realized.....for me, love is a bowl of slimy raw chicken breasts. And my man needs protein because 60 years is a marathon, not a sprint.

Two-Wheelin' Freedom

2008-04-02T11:02:00.002+09:00

I used to ride my bike to school - about 1.5 miles - by myself in 1st grade. I had this little blue bike that had the "petal backwards" brakes. I used to test myself to ride the entire way with no hands, only leaning to turn corners. The quintessential symbol of being a "big kid" was a bicycle with hand brakes and ten different speeds. What a skill those big kids had mastered! How did they not fly over the handle bars when they braked? What did all those speeds actually do? Oh, one day I would find out. I would ride down the street, casually pedaling backwards to a soft "click, click, click, so passerby's would know... no pedal brakes. It's all hand-brakes from here on in, baby.

In second grade, my Nana asked me what I wanted for Christmas from my dad. I couldn't even say it out loud, it was too brazen. It was like asking for a BMW on your sweet sixteen. Instead I wrote it on a paper an gave it to her.... "ten speed bicycle." Well, my dad surpassed expectations by two speeds and gave me a glossy new lavender 12- speeder. Boy I ran that bike into the ground. I was still using it in high school, where I may have been the only kid in LA that was actually biking anywhere.

When I first started to drive, of course the thrill of being able to conquer long distances made bicycles look like kids' stuff. Oh the horse power! I can even sleep in my car (which I did a couple days in college before the dorms opened)....oh the freedom. But after years of sitting in immobile traffic on the way to and from work, the automobile lost it's luster. The thought of getting in the car to go get a carton of milk just turned depressing. Not to mention the expense of it all.

So here I find myself, car-less in Japan, and I find that I don't even really want a car. I've been biking to the grocery store, to the gym, to the beach, to explore. My friend DD called me this morning and reminded me that we would turn 30 in a few months, and it honestly hadn't occurred to me really. There is something about biking to get around that makes you feel like a teenager. Watching those older kids driving past....suddenly they don't look so happy, or so free. My eyes are more open when I bike...I see restaurants an stores I hadn't noticed on the same routes I usually drive. It's a slower way to get around. But I've been racing to and fro for years, and yet I felt my life was stuck in one place. I can finally take it slow and I'm happier than I've been in a long while.

Kitty's are good for ratings, too

2008-03-27T08:45:00.003+09:00

[Bear with me, my "s" key is stuck, I think there' a bead in there.] Poor Gunner Bunner has been a little sick lately. If the authorities saw what he swallowed yesterday, they'd put him in protective custody. Let's just say it had to do with jewelry. He' better today, poor Bunny.