On A Walk

We’re closing in on 11 years together and nearly a decade of this nomadic hockey life. We have had so many adventures and learned so much and obviously all this leads me to lay awake at night thinking OHMYGOD WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO and HOW WILL I EVER DUST OFF THESE DEGREES AND USE THEM AGAIN. I get panicked and sweaty and visions of student loans dance in my head.

Then I wake up. And we go for a walk. All together. On a Tuesday afternoon. And we’re happy and it’s easy and I realize…let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.

Only in Japan can you let your child play under an overpass. Just as clean as the playground.

My girl Enid. My darling girl.

Yes. Yes. Yep.

Wet paws.

Hanging on by a thread.

A boy and his dad.

We like to stay high and dry.

It was in no way cold enough to call for a winter hat. But the heart wants what it wants.

On A Walk

I took the dogs for a walk. When it’s just me and my dogs we can go anywhere, and our own pace, follow mysterious staircases and I don’t have to worry about carrying anyone. And on a hazy morning we wandered into this.

Tucked into a hillside above town a cemetary and a shrine. It was amazing. A moment where I actually said aloud ‘wow’ with no one there to hear me. Except for Falcor and Enid, of course.

I had one of those moments of real gratitude. Of awe of life and my life and how things are. I stood there thinking ‘how did I get here?’ in the most metaphorical sense. And then in a more literal sense…thinking, how did I get here and do I know how to get home?

What an amazing place to stand all alone. Except for Falcor and Enid, of course.

After this very self-indulgent moment of silence *so silent* I scampered home and told Dave he HAD to see this. Just had to. So hurry. And by the way, you have to push the stroller.

And carry our kid up these precarious stone steps. Oh and don’t drop her pleaseandthankyou.

Oh to be two years old and find the same excitement at finding this place as she does in finding a raisin in her granola.

Today On This Side of the World

This dog is jet-lagged.

This dog is still annoyed about his trans-Pacific flight.

These two are reunited. And it feels so good.

Music On Monday: Bones

When my friend Abby and I were first getting to know each, we would send each other playlists and book recommendations and names of favorite movies. We’d send each other small parcels with a burnt CD or a paperback to pass on. She is such an interesting, original spirit and I love the inspiration she gives me. She introduced me to Neko Case and ‘Green Wing’ and ‘Long Way Down.’ What was I even listeing to or watching before that!? Rubbish, that’s what.

Abby’s blog is a prettier, more refined, more well considered place than mine, and I like going there and feeling like I stepped into a homes store where the soundtrack is lovely and the sales girl is so cool you just want to make her be your friend. Last week she posted this, and when I clicked on the link for Michael Kiwanuka’s song I couldn’t believe my eyes or my ears. My flight back to Japan is officially booked, and the visuals of this video gave me butterflies thinking of returning there. The onsen, karaoke, shrines, vending machines, bikes, lights. Umbrellas, rivers, rocks, cemeteries, lanterns and laundry. But mostly, always, smiling faces. I’m so excited to see them again.

And can we talk briefly about the song itself? This sound. These lyrics. My kind of love song.

Well I long to be alone with you
And if I couldn’t,
I dont know, what I would do
I guess I would leave
This world alone
Cuz without you I’m just bones

On The Vulnerability of Not Understanding

On the way to our last game of the season the baby, Lindsay and I were in a “car accident.” I use quotations because although we were in a car and there was an accident, it was basically the most benign thing that can happen in a moving vehicle. Had I not been in a car covered with team sponsor stickers I’d have considered just leaving with a wave and a wag of the finger. But alas, we’re like celebrities that people mostly point at but never speak to.

Brief explanation: In Japan backing into parking spaces is a national pastime. Back home I consider consistent back-ins as the territory of my dad and other older men who like to put their arm over the passenger headrest while reversing. But here EVERYONE backs in. And honestly no matter what continent we are on I do not see the logic in such an act as a matter of routine. Any time I spend carefully backing in is canceled out by the time it would take me to reverse out of the spot if I just pulled in forward in the first place…right? Often we’re the only people in the parking lot who didn’t back in but I stick out already so I see no real point in bothering myself with this issue.

Anyway, as I pulled up to the 7-11 door so that Lindsay could use the ATM, a woman in a parked car (facing forward, naturally) drove out of her spot into the back tire of our car. Our car was nearly by and yet she just accelerated into us. Lindsay saw it all coming And our hubcap was scraped up. And we were all basically really confused for the next 1.5 hours while the police ‘investigated’ this situation.

I didn’t do anything wrong and our car was barely scathed, so it all turned out fine. But this situation was just a rather mild reminder of how easy it can be to be exploited when you don’t speak the language of where you live. As they asked this woman to describe what had happened (with her mother, who had not been there at the time, chiming in) she went on and on and on. And I felt compelled to use my assertive-American trait and interupt to say ‘I’m not sure what she is saying, but it’s too long. Not that much happened. Too many words.’ And why was her mom talking at all? And what are they saying about me? It’s more that a little concerning when you are so helpless to speak for yourself, even on such a tiny matter. 

Music On Monday: Rivers and Roads

A while ago my girl Stacey posted the video of this song on my Facebook wall. And I loved it. Then forgot about it. Then this blogger posted another song from The Head and the Heart in his weekly musical installment. And I ran to iTunes and bought the album. And was reminded of this song. And it all fell into place.

This week we’re saying goodbye to another season, another place, another group of people we’ve grown to love.

A year from now we’ll all be gone, All our friends will move away

There are some wonderful aspects of this lifestyle. The travel, the shared experiences, the summers off. The chance to meet people who I’d otherwise never have set eyes upon. But it can be very lonely, for how social it is. It can be isolating, for how intense the bonds often are.

We spend 7 or 8 months a year missing those we’ve left back home(s). During those months we make new relationships. You settle into a routine and feel a closeness that is special and unique. All the while knowing that when we say ‘See you later’ at the end of the season it’s likely we mean ‘See you never again.’

Been talking bout the way things change, And my family lives in a different state, And if you don’t know what to make of this, Then we will not relate

This cycle used to be much harder on me. Or maybe I just didn’t have the same perspective I have now. I used to cry when I said goodbye. Now I just smile and hug and hope that this time it’s the exception and I do see you again soon.

The consolation to the melancholy of our departure from our hockey-seasonal home is the ecstasy of a reunion back home-home. The long-awaited moment where I squeeze my dogs, smell my mom’s perfume, see my best friend’s smile and have whispered night-time talks with my sister.

Rivers and roads, Rivers and roads, Rivers ’til i reach you       

M.O.M. Past:

Sarah Harmer

Timbaland ft. The Hives

Rene and Jeremy

Elvis Perkins in Dearland

Brendan Benson

The White Stripes

Janelle Monae

They Might Be Giants

Powderfinger

The Frames

Great Lake Swimmers

The Who

Andrew Bird

Cold War Kids

Michael Buble ft. Shania Twain

Butterfly Boucher

Hey Rosetta!/Said the Whale

Tracy Chapman

White Rabbits

Jack Johnson

Nerina Pallot

Lauryn Hill

Propogandhi

AKB48

The Zolas

Florence + The Machine

The Tragically Hip

On A Walk

When I say we live in Japan, most people conjure an image of Tokyo and all that urban insanity. But while most expats do live in the major metropolitan areas, we are in a little village outside of a sleepy tourist town. And for me, it’s the perfect setting. I never was a city girl, though it would probably sound cooler if I could say I am. This is a place where a toddler can wander while her mother follows slowly behind only protecting her from the occasional car or a random pile of manure.

Here we go.

Wearing her lucky button.

We drop sticks into the rivers that drain from the rice paddies and watch them float away.

Flapping her arms and crying ‘caw caw’ to the crows.

Taking a little rest.

When we were having a weekend away recently, the baby lost one of her shoes. Just one. And we had to buy her new ones. For $50. OH MY GOD I KNOW. But we had to go the first store that opened (shops do not open early here, my friends, and we have a walker who likes to walk) and these were what she walked out in. They are made in Japan, so at least the price tag meant we didn’t pay for shoes made by a child slave….right? And there she goes, marching in the mud.

Breathe it in.

Best friends.

Watching the trains roll by.

A mural. The theme seemed to be safety.

Again with the mud.

Sigh. The shoes. My god the shoes.

This crouch indicates that a dog is coming near.

A dachsund you say? And what a nice little sweater he has.

And what do we have here?! This poor child’s path was blocked by our baby for 5 full minutes. Her mother spoke a bit of English, by some sheer miracle, and thanked me for taking a chance on Japan after the earthquake last year. She told me how her father literally had to run for his life from the tsunami, and he later told her all he could think about was holding her in his arms again. It was so touching to have her share such a thing.

See you later! Mata ne!

Enough fresh air for one morning, I think.

Portion Control

I ate this little morsel. In one bite. A tiny citrus fruit the size of a Brussel sprout, filled with sweet beans and cream cheese. So delicious and unexpected. So tiny but with so much satisfaction. And I thought about how in Japan this is a portion size. And in the U.S. this would be a crumb.

A Taste of Japan: Organic and Vegan

Last week our friends Yutaka, Hitomi and little Shuka took us to Meguri Cafe in downtown Nikko. Hitomi thought of me after eating there earlier this year because the food is 100% organic and vegan! I’ve walked by this place several times, but being illiterate means I had NO idea what a little gem was hidden inside. Being a vegetarian in Japan is difficult sometimes, so it was lovely to have a Japanese friend to make this discovery for me!

Meguri Cafe is a cozy, small cafe with a gorgeous painted ceiling. The seating is limited and the staff make only a certain number of meals each day, so it’s best to make a reservation before you visit…which is also where having Japanese friends come in handy. The menu changes often and is a ‘teishoku’ style, meaning you simply choose your drink and whether you want dessert (you know I do) and the rest is decided for you! I LOVE this kind of thing, especially in a meat-free restaurant, because ordering a meal in Japan is often a stressful exercise. This was so easy!

We waited patiently for our meal. Our baby wasn’t feeling her best that morning, but I’ll be DAMNED if I was going to miss this date with such a special treat. She hung in there like a trooper, because she knows mama likes to eat.

HOORAY! Itadakimasu! Let’s eat!

An illiterate, broken translation approximation of my lunch: cabbage soup, rice and barley, falafel-esque balls with tahini-ish, salad seasame-like dressing, toast finger with greens and leeks, mushrooms and daikon in a tomato curry sauce, tempura field greens.

Beautiful.

I bit this. Then I put it aside and waited until everything else was gone because it was…like wow. Wow. WOWOW.

The key is to distract the baby with raisins so I can chopstick my lunch in peace.

Despite the angry Blue-Steel face Dave is making here, he really did enjoy the lunch! Clean plate club and all!

Dessert, tea and coffee.

Thank you Hitomi and Yutaka for guiding us to this place and joining us for lunch! This was EASILY the best meal I have had at a restaurant in Japan, hands down. I can promise I will be going back to Meguri Cafe before we leave Nikko!

The International Language of Aerobics

Yesterday I went to an aerobics class. If you don’t know me very well you may be thinking something like ‘You go girl! Work it! Pump it!’ but if you know me you are most likely saying ‘Why would you do that?! I’m so embarrassed for you!’ Because I’m not good at group exercise that involves actual group coordination. And arm-leg coordination. Yoga classes work because whenever I get kind of off track I just say to myself ‘Oh I’m not confused, I’m just following my own body’s voice…errrrrmmmmmm.’

The fact that this Japanese class was taught in Japanese (the nerve of these people! IN JAPAN even!) made my attempt all the more perilous. But I will have you know that I (along with Lindsay and Jinny, two other non-Japanese understanders) were in the FRONT ROW. And we probably blew everyone’s minds. Just saying.

The class itself was kind of a city-sponsored health initiative. And for us it was a community event. Our friend Sachiko enrolled us. Our friend Mayu drove us. And the city of Nikko provided FREE childcare.

A word on the childcare: I walked in, stuck a sticker on my child’s back indicating her name (which took a few minutes to explain to the poor woman trying to write it down) and handed to her to a complete stranger. Some of you might be thinking ‘Get over yourself woman’ but seriously, that’s a leap of faith right there for this mama. I went and listened at the door once, heard the terrified screams of a child that was NOT mine and kind of just let go. When I came back to get her 1.5 hours later, she was sitting quietly by herself playing with some kind of flashlight. So she officially doesn’t need me anymore. I died a little inside.

Before starting the actual exercise portion of the class, we were given a bone density test and a brief women’s health seminar. Now, I’m not saying bone density tests are a competition but they might be…BECAUSE I WON. For my age, my reading was literally off the chart…at least the chart provided by the city of Nikko. And my bone-age according to my numbers put me at like 13 years old. BOOYA. I’m going to bust out a lanyard full of Lip Smackers like the 13-year-old me would have wanted. After my victory, we listened to some information about breast cancer detection, the dangers of smoking, and some other things. But mostly Jinny, Lindsay and I just made up captions to the illustrations provided in our informational booklet. Because we couldn’t understand a g. d. word.

The exercise itself wasn’t as embarrassing as I had mentally prepared myself for. The music was in the 1960s-1980s range. Loved it. The slutty Americans (Hi Lindsay!) dared to wear arm-bearing shirts under our hoodies, but since everyone else was layered like we were heading out to the tundra, we never really revealed ourselves. Following along with the person next to you while always remaining one beat behind is a universal language. A basic knowledge of numbers helped, too. Ichi, Ni…Ich, Ni, San, Shi!

After feeling the burn of many, many squats we did many, many stretches (my favorite part, personally) and rewarded ourselves with lunch at a bakery (think bread, bread, some veggies, homemade yogurt and bread, YUM) afterwards. Carbs for energy people, carbs for energy.

Next week: cooking class. Stay tuned.