Thursday, February 16, 2012
PROJECT TWO: THE DISCO SCARF
Monday, February 6, 2012
Finishing Things
When I was living in South Africa, January and February were always filled with this rush of new energy. You're still in the yummy afterglow of the holiday season. The weather, though occasionally more enthusiastically sticky than you would like, is super fine. I always felt pumped with the prospect of new projects, or at least, long days to soak in.
However, here in the uninsulated depths of Sendai winter, it's the time of hibernation and hibernation breeds getting into ruts. It seems almost impossible not to fall into a routine of battle against the cold to get out of bed - go through the motions at work - make plans to do something affirming after work, which you ignore five minutes of stepping out into the steadily approaching twilight - go home and hide under your kotatsu and watch ridiculous amounts of TV thanks to your super fast Internet - pass out to the thought that "Tomorrow, I WILL do something other than watch six straight hours of Top Chef". Wash, rinse and repeat. Then, there you are a month later with a very intimate knowledge of the TV schedule and a sinking feeling that your life is being sucked out through your eyeballs. And it feels like there is nothing you can do to stop it.
This hibernation sickness, combined with an idea that's been brooding since I read Scarlett Thomas's "Our Tragic Universe", has led to a new project that embraces the desire to be somewhere warm and comfy, whilst also trying to prevent a spiral into soul crushing self-loathing. I've also recently listened to Caroline Myss's lectures on self-esteem (which I give a High Recommended Awesomeness Two Thumbs Up) and she has this whole deal about earning your own respect by getting things done. So, boom! Finishing Things it is.
What I think this might be about:
1. Minimizing
Several spiritual practices that I've come across in the past few years advocate a process of learning to do with less. Whilst some may take this to extremes like never using their heaters, I believe this is rather a process of discovering what is really important TO YOU, to find the things that give you joy and focusing your energy on those, rather than simply allowing your space - physical and mental - to be littered with stuff that you haven't consciously chosen.
2. Gratitude (Yeah, I know, I've written before how the overuse of this word makes it stick in my throat with gooey self-helpness, but it does have it's place)
Sometimes (if you're unlucky, often) you have bought or are give stuff that you don't really care for or forget about, but it may seem wasteful to simply throw away and so you let it collect dust through several spring cleanings. I guess the Gratitude idea comes from seeing what these things might be able to teach you. Sometimes that's a "Ooh! I never thought I would like that, but I do!" Awesome! Aaand, sometimes it's a reminder that, yes, it's still not for you. Lesson learned, or re-learned! Also, Awesome!
3.Being lost
Sometimes you get a little lost. You're not necessarily in a deep dark depression, but there is a vague dissatisfaction that follows you around. You've forgotten what inspires, excites and interests you. This is a way to explore your world as a stranger might and see what still fits. Something in you drew these things to you and said, "Yes".
Ultimately, I have a habit of starting things and not finishing them and these little things - like not finishing a well-intentioned knitting project - niggle at me and it's been pissing me off. So, in the next few months, it's about looking around, picking something that's been hanging around for a while and finishing it, and, hopefully, getting out of the rut.
And, yeah, I did consider starting another blog for this, but I have enough trouble trying to write with any kind of frequency on this one. Also, there are enough travel/ living abroad blogs in existence that make it seem like you spend every day hiking to mystical shrines and then party the night away in a hostess bar, doing sake shots with Godzilla and Hello Kitty. Yes, even after living abroad for a few years, things are still weird, but - just like everywhere else- after a while, things can get same old same old. Just like everywhere else, you have to remind yourself that this whole Life thing is supposed to be fun, right?
So, in the spirit of beginning things
PROJECT ONE: THE SCARF THAT TOOK A YEAR TO KNIT
I am not a particularly slow knitter, but this was a stop-start project that began when I was ill last year and I forgot about. Then summer came and what's the point? Knitting to me is a cosy winter past-time and doesn't belong in the sweaty months. I like knitting because it's something, especially when doing a straight forward project like a scarf (which, quite frankly, is probably all I'm actually capable of), can be done whilst watching TV, but you can see that you have achieved something other than eat the entire contents of your fridge. This project was a double whammy because all of the wool used was hand-me-downs from friends that left a year or two go. It finally got done during a bout of bronchitis over Christmas. It is snuggly and impractically long and vaguely reminiscent of Dr Seuss and that's why we like each other.
However, here in the uninsulated depths of Sendai winter, it's the time of hibernation and hibernation breeds getting into ruts. It seems almost impossible not to fall into a routine of battle against the cold to get out of bed - go through the motions at work - make plans to do something affirming after work, which you ignore five minutes of stepping out into the steadily approaching twilight - go home and hide under your kotatsu and watch ridiculous amounts of TV thanks to your super fast Internet - pass out to the thought that "Tomorrow, I WILL do something other than watch six straight hours of Top Chef". Wash, rinse and repeat. Then, there you are a month later with a very intimate knowledge of the TV schedule and a sinking feeling that your life is being sucked out through your eyeballs. And it feels like there is nothing you can do to stop it.
This hibernation sickness, combined with an idea that's been brooding since I read Scarlett Thomas's "Our Tragic Universe", has led to a new project that embraces the desire to be somewhere warm and comfy, whilst also trying to prevent a spiral into soul crushing self-loathing. I've also recently listened to Caroline Myss's lectures on self-esteem (which I give a High Recommended Awesomeness Two Thumbs Up) and she has this whole deal about earning your own respect by getting things done. So, boom! Finishing Things it is.
What I think this might be about:
1. Minimizing
Several spiritual practices that I've come across in the past few years advocate a process of learning to do with less. Whilst some may take this to extremes like never using their heaters, I believe this is rather a process of discovering what is really important TO YOU, to find the things that give you joy and focusing your energy on those, rather than simply allowing your space - physical and mental - to be littered with stuff that you haven't consciously chosen.
2. Gratitude (Yeah, I know, I've written before how the overuse of this word makes it stick in my throat with gooey self-helpness, but it does have it's place)
Sometimes (if you're unlucky, often) you have bought or are give stuff that you don't really care for or forget about, but it may seem wasteful to simply throw away and so you let it collect dust through several spring cleanings. I guess the Gratitude idea comes from seeing what these things might be able to teach you. Sometimes that's a "Ooh! I never thought I would like that, but I do!" Awesome! Aaand, sometimes it's a reminder that, yes, it's still not for you. Lesson learned, or re-learned! Also, Awesome!
3.Being lost
Sometimes you get a little lost. You're not necessarily in a deep dark depression, but there is a vague dissatisfaction that follows you around. You've forgotten what inspires, excites and interests you. This is a way to explore your world as a stranger might and see what still fits. Something in you drew these things to you and said, "Yes".
Ultimately, I have a habit of starting things and not finishing them and these little things - like not finishing a well-intentioned knitting project - niggle at me and it's been pissing me off. So, in the next few months, it's about looking around, picking something that's been hanging around for a while and finishing it, and, hopefully, getting out of the rut.
And, yeah, I did consider starting another blog for this, but I have enough trouble trying to write with any kind of frequency on this one. Also, there are enough travel/ living abroad blogs in existence that make it seem like you spend every day hiking to mystical shrines and then party the night away in a hostess bar, doing sake shots with Godzilla and Hello Kitty. Yes, even after living abroad for a few years, things are still weird, but - just like everywhere else- after a while, things can get same old same old. Just like everywhere else, you have to remind yourself that this whole Life thing is supposed to be fun, right?
So, in the spirit of beginning things
I am not a particularly slow knitter, but this was a stop-start project that began when I was ill last year and I forgot about. Then summer came and what's the point? Knitting to me is a cosy winter past-time and doesn't belong in the sweaty months. I like knitting because it's something, especially when doing a straight forward project like a scarf (which, quite frankly, is probably all I'm actually capable of), can be done whilst watching TV, but you can see that you have achieved something other than eat the entire contents of your fridge. This project was a double whammy because all of the wool used was hand-me-downs from friends that left a year or two go. It finally got done during a bout of bronchitis over Christmas. It is snuggly and impractically long and vaguely reminiscent of Dr Seuss and that's why we like each other.
Monday, January 30, 2012
On purification rituals and running around in your shorts
SATURDAY, 14 JANUARY 2012 - DONTOSAI FESTIVAL
Ok, so I've been sitting on this post for two weeks. I'm not one to make New Year's Resolutions, preferring the more short term approach of "Claudine, we need to do something about (insert self-destructive/ lazy behaviour here); totally commit to the change for a week; tell everyone how amazing it is to live life this way; get bored by Day 11 and realize that it really doesn't matter if I'm skinny enough to fit into a Japanese small or that I quite like waking up to dishes scattered all around my apartment". However, I did mentally promise myself that I would spend less time watching Castle and more time keeping this up to date. Although it was never an official Declaration, it was a mental pinkie swear and I've been feeling bad about it. I guess I was hoping that a spectacular perspective about this experience, glittering with wit and intelligence, would produce itself, but it hasn't. I'm starting to feel like my Comic Zing Generator is depressed. She needs company to bounce around with and that's not always easy. One of my banter partners is hiding under the covers at the moment and although there are several witty people within the little community I live in, sometimes your respective Comic Zing Generators just don't match up and it feels less like banter and more like waiting for the other person to finish proving how fucking intelligent they are, rather than just having a conversation involving both parties and seeing what gems they can co-create.
Whew! Woo! Sorry, to have ranted all over you. Back to this festival thing. Dontosai is the festival where peeps take their New Year's decorations to their nearest shrine and burn them in the communal fire.
Part of the festivities include a pilgrimage in which participants walk to the shrine dressed in skimpy clothing in the name of purification. For the past two years, our board of education has been gregarious enough to allow the foreign teachers join in. Last year, I was too cool for school to join in and regretted it. This time around I decided to stop the silliness.
Warning: this post might include some moaning about how cold it was (What did you expect, Claudine, running around in minus weather in the equivant of gym shorts and a bathrobe?), that doesn't mean I'm not glad I did it. I'm not saying that there aren't better ways to spend a Saturday night, but this one gets super awesome points for originality!
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| 4pm We had to arrive ridiculously early to put on a pair of shorts and kimono. When you have to wrap 10 m of cotton around your waste, 2 hrs suddenly becomes a fairly reasonable amount of prep time. |
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| Everyone was layering sneaky thermal underwear and heating pads where they could hide them. At first this felt like cheating, after 3hrs in the cold, it was the only sign of sanity. |
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| Ooh! Look at that super flattering ensemble! |
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| Practical footgear! |
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| Pre-departure, when we still had the energy to smile. |
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| Walking down the street to the shrine. We got lots of gawking for being foreigners doing this. At this point, I was trying to be all zen and use the ritual as a meditation exercise, where you observe your discomfort rather than try to ignore it. However, after two hours , taking my attention to my feet that were on fire just made me want to throw up.
I discussed this ritual with someone back home who asked, "Why do people in cold places feel the need to prove how much cold they can withstand?" The pilgrimage is a purification ritual (part of why we were in the cold for three times the amount of time we were supposed to be was because there were so many people there this year- no doubt a result of last year's earthquake). Although the whole thing now means a zen-ish ritual, I suspect that it may have been a purification of the gene pool - make them run around in silly outfits, if they don't die of hypothermia, they can move onto spring and the joys Hanami and hormones bring.
It's also a ritual of perspective. I think it's safe to say that that night was the coldest I'd ever been. The silly little heating pads were useless. I thought the pain in my feet would eventually go from sever icy burn to numbness, but it never did. By the time I got back to the school where we had gotten changed, my knees were blue. Sure, my first winter here, I thought I felt as cold, as I sat beneath my kotatsu, wearing three layers of thermals and building my natural heating system with large doses of melted cheese. How wrong I was! When you've run around the streets in minus weather, you understand that the rest of the time, you just think you're cold. It could be far, far worse*.
 *In fact, Claudine is now often able to walk around without a hat or gloves, something she would never have attempted before. She even states that she now wears fewer layers and it no longer bothers her when her shitty sneakers get soaked by mushy snow. Of course, she should just buy better sneakers. |
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Christmas, Nikko, New Year's Eve and The Trip of Losing Things
On Monday, I returned home from a few days of adventuring and trains and fully intended to sit down and do the writing thingy and post photos and generally try to hold onto the head clearing and "why do you waste so many hours watching television, when you could be doing something USEFUL?" that comes with even a brief bout of gallivanting. Needless to say, my bags still sit half-unpacked and I spent roughly thirty-six hours in my pajamas, barely moving from the same spot - except to acquire more refined carbohydrates/ wine/ cigarettes - binge watching British period dramas.
December was the bringer of endings, it seems. Several couples/ relationships/ lovers/ fun partners I know have parted ways. The cycle of my birthday-Christmas-New Years has had me re-evaluating many of my relationships (here I use relationships in a very general sense, not specifically for romantic entanglements) past and present. It hasn't been the most super fun time, but it has been good in it's own way. And so, the (slightly redacted - some things nobody needs to read) notes from my journal:
SATURDAY, 24 DECEMBER
We had a small gathering of some of the strays still wandering the streets of Sendai at my apartment. At first, I was hesitant because it seemed like it was going to be me and a group of boys. I used to think that I was OK with this, you know, cause I'm super cool and hang with the guys just like...well, a guy. However, a disastrous trip during Golden Week in May taught me differently. Let's just say that there were tears, a lot of them. In a combini parking lot. At 4am.
Anyway, Christmas was wonderfully civilized! As requested, the boys all contributed real food. The wine and conversation flowed. There was only one incident of accidental self-mutilation involving my left middle finger nail and an over-enthusiastic potato peeler. The roast chicken turned out ridiculously well, if I do say so myself. The night ended with half an hour of YouTubing dolphin rape videos.
WEDNESDAY, 28 DECEMBER
Whilst clearing out my SMS inbox I discover that I should learn to read my messages properly, when I read a friend from South Africa's Christmas text and learn that a former mentor and someone who helped me out of a very dark period had died, but in the Christmas Eve cooking rush I hadn't read it and four days of bronchitis had interfered with my "I'll read it tomorrow" memory. Although we had not seen each other in five years, I had always hoped that we would meet again, shoot the breeze, share cigarettes and coffee.
THURSDAY, 29 DECEMBER
For the first twenty minutes, I'm full of : Ah! The thrill of travel! Of moving forward and starting fresh. A psychic cleansing!
But then: I try to read but my head is filled with angry, unsaid words. I try to write it out, devise strategies, attempt to see the positive. All the words you wish you'd said but didn't because you thought you were done, but the Words clearly aren't and they waited until you're on the train - the moment when you're Going To Get Away From It All - and they decide they're coming to visit, all the shit that has littered your life for the last six months. Things you hadn't thought about for a week, now, when you're trying to read your holiday novel, decide to come rattling around and they bring they're extended family too.
Enough with Pain and Anger! I write. Travel! I try to focus on. The cleansing of the system, the getting out of routine ruts and stale boredom. Waking up and setting off before the world has been used up by other people. Scaling down your consumerist life to what you can carry on your back. To feel, physically, the weight of all that you carry with you. Like when you're hiking: you can only take what you can carry, but the more you carry, the stronger you are when your muscles recover. The more strength you gain from having walked the more difficult path.
How those who do not take the time to travel alone cheat themselves! The space to think and explore, to pit yourself against The Unknown and realize that it's not as frightening as you thought. Hiking alone, although generally not recommended, is such a thrill - to have to pull yourself up when the road is hard and you're sweaty and tired and want to turn back; to have to break through those blocks, even when every part of you is screaming, "NO! MORE!"; having to face the experience rather than running from it or distracting yourself.
AAH! Trains! The best of all travel! Invented at a time when the idea alone must've blown people's minds. Granted, I do have an affinity for steam punk, but the clackity clack! Fast enough to be efficient, slow enough that you have time to absorb the distance you are travelling.
We're up the mountain and I feel like I could be anywhere, watching the purple haze of winter forests and villages below, ears popping and locking with each whistle as we enter a tunnel.
Nikko is just too lovely! Yes, I got lost because I relied on my shitty map from the lodge where I was staying and ended up walking 40 minutes in the wrong direction from the station. But! I saw a steakhouse called Enya that made me laugh and the air is full of wood fire smoke and the calm of Hogsback. I think that the smell of wood fires will always have a hold on me - all that bliss on top of a mountain with Ruby. And here I have brought myself to the opposite end of the world and lost my hat along the way.
Book into the lodge. Bunk beds: the top is such a hassle, but how you gonna choose anything else?
A wonderful vegan dinner by the fireplace. Mr S and I always complain how difficult it is to get good, wholesome food when travelling in Japan, but Nikko did not disappoint.
My head continues to jabber through the evening. I try to sift what are other people's issues and what are mine, what are the things I need to work on and some resolutions are made. 1. Need to speak up earlier about things that bug you, instead of hoping they'll magically right themselves, 2. Giving people time to digest what you've said, 3. Acknowledging want you want and deserve in relationships rather than judging and trying to suppress, 4. What people DO should be assessed before what they SAY
Again, I try to read, have some cozy Claudine Time by the fireplace, but, well, replay the paragraphs above about thoughts and their extended family.
A nice chat with a Frenchman on a cigarette break eases the inside of my head. Also, I totally scored the dorm to myself for the night. Can I get a whoop whoop? (This actually happened both nights. Double whoop whoop? Whoop Whoop Whoop Whoop!)
FRIDAY, 30 DECEMBER
A morning of gaudy temples and people taking pictures of all the same things. Mr S's words drift up through the mess, "You're so afraid of being alone that you accept shitty relationships, which, because you eventually realize are not good enough for you, leave you alone." For someone who thought that they were totally cool cool with Aloneness, these words from a few weeks earlier came as a shock. So, amongst the shrines and cemeteries, a solution presents itself: embrace being alone, learn to love it hard and deep, and realize that in it you are both totally alone and not. That way, you don't have to settle for second best in any kind of -ship, hoping that it will lead to love.
I think I'm all shrine/ templed out! But, slowly, the heart is feeling lighter and the thoughts cleaner.
These temples are crazy! Hoards of people, boxes where you draw out lucky charms - the pre-mechanical vending machines, everywhere! People rolling their 100 yens into collection boxes before the statues of gods. When did they all get so poor? What, no money, no luck? At first I thought, "Shrines are expensive to maintain. All that gold!" But, it's a National Heritage site and you pay over a 2000 yen to see all the main spots.
Man! After a while, no matter how glorious, shrines and temples all start to become a bit samey. Though, I'm sure the people who lugged massive blocks of stone and wood up the mountains, or who spent years carving and painting might disagree.
One of them, Fu...something something, though, had a completely different atmosphere. So much more fun! There were old timey games and a wall full of hearts, prayers for love, I suppose.
Had a great second lunch in a tiny restaurant covered in Thank You notes from around the world. They were cool enough to seat two women at my table, because there wasn't one free one for them. The Thank You notes are fascinating, like all those people taking photos of things that they could easily find better pictures of online. That need to leave your mark. Some proof THAT YOU WERE THERE. That your existence mattered in some way. That you did something, went somewhere and even when you go home, there is a small part of you there still. Did I mention that I had been reading "Slaughterhouse Five" on the way down?
Later that night, back at the lodge. Oh my god! I'm watching two deers walk through the trees, maybe 5 or 6 meters away from me. And now, they're gone.
I took two pens with me on this trip. The first one ran out of ink. I lost the other one.
SATURDAY, 31 DECEMBER
Waiting for my first train to Tokyo. I appear to have lost my water bottle.
The trip into Tokyo was pleasant and generally without incident, except for Purple Jacket Man at Tokyo Station who bumped the wheels of his rolly bag three times against my ankle. The last bumped me into an on-coming bag. He barely "Sumimasen"-ed past as I cursed myself for not turning around and not "What the fuck"-ing him, a bird flipping being my only small revenge. But then, a station person of importance ran after him and berated him loudly for what he'd just done and all was right with Tokyo Station again.
Check into the capsule hotel. It's not somewhere I wish to spend a lot of time, but charming in a sleazy kinda way.
I had bought a pen in Nikko due to the previous loss of the others. I lost it sometime on this day.
MONDAY, 2 JANUARY
Well, New Year's Eve was what it was. An OK dinner at Alcatraz, drinks at a standing bar, debate with Mr S if we should go to the pre-organized club or not, ended up with "Yes" after being coaxed by another one of our party, awesome train ride to the club (seriously, I think the train rides on my Tokyo party nights have been the best part of every time there - beer buzzed and still full of hope before you reach the OK, but let down, of the PARTY!). Reveled in the pretentious fun of the club for a while. It reminded me of all the shmodel clubs in Cape Town that I hated when I was there, but made me giddy with the easing of a little "Aaaah Home!" Somewhere around 3 am I started spiralling into Anger and Sadness and left in a pool of tears and self-pity. While I was waiting for the train, I hung out with a rat trying to eat a plastic bag, then ended a friendship that I'd been trying to make work for the better part of a year, but being some one's warm blanket has never been my style. Get back to the capsule hotel and try to cry as quietly as possible.
On then, on the train home, a realization and culmination of weeks of searching: the source of so much of the recent sadness - the sadness for the person who decided/ believed for so long that this was all she deserved in Ships; cool people, that were awesome to hangout with, but careless and selfish. This was a wee bit of a shock to someone who considered themselves to sooo not be That Kind Of Girl. And I cried again on somewhere between Tokyo and Ustunomiya.
It was the trip of losing shit. Ruby and Mr S would probably say of "letting go". Mostly of pens.
December was the bringer of endings, it seems. Several couples/ relationships/ lovers/ fun partners I know have parted ways. The cycle of my birthday-Christmas-New Years has had me re-evaluating many of my relationships (here I use relationships in a very general sense, not specifically for romantic entanglements) past and present. It hasn't been the most super fun time, but it has been good in it's own way. And so, the (slightly redacted - some things nobody needs to read) notes from my journal:
SATURDAY, 24 DECEMBER
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| Spiced chocolate cake. Thank you, Nigella! There were also black pepper gingerbread cookies and a whole roast chicken(I found the last one at Seiyu) that deserved photos but they were in bellies before I remembered. |
Anyway, Christmas was wonderfully civilized! As requested, the boys all contributed real food. The wine and conversation flowed. There was only one incident of accidental self-mutilation involving my left middle finger nail and an over-enthusiastic potato peeler. The roast chicken turned out ridiculously well, if I do say so myself. The night ended with half an hour of YouTubing dolphin rape videos.
WEDNESDAY, 28 DECEMBER
Whilst clearing out my SMS inbox I discover that I should learn to read my messages properly, when I read a friend from South Africa's Christmas text and learn that a former mentor and someone who helped me out of a very dark period had died, but in the Christmas Eve cooking rush I hadn't read it and four days of bronchitis had interfered with my "I'll read it tomorrow" memory. Although we had not seen each other in five years, I had always hoped that we would meet again, shoot the breeze, share cigarettes and coffee.
THURSDAY, 29 DECEMBER
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| The new smoking section at Sendai Station. A glorious row of people staring out into the distance, like pilgrims watching a sun rise. |
An unusually smooth morning in which I leave my apartment at the intended time and in an immaculate state.
For the first twenty minutes, I'm full of : Ah! The thrill of travel! Of moving forward and starting fresh. A psychic cleansing!
 |
| Change over #1: Fukushima Station. I travelled using the Seishun 18 kippu. Highly recommended if it's the season and you have the time! |
Enough with Pain and Anger! I write. Travel! I try to focus on. The cleansing of the system, the getting out of routine ruts and stale boredom. Waking up and setting off before the world has been used up by other people. Scaling down your consumerist life to what you can carry on your back. To feel, physically, the weight of all that you carry with you. Like when you're hiking: you can only take what you can carry, but the more you carry, the stronger you are when your muscles recover. The more strength you gain from having walked the more difficult path.
 |
| Change #3: Utsunomiya |
How those who do not take the time to travel alone cheat themselves! The space to think and explore, to pit yourself against The Unknown and realize that it's not as frightening as you thought. Hiking alone, although generally not recommended, is such a thrill - to have to pull yourself up when the road is hard and you're sweaty and tired and want to turn back; to have to break through those blocks, even when every part of you is screaming, "NO! MORE!"; having to face the experience rather than running from it or distracting yourself.
AAH! Trains! The best of all travel! Invented at a time when the idea alone must've blown people's minds. Granted, I do have an affinity for steam punk, but the clackity clack! Fast enough to be efficient, slow enough that you have time to absorb the distance you are travelling.
We're up the mountain and I feel like I could be anywhere, watching the purple haze of winter forests and villages below, ears popping and locking with each whistle as we enter a tunnel.
Nikko is just too lovely! Yes, I got lost because I relied on my shitty map from the lodge where I was staying and ended up walking 40 minutes in the wrong direction from the station. But! I saw a steakhouse called Enya that made me laugh and the air is full of wood fire smoke and the calm of Hogsback. I think that the smell of wood fires will always have a hold on me - all that bliss on top of a mountain with Ruby. And here I have brought myself to the opposite end of the world and lost my hat along the way.
Book into the lodge. Bunk beds: the top is such a hassle, but how you gonna choose anything else?
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| Nikko Park Lodge. Super highly recommended! Great food! Great fireplace! Don't trust the online map. |
My head continues to jabber through the evening. I try to sift what are other people's issues and what are mine, what are the things I need to work on and some resolutions are made. 1. Need to speak up earlier about things that bug you, instead of hoping they'll magically right themselves, 2. Giving people time to digest what you've said, 3. Acknowledging want you want and deserve in relationships rather than judging and trying to suppress, 4. What people DO should be assessed before what they SAY
Again, I try to read, have some cozy Claudine Time by the fireplace, but, well, replay the paragraphs above about thoughts and their extended family.
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| The walk to the temples. |
A nice chat with a Frenchman on a cigarette break eases the inside of my head. Also, I totally scored the dorm to myself for the night. Can I get a whoop whoop? (This actually happened both nights. Double whoop whoop? Whoop Whoop Whoop Whoop!)
FRIDAY, 30 DECEMBER
A morning of gaudy temples and people taking pictures of all the same things. Mr S's words drift up through the mess, "You're so afraid of being alone that you accept shitty relationships, which, because you eventually realize are not good enough for you, leave you alone." For someone who thought that they were totally cool cool with Aloneness, these words from a few weeks earlier came as a shock. So, amongst the shrines and cemeteries, a solution presents itself: embrace being alone, learn to love it hard and deep, and realize that in it you are both totally alone and not. That way, you don't have to settle for second best in any kind of -ship, hoping that it will lead to love.
I think I'm all shrine/ templed out! But, slowly, the heart is feeling lighter and the thoughts cleaner.
These temples are crazy! Hoards of people, boxes where you draw out lucky charms - the pre-mechanical vending machines, everywhere! People rolling their 100 yens into collection boxes before the statues of gods. When did they all get so poor? What, no money, no luck? At first I thought, "Shrines are expensive to maintain. All that gold!" But, it's a National Heritage site and you pay over a 2000 yen to see all the main spots.
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| People waiting in line to take pics of the famous monkey carvings. Google them and you'll get better pictures than these people did. |
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Red Jacket Girl is taking pictures OF PICTURES of the monkeys |
Man! After a while, no matter how glorious, shrines and temples all start to become a bit samey. Though, I'm sure the people who lugged massive blocks of stone and wood up the mountains, or who spent years carving and painting might disagree.One of them, Fu...something something, though, had a completely different atmosphere. So much more fun! There were old timey games and a wall full of hearts, prayers for love, I suppose.
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| Sacred tree where people were praying. The green sign is an add for lucky charms that YOU TOO can own. |
Had a great second lunch in a tiny restaurant covered in Thank You notes from around the world. They were cool enough to seat two women at my table, because there wasn't one free one for them. The Thank You notes are fascinating, like all those people taking photos of things that they could easily find better pictures of online. That need to leave your mark. Some proof THAT YOU WERE THERE. That your existence mattered in some way. That you did something, went somewhere and even when you go home, there is a small part of you there still. Did I mention that I had been reading "Slaughterhouse Five" on the way down?
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| Futara-san Shrine, my personal fav |
Later that night, back at the lodge. Oh my god! I'm watching two deers walk through the trees, maybe 5 or 6 meters away from me. And now, they're gone.
I took two pens with me on this trip. The first one ran out of ink. I lost the other one.
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| An impractically big sword |
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| Your luck in a vending machine |
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| The Shinkyo Bridge. |
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| The awesome thank you note restaurant |
SATURDAY, 31 DECEMBER
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| JR Nikko Station, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright |
The trip into Tokyo was pleasant and generally without incident, except for Purple Jacket Man at Tokyo Station who bumped the wheels of his rolly bag three times against my ankle. The last bumped me into an on-coming bag. He barely "Sumimasen"-ed past as I cursed myself for not turning around and not "What the fuck"-ing him, a bird flipping being my only small revenge. But then, a station person of importance ran after him and berated him loudly for what he'd just done and all was right with Tokyo Station again.
Check into the capsule hotel. It's not somewhere I wish to spend a lot of time, but charming in a sleazy kinda way.
I had bought a pen in Nikko due to the previous loss of the others. I lost it sometime on this day.
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| The Golden Donut at Kinshicho Station |
MONDAY, 2 JANUARY
Well, New Year's Eve was what it was. An OK dinner at Alcatraz, drinks at a standing bar, debate with Mr S if we should go to the pre-organized club or not, ended up with "Yes" after being coaxed by another one of our party, awesome train ride to the club (seriously, I think the train rides on my Tokyo party nights have been the best part of every time there - beer buzzed and still full of hope before you reach the OK, but let down, of the PARTY!). Reveled in the pretentious fun of the club for a while. It reminded me of all the shmodel clubs in Cape Town that I hated when I was there, but made me giddy with the easing of a little "Aaaah Home!" Somewhere around 3 am I started spiralling into Anger and Sadness and left in a pool of tears and self-pity. While I was waiting for the train, I hung out with a rat trying to eat a plastic bag, then ended a friendship that I'd been trying to make work for the better part of a year, but being some one's warm blanket has never been my style. Get back to the capsule hotel and try to cry as quietly as possible.
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| Most of what I was able to capture of Alcatraz |
The New Year is rung in with a raging hangover and a not-worth-the-calories-burger.
On then, on the train home, a realization and culmination of weeks of searching: the source of so much of the recent sadness - the sadness for the person who decided/ believed for so long that this was all she deserved in Ships; cool people, that were awesome to hangout with, but careless and selfish. This was a wee bit of a shock to someone who considered themselves to sooo not be That Kind Of Girl. And I cried again on somewhere between Tokyo and Ustunomiya.
It was the trip of losing shit. Ruby and Mr S would probably say of "letting go". Mostly of pens.
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| The Capsule |
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| And, because it's the Year of the Dragon |
HAPPY NOT-QUITE-SO-NEW NEW YEAR!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Soy Joy Syndrome
Well Dears, it's been a while. Spring and Summer have been filled with duties and distractions, but Mr S has nagged me to start digitalizing all my notebooks, so, hopefully, some of their pages will make their way here. However, I'm working on my propensity for indulging in avoidance of the blank page. Thus, today's post.After work, I headed across town to Donkihote - a psychedelic trip of a store; no chemical additives required. The butt-brush aisles are packed with everything from Halloween costumes to sex toys in colours last seen at a 90s rave, whilst jingles and J-pop induce headaches from speakers that require a health check. I usually avoid Donki, as it is more affectionately called, like politicians avoid the truth. Although it's an experience, I value my eyesight, hearing and sanity. However, Halloween is just around the corner and some things only the Don can provide.
After about five minutes (my usual cut-off time), I began to wonder when the migraine was going to hit. Half an hour later, it hadn't. And I was still inside the store. "Huh," me thoughts to myself.
Then, on the way out, I was feeling a wee bit peckish and with errands still to be run, decided to grab a Soy Joy to tide me over. Now, Soy Joys and I have a bit of a history. When I first came to Japan, I gave them a try and after the first bite realized we were not going to be friends. But, you know, you get stranded at combinis enough times having to choose between the cold deep-fried mystery meat, the sad egg mayo sandwich and the Soy Joy. The Soy Joy starts winning. Skip ahead two years and you find yourself saying "Nom nom nom!" as you bite into the texture of month-old cake.
So this got me thinking (I know, shocking!): when you're living in a new country, or just dealing with your life being different from what you knew before, and have been living it for a while, do you start suffering from Soy Joy Syndrome? Were your first assessments wrong and you just needed to give unfamiliar things a chance? Have you become more open minded? Or, do we just learn to make the best of the situation we're in? When is acquiring a taste really just settling? And, when should you stop over-thinking your snacks?
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Friday, 18 March 2011
First real downtown day and I'm drained. The past week has been one of scattered sleep. I'm sitting in an electronics store. We were hoping to find a kettle, but they are sold out. The kettle has been our main saving grace - a brief respite from cold as we splash ourselves in our antiquated bathing system.
The days of not writing are grinding on me. This is one of the few moments I've had to myself in a week. I'm getting grumpy and snappy, especially at Mr S, whose jokes are wearing thin - mostly because he has a bag of favourites that he enjoys using over and over again. The words "It's a biological attack!" weasel their way into every conversation and now have the effect of making me want to punch him. Also, I seem to have become gas and food controller, cook and dishwasher. Being the nagging matron makes me loath every careless light left on that I have to switch off, every time I have to switch off the gas mains, every dirty tissue that needs to be thrown away. Just want to talk to someone other than Mr S for a few minutes. Haha. They've just walked past me.
The afternoon was a good break. Saw people I hadn't seen since The Event. An overly long hug. A kind individual who has more than their fare share of work let me bitch for half an hour. Now that the leavers have left the city, a little of the tension has eased. Although I was super tired today and the spicy ramen lunch did nothing for my tum tums (eventually caved and took a painkiller), I feel a little less wound up with waiting.
Threw a tantrum this morning when I knocked over the water I boiled for my basin bath. A few days ago, the first basin bath was so delicious, but it's wearing thin and I just want to take a proper fucking shower. Ooooh! I'm circling the bottom of a mug of hot wine and it's shot straight through my head. Still bubbling with nervous energy, but it's comforting to sketch the symbols of words across the page.
Other scenes from today? Stew for breakfast - all those veggies. Just make me feel better, like light in my tummy. Shower - we've already covered that screaming match. The kettle is leaking. But, we've found the source and will glue it up.
Craving a square of breathing space, but, at the same time, with the subway not fully operational (I feel like I'm in an episode of Star Trek writing those words), I don't want to be alone yet.
The floor is squeaking in new places as Mr S washes the dishes - high pitched screams timed to hip hop beats, but he has his headphones on. The urge to punch bounces in my palm.
A gathering of the last stragglers here tomorrow night. A little wine. A little release.
Dreamed of Ruby last night - well, him merged with Neil Gaiman, leading me through a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
What is up with this constant need for cooking? Wish they would just put me to work in a kitchen somewhere. I really hope that people come through tomorrow night. I want a lot of people here to clear the space of all the kak heaviness.
Mr S is watching cricket. Even on Saturday, when we still didn't have electricity and were conserving cell phone use, he checked the cricket score on his iPhone.
The days of not writing are grinding on me. This is one of the few moments I've had to myself in a week. I'm getting grumpy and snappy, especially at Mr S, whose jokes are wearing thin - mostly because he has a bag of favourites that he enjoys using over and over again. The words "It's a biological attack!" weasel their way into every conversation and now have the effect of making me want to punch him. Also, I seem to have become gas and food controller, cook and dishwasher. Being the nagging matron makes me loath every careless light left on that I have to switch off, every time I have to switch off the gas mains, every dirty tissue that needs to be thrown away. Just want to talk to someone other than Mr S for a few minutes. Haha. They've just walked past me.
The afternoon was a good break. Saw people I hadn't seen since The Event. An overly long hug. A kind individual who has more than their fare share of work let me bitch for half an hour. Now that the leavers have left the city, a little of the tension has eased. Although I was super tired today and the spicy ramen lunch did nothing for my tum tums (eventually caved and took a painkiller), I feel a little less wound up with waiting.
Threw a tantrum this morning when I knocked over the water I boiled for my basin bath. A few days ago, the first basin bath was so delicious, but it's wearing thin and I just want to take a proper fucking shower. Ooooh! I'm circling the bottom of a mug of hot wine and it's shot straight through my head. Still bubbling with nervous energy, but it's comforting to sketch the symbols of words across the page.
Other scenes from today? Stew for breakfast - all those veggies. Just make me feel better, like light in my tummy. Shower - we've already covered that screaming match. The kettle is leaking. But, we've found the source and will glue it up.
Craving a square of breathing space, but, at the same time, with the subway not fully operational (I feel like I'm in an episode of Star Trek writing those words), I don't want to be alone yet.
The floor is squeaking in new places as Mr S washes the dishes - high pitched screams timed to hip hop beats, but he has his headphones on. The urge to punch bounces in my palm.
A gathering of the last stragglers here tomorrow night. A little wine. A little release.
Dreamed of Ruby last night - well, him merged with Neil Gaiman, leading me through a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
What is up with this constant need for cooking? Wish they would just put me to work in a kitchen somewhere. I really hope that people come through tomorrow night. I want a lot of people here to clear the space of all the kak heaviness.
Mr S is watching cricket. Even on Saturday, when we still didn't have electricity and were conserving cell phone use, he checked the cricket score on his iPhone.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
So many people have left. Been restless all day. Snacking all afternoon. Eventually started cooking and cleaning (I KNOOOW! I turned into a gen-u-iiine domestic demon). Should've been writing. Snacks made my stomach churn. Need to get out and downtown tomorrow. Thoughts skittish. Yummy vodka from M and G.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Mr S forced me out of bed this morning to head downtown. I reaaaally didn't want to go. I'm amazed at myself sometimes. I like to consider myself a curious individual, yet fatigue, apathy and not wanting to seem stupid squash this quality until I'm a mush of melted cheese in front of the tv, watching shows I have no interest in.
Mr S loved the salad. He eats everything like it's been weeks, not hours, since he last ate.
Made our way downtown. Long line for the bus - like definition of long, long:
The snow was drifting down like perfectly timed confetti, tossed by stage hands from the rafters of a fire hazard theatre. I miss being backstage - the gloom in the wings; the hush of watching the other actors on stage; being as quiet as possible with every word, every step, every rustle of skirt; the fear that gently strangles your throat as you cross the threshold as you make your entrance. Then BOOM! You're on and the words are carrying you.
Mr S forced me out of bed this morning to head downtown. I reaaaally didn't want to go. I'm amazed at myself sometimes. I like to consider myself a curious individual, yet fatigue, apathy and not wanting to seem stupid squash this quality until I'm a mush of melted cheese in front of the tv, watching shows I have no interest in.
Mr S loved the salad. He eats everything like it's been weeks, not hours, since he last ate.
Made our way downtown. Long line for the bus - like definition of long, long:
The snow was drifting down like perfectly timed confetti, tossed by stage hands from the rafters of a fire hazard theatre. I miss being backstage - the gloom in the wings; the hush of watching the other actors on stage; being as quiet as possible with every word, every step, every rustle of skirt; the fear that gently strangles your throat as you cross the threshold as you make your entrance. Then BOOM! You're on and the words are carrying you.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Scavenging the vending machines for fluids. I'm regretting every cigarette half-smoked or thrown away; food tossed out or over-eaten in binges - every little scrap wasted. Ever. The dilemma of standing in front of a vending machine, wanting to raid it for everything it's worth, but knowing that the streets are haunted with other desperate people. And, they are standing behind me, pretending not to watch how much I'm taking.
We need to set up a rationing plan, make everything stretch. Have to go down to the river and more water before the weather turns foul. Fill the cistern. Go down by myself, can't wait for Mr S.
Made my first real meal. Veg and bean soup, rice and a cucumber and avo salad. The constant nibble cravings for junk have subsided after having Food.
Living with Mr S is starting to grind my teeth. It's been such a comfort having him here, but I feel like I'm having to nag so much - about conserving resources, keeping the apartment clean, eating the fresh food before the non-perishables, making things stretch, saving tea bags, not assuming that anything is disposable.
The waiting waiting WAITING! Mr Australia and Super K left for Niigata early this morning. They offered to take us with them, but we decided to stay.
Saw cars backed up waiting for gas today. I wonder what happens if they run out. A city of abandoned and rotting corpses of metal and rubber.
Sputtering pipes. "Maybe the water is reviving," we hope.
Mr S is on the phone to a friend whose whole town is gone, though I'm sure they'll find a desk for her to sit behind for a few months.
A cup of secondhand tea.
We still had to take off our shoes when we went into the shelter.
Scavenging the vending machines for fluids. I'm regretting every cigarette half-smoked or thrown away; food tossed out or over-eaten in binges - every little scrap wasted. Ever. The dilemma of standing in front of a vending machine, wanting to raid it for everything it's worth, but knowing that the streets are haunted with other desperate people. And, they are standing behind me, pretending not to watch how much I'm taking.
We need to set up a rationing plan, make everything stretch. Have to go down to the river and more water before the weather turns foul. Fill the cistern. Go down by myself, can't wait for Mr S.
Made my first real meal. Veg and bean soup, rice and a cucumber and avo salad. The constant nibble cravings for junk have subsided after having Food.
Living with Mr S is starting to grind my teeth. It's been such a comfort having him here, but I feel like I'm having to nag so much - about conserving resources, keeping the apartment clean, eating the fresh food before the non-perishables, making things stretch, saving tea bags, not assuming that anything is disposable.
The waiting waiting WAITING! Mr Australia and Super K left for Niigata early this morning. They offered to take us with them, but we decided to stay.
Saw cars backed up waiting for gas today. I wonder what happens if they run out. A city of abandoned and rotting corpses of metal and rubber.
Sputtering pipes. "Maybe the water is reviving," we hope.
Mr S is on the phone to a friend whose whole town is gone, though I'm sure they'll find a desk for her to sit behind for a few months.
A cup of secondhand tea.
We still had to take off our shoes when we went into the shelter.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, 14 March 2011
Monday, 14 March 2011
Morning
Exhausted is an ineffective word. In the line at Seiyu, which has finally opened. Mr S had a big (and delusional) plan to break in tonight.
Mr S got water from the river. Just boiled it and had my first "bath" in the basin. SOOOO GOOOD! To have clean (relatively) hair and fuzz free armpits. And then I think of all the millions for whom this would be luxury, for whom worse is a daily ritual - not a brief detour that you tell people about over glasses of wine and that can be escaped once pipes are repaired. Thanks for the downer, Miss Reality Check.
The internet is back on again. How the world moves on!
Boiled water to wash the dishes. The day has worn me down - the waiting for another quake, having supplies but not knowing how long they will have to last, the Question: Are Things Going To Get Worse? following me around and tugging on my arm.
Subtle tremors, or Mr S shaking his leg?
Do I spend water on a cup of tea?
Late that night
People are starting to lose their heads about the nuclear reactor. A call from Mr Australia with the possibility of leaving tonight. A bag is packed and waiting at the door. A brief snapshot of having to watch Mr S die winks at me while I pack. But, all I can really think about is whether or not to I should open the shrimp chips.
Morning
Exhausted is an ineffective word. In the line at Seiyu, which has finally opened. Mr S had a big (and delusional) plan to break in tonight.
Mr S got water from the river. Just boiled it and had my first "bath" in the basin. SOOOO GOOOD! To have clean (relatively) hair and fuzz free armpits. And then I think of all the millions for whom this would be luxury, for whom worse is a daily ritual - not a brief detour that you tell people about over glasses of wine and that can be escaped once pipes are repaired. Thanks for the downer, Miss Reality Check.
The internet is back on again. How the world moves on!
Boiled water to wash the dishes. The day has worn me down - the waiting for another quake, having supplies but not knowing how long they will have to last, the Question: Are Things Going To Get Worse? following me around and tugging on my arm.
Subtle tremors, or Mr S shaking his leg?
Do I spend water on a cup of tea?
Late that night
People are starting to lose their heads about the nuclear reactor. A call from Mr Australia with the possibility of leaving tonight. A bag is packed and waiting at the door. A brief snapshot of having to watch Mr S die winks at me while I pack. But, all I can really think about is whether or not to I should open the shrimp chips.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Sunday, 13 March 2011
I waited for over an hour in the queue at the combini this morning. As I got to the front, I had to wait at the closed doors for someone to come out before I would be let in. The doors were covered in newspaper. For twenty minutes I stared at smudged black and white anonymous erections overflowing onto the impossible breasts of school girls. I didn't know there was manga porn in newspapers. Every day is indeed an opportunity to learn something new, especially for the children who received endless entertainment from pressing their faces to the glass doors.
Finally admitted inside, with only the choices of snack foods and stationery, I opted for calorie/vitamin/nutrient replacement delivery systems. Wandered around for an hour, searching for Mr S, who had (unbeknown to me) finished at his store. He slept over again last night, camping out in my lounge. We dined on soup from the freezer, thanks to the discovery that my gas is working, and did tarot readings by candlelight for each other.
We took our first Number 2s this morning, which we wrapped in plastic bags and stored outside.
Cell phone contact is still sketchy.
My stomach is raging after I made a stew of veggies, tofu, beans and noodles that needed to be used up. Feeling exhausted now and not quite sure what to do with myself, or whether I'm expected to go to work tomorrow.
Later that night
Stomach is still churning and stabbing my nervous system. Feeling guilty about giving into the snack food. Tidied up a bit, but now Mr S has gone back to his apartment to check on developments there and I'm at a complete loss at what to do. Itching to wash myself but can't spare the water.
This Terrified Teenage Girl - so happy with the weight loss of the last few weeks - is guilt tripping me about the diet of refined carbohydates since Friday. "But," Rational Thought whimpers, "I've had to walk way more that usual and stand in queues and return furniture to where it belongs! The calories burned from the cold last night alone! And it's not like I binged!"
"Yes, but," Terrified Teenage Girl butts in, " It's been eating for eating's sake or because Mr S is eating or out of fear that you might not get another chance to eat! Forcing food down! Probably out of dehydration more than hunger! This is a disaster goddammit! You should be getting skinnier! Where are those fucking ribs? The sunken cheeks?!?"
The underlying terror of yesterday. We had gotten to the shelter, where they were filling bottles. We had seen people leave with huge containers of water - 10 or 20 litres - only to be turned away when they ran out 5 minutes later. If I had had the energy, fury would've slapped someone through the face that they had allowed people to leave with such large amounts when there were at least a hundred people in the queue, all in need - throats dry and heads muggy.
The fruit in the freezer has defrosted. We'll have to try to eat as much as we can tonight, maybe the rest tomorrow. After that, it will have to be thrown away. Just have to accept the losses.
It's getting dark. Still no word from Mr S, or what I'm supposed to do tomorrow. Am I expected to go to work without water or electricity? It's getting cold too. First time alone since the earthquake. Didn't get water from the river. We should still survive tonight, but will have to go tomorrow.
The silence and the dark creep in. My painkillers don't seem to have been very effective. Phone is nearly dead.
After sunset
Electricity is back! I'm a little sad that the camping is over, but Not Having To Freeze Another Night sweeps Sadness away.
I waited for over an hour in the queue at the combini this morning. As I got to the front, I had to wait at the closed doors for someone to come out before I would be let in. The doors were covered in newspaper. For twenty minutes I stared at smudged black and white anonymous erections overflowing onto the impossible breasts of school girls. I didn't know there was manga porn in newspapers. Every day is indeed an opportunity to learn something new, especially for the children who received endless entertainment from pressing their faces to the glass doors.
Finally admitted inside, with only the choices of snack foods and stationery, I opted for calorie/vitamin/nutrient replacement delivery systems. Wandered around for an hour, searching for Mr S, who had (unbeknown to me) finished at his store. He slept over again last night, camping out in my lounge. We dined on soup from the freezer, thanks to the discovery that my gas is working, and did tarot readings by candlelight for each other.
We took our first Number 2s this morning, which we wrapped in plastic bags and stored outside.
Cell phone contact is still sketchy.
My stomach is raging after I made a stew of veggies, tofu, beans and noodles that needed to be used up. Feeling exhausted now and not quite sure what to do with myself, or whether I'm expected to go to work tomorrow.
Later that night
Stomach is still churning and stabbing my nervous system. Feeling guilty about giving into the snack food. Tidied up a bit, but now Mr S has gone back to his apartment to check on developments there and I'm at a complete loss at what to do. Itching to wash myself but can't spare the water.
This Terrified Teenage Girl - so happy with the weight loss of the last few weeks - is guilt tripping me about the diet of refined carbohydates since Friday. "But," Rational Thought whimpers, "I've had to walk way more that usual and stand in queues and return furniture to where it belongs! The calories burned from the cold last night alone! And it's not like I binged!"
"Yes, but," Terrified Teenage Girl butts in, " It's been eating for eating's sake or because Mr S is eating or out of fear that you might not get another chance to eat! Forcing food down! Probably out of dehydration more than hunger! This is a disaster goddammit! You should be getting skinnier! Where are those fucking ribs? The sunken cheeks?!?"
The underlying terror of yesterday. We had gotten to the shelter, where they were filling bottles. We had seen people leave with huge containers of water - 10 or 20 litres - only to be turned away when they ran out 5 minutes later. If I had had the energy, fury would've slapped someone through the face that they had allowed people to leave with such large amounts when there were at least a hundred people in the queue, all in need - throats dry and heads muggy.
The fruit in the freezer has defrosted. We'll have to try to eat as much as we can tonight, maybe the rest tomorrow. After that, it will have to be thrown away. Just have to accept the losses.
It's getting dark. Still no word from Mr S, or what I'm supposed to do tomorrow. Am I expected to go to work without water or electricity? It's getting cold too. First time alone since the earthquake. Didn't get water from the river. We should still survive tonight, but will have to go tomorrow.
The silence and the dark creep in. My painkillers don't seem to have been very effective. Phone is nearly dead.
After sunset
Electricity is back! I'm a little sad that the camping is over, but Not Having To Freeze Another Night sweeps Sadness away.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Saturday, 12 March 2011
The Morning
It's the morning after the disaster. A group of the women up here and Mr S - who, although he lives downtown, didn't know which disaster centre to go to, made his merry way up here (thankfully, otherwise it would've been a much lonelier and snuggle-less night) - camped out in my kitchen.
The shelter was a squash of families with babies wailing and the eldery desparately trying to creak their way into positions fit for sleep. It was warmer than my apartment - hundreds of people breathing in a confined space and they had these nifty camping heaters that I was very tempted to steal - but there was no place to attempt the aquisition of zzzs.
I had cleared my kitchen while there was still some daylight yesterday afternoon, so we laid out all the futons and blankets I have and had a slumber party of tweenie proportions (minus the Justin Bieber posters and pilfered liquor). It was actually kinda fun. At least it was a respite from the desparation of so many people crowded together, no electricity and the aftershocks that kept crashing like waves at high tide.
The sirens seem to have stopped. Last night, they were a constant chorus.
I was at school when it happened, feeling sorry for myself and wanted affection. Weepy - just like on Wednesday when the earthquakes started. I had gone to the toilet for a silent little cry. I'm starting to suspect that I might be like an animal that goes nuts before an earthquake. And there was that feeling when I got back from South Africa that I needed to put together an emergency kit that consisted of more than a bottle of water. Aaaand all that shopping I forced myself to do this week for tinned food.
I had just gotten back to my desk when the first tremors started and I thought it would be like the others earlier this week - a little heart pounding, but over in a minute. I kept looking at one of my other teachers, who sits opposite me, whether I should duck and dive. He kept saying it was ok. We all kept saying it was ok. Then Instinct grabbed me by the collar and I dove under my desk, just as a tower of books crashed down around the spot where I had been sitting. All I could see were the metal underbellies of desks sliding across the floor. Heart was crawling out of my mouth, clawing for the release of crying.
When it finally eased up (I don't know how long it went on for - seconds turning to hours) we snatched our bags and coats and hop scotched across the toybox staffroom. The snow started picking up. Most of the children had already gone home, only the last stragglers who were still playing sports. Outside, the windows were quivering. The ground was still heaving, but it was less terrifying than being surrounded by desks and drawers and books tumbling over themselves to get to the floor first.
The minutes become an hour. The realization - so many of the other people you love and care for and even hate (but in hating, they enrich your life) are also bobbing up and down and maybe their buildings were more eager to crumble and, further more,that you may no longer have a home to go to - swims up for air.
What needs to be done today:
1. Clean yourself as much as possible without using any water.
2. Dress super warm.
3. Consolidate supplies around the house - batteries, water, food, candles
4. Clean up the other rooms.
5. Try to recharge phone.
The Afternoon
My first year here, earthquakes were this entertaining diversion.
Perhaps this is sick and twisted, but I'm almost glad I was here when this happened. To be in the thick of it. To experience something on the ground. The aftershocks that won't stop. The soundtrack of sirens. Having to put your life back together again. Living wthout water or electricity. No possibility of distraction but cleaning up and hunting down food. A test.
Most of the house is cleaned now, at least to a livable state. We've come up with a solution to the Number 2 Problem - taking dumps in plastic bags and store it on the balcony, but have yet to test it. Originally, Mr S wanted to dispose of it in my neighbour's veggie patch.
The biggest concern is water and keeping warm tonight. Walking to the shelter last night - after it grew dark and realising that I couldn't stay in my apartment - it felt like walking through an apocalyptic wasteland (possibly a little over the top, but I'm going with it). With no street lights, you remember how dark the night is. People camped in their cars for warmth. The group of ALTs that gathered were a merry band - losing and then finding Mr S - marching through the streets, past the shrine and cemetary next to my apartment, both littered with crumbled statues and gravestones that had given up.
After sunset
Gas! We have gas! Our first hot meal and a cup of tea! After a day of unsuccessful searching for water (just missing the water tank filling bottles at the shelter and only a cup of green tea to drink all day), the final dregs in the pipes has sputtered out! Six litres!
The Morning
 | |
| The Earthquake is what finally drove the nail and the wall apart |
It's the morning after the disaster. A group of the women up here and Mr S - who, although he lives downtown, didn't know which disaster centre to go to, made his merry way up here (thankfully, otherwise it would've been a much lonelier and snuggle-less night) - camped out in my kitchen.
The shelter was a squash of families with babies wailing and the eldery desparately trying to creak their way into positions fit for sleep. It was warmer than my apartment - hundreds of people breathing in a confined space and they had these nifty camping heaters that I was very tempted to steal - but there was no place to attempt the aquisition of zzzs.
I had cleared my kitchen while there was still some daylight yesterday afternoon, so we laid out all the futons and blankets I have and had a slumber party of tweenie proportions (minus the Justin Bieber posters and pilfered liquor). It was actually kinda fun. At least it was a respite from the desparation of so many people crowded together, no electricity and the aftershocks that kept crashing like waves at high tide.
The sirens seem to have stopped. Last night, they were a constant chorus.
I was at school when it happened, feeling sorry for myself and wanted affection. Weepy - just like on Wednesday when the earthquakes started. I had gone to the toilet for a silent little cry. I'm starting to suspect that I might be like an animal that goes nuts before an earthquake. And there was that feeling when I got back from South Africa that I needed to put together an emergency kit that consisted of more than a bottle of water. Aaaand all that shopping I forced myself to do this week for tinned food.
I had just gotten back to my desk when the first tremors started and I thought it would be like the others earlier this week - a little heart pounding, but over in a minute. I kept looking at one of my other teachers, who sits opposite me, whether I should duck and dive. He kept saying it was ok. We all kept saying it was ok. Then Instinct grabbed me by the collar and I dove under my desk, just as a tower of books crashed down around the spot where I had been sitting. All I could see were the metal underbellies of desks sliding across the floor. Heart was crawling out of my mouth, clawing for the release of crying.
When it finally eased up (I don't know how long it went on for - seconds turning to hours) we snatched our bags and coats and hop scotched across the toybox staffroom. The snow started picking up. Most of the children had already gone home, only the last stragglers who were still playing sports. Outside, the windows were quivering. The ground was still heaving, but it was less terrifying than being surrounded by desks and drawers and books tumbling over themselves to get to the floor first.
The minutes become an hour. The realization - so many of the other people you love and care for and even hate (but in hating, they enrich your life) are also bobbing up and down and maybe their buildings were more eager to crumble and, further more,that you may no longer have a home to go to - swims up for air.
What needs to be done today:
1. Clean yourself as much as possible without using any water.
2. Dress super warm.
3. Consolidate supplies around the house - batteries, water, food, candles
4. Clean up the other rooms.
5. Try to recharge phone.
The Afternoon
My first year here, earthquakes were this entertaining diversion.
Perhaps this is sick and twisted, but I'm almost glad I was here when this happened. To be in the thick of it. To experience something on the ground. The aftershocks that won't stop. The soundtrack of sirens. Having to put your life back together again. Living wthout water or electricity. No possibility of distraction but cleaning up and hunting down food. A test.
Most of the house is cleaned now, at least to a livable state. We've come up with a solution to the Number 2 Problem - taking dumps in plastic bags and store it on the balcony, but have yet to test it. Originally, Mr S wanted to dispose of it in my neighbour's veggie patch.
The biggest concern is water and keeping warm tonight. Walking to the shelter last night - after it grew dark and realising that I couldn't stay in my apartment - it felt like walking through an apocalyptic wasteland (possibly a little over the top, but I'm going with it). With no street lights, you remember how dark the night is. People camped in their cars for warmth. The group of ALTs that gathered were a merry band - losing and then finding Mr S - marching through the streets, past the shrine and cemetary next to my apartment, both littered with crumbled statues and gravestones that had given up.
After sunset
Gas! We have gas! Our first hot meal and a cup of tea! After a day of unsuccessful searching for water (just missing the water tank filling bottles at the shelter and only a cup of green tea to drink all day), the final dregs in the pipes has sputtered out! Six litres!
Friday, 11 March 2011
It's been almost two weeks since the earth bulched and, much to the annoyance of some, I have been decidedly quiet. So much was already being written and I was dealing with issues like food and hair so greasy I was two thirds of the way to brunette, that the blank page and I were having communication problems . When I had the chance, I attempted to keep notes of the day's adventures. These are the highlights. And, yes, I use that term liberally.
Friday, 11 March 2011
In the morning
Graduation for the third years today. I find the whole ordeal a little silly - all the ceremony, the dewy-eyed parents, the mothers in their kimonos and hairstyles that you know they got up at 4am to create, the fathers in their pressed suits. All the weeping! And all the speeches that I don't understand! I will have to entertain myself by trying to play match the parents to the acne ravaged teenager.
I could accept it if the students could actually, you know, fail a year. All this fuss just for pitching up and doing the minimum.
But, I've had to make an effort to smarten myself up a bit and am feeling pretty as a grumpy peach in my 50s dress. I might have to take my bobby socks off though. It might work for Japanese fashion, but I think it might be tacky, considering the occasion (apparently, I did give a smidgen of a shit).
I really wish everyone would stop running around like there's an earthquake happening (this is the first time I'm re-reading this and, yes, I did actually write that), especially because they have already taken care of every painstaking detail. It's making me nervous.
The Crooners perform tonight. Kinda nervous about "Don't Stop Believing" - just pulling out that goddamn E!
Later that morning...
Well, that's over. Almost cried a few times. I blame the lack of food. Muscle cramps started just before the cereminy and progressed to get worse over the next two hours.
The kids walked in reaaaallly slowly to Vivaldi and were so nervous about getting the 90 degree turn that they'd practiced that many of them messed it up. They sang the same songs as last year. Speeches were made. Everyone sniffled a bit. They exited to a Jazzy instrumental cover of "My Way".
A sudden wave of overwhelming sadness. Sadness and aloneness. Overemphasizing the positives of being in a somethingship with someone. Of how much I wish for witty texts that warm your tummy and sparkle a dreary day. Of an unexpected hand that laces its fingers through yours. Of wanting to be wanted. A palm on the knee. A grasp around the shoulders. Someone to discover and be discovered by. To kiss and inhale and fall into. Someone to stand too close to and have neither flinch away. But, also, knowing the fultility of grasping for it. These Things like to take me by surprise, when I'm looking in the opposite direction. And then, suddenly, there you are. AAAAGH! I can't believe I just spent even more words obsessing about this.
Late afternoon, after the earthquake, and I returned to this:
But, as I was standing on the sports field, after we had evacuated the school building, and the snow - in an irritating display of post-apocolyptic poetry - started swirling around us, I had feared that I might not have a home to return to, so this was very, very good, with the exception of being highly irritated that I would now have to clean up - never a particularly favourite activity of mine on a good day. This was not a good day.
After we had sent all the other students home, another teacher had been kind enough to give me a ride home. As we drove, I briefly thought, "Maybe it wasn't that bad", because we passed a woman with a bag of KFC and she appeared very chilled out. She wasn't walking fast or running. Just strolling along, enjoying the late afternoon walk home and the KFC that awaited her.
I should mention, in defense of the messier of us, that not packing my stuff away the night before saved my laptop from being crushed by the desk.
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| Le Bedroom floor, taken as the sun was running away. My bed is was another oasis, untouched by any fallen objects. Won't be changing that room's set up. |
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| The kitchen cupboards |
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| Everything that used to be in them. |
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| The olive oil was very shaken by the experience. |
A broken vinegar bottle explains the smell.
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