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.

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 of skin-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.

kitchen mishaps, triumphs and summer dreams

Am I in Washington? It sure feels like it. This incessant rain that allows only irregular sun breaks, and even with those sun breaks we still get cold and wind gusts. The cherry blossoms should say otherwise - that it should be warm and sunny and spring-like, but, it isn't. Perhaps I'm hoping for too much, considering it is only March, albeit the end of March. I've had enough of winter though. The cold, the dark, the unusual rain, being sick and inside... Instead I dream of exotic beach vacations and summer skirts and sandals, reminding myself that one day soon I'll be able to walk in the warm sunshine, soaking up as much as possible before the next winter. (Don't let that picture to the left fool you, that was one sunny day out of many rainy ones...)

Then I remember, the awful sunburns I got last summer despite using 65SPF sunscreen, the ones that still mark certain parts of my skin. Or the incessant humidity that leaves one with bladder infections, frizzed out hair and an oily face. Or, the mosquitoes - the blasted bugs that infiltrate my living space and steal my blood late at night, consequently leading to sleepless nights. Oh yes, and the shrieking bugs that resemble giant beetles that enjoy serenading the world at an ungodly hour of the morning since Japan does not believe in daylight savings time, also causing sleepless nights. Curse you, cicadas. I digress.

Now that I think about it, maybe summer isn't as dreamy as I thought... Perhaps I'll be wishing for winter again come August. For now though, I anticipate the warmer months.

Today was another one of those rainy days. Rain that blows sideways and upside down and every which way possible. It is such that, even though I was thoroughly bundled from head to toe, even outfitted with waterproof shoe covers that come up to my shins, and a raincoat that just allows my eyes to peek out, I still get wet. So, upon returning home from errands in the erratic rain, I decided today was definitely a curry day.

So around 5, I get the onions chopped and sauteing on the stove, whilst I mince garlic and ginger and gather the rest of my ingredients from around the kitchen. I'll take a brief tangent here to say that the past week I have begun spring cleaning, which includes organizing and trying to get our apartment more in order. Things are coming together slowly but surely, and maybe one day soon after I get more done and we can actually make some more purchases, I'll be able to share pictures of our place.

Back to curry. The onions are caramelizing and so I throw in the ginger and garlic, and then follow with water, stock, a bay leaf and star anise. That simmers nicely as the flavors amalgamate. About an hour later I get the still-somewhat-frozen chicken in the pot as David returns soaking wet from playing with children. Since the chicken was so cold, I turned the stove up and put the lid back on to get everything heated quickly without allowing bacteria or anything to form. Well, as I got caught up in talking with David per usual end-of-the-day conversations, I completely forgot I had left the burner on high, and sat down to read some food blogs while I "waited" for the chicken to "slowly" cook.

Maybe 20 or so minutes later I heard a sound like perhaps the water was boiling over, and rushed to the stove, where, in dismay, I realized I had left the stove on high, and when I nearly burned my hand taking off the lid, felt my stomach drop at the sight of the scorched pot, a pile of chicken in the middle... and the broth completely evaporated. What else could I do? I started crying, then burned my hand (on accident). It is silly isn't it, since it's not like we can't make curry still, and David comforted me and told me it was ok. I felt utterly stupid for forgetting about the stove, and just stupid that though I started dinner about two hours earlier, I'd have to start over again. So I did, and David thoughtfully cleaned out the pot for me. Although, from there on out, I kept dropping things and having issues all around, which eventually led me to collapse on the floor in laughter. It was all too ridiculous, how could I not laugh?

The curry turned out fine as usual, though slightly different than if it had been cooked much longer. Nonetheless, still delicious.

Although, despite the curry issues, the granola I got in the oven to slowly bake turned out beautiful. I threw some together a few days ago and made some more since David and I already downed most of my first batch. I hoped it would be a cheaper (and tastier) way to do breakfast, instead of buying bags of pre-made granola. The first batch included wonderfully roasted walnuts with oats, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom, mixed up with maple syrup and baked at a low temperature for 50 minutes. The second batch included almonds instead of walnuts. Thankfully, I recently found a retailer here who sells bulk spices, herbs, dried nuts and fruits, so I ordered some nuts and seeds to bulk up our granola a bit for next time.

The sourdough starter was also put to good use this past weekend as I made pizza dough out of it, which we used to make BBQ chicken and Thai chicken pizzas.

All in all, more good food despite my curry mishap. And the week is only half over.

Challenging #17

Oh Spring, have you sprung? The buds I captured on camera just weeks ago are now blooming along our street - a mix of purple and white with soft petals. Though the temperature took a brief dip, the weather warmed up this weekend and allowed the sun to show its face. Since we are tired of being inside, David and I decided to go for a hike on Saturday. I spent the week looking up places to hike on the internet, and found a mess of them in Fujieda (the city next to ours on the east side). My natural inclination when choosing hikes is to find the longest and most strenuous, the ones I actually consider challenging. None of those walk-around-the-park types. However, David convinced me that I needed to take it easy since I am so out of shape from sitting around since last Fall. He was right, I knew, even though I still wanted to choose the 14k (8.6 miles) that traverses 5 mountains or something.

So instead, I looked at #16, 17, 20 and 10. They were all under 5k (3.1 miles) and appeared to be large loops that took under 3 hours to complete. I figured they'd be super easy, even for me, the out of shape one. David looked at them, gave his consent and I decided upon #17, a 3.5k course. This colorful, childish/cutesy looking map indicated some exciting stuff, waterfalls, a bridge, a "cat" rock, and even a tunnel. Whoa, tunnel? It all sounded very "Alice in Wonderland" or some such thing.

We set off Saturday morning armed with enough snacks to sustain us for a 6k hike rather than our short one. Though the sun was peeking out here and there, the wind decided it would rather be its beastly self instead of its happy, carefree, light breezy self. Though, at times I was thankful for the wind during our hike.

The bus dropped us off on the side of the freeway. We walked back a bit as I had to go to the bathroom (go figure). Then set forth, only to meet a slight incline on a cutesy path. "Hills already?" I asked, through deep breaths. David says nothing in reply, but rather is admiring the scenery. He says something only when I keep stopping to take pictures, saying the hike will take us double the time with me stopping all the time.

The park came up first, and we wandered through it, checking out the man-made waterfalls. Wandered towards the woods and walked for a bit when we realized we missed our turn somewhere behind us. When we found our turn, and started up this rock embankment, I almost cursed our decision to turn around. This path was straight up the mountain. So we climbed, me stopping every few seconds to take pictures (and get my breath, I was dying). David disappeared out of my sight eventually, as he kept going. Though, the higher we climbed, the more came into view, and I remembered why I love the hikes that go up a mountain and back down. Those make me feel like I got somewhere, that I accomplished something, and that for a brief moment in time, I could survey the world around me and feel a sense of peace. I had missed climbing mountains.

We climbed higher, and passed the cat rock. It looked nothing like a cat. We have no idea why it is called cat rock. Looking out off the left of our trail, tea fields appeared on the sides of mountain peaks. The tea farmers must be brave souls, or billy goats.

Not long after, we reached the top. The elderly folks' hiking clubs were stopped for lunch, taking up space all over the summit. I tried to angle in between them to get a good view for a picture, but alas, they blocked all the good spots, and ironically, none were facing the view, they were all turned in towards the woods (or in the woods).

Now, by this time I was quite tired, though invigorated over the fact we had just climbed a mountain without intent. Nonetheless, our trail was beckoning, and thus we continued down the mountain. (Rather, trying to keep from falling down the mountain. Have the Japanese ever heard of switchbacks? (Please know I'm exaggerating there.))  We passed a woman wearing UGG boots, dragging a small child up the mountain. Our subsequent comments included something like "crazy," "why those shoes?" and "I'd never take a child on something like this."

The next bit was quite boring and not even worth writing about. Part of it involved concrete and the freeway and a giant overpass.

Soon enough, we were almost to the tunnel. We walked along the Old Tokaido road through what seemed to be a ghost town, and reached - The Meiji Tunnel!

A bit of info: The Old Tokaido Road was part of the original route (in the Edo period) connecting Kyoto and Edo (modern day Tokyo). This route was (and still is) the most traveled route in Japan.

After walking through the tunnel, our hike was essentially over, as the freeway was just in view. So, after another bathroom break, and some soft cream, we met the bus to head home. A fantastic hike, I mused. Though, later that night and the next day, my body revolted against me for putting it through so much trauma and stress. It was only then, that David pointed out the course was an advanced course. Or maybe he mentioned it when we were hiking. In any case, I didn't even bother to notice the kanji written above the title, the ones that clearly state (in small lettering) "advanced course" (in Japanese).


Of course. You see, I really can't get away from the most strenuous and difficult hikes, even if they are short. They find their way to me.

Spring is the Season of Change

Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam, Saipan... as of late, suddenly beach vacations are pervading my thoughts and inspiring me to spend hours looking up hotels, flight information, and the best beaches in Southeast Asia. The idea of summer, vacations, beach trips and just going outside has expired my patience with winter. This and the fact that spring is slowly nudging its way in, with temps in the 60's last week, and budding cherry blossoms. Well, warm temps and more rain than usual... Can't say the rain is what I want, but the few warm, sunny days were a blessing. Now that March has arrived, I suppose the weather must make way for spring?
Spring is important to me more than ever this year, as it symbolizes the fact I am finally starting to feel like a human being again. David and I went for a nice walk along the Oi River (Big River) a week ago. I also wanted donuts from Mister Donut, which is near the river. The bike ride there miraculously felt normal, even the part where we were riding along a main road that is more like a highway, as the shoulder suddenly disappears and I am almost hit by the back end of a "semi" (who am I kidding, can they really be called semis here? They're tiny.).  Or, as we walked our bikes down a concrete embankment to the river, my bike felt heavy and I was using all my weight to hold it back from rolling down, yelling, "it's so heavy! AHH! Oh, it almost fell! AHH! Oh, I almost fell! Why is this so heavy? OW! I hurt my leg!"

David rolls his eyes and says "of course you did."

Me: "Why was that so hard? Why is it so heavy??"

David: "Did you use the brakes?"

I start laughing hysterically, how stupid of me not to use my brakes. I've used them plenty of times before walking my bike down a hill... So, perhaps my head isn't quite back to normal yet. Or it's just been that long since I've done anything aside sit at home and make food.

The next day, I was beside myself with excitement to go watch David's basketball tourney in the next city over. I mapped out the route, taking the train and bus. I'm going outside! I'm going out into the world! This is the happiest day of my life! Weee!!! Er, yes, well it sounded something like that.

All went well and I made it to the school, where the tourney was, in one piece. After watching David's first game (they won!), and freezing in the gym while it was so warm and sunny outside, I ran downstairs to use the bathroom. As I walked towards it, and almost into it, I realized it was a boy's bathroom. Alas! I have to go so bad! A man saw me and starting explaining something about the bathroom being outside and gave me directions, except that I was in shock about this whole ordeal that I didn't understand most of what he said. So, I went outside and walked around the building. No girl's bathroom.

Back upstairs to the gym and asked David about the bathroom. He said he didn't think it was in the building. Of course. So I go back downstairs and outside. I walked around the school, checking different buildings to see if they are locked or not. I found some old abandoned building that looked like the baseball team used it as a locker room or something. No one was there, so I walked in, down the creaky hallway and found a bathroom. Hooray! Finally I can go! 

No, it was too soon, as I noticed the urinals on the right side. I glanced over my shoulder. No boys around. I'm sure it's fine. Not like I haven't done this before. However, none of the stalls had toilet paper. UGH! Why!? I have to go!

So, walked back outside and did another loop. Walked back into the gym building and see my husband coming down the stairs. Phew, he can help me! I told David that I could not find the stupid bathroom anywhere. He, though was about to start his game and I believe was going to use the bathroom himself, ran back upstairs (what chivalry!) and asked where the ladies bathroom was. While he was gone, I was sort or staring off and around the building, as I do when I have nothing to do. A white and black sign caught my attention. It had the kanji for "women's bathroom" on it. Right in front of me, about five feet away, was a map for how to get there. How had I missed this map before? Then David appears and I laughed, pointing at the sign. "ha hahahaha! There's a map!" I said.

David smiled and then proceeded to point out the bathroom to me with a brief explanation. I head outside, once again, in search of my destination. It's been about 25 minutes now of me searching for the bathroom.

The women's bathroom is located in some "grounds building" between the baseball fields. At the time, the baseball team was playing in both fields. I walked along a dusty, dirt path, walking towards the first building, the one in which David said the bathroom was located. I passed a vending machine, but saw no bathroom, just a wall. No doors. Didn't he say the bathroom was here? 

So, I kept walking, thinking it must be the next building. Suddenly, to my right, a boy stops, takes off his hat, bows and says "konnichiwa." (hello) I reply in kind, embarrassed over the fact I'm searching for a bathroom amidst all these teenage boys. As I continued walking, a building in front of me looked very similar to a bathroom. That must be it! The closer I got, however, I saw urinals inside. My desperate line of thinking led me to believe that perhaps it was just turned into a women's bathroom from a men's. Now that I think about it, that really doesn't make sense, especially since it was quite open and there wasn't a lot of privacy.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to pee. I wanted to escape the line of vision of the teenage boys watching me peer into their bathroom. I turned back, thinking I needed to look at that stupid map again, and also thinking I was missing David's game. As I walked back, suddenly, boy after boy on either side of me stopped, turned, took off their hats, bowing and saying "konnichiwa." One boy yelled, "hello!" I replied to all them, thinking, AHH! I'm being ambushed! I just need to pee for crying out loud! Stop looking at me! Wait, maybe I can ask them where the bathroom is? 

I'm sure you were hoping I would ask a bunch of teenage boys where the women's bathroom was. No, sorry, can't give you that satisfaction. However, as I walked faster to escape the chorus of konnichiwa-ing going on, the vending machine came into view. Almost instantly, my eyes dart to the universal symbol for "woman," in red, on a small door, almost behind the vending machine. I almost did a dance, or exclaimed my relief. I could finally pee!!!

Yes, that weekend was full of excitement, and nothing out of the ordinary for my so-called "normal" life.

On that note, a final confession. Due to the length of time it is taking me to get over this, and all that we've put my school through, who have bent over backwards to accommodate me and this illness, we decided, after meeting with my school, that it would best if I quit and let someone new come in April. We had to make this decision a couple weeks ago, so they could have time to get a new person for the start of the new school year. Though, I'm sure I'll be fine by April (hopefully), due to the fact that I still have bad days sometimes, I felt it would be too much of a risk for them, and ultimately unfair that the students have not had an ALT for months now. David and I think it was the best decision for all the concerned parties, and so, as of now, I am no longer teaching at Shimada High School. In the meantime, as I recover to 100%, I'll be working on writing, blogging and web stuff, and we'll see what kind of work opportunities come up after that.

Spring symbolizes the new, coming to life, and transformation. In Japan, much of the culture revolves around the Springtime changes, such as a new school year starting in April. So, this year, Spring represents a lot more than in many seasons past. We'll see what kind of change will come in the near (and far) future. For now, I'll enjoy Spring's beginning.

My Dough Kids and Children of the World

Though this isn't a food blog, I've been moved to write about my recent experiences baking and cooking. Particularly, the truffles I made for myself for Valentine's Day and the sourdough starter I've been working on. I attempted to revive a pre-made starter I bought from a natural foods store here, and yet that failed quite miserably. You see, these starters seem to be rather fickle, and from what I've read online, sourdough starters seem to have their cult following. People argue fervently over the best method to begin one, sounding something like the digs hurled between ardent Mac and PC users. Some say you need to start with pineapple juice or grapes, other argue this is ridiculous. Some say you need to keep it at a warm temperature, while others retort that people have been making sourdough starters for centuries without temperature control. Some swear by starting with sterilized utensils and containers, and yet others refute that this is unecessary. Don't use metal bowls; don't use metal spoons; metal spoons are ok; five days is long enough; No, seven days is required; feeding every 8 hours is best; No, every 12; No, every 24; use 1-1 ratio flour-water; No, equal grams ratio; Use only spring water!; Filtered tap is OK.

With all this mish-mash I was puzzled how to start my starters, after the failure of the first attempt. So, I sort of compiled the various ideas and threw some whole wheat flour and water in my rice cooker. I figured at least, this would keep it warm, though it's a metal interior. That attempt died quickly, as the rice cooker baked the starter (it was on "keep warm"!!!). So, I added more and this time alternated turning on and off the rice cooker to gently heat the starter, opening the lid often to check on it. I soon named him Bubbly, as the bubbles appearing were a brilliant sign. After a couple days of successful survival, I took some of Bubbly and put it in a jar to create Bubbly Jr, and popped Jr in the oven.

In any case, it is now day 6 and both Bubbly and Bubbly Jr are still alive and kicking. I've just been feeding them every 12 hours, making sure they have air, and keeping them somewhat warm in the oven now. I didn't need pineapple or grapes, and used bottled water, and so far so good. I'm waiting for them to double in size today to see if they are up to snuff yet for some sourdough English muffins...

And now, apparently, they are like children. I talk to them often and say things like "time for dinner" and "time for bed" as David looks at me confused, thinking I am speaking to him. I've become one of the crazed sourdough starter-obsessed people I read about on the internet... They even have NAMES. Alas.

On a less entertaining note, lately, I've become wrapped up in reading real-life, rather horrific yet illuminating stories of world events. The current one, I felt I should share with you, and as heart-wrenching as it is, I haven't been able to put it down. Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick. This journalist interviewed several Koreans who defected from the North. The book chronicles their lives and experiences in the years since World War II (with some brief history of how North and South Korea became divided in the first place and how North Korea's dictators came to power). Though I've yet to finish, I would strongly recommend reading this book.

Another few books that have moved me (and David) recently: Dreams and Shadows, a brief historical and present day overview of various countries in the Middle East and where they may be heading in the future; Columbine, a look into the events leading up to, during and following the Columbine High School massacre; and Iran Awakening, a memoir written by Nobel Peace Prize winner Shirin Ebadi pertaining to the Islamic Revolution in Iran, events surrounding, and consequences.

Each of these books offer unique perspectives and though some may be limited to certain people's viewpoints, they at least provide deeper insight into cultures less understood by many (such as the Middle East and North Korea). Reading books like these reminds me just how important education is. Especially in the West, we lack a certain amount of education about cultures that aren't directly related to the development of the West. I never learned about the history of China in elementary, middle or high school, for example, and China is one of the ancient cultures. Though World War II is taught multiple times through one's basic education, the events pertaining to Southeast Asia (Japan, China, Korea, etc) aren't mentioned unless related to the US (such as Pearl Harbor or the nuclear bombings).

My point is that we gain a better understanding of situations and cultures when we can look at the entire picture, the all-encompassing context. I realize this can be difficult to teach to youth in history, but unless students seek it out in higher education, many go without ever knowing. For example, after I took a Southeast Asian history class at WSU while finishing my degree, I realized the events pertaining to World War II were more complex than simply Western conflict and Germany and Japan joining forces. Earlier on when I did Running Start in high school, I remember debating and discussing with classmates over the nuclear bombings in Japan. We discussed the pros and cons, how horrific we thought it was that any country would use a nuclear bomb on another, but also that Japan wouldn't have likely surrendered otherwise. Now, after I've learned more about Japan's attempt to take over Southeast Asia, the war crimes in China and Korea, it illuminates the situation more in its entirety, and as such, can sway people's thoughts towards events one way or another.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to paint Japan as horrible, and anyone who already knows this history will understand. Many countries in the world have done horrible things, to each other and to their own people. No one is exempt from wearing that kind of shame. And yet, countries and their cultures all have their good points too. Granted, it's hard to see that in a place like North Korea, what good really comes out of the country? Hard for the people to preserve their own culture when their daily lives revolve around survival. Yes, other countries also experience this as well... and so it makes me more inspired that those countries attempting to survive can yet find joy in it. Or love.

I'm also reminded of the call to action, to care for our planet, for people. So I ask that you all remember and remind others to advocate for our planet, and to advocate for those who don't have voices. One of the softest spots I have is for youth. There are many who are in need, physical need as well as emotional need. We all are aware of the countries and places where the children are starving, diseased and often orphaned. Sometimes there isn't a whole lot we can do about that, but remember there are children around you every day who need someone in their life. They may have their physical needs met, but so many have deep emotional needs as well. As I mentioned this to David yesterday, I stated that it is easy to remember the images we see on TV and donate money, or to adopt a foreign child, or anything else to help children in need. This is incredibly important, and yet, I finished, there are children who are dying from emotional neediness. No matter how you look at it, people are in need everywhere.

Now that I've been on the soapbox, I should just reiterate that I'm not trying to preach to anyone or be negative in any way. I simply felt it strongly in my heart this morning to write my advocacy. I applaud those who do the best they can to help others, not only children, but adults as well - or to make a difference in the world somehow. Thank you for that. You never know how much you may help someone you reach out to, even just a friendly hello - cliched though that is, people ultimately just need to know they matter to someone - anyone.

The Kitchen and I

What constitutes a successful day for you? Accomplishing something big at work or school (or both)? Eating three healthy meals? Completing a to-do list? I certainly agree with all of these things, and am sure you all have your own "successful day" indicator. While a successful day for me fluctuates, depending on what I'm currently involved in or the status of my life, lately these successful days equal completing various household tasks. My energy is coming back bit by bit, my second cold waning (though not this forceful cough) and my motivation to get our apartment back in order runs high.

Now is Wednesday evening. Tuesday I slaved away at our kitchen floor, scrubbing a few month's worth of crap and grime. I alternated mopping and vacuuming, until the floor shined in only a way dull hardwood can. My next task involved clearing off the dining table. From one end to the other, the fact that it was indeed a table was hard to recognize. After another hour of putting away, throwing away, cleaning and again, vacuuming, the table shone in all its black-brown glory. I smiled with the greatest sense of self-satisfaction as I admired the clean kitchen. I willed the kitchen at that moment to stay clean for at least a month.

Of course, later on, as David was working on our muffin pizzas, carrying them to the oven, he suddenly makes a noise as if in trouble. I glance up from my cooking and run over to help. SPLAT! Too late. A muffin met its fate on the newly cleaned floor. I wasn't sure what to cry over, the lost homemade muffin, or the sauce and cheese splattered on the FLOOR. In the end, I think my attachment to the floor won out. David was nice enough to clean it up though.

So ever since this cleaning spree, I vacuum the floor a couple times a day and wipe up spills almost immediately. Did I mention, that our apartment is a dust-magnet? I have no idea where it comes from. No matter how often I vacuum, it never lasts very long! Curses dust. Curses to you.

Uh.... anyway. So since yesterday was cleaning day, today was cooking/baking day. After David's sudden declaration he was going to make pancakes this morning, I mixed up a batch. Lunch was meatloaf I baked up last night. I wanted to make roasted potatoes, with these special potatoes I have never tried before. (Never seen them in the States). So, I cut them per the usual, seasoned them and tossed them in the oven. My taste test 20 minutes later led me to a burning, coppery mouth. Me in the kitchen, spitting it all out, rinsing out my mouth with water. What kind of potatoes ARE these? What if they are poisonous? What if I'm allergic? I was sure my face would puff up any instant, and so I brushed my teeth. As if that could really help...

David walks in for lunch to see me brushing my mouth out like mad.

"Something is wrong with those potatoes!" I asserted.

David pops a piece in his mouth and says he doesn't notice anything.

"My mouth is BURNING," I insist. "You don't feel anything???"

"Nope."

Figures.

Then I obsessively scrubbed the cutting board I cut them up on... so they wouldn't poison me some other way.

What else did I try today? Lately I have been experimenting making whole wheat English muffins. I've actually never made English muffins before, so it has definitely been trial and some error. However, the second batch came out quite nice. Fluffy, wheaty, full of air pockets you expect in any good bread. Yum.

Just the other day I made these scrumptious peanut butter cookies.

And cinnamon buns:

If only I had a picture of those English muffins... but, some other time perhaps. Now, the evening is winding down and off to bed I go.  (Well, after I've had to edit the stupid html ten times to make the pictures stop messing with the text.) Tomorrow is a new day - and a day that will most likely not involve any time in the kitchen, cooking or cleaning.