Twitter has me hooked. What I thought was simply just meaningless drivel showed me a wealth of information and knowledge that Twitter holds. Topics from writing to photography offer tips, suggestions, advice, and even ways to communicate with those who are already pros in their field. I can also practice Japanese, in short 140 character tweets. Sometimes I will check English for native Japanese speakers, and they will respond by checking my Japanese. Easy, quick, and free.
People can follow subjects by typing "#" in front of a keyword. For example, #japanese or #writing or #photography. As I learn more about Twitter, find new followers and discover new topics of interest, one important topic usually sits in my "following" categories: divorce. Particularly the effects on children.
What I've come to find is that many parents are twittering (or tweeting or twitting) about the possible effects of divorce on their children - often in ways to ease nerves and guilt. Anyone who knows me well knows this is a passionate subject of mine, and so many of the shared tweets are actually ignorant and further exacerbate the problems of divorce pertaining to children.
As for why I bring this up: I am an adult child of divorce. My parents got separated and subsequently divorced when I was twelve. My entire adolescence was ridden with emotional angst, fears and insecurities that I didn't fully realize until I was nineteen. Consequently, I researched divorce and its effects on children. Though there isn't a lot of research out there right now, I probably own every book that has been published on the subject. My major was Social Sciences and thus learned more about families, child and adolescent development, and family crises. My opinions aren't biased from experience; I back up everything I say with credible sources and research. This subject is one that has yet to be completely publicized, and it is my hope that this may help in some way.
The fact of the matter is, divorce is traumatic. For everyone involved. I doubt anyone who has gone through one or is going through one would deny that. The only time divorce may be less traumatic is if it's a high-conflict or abusive situation. Most of the articles I've ever read about divorce are written by parents for parents, and usually take the tone of "your kids will be fine, and here's why," with a list that lacks any real evidence or academic research.
Kids are not fine. Most people may know of the research about how some kids may go on to commit crime or drop out of school, and the social scientist in me would go further with that to say other factors in their life also influence those choices. However, what about the kids who "seem" fine? The kids who are usually happy, have friends, get straight A's, do well at sports or art or music? What about those seemingly well-adjusted kids?
First of all, the age of the child at the time of divorce will have some effect on how they respond to it. So will personality and numerous external factors. Not every child will respond the same way. External factors can increase or decrease the risk of issues.
Second, children lack the brain development to completely understand the situation and subsequently grieve completely. Though they may be sad or act out, their brains are unable to comprehend everything surrounding the divorce, and in that sense, the emotions and feelings surrounding it "go to sleep" in their minds. This is what researcher Judith Wallerstein calls "the sleeper effect." Whatever issues or hurt the child may have towards the divorce won't appear completely until they are older and capable of processing the events. Once they realize and are aware of these issues, the feelings that surface will often feel fresh and new as if the event just happened recently. Some people never realize how their parents' divorce (or any past event) affects them, and go through life carrying the same issues and hurt without ever dealing with it.
Third, divorce is a kind ambiguous loss. The child loses their family structure. Oftentimes this means losing one of the parents. If that parent leaves completely, or is only partially involved or sees their children some of the time, it creates an ambiguity that perpetuates the grieving cycle. If a parent were to die, however, the loss would be perceived as permanent, and the child would be able to properly grieve over time (this doesn't mean it hurts more or less, just that the grieving process can actually happen). Children of divorce always have a feeling of ambiguity because their parent could appear at any time, even if they haven't seen that parent for most of their lives. They aren't truly gone, at least not in a way that they can process and grieve over.
Children of divorce can and do experience many negative effects, depending on their personality, external factors, severity of divorce and the kind of relationship their parents had before, during and after the divorce, as well as their parenting style. For example, perhaps a child seems well-adjusted. They do well at school, they play sports, they have some friends, and they seem like a normal child. This same child may start to exhibit behaviors depending on their situation, especially in adolescence. If the father is uninvolved, or the child feels unloved, they may seek out this kind of male attention in other ways. Perhaps among coaches or teachers, or among their peers (which happens often). They may become physically and sexually involved with their peers at an earlier age due to a lack of love and affection that they are so desperately wanting. Their romantic relationships may be ridden with insecurity and codependent tendencies.
They may be driven toward perfectionism, in relationships and in things they do, to feed their need for positive attention and affirmation. Their ability to take on responsibility at a young age causes them to grow up faster, and put more strain and stress on themselves in what they do. Their inability to have good relationships may drive them to victim cycles, which are perpetuated every time they are (inevitably) hurt by their peers. The cycle continues, as they push themselves to be more and more of a victim in hopes that someone will validate their hurts and help them.
They may become controlling in order to control every situation around them so nothing ends badly. They may become manipulative of people in certain circumstances to get what they want, especially in romantic situations or encounters with the opposite sex. If they are in a romantic relationship, they may either shut themselves away and not open up at all to the other person, or they may become codependent and clingy, essentially driving the other person away in their efforts to keep them from doing so in the first place.
Most children and adolescents are unaware that they are hurting due to their parents' divorce, or even what they may be missing and wanting from their parents. This is due to the "sleeper effect." These cycles then continue into adulthood and affect many, if not all, aspects of their lives. It doesn't mean they aren't still high-achievers, since they appear to be well-adjusted adults. However, they lack the ability to have healthy romantic relationships (and sometimes even just friendships). Their codependent tendencies will effectively ruin many of their relationships. Playing victim will exhaust and chase away many people, furthering their victim cycle.
These are just some examples. Children respond differently, and a parents' divorce will not affect every child in the exact same way. Furthermore, many of these issues and tendencies can surface due to other events or even just specific parenting styles. Some children from non-divorced homes may exhibit many of the same behaviors. Also, some couples have what researchers call an "emotional divorce" - they are still together, perhaps for the kids, but emotionally distant and act as if they aren't married.
I am not saying parents should simply "stay together for the kids." This is ultimately counter-productive. My main encouragement is to do everything possible to work through the issues couples are experiencing, get counseling, do everything they absolutely can to try and help their marriage. Aside this, I would strongly encourage anyone about to get married to heavily consider who they are marrying. Talk about a variety of issues and topics. Try pre-marital counseling. Get to know the person completely before you marry them. I realize that marriage allows you to know a person even more, but I think a lot of the marital problems that exist today either stem from marrying someone who isn't right in the first place, or, more probable, the issues one or both spouses carry from their own past limit their ability to effectively communicate and fully love each other.
However, even after all of that, if a couple still decides to get divorced, or if they already are (and have children), kids may not be ok, but that doesn't mean they can't be. The first step is awareness and acknowledgment of hurt. Adult children of divorce have to first see how events in their past have affected them. Secondly, they must grieve. Sadness, anger, and all of the grieving processes are essentially the same. The only way to move forward is to allow those emotions to surface. Offering forgiveness is essential - because if the adult child of divorce cannot express forgiveness, they will stay stuck in the grieving process.
Seeking out counseling may be helpful for some, as could reading books written by and/or for adult children of divorce. Writing or keeping a journal can be helpful to process thoughts and emotions. Having support in some way is extremely helpful, although not everyone always does (sometimes because they've chased everyone away unintentionally), and being able to process with someone who is willing to listen (not the parents though) can be helpful.
I did a variety of these things and it took me about three years to go through the entire grieving process. Even after, some things still acted as triggers and I had to deal with each specific trigger as it appeared. Even getting engaged and married brought about a variety of triggers and conflicted feelings that are common to adult children of divorce. I'm fortunate to have a great husband who has known me for years and watched me go through the healing process (though we weren't together at that time). He understands how the divorce affected me and is very patient when those triggers surface. It also helps that he comes from a stable home.
In summary, there is always hope. Kids will not be fine after a divorce, but that doesn't mean they can't be.
Resources:
The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce: A 25 Year Landmark Study by Judith Wallerstein
Between Two Worlds: The Inner Lives of Children of Divorce by Elizabeth Marquardt
Generation Ex: Adult Children of Divorce and the Healing of Our Pain by Jen Abbas
Codependent No More: How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself by Melody Beattie
Ambiguous Loss: Learning to Live with Unresolved Grief by Pauline Boss
Growing Up Divorced: For Adults Who Once Suffered the Trauma of Their Parents' Divorce by Archibald D. Hart
Adult Children of Legal or Emotional Divorce: Healing Your Long Term Hurt by Jim Conway
Monday, April 19, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
thai-inspired salmon chowder
This makes me feel sorry for Japanese housewives though. Wives with a full-time job are still expected to do the cooking and cleaning for their families. Japanese women are generally surprised that David does so much around the house, whether it's he or I that tells them. Though I like a lot about Japan and the culture, there are some things that don't sit well with me, and the lack of egalitarian marriages is one of them. I'm grateful that I, as a foreigner, am not restricted to such cultural traditions. However, if my spouse was Japanese, chances are that he would expect me to take on the bulk of house maintenance and cooking, even though I'm not Japanese. This isn't always true, but in general, it's how men in Japan are raised, and expectations they are taught.
I'm also grateful that my husband is a good cook, and that he likes (or at least seems to sometimes) chopping up veggies. And willingly cuts up the raw chicken that I don't particularly enjoy touching. Then I often execute the cooking process and ensure the final product is something I'm satisfied with (and usually if I am satisfied with it, David loves it). Sometimes I will do everything and sometimes David does everything, but the majority of the time we both help get dinner finished so we can eat at a reasonable time. Plus, it makes our evening time fun when we do things together.
I did a quick internet search to see if I could find any similar recipes, but to no avail. Had I really created something unique and new? As one who adores food blogs and cooking recipes from them, I never thought I would come up with something I couldn't find anywhere else. I am happy to cook what others have perfected (while sometimes adapting). Yet, this Thai-inspired salmon chowder came together for me rather nicely, and I had a few chances to improve it before sharing it with you. Oh, and one of the great things about this chowder is that you can make it as spicy as you want it to be, while adjusting seasonings to your particular taste (much like traditional pad thai, with fish sauce, sugar, etc). If you try it, let me know how it turns out!
Thai-inspired Salmon Chowder
Ingredients:
1 tbsp oil (I used peanut oil - I'm sure a neutral oil would work well also)
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (more if small, less if large)
1 large sweet potato (or 2 small/medium ones), chopped into 1 inch or smaller cubes
2 cups chicken stock
1 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp paprika
2 tsp dried basil
1 tbsp curry powder (I used regular curry powder, but feel free to try red or yellow curry paste, adjusting to your spice preferences)
1 - 1 1/2 tsp fish sauce
1 carrot (I used a fat Japanese carrot, so you may need to use more than one carrot)
1 cup coconut milk
1 1/2 tbsp creamy unsweetened peanut butter (omit sugar if you use sweetened peanut butter)
1 tsp dried or fresh basil
1/2 tbsp curry powder
1/4 - 1/2 tsp dried chopped chilis or chili powder (put in more to add heat)
1 tbsp sugar or maple syrup
1 - 1 1/2 lb salmon fillet, cut into one inch cubes (make sure it's skinless and boneless too)
1 1/2 tbsp lime juice
Heat a pot over medium/low heat and saute onions until translucent. Add garlic and cook until fragrant. Add potatoes and saute briefly, (but don't brown). Mix in chicken stock, garam masala, paprika, basil, curry powder and fish sauce. Cover and let simmer on low heat until potatoes are soft
Mash potatoes (use a potato masher or a fork) (they don't have to be completely mashed, just enough to give the broth a thick consistency). Add carrots and simmer on low heat until fork tender (covered).
Mix in coconut milk, peanut butter, basil, chilis, curry powder until peanut butter dissolves. Taste and adjust to your preference accordingly. Add in salmon and simmer on low (don't boil) 5-7 minutes, until salmon is cooked through. Mix in lime juice. Adjust any last seasonings, garnish with fresh basil if you'd like, and enjoy.
Makes about 4 servings.
Friday, April 9, 2010
untethering
The title of this blog is Untethered, at least for now. When I was trying to make a decision about some kind of unique title, moving away from "Sayonara, Goodbye," untethered was the word that kept coming back to mind. I went through various ideas, scoured the thesaurus, slept on it (for a long time) but nothing else stood out. So I revamped my blog, slapped the title on a picture and called it good. Suddenly now, I'm realizing how prophetic that word is, in a way, according to my life.
These last few months, or maybe five, six months, have been challenging in so many ways. Rewarding and eye-opening in some, but certainly challenging. Though I'm on the mend now and most days I feel, more or less, normal, that significant chunk of time completely isolated me from the world. I find this slightly ironic as we visited Seattle for two weeks in December. That time was mostly good, and seeing so many familiar faces was also good, but at the same time, left me feeling slightly alienated and confused. I walked and talked and interacted with the same demeanor I had over two years ago. At times, I wasn't sure how to act, or I felt confused about the discrepancy in how I thought I used to be with particular people, and how I supposedly am now. I pushed the thoughts aside and simply tried to enjoy the little time we had in the US, but those thoughts and feelings that come with it have slowly magnified themselves over the past few months.
As my illness isolated me physically, the distance from the US, as well as circumstances in Japan, also created emotional isolation. Who did I talk to? David and the internet were my main links to anything outside of our apartment. We tried to go to church every now and then, although when we did we could never stay long enough to socialize with anyone or do much afterward. All the plans and invites from other ALTs in the area were postponed and subsequently forgotten, my RSVP always: "when I'm better..." As such, I felt the world around me had kept moving, while my world held the shutters closed and only allowed me to peer out every now and then to see what was going on, and left me wondering if I could ever get out again.
As of now, I still often feel as if I'm peering out the window. I see the social interactions happen around me (Facebook is like a window to everything social), and feel a pain as to how hopeless it is for me to even try to enter into those groups. I've always been the person that has difficulty in social interactions, particularly groups. I force it out, bending and twisting who I am to conform to some kind of person that I know will be accepted by others. I feel as if I'm shunning myself - condemning myself back behind that window while this alter-ego of mine tries to engage, make connections and friends. When it's all said and done, it wasn't really me at that table, smiling, laughing, talking. It was just the me that works in society - that works in circumstances so as not to make others uncomfortable or create social awkwardness.
Then I see all that is keenly familiar to me in the US. My friends, family, people I know so well and spent significant amounts of time with. Though some of these relationships still run strong, and have stood the test of time and change (and how thankful I am for those relationships!), others have simply dissipated across the world, both literally and figuratively. Some that I've known for most of my life, seem so strange to me now, not in any bad way, but like we hardly know each other. I feel like a completely different person from when I was twenty, fifteen, ten. So much so that these encounters bring with them a sense of confusion. Old traits and habits and demeanor haunt me and escape from within, though they don't show up in my current daily life. I feel foreign - who is this person that is waving my hand and moving my lips?
I want to relate to those I've known so long - those that have been part of significant moments in my life. Some of them still work quite well. They work despite change and developing identity and 4,000 miles of distance. They work despite differences or similarities in religion or beliefs or values. Those people that I met in random moments, and instantly clicked with, have been some of the best kind of friends. Even if a considerable amount of time goes between talking to those kind of people, I still know that I can always consider them a close friend. And yet other relationships, it hurts me to say, seem to have become more and more distant over the years of change and physical distance. They are almost a burden - a forced interaction that just doesn't seem to work. Or those relationships that I considered so close, that aren't in the first two categories I've mentioned, that don't seem to work simply because I am no longer a part of their daily life, and they are no longer a part of mine.
Sometimes thoughts pervade my mind in attempts to convince me that people in the aforementioned relationships simply don't care. Yet, I know everyone cares, in their own way. I know that life has just continued to take its course, and carried people with it. This is normal. Life carried me to Japan. And I'm living in Japan, with my best friend (who also happens to be my husband), and carving out a life here, for whatever is ahead of us on this road. To everyone who has not lived in a foreign country for at least a year, this is probably a difficult concept, although not as difficult if you think of it as moving to a new city, or state, or something like that. Those of you who are and have lived in a foreign country, you already know. You lose the community you left behind. Though, you may still have some of those cherished connections, you inevitably lose some (or a lot) too.
Though I hardly considered the US my main "home" to begin with, since I've felt disconnected plenty of times, it has started to feel less and less like a home base in really any sense. So if anyone asked me why I might want to go back, I would probably say (aside family), for Whole Foods or competent doctors. The US is awesome in a lot of ways, and Seattle and Washington are so dear to my heart and always will be. Japan has become so much more to me though, and my increasing knowledge of the country, language, and its people just fill my heart with so much love, angst and peace that it feels like it's the place to be, for me. Though I'm still in social limbo, and though I've yet to really integrate myself more and more into the community (foreign and Japanese), I realize that in the end, it is still a good place. It is the right place. Sometimes some things are frustrating, or difficult, or annoying, and yes, I certainly don't fit in here simply because I'm a foreigner. Foreigners are like me, and the US, and Western culture, since I am one too. The way I act around those I am more familiar with is how I'm accustomed to acting in those situations. Yet, around Japanese people, there aren't all those preconceptions. Oh, of course there are preconceptions and misunderstandings about foreigners, but oddly enough, in a society based on conformity, I don't feel like I have to be a certain way with those I meet. There is something strangely refreshing about knowing that this person you are talking to just wants to know who you are, and what you are like, as a foreigner. One of those few circumstances where I can exercise the "be who you are" mantra that is preached constantly in Western culture (especially in the States).
So this brings me back to my title. Normally, I love to engage people and make them laugh in what I write. I love to make light of my problems or issues or mishaps in order to make others smile or just give them a small break from the seriousness of life. I love doing this. Yet, I realized today, as I pondered my lack of sense of community, that I'd forgotten about this whole idea of being "untethered." Why allow myself to be tied down to one subject, to one way of acting around other people? Why does it matter? Why do I say I don't care what people think but yet sometimes still act like I do? Why don't I just allow my friendships and relationships to just develop naturally (as I've come to believe they should) instead of forcing relationships with those I just don't necessarily click with? Note: I'm not saying I don't want to meet a variety of people or talk to people, since I love hearing people's stories. I'm just saying I don't think I should feel like I need to be everyone's best friend.
It's a serious topic, I know. Please don't think I'm mentally depressed or on the verge of joining a cult or anything like that. I'm doing about as fine as someone in my situation could be. Not great, but good in the sense that I know I'm growing, and learning something about myself and the people around me, and just about life. So, in that sense, I'm thankful for process.
These last few months, or maybe five, six months, have been challenging in so many ways. Rewarding and eye-opening in some, but certainly challenging. Though I'm on the mend now and most days I feel, more or less, normal, that significant chunk of time completely isolated me from the world. I find this slightly ironic as we visited Seattle for two weeks in December. That time was mostly good, and seeing so many familiar faces was also good, but at the same time, left me feeling slightly alienated and confused. I walked and talked and interacted with the same demeanor I had over two years ago. At times, I wasn't sure how to act, or I felt confused about the discrepancy in how I thought I used to be with particular people, and how I supposedly am now. I pushed the thoughts aside and simply tried to enjoy the little time we had in the US, but those thoughts and feelings that come with it have slowly magnified themselves over the past few months.
As my illness isolated me physically, the distance from the US, as well as circumstances in Japan, also created emotional isolation. Who did I talk to? David and the internet were my main links to anything outside of our apartment. We tried to go to church every now and then, although when we did we could never stay long enough to socialize with anyone or do much afterward. All the plans and invites from other ALTs in the area were postponed and subsequently forgotten, my RSVP always: "when I'm better..." As such, I felt the world around me had kept moving, while my world held the shutters closed and only allowed me to peer out every now and then to see what was going on, and left me wondering if I could ever get out again.
As of now, I still often feel as if I'm peering out the window. I see the social interactions happen around me (Facebook is like a window to everything social), and feel a pain as to how hopeless it is for me to even try to enter into those groups. I've always been the person that has difficulty in social interactions, particularly groups. I force it out, bending and twisting who I am to conform to some kind of person that I know will be accepted by others. I feel as if I'm shunning myself - condemning myself back behind that window while this alter-ego of mine tries to engage, make connections and friends. When it's all said and done, it wasn't really me at that table, smiling, laughing, talking. It was just the me that works in society - that works in circumstances so as not to make others uncomfortable or create social awkwardness.
Then I see all that is keenly familiar to me in the US. My friends, family, people I know so well and spent significant amounts of time with. Though some of these relationships still run strong, and have stood the test of time and change (and how thankful I am for those relationships!), others have simply dissipated across the world, both literally and figuratively. Some that I've known for most of my life, seem so strange to me now, not in any bad way, but like we hardly know each other. I feel like a completely different person from when I was twenty, fifteen, ten. So much so that these encounters bring with them a sense of confusion. Old traits and habits and demeanor haunt me and escape from within, though they don't show up in my current daily life. I feel foreign - who is this person that is waving my hand and moving my lips?
I want to relate to those I've known so long - those that have been part of significant moments in my life. Some of them still work quite well. They work despite change and developing identity and 4,000 miles of distance. They work despite differences or similarities in religion or beliefs or values. Those people that I met in random moments, and instantly clicked with, have been some of the best kind of friends. Even if a considerable amount of time goes between talking to those kind of people, I still know that I can always consider them a close friend. And yet other relationships, it hurts me to say, seem to have become more and more distant over the years of change and physical distance. They are almost a burden - a forced interaction that just doesn't seem to work. Or those relationships that I considered so close, that aren't in the first two categories I've mentioned, that don't seem to work simply because I am no longer a part of their daily life, and they are no longer a part of mine.
Sometimes thoughts pervade my mind in attempts to convince me that people in the aforementioned relationships simply don't care. Yet, I know everyone cares, in their own way. I know that life has just continued to take its course, and carried people with it. This is normal. Life carried me to Japan. And I'm living in Japan, with my best friend (who also happens to be my husband), and carving out a life here, for whatever is ahead of us on this road. To everyone who has not lived in a foreign country for at least a year, this is probably a difficult concept, although not as difficult if you think of it as moving to a new city, or state, or something like that. Those of you who are and have lived in a foreign country, you already know. You lose the community you left behind. Though, you may still have some of those cherished connections, you inevitably lose some (or a lot) too.
Though I hardly considered the US my main "home" to begin with, since I've felt disconnected plenty of times, it has started to feel less and less like a home base in really any sense. So if anyone asked me why I might want to go back, I would probably say (aside family), for Whole Foods or competent doctors. The US is awesome in a lot of ways, and Seattle and Washington are so dear to my heart and always will be. Japan has become so much more to me though, and my increasing knowledge of the country, language, and its people just fill my heart with so much love, angst and peace that it feels like it's the place to be, for me. Though I'm still in social limbo, and though I've yet to really integrate myself more and more into the community (foreign and Japanese), I realize that in the end, it is still a good place. It is the right place. Sometimes some things are frustrating, or difficult, or annoying, and yes, I certainly don't fit in here simply because I'm a foreigner. Foreigners are like me, and the US, and Western culture, since I am one too. The way I act around those I am more familiar with is how I'm accustomed to acting in those situations. Yet, around Japanese people, there aren't all those preconceptions. Oh, of course there are preconceptions and misunderstandings about foreigners, but oddly enough, in a society based on conformity, I don't feel like I have to be a certain way with those I meet. There is something strangely refreshing about knowing that this person you are talking to just wants to know who you are, and what you are like, as a foreigner. One of those few circumstances where I can exercise the "be who you are" mantra that is preached constantly in Western culture (especially in the States).
So this brings me back to my title. Normally, I love to engage people and make them laugh in what I write. I love to make light of my problems or issues or mishaps in order to make others smile or just give them a small break from the seriousness of life. I love doing this. Yet, I realized today, as I pondered my lack of sense of community, that I'd forgotten about this whole idea of being "untethered." Why allow myself to be tied down to one subject, to one way of acting around other people? Why does it matter? Why do I say I don't care what people think but yet sometimes still act like I do? Why don't I just allow my friendships and relationships to just develop naturally (as I've come to believe they should) instead of forcing relationships with those I just don't necessarily click with? Note: I'm not saying I don't want to meet a variety of people or talk to people, since I love hearing people's stories. I'm just saying I don't think I should feel like I need to be everyone's best friend.
It's a serious topic, I know. Please don't think I'm mentally depressed or on the verge of joining a cult or anything like that. I'm doing about as fine as someone in my situation could be. Not great, but good in the sense that I know I'm growing, and learning something about myself and the people around me, and just about life. So, in that sense, I'm thankful for process.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
of fish and sulfur and random arrests
Expat Women Blog Directory
A weekend. Away from my apartment. A chance to finally be outside, to ride trains and buses and apparently, a ropeway. To try new things, see new places, visit with an old friend, relax a bit, make a fool of myself and laugh at things that are just so "Japan."
Yes, a weekend trip to Hakone (Kanagawa Prefecture) planned for the first weekend of April, with a friend I clicked with right away after arriving in Japan, and who I hardly get to see, as she lives rather far from me. So we planned. Wrote excited facebook messages back and forth. Exclaimed our perpetual ruts and need to get out into the world and laugh again. If it sounds over-dramatic, well, it probably is.
The weekend started off with my first long train ride since going to the U.S. in December. It lasted about an hour and a half, all of which I unfortunately had to stand. This was a Saturday morning, and when I saw the train before mine leave the station empty, I was happy that I would find a seat on my train. However, this was not the case, as the train was completely packed, and not one person got up from any of the seats the entire way. Not even at the big cities that most people get off at. No - I stood. And stood. And stood some more. Sometimes I sighed loudly when no one got off at the stops. Where were all these people going? I will never know. I was at the second to last stop on the train line when I got off... so my only assumption is that they were ALL going to Tokyo - the slow way.
Met up with my friend, bought a travel pass, and hopped on the bus for a fifty minute ride up into the mountains. And for some reason, the roads are ridiculously windy. No, the stereotypical kind of windy that you see in cartoons. Where the car tips at the edge. That's sometimes what the bus felt like. As someone recovering from motion sickness, I had to resist the urge to hurl. At least I had brought a pack of saltines, and quickly downed them, hoping that would help out my stomach.
If you are waiting to hear me say that I actually threw up, well, sorry, but I didn't. I survived, and we got off the bus in Moto-Hakone, exclaiming over the slight dip in temperature from where we had been just an hour ago.
After a soba lunch and some sweet potato ice cream, we hopped back on a bus to Yunessan, a water park. There are two parts to the park, an onsen (where you strip down to your birthday suit) and a public bath/pool area. They've got all kinds of baths, waterslides, pools, etc. Our eyes got big as we entered the giant building, giggling excitedly and then tried to navigate our way to the entrance. My friend noted the way the building was laid out, that every floor below the entrance was essentially a "tourist trap." Since, you have to pass through the shops and whatnot to get to the entrance. (Well, then she bought some socks.)
Our afternoon was spent lazing away in various baths, including coffee, wine, sake and green tea baths. Not to be outdone by beverages, a charcoal bath also persuaded us to try it, and a walking bath (you just walk through hot water over awkwardly bumpy rocks that really just hurt your feet). Kids were everywhere, screaming and splashing everyone around them. For some reason the parents take them to all the baths instead of just leaving them in the pool areas with the "spa guards."
Aside all the dead skin flakes in the baths, they were quite nice and relaxing. I suspect the green tea and wine baths were really just color-dyed, although one brave kid actually dipped his hands in and drank some of the "wine" water. He didn't really react, although he didn't try it again.
We also were wondering if the wine had gotten to one couple, who looked all too absorbed in each other and putting on such a PDA show that I almost felt like we weren't in Japan for a moment. And of course, the entire time they were doing this, two blond girls across the bath were snickering and staring at them. (Would you bet that one of those girls was me?)
After we had our fill ofskin-flake baths, the next logical stop was to have our dead skin taken care of. Japan (and many other countries) have what some call "doctor fish" - little fish that eat the dead skin off your feet. It was our first time doing this, and I was absolutely ecstatic over the fact that fish would want to just eat away my dead skin. They do all the work! As we dipped our feet in the fish pool, the fishes swarmed around my feet and went nuts. Felt like little electric jolts, but it wasn't painful or anything, tickled mostly. When they told us it was time to stop, the fish didn't seem to want to let go... They seemed to love my feet more than anyone else's in the pool. Though some may think it sounds disgusting, I was happy - at least they took good care of my feet. They were so nice and smooth afterward.
Next was the onsen, to clean off the rest of the dead skin flakes and relax in actual clean water. After drying, was fresh fruit juice, churros, and relaxing. Then, decided we should head to the hotel, which took us twice as long as it should have, as we exited the back of the giant building, walked in a complete circle and ended up in the front of the same building (laughing, at the fact we had just walked around the building). Walked to the wrong hotel and then headed back to our starting point to take a shuttle (that we didn't know about beforehand) from the water park to our hotel. All this while still not having eaten dinner, and concerned we would miss dinner time and have to eat convenience store food. Though, all ended well, as a yakitori restaurant was open until 9:30. The sakura (cherry blossom) ice cream I had for dessert was amazing (and sadly I don't have a picture of it to share with you).
Sunday was filled with tourists as we took the "tourist" loop from where we were back to where we started the day before. A cable car from Gora to Sounzan. The ropeway from Sounzan to Owakudani to Togendai. A pirate ship (ferry) from Togendai across Lake Ashinoko back to Hakone-machi. Normally, the views are spectacular and Mt. Fuji can be seen up close and personal, however, the entire day Sunday was cloud-covered, thus leaving me to sigh heavily over missing a perfect chance to capture Fuji-san. The clouds and haze still provided an interesting backdrop though, mysterious and intriguing all at the same time.
The cable car, at Sounzan (the top of the mountain).
The Hakone Ropeway - longest ropeway in the world.
Ropeway in action:
Going over the infamous "sulfur pit" to Owakudani.
In Owakudani, they boil eggs in the sulfur hot springs, turning them black. The legend goes that eating these eggs adds seven years to your life. In any case, I'm sure they make people cheerful, as the egg is so happy and cheerful itself:
Where they boil eggs:
Down to the lake to meet our pirate ship.
The pirate ship:
By this time, we had been standing in lines for awhile, surrounded by overly-exuberant Japanese people, loud, ignorant foreigners and screaming children, and really both just wanted to go home and sleep. Our patience had dwindled, our excitement lost. Even the crisp, freezing cold mountain air was making us cranky. We probably sounded like two old women, walking around and grumbling loudly about the crazy Japanese people who always cut us off or stop in the middle the walkway and cause a traffic jam, and the foreigners who just get in the way and never shut up. Even I, someone who loves children, felt like throwing them overboard or grabbing their arm and scaring them into silence. We were unhappy, tired, and cranky, we knew it, we were being impatient, and we didn't care.
So would I recommend taking the typical tourist loop in Hakone? No. I would say, do everything the tourists won't typically do. Unless you really want to ride the ropeway. I must admit, that part was pretty interesting. The cable car definitely wasn't, however. Perhaps you may want to try a sulfur-cooked egg. I passed, as eggs just aren't my thing. I honestly don't know what intrigues people to walk through sulfur gas-filled stench to see a bunch of orange rock and sulfur hot springs, but I suppose it was interesting in its own pungent way. I was happy to bring home a new Kitty-chan mug from Owakudani to add to my collection.
After all of this, and a sickening bus ride back down the mountain, and 45 minutes on the train whilst having to pee, I hopped off at a random station to use the restroom and get a quick snack. I see a police car pull over a car on the road just outside the train tracks. The police inquire the man, then practically drag him out of the car and put him in the back of the squad car. The two women and children hustle out, worried looks on their faces, watching. Eventually, when the police don't get out of their car, the women and children take off walking down the street. I tried to non-nonchalantly walk down the platform in order to get a better view without tipping off the policemen I was prying, while greedily stuffing Pocky in my mouth, but when I wasn't looking, the pulled-over car had disappeared, and the man was gone from the back seat. Perhaps they let him go? The next time I glanced over the police car was gone too. I have no idea what happened exactly, if they were just speeding and the man didn't comply with the cops or something, but then again, I haven't really sat and watched Japanese police pull speeding cars over. Maybe it's standard procedure. (I doubt it). Random, yes.
Now that this post is longer than my weekend, I should probably end it. The other funny stories shall come next time. If you can wait that long.
A weekend. Away from my apartment. A chance to finally be outside, to ride trains and buses and apparently, a ropeway. To try new things, see new places, visit with an old friend, relax a bit, make a fool of myself and laugh at things that are just so "Japan." Yes, a weekend trip to Hakone (Kanagawa Prefecture) planned for the first weekend of April, with a friend I clicked with right away after arriving in Japan, and who I hardly get to see, as she lives rather far from me. So we planned. Wrote excited facebook messages back and forth. Exclaimed our perpetual ruts and need to get out into the world and laugh again. If it sounds over-dramatic, well, it probably is.
The weekend started off with my first long train ride since going to the U.S. in December. It lasted about an hour and a half, all of which I unfortunately had to stand. This was a Saturday morning, and when I saw the train before mine leave the station empty, I was happy that I would find a seat on my train. However, this was not the case, as the train was completely packed, and not one person got up from any of the seats the entire way. Not even at the big cities that most people get off at. No - I stood. And stood. And stood some more. Sometimes I sighed loudly when no one got off at the stops. Where were all these people going? I will never know. I was at the second to last stop on the train line when I got off... so my only assumption is that they were ALL going to Tokyo - the slow way.
Met up with my friend, bought a travel pass, and hopped on the bus for a fifty minute ride up into the mountains. And for some reason, the roads are ridiculously windy. No, the stereotypical kind of windy that you see in cartoons. Where the car tips at the edge. That's sometimes what the bus felt like. As someone recovering from motion sickness, I had to resist the urge to hurl. At least I had brought a pack of saltines, and quickly downed them, hoping that would help out my stomach.
If you are waiting to hear me say that I actually threw up, well, sorry, but I didn't. I survived, and we got off the bus in Moto-Hakone, exclaiming over the slight dip in temperature from where we had been just an hour ago.
After a soba lunch and some sweet potato ice cream, we hopped back on a bus to Yunessan, a water park. There are two parts to the park, an onsen (where you strip down to your birthday suit) and a public bath/pool area. They've got all kinds of baths, waterslides, pools, etc. Our eyes got big as we entered the giant building, giggling excitedly and then tried to navigate our way to the entrance. My friend noted the way the building was laid out, that every floor below the entrance was essentially a "tourist trap." Since, you have to pass through the shops and whatnot to get to the entrance. (Well, then she bought some socks.)
Our afternoon was spent lazing away in various baths, including coffee, wine, sake and green tea baths. Not to be outdone by beverages, a charcoal bath also persuaded us to try it, and a walking bath (you just walk through hot water over awkwardly bumpy rocks that really just hurt your feet). Kids were everywhere, screaming and splashing everyone around them. For some reason the parents take them to all the baths instead of just leaving them in the pool areas with the "spa guards."
Aside all the dead skin flakes in the baths, they were quite nice and relaxing. I suspect the green tea and wine baths were really just color-dyed, although one brave kid actually dipped his hands in and drank some of the "wine" water. He didn't really react, although he didn't try it again.
We also were wondering if the wine had gotten to one couple, who looked all too absorbed in each other and putting on such a PDA show that I almost felt like we weren't in Japan for a moment. And of course, the entire time they were doing this, two blond girls across the bath were snickering and staring at them. (Would you bet that one of those girls was me?)
After we had our fill of
Next was the onsen, to clean off the rest of the dead skin flakes and relax in actual clean water. After drying, was fresh fruit juice, churros, and relaxing. Then, decided we should head to the hotel, which took us twice as long as it should have, as we exited the back of the giant building, walked in a complete circle and ended up in the front of the same building (laughing, at the fact we had just walked around the building). Walked to the wrong hotel and then headed back to our starting point to take a shuttle (that we didn't know about beforehand) from the water park to our hotel. All this while still not having eaten dinner, and concerned we would miss dinner time and have to eat convenience store food. Though, all ended well, as a yakitori restaurant was open until 9:30. The sakura (cherry blossom) ice cream I had for dessert was amazing (and sadly I don't have a picture of it to share with you).
Sunday was filled with tourists as we took the "tourist" loop from where we were back to where we started the day before. A cable car from Gora to Sounzan. The ropeway from Sounzan to Owakudani to Togendai. A pirate ship (ferry) from Togendai across Lake Ashinoko back to Hakone-machi. Normally, the views are spectacular and Mt. Fuji can be seen up close and personal, however, the entire day Sunday was cloud-covered, thus leaving me to sigh heavily over missing a perfect chance to capture Fuji-san. The clouds and haze still provided an interesting backdrop though, mysterious and intriguing all at the same time.
The cable car, at Sounzan (the top of the mountain).
The Hakone Ropeway - longest ropeway in the world.
Ropeway in action:
Going over the infamous "sulfur pit" to Owakudani.
In Owakudani, they boil eggs in the sulfur hot springs, turning them black. The legend goes that eating these eggs adds seven years to your life. In any case, I'm sure they make people cheerful, as the egg is so happy and cheerful itself:
Where they boil eggs:
Down to the lake to meet our pirate ship.
The pirate ship:
By this time, we had been standing in lines for awhile, surrounded by overly-exuberant Japanese people, loud, ignorant foreigners and screaming children, and really both just wanted to go home and sleep. Our patience had dwindled, our excitement lost. Even the crisp, freezing cold mountain air was making us cranky. We probably sounded like two old women, walking around and grumbling loudly about the crazy Japanese people who always cut us off or stop in the middle the walkway and cause a traffic jam, and the foreigners who just get in the way and never shut up. Even I, someone who loves children, felt like throwing them overboard or grabbing their arm and scaring them into silence. We were unhappy, tired, and cranky, we knew it, we were being impatient, and we didn't care.
So would I recommend taking the typical tourist loop in Hakone? No. I would say, do everything the tourists won't typically do. Unless you really want to ride the ropeway. I must admit, that part was pretty interesting. The cable car definitely wasn't, however. Perhaps you may want to try a sulfur-cooked egg. I passed, as eggs just aren't my thing. I honestly don't know what intrigues people to walk through sulfur gas-filled stench to see a bunch of orange rock and sulfur hot springs, but I suppose it was interesting in its own pungent way. I was happy to bring home a new Kitty-chan mug from Owakudani to add to my collection.
After all of this, and a sickening bus ride back down the mountain, and 45 minutes on the train whilst having to pee, I hopped off at a random station to use the restroom and get a quick snack. I see a police car pull over a car on the road just outside the train tracks. The police inquire the man, then practically drag him out of the car and put him in the back of the squad car. The two women and children hustle out, worried looks on their faces, watching. Eventually, when the police don't get out of their car, the women and children take off walking down the street. I tried to non-nonchalantly walk down the platform in order to get a better view without tipping off the policemen I was prying, while greedily stuffing Pocky in my mouth, but when I wasn't looking, the pulled-over car had disappeared, and the man was gone from the back seat. Perhaps they let him go? The next time I glanced over the police car was gone too. I have no idea what happened exactly, if they were just speeding and the man didn't comply with the cops or something, but then again, I haven't really sat and watched Japanese police pull speeding cars over. Maybe it's standard procedure. (I doubt it). Random, yes.
Now that this post is longer than my weekend, I should probably end it. The other funny stories shall come next time. If you can wait that long.
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