Well, it’s done. I didn’t want to do it, but it had to be done. And now, only a few short months after my arrival in Japan, ***
I feel awful.
Below, is a copy of the letter ...***
---
LETTER
***
Sorry, it seemed to me to be a good idea to sensor this post for a little while. Check back in the future and maybe I'll re-post the details.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Last goodbye
It was understood that Aron didn’t have much time left. He was very old and frail. Yet, knowing how much power and strength and resilience he had possessed, part of me felt as if he just might outlive us all. Still, it was understood. And I knew, when I went to say my goodbye in July that it likely would be my last.
I knew this but I decided to leave for Japan all the same. How could I pass up the opportunity I had dreamed about? How could I stay where I was so unhappy? It was an unhappiness I know he understood. He knew I loved I him. I knew I could make him smile, even laugh.
I remember the first time I met him. Noah and I went to Florida and stayed with his grandparents in a beachside condo for two weeks. He came to greet us with one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen. He took our luggage from our hands and hauled it into the apartment. He had so much energy and so much love to share.
It was Saturday morning when I learned Aron Lander had passed away. I was on the train to Tokyo. I already missed him. I always will.
I knew this but I decided to leave for Japan all the same. How could I pass up the opportunity I had dreamed about? How could I stay where I was so unhappy? It was an unhappiness I know he understood. He knew I loved I him. I knew I could make him smile, even laugh.
I remember the first time I met him. Noah and I went to Florida and stayed with his grandparents in a beachside condo for two weeks. He came to greet us with one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen. He took our luggage from our hands and hauled it into the apartment. He had so much energy and so much love to share.
It was Saturday morning when I learned Aron Lander had passed away. I was on the train to Tokyo. I already missed him. I always will.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Onsen Weekend
I’m a pretty shy person. Well, I am when it comes to taking my clothes off. In front of strangers, people I know, doesn’t matter. I am possibly one of the most self-conscious people on Earth regarding my body. And, it’s not for terribly good reasons either. Just that I am a little heavier than I would like, I have all kinds of skin issues, and breasts that belong on someone three, or even four, times my size. There, I said it. That was almost as difficult as stripping down and hoping into a tiny, shared, public bath. I did that this past week too.
Saturday morning, with bags packed Reina and I rode out into the rain to the train station and headed north. We were going to Kusatsu, a famous hot spring resort town, to be exact. Along the way, we met up with four more young women who teach in Ota and the rain turned into beautiful, soft snow.
This was the first snow I had seen in Japan. It was dreamlike. White tufts on top of every branch and every rooftop. It was so calming, the facts that our mochas were bitter, our connections barely gave us time to buy tickets, and we couldn’t find the right bus to our hostel, didn’t phase us at all. For some reason, luck abounds in Japan and everything worked out perfectly.
(Luck, and ingenuity. Later that night, Natasha turned a Pringles chip can into an amplifier and our hostel room was filled with music, as well as talk, laughter, and choco snacks.)
When we weren’t sleeping or hanging out in our rented digs, we were soaking in hot tubs or seeking out our next bath. My favourite was relaxing in the outdoor pools at the Now Resort Hotel. It was wonderful to be submerged in the steamy mineral bath with the snow falling on my face. Hours and hours we spent chatting and turning into giant prunes. The toasty warm feeling lasted for some time afterwards and guaranteed a restful sleep.
On Sunday, we headed out to explore. The ski slopes were less than a five-minute walk. And, although none of us wanted to actually ski, we decided to check it out all the same. We walked into town toting our towels, stopping at souvenir shops and for free samples of steamy manju cake on the street.
At the centre of town was the Yubatake, the bubbling hot water springing forth and bringing with it frothy, yellow sulfur. It is this water that is the source for the town’s many onsen.
We found two public bathhouses that afternoon. Perhaps a novelty in their genuineness, they were not the most comfortable places to bathe. They were cramped, cold, and a touch grimy. Just a touch. Still, it was fun to discover these little places.
What was less fun, was having to strip in the freezing little change rooms. And, if I may offer a small piece of advice, I would suggest that you keep your socks on until the last possible moment. Its amazing how the temperature of your feet can effect your overall well being.
Sleep too. After an evening of onsen and slumber partying, the 7:30 am breakfast was draining. And so, we didn’t make it though the afternoon as genki as we might have liked. And by the time we reached the bus depot to catch the shuttle for the hotel next to our hostel, I was tuckered out.
The station? It was tired too, and nearly closed for the night. There was no shuttle bus. We called the hotel to find out the time of the next one, or so we thought. After several of us taking turns on the phone, a man who knew some English came to our aid. It turned out we called a restaurant. The poor woman kept telling us there was no bus where she was, and we repeatedly asked her when it would be arriving at the station. But, the confusion didn’t end there. The kind man didn’t seem to understand that all we needed was the bus and kept trying to help us make a hotel reservation for the night.
We tried to get a cab at the taxi stand. There was one, but it was minus a driver. And when he finally showed up, he announced he was already reserved. I spotted a cab stopped at the traffic light and ran over to ask if we could get in. No, apparently not. This time no reason was given, no window opened as an offer of explanation or assistance. In my frustration, I found myself in the middle of the intersection, yelling, “Takchi wa doko desu ka?” Where is a taxi? He pointed to the empty taxi stand. And so, we began our long walk back through town and to the hostel. And, just as we turned up the road towards our goal, a shuttle bus to the hotel whizzed by.
Thank goodness, we had another onsen to melt our stress away. Ah, that’s better.
Saturday morning, with bags packed Reina and I rode out into the rain to the train station and headed north. We were going to Kusatsu, a famous hot spring resort town, to be exact. Along the way, we met up with four more young women who teach in Ota and the rain turned into beautiful, soft snow.
This was the first snow I had seen in Japan. It was dreamlike. White tufts on top of every branch and every rooftop. It was so calming, the facts that our mochas were bitter, our connections barely gave us time to buy tickets, and we couldn’t find the right bus to our hostel, didn’t phase us at all. For some reason, luck abounds in Japan and everything worked out perfectly.
(Luck, and ingenuity. Later that night, Natasha turned a Pringles chip can into an amplifier and our hostel room was filled with music, as well as talk, laughter, and choco snacks.)
When we weren’t sleeping or hanging out in our rented digs, we were soaking in hot tubs or seeking out our next bath. My favourite was relaxing in the outdoor pools at the Now Resort Hotel. It was wonderful to be submerged in the steamy mineral bath with the snow falling on my face. Hours and hours we spent chatting and turning into giant prunes. The toasty warm feeling lasted for some time afterwards and guaranteed a restful sleep.
On Sunday, we headed out to explore. The ski slopes were less than a five-minute walk. And, although none of us wanted to actually ski, we decided to check it out all the same. We walked into town toting our towels, stopping at souvenir shops and for free samples of steamy manju cake on the street.
At the centre of town was the Yubatake, the bubbling hot water springing forth and bringing with it frothy, yellow sulfur. It is this water that is the source for the town’s many onsen.
We found two public bathhouses that afternoon. Perhaps a novelty in their genuineness, they were not the most comfortable places to bathe. They were cramped, cold, and a touch grimy. Just a touch. Still, it was fun to discover these little places.
What was less fun, was having to strip in the freezing little change rooms. And, if I may offer a small piece of advice, I would suggest that you keep your socks on until the last possible moment. Its amazing how the temperature of your feet can effect your overall well being.
Sleep too. After an evening of onsen and slumber partying, the 7:30 am breakfast was draining. And so, we didn’t make it though the afternoon as genki as we might have liked. And by the time we reached the bus depot to catch the shuttle for the hotel next to our hostel, I was tuckered out.
The station? It was tired too, and nearly closed for the night. There was no shuttle bus. We called the hotel to find out the time of the next one, or so we thought. After several of us taking turns on the phone, a man who knew some English came to our aid. It turned out we called a restaurant. The poor woman kept telling us there was no bus where she was, and we repeatedly asked her when it would be arriving at the station. But, the confusion didn’t end there. The kind man didn’t seem to understand that all we needed was the bus and kept trying to help us make a hotel reservation for the night.
We tried to get a cab at the taxi stand. There was one, but it was minus a driver. And when he finally showed up, he announced he was already reserved. I spotted a cab stopped at the traffic light and ran over to ask if we could get in. No, apparently not. This time no reason was given, no window opened as an offer of explanation or assistance. In my frustration, I found myself in the middle of the intersection, yelling, “Takchi wa doko desu ka?” Where is a taxi? He pointed to the empty taxi stand. And so, we began our long walk back through town and to the hostel. And, just as we turned up the road towards our goal, a shuttle bus to the hotel whizzed by.
Thank goodness, we had another onsen to melt our stress away. Ah, that’s better.
Monday, January 14, 2008
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