Revenge of the Apple Festival

Last night our family attended the Apple Festival and Campfire.  We headed out early thinking we would grab a nice dinner together before heading to Rock Creek Regional Park.  It was a good thing we left home early since the DC traffic was horrid.  By the time we got near the park there was little time to enjoy a leisurely dinner, so we opted to stop in to Chipotle for a quicker bite to eat, although it was hardly quick as we were stuck behind an apologetic woman who was placing an order for an army.  While waiting our turn, we had a spontaneous conversation with a lovely Irish lady with a great accent - a conversation that could hardly be avoided since the twins stood two feet in front of her, staring up at her with unblinking eyes.  For some reason, she was a spectacle to them.  Interestingly, I routinely find myself commenting to yet another stranger that they would think my children have never seen other people for how often they stare holes through them.  Thankfully, the twins normally receive a warm reception, which invariably yields smiles and giggles all the way around.

Upon inhaling our dinner, we were out the door, not quite sprinting to the van, but just nearly as we wanted to have as much time as possible to play before sunset.  Certain of my directions, I set out with Koen as my navigator.  My first indication of a problem came when "you have reached your final destination" only to find it was a dead end with only a bicycle path entrance to the park.  Scratching my head, I surmised that I had only to continue driving the park perimeter, which logically should reveal the proper entrance.  Yeah, well. . . this is a rather large park.  After ten minutes of testing my apparently faulty logic, I pulled over and double checked my address.  It turned out I had input the general park address, but not the park's nature center address.  Problem solved, we put on our racing caps and sped off (a whole 5 miles over the speed limit) to the correct address.  We were thrilled to finally get to the festival. . . and only 30 minutes late.

Everyone piled out of the car ready for fun and me with my camera in hand to capture it all.  First stop was the trunk, where I pulled out my handy dandy bug spray.  We were after all entering what appeared to be a 72 acre jungle.  I have to admit I was proud that for once I had remembered to bring the insect repellent.  My kids were finally going to be bug free!  Imagine how loudly my bubble burst when after fighting with the can of bug spray, I had to abandon my attempts at shielding my kids from the mosquitoes because the sprayer was broken.  Well, at this point no one cared because they heard the music spilling through the trees from deep in the forest.  Lisse would have it no other way than to sprint toward the music, which we did.

After clearing the ticket table and repeatedly removing the display apples from Lisse's hands, we headed toward the sound of the banjo.  The kids pointed out every little thing along the way.  They certainly are city kids, but they're fast learners.  Taking out across an open field, they were squealing with joy.

It wasn't long before the field turned into a forest path and Lisse learned her first lesson about avoiding tree roots.  She took a rather dirty tumble, recovered quickly, and still blazed the trail ahead of the boys.

Finding our way into the center of the melee, we looked around and plotted our course of action.  First step, apple-tasting!  Gala and Honey Crisps were among the variety, but the one that caught our eye was the Smokehouse.  It was pretty tasty, as are all apples in our humble opinions - we are just an apple-eatin' family - however, Honey Crisp took the prize.  We then tried our hand at pressing apple cider, making apple pies, eating caramel apples, and creating Johnny Appleseed hats, all while listening to a talented, live bluegrass band singing mostly hymns.

At this point I would normally move on in the story, but I have to pause to contemplate the caramel apple.  Whoever came up with the caramel apple concept must have been a twisted individual, or at least not slightly OCD like me.  It took all of five seconds of watching everyone else walking around gnawing rather unsuccessfully on their miracle grow, massive apples to realize there must be a better way.  Like the perfect marriage of peanut butter and chocolate achieved by the Reese's peanut butter cup, I snagged an apple from the caramel apple stand and stepped ten feet over to the young man cutting apples at the tasting stand.  Voila!  You would have thought I was developing the cure for cancer as people stared at my sliced apples.  No really, didn't McDonald's figure this out not so long ago?  In all fairness, when you have a child who loves apples, but is cursed with braces, you have to improvise.

After all the aforementioned fun, we made our way to the campfire for marshmallow roasting, smores, and a viewing of the classic, animated Johnny Appleseed.  Everything was going well until Lisse melted down over wanting to eat her "marsho" before it was roasted.  She truly never relented on the issue until I took the initiative to create the smore and shove it in her mouth.  At that point, she was like Stitch when he was destroying Lilo's room and she placed the lei around his neck, at which point he fell over backwards and began purring in contentment.  Okay, so Lisse was not quite purring, but I'm fairly certain she reached toddler nirvana.  Nothing like sugaring up your kids just before bedtime.

With the festival itself shaping up nicely, I was quite content that I had provided my kids with such a wonderful opportunity to make a warm memory with Mama.  Feeling quite accomplished that I had achieved my goal, I convinced the kids to leave ahead of the crowd.  We even stopped on the way out of the nature center upon Lisse's request to ogle at the farmer, which is oddly what she persists in calling any red barn she sees.  On the way out to the parking area, she then spied a sign that read "NO VEHICLES."  She was beside herself, "Mama, LOOK!  It's AB's!"  We spent a couple minutes letting her and Karter trace the letters with their fingers.  These were moments of pure joy.

 

Heading out of the park on a slightly declining sidewalk, Lisse began picking up speed.  "Lisse be careful, slow dow. . ."  My words trailed off as she tripped forward, landed on her knees, and rolled forward onto her face, screaming.  Only five feet behind her, I snatched her up with speed and cradled her in my arms, shoving the front of her shirt into her mouth, having already seen the blood pouring from her lip.  There was little light left to the dusky evening and I jogged to the van carrying her, Koen trailing behind holding Karter by the hand and carrying our goodie bags, camera bag, and my cell phone and keys.  Koen was one step ahead of me and had the side door of the van open before I got there with Lisse.  I placed her in her car seat and tried to get a closer look at her face.  I was just realizing the extent of her lip injury when Koen blurted out that one of the bags had torn open and something had fallen out. . . in the dark.

 

Strapping the kids into their car seats, I quickly surveyed the remaining contents of the bag and realized the missing item was my cell phone.  Like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack, I began brushing my hands all over the tallish grass on the side of the road where we were parked.  By this time, there was nearly no light whatsoever.  Rather desperately wanting to find my cell phone so I could get Lisse home to doctor her wounds, I stopped a passing parent and asked him to call my phone, not realizing that Koen had his cell phone in his pocket.  As we all searched the grass, Koen called my phone, which was answered by a lady who had found it inside the park.  Koen sprinted back inside the park, secured my phone, and sprinted back to the van.  He had an even greater sense of urgency over the whole incident than I did, even gasping and recoiling with his hand over his mouth upon seeing the blood.  In his mind, we were experiencing an emergency.

Safely back in the van, he used my cell phone to navigate us back to where my internal map could take over and get us home.  Halfway home, Lisse began saying her nose and knee hurt as well, and I reassured her that I would be her doctor once we got home.  Karter quickly jumped on the doctor bandwagon, stating he was going to be Lisse's doctor too.  Minutes into that conversation Lisse stopped crying and said "I'm better now, Mama.  Can I be play a doctor too?"

It was all uphill from there as we finished our trek home, bathed the kids, and had some great play time before bed.  The looks on their faces tell it all.  They just love being together!  Koen adores them, they follow his every move, and they are all pretty much inseparable.  

In hindsight the whole evening could have perhaps been characterized as attending the "get stuck in traffic, shovel your dinner down your throat, get lost, rip your lip off, lose your cell phone" festival!  Thankfully, all these things were punctuated by warm, memorable moments. . . and the smores didn't hurt either.  Like many other days and circumstances, we lived to tell about it.  If such times can end in a photo like the one above of my three kids, I'll take whatever life throws at us. 

Pulling the Rip Cord

Many years ago I took a trip with my husband, son, parents, and older brother to Six Flags in Dallas, Texas. I don't recall too much about the trip, but one very important event took place that is forever a part of me.

My brother Ross and husband Arie saw a ride called Dive Bomber Alley. They hook you up to heavy duty harnesses and connect you with your riding buddies. Then you are all connected to a massive cable and hoisted 15 stories above the ground. Once in place aloft, an announcer starts the countdown . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . pull! The one person in your group who has been designated to pull the rip cord to release you all at that last command has to pull the cord and you are sent soaring downward 15 stories until the cable catches you and you soar out above the awed crowds, swinging back and forth, all the while probably screaming at the top of your lungs either from shear adrenaline or absolute terror!

I insisted I wanted to be the person to pull that cord. I'm not sure why. I was even slightly concerned at the time that I wouldn't be able to follow through when the time came. I recall my brother swearing as we were being pulled upward. Truth be told, we were all a little freaked out. Then came the countdown. On pull, I didn't hesitate one nano second. We soared through the air screaming with fear, delight, a few expletives, and my brother saying he hated me. LOL It was a good time that we'll never forget and some of us may never do again.

Flash forward about ten years . . .

Just as the surgical staff was preparing to roll me back to the OR for my bilateral mastectomy, I asked Arie if he remembered that particular ride. Together we recalled the rip cord - no choice, no hesitation, and complete faith that the equipment would take us safely back to earth. During the planning, appointments, and pre-op for this surgery, I appeared resolute, even stoic perhaps at times. At that moment, my husband saw my first tears as I told him, "I'm pulling the rip cord" and he kissed me and understood.

"I Never Expected to Inspire Others" as printed on www.SparkPeople.com

"I Never Expected to Inspire Others"
Weight Loss Led to a Meaningful Moment with My Son
-- By Audri, SparkPeople Member

One day my soul woke up and it was fat! It didn't happen overnight; I wasn't always fat. I had spent the last 11 years eating emotionally. It started with my husband's death. We had been newlyweds. Emotional eating stayed with me long after my wounds began to heal and even after I remarried. It had become a habit. And even though I knew I was hurting myself, I felt powerless to overcome it. Food had control over my life for years, but finally, I decided to live differently. From somewhere came a glimmer of hope that my life could be different.

Then SparkPeople showed up with a soft knock and an invitation: "Can Audri come out and play?" This began a journey of self-discovery I never could have imagined. You see, I didn't realize that year after year, my personality and my future were slowly being buried under a growing layer of fat!

SparkPeople helped me realize for the first time that to be successful I had to make some serious changes. It wasn't enough to make a New Year's resolution and hope for the best. I had to commit to being different…but first I had to believe it was possible. So I started with what I knew to be true. I knew I had not always been fat. I knew others had overcome even greater weight obstacles than mine. Mostly, I knew that through my faith, I could do anything. After acknowledging these things, I felt prepared to commit to whatever it took to conquer myself. Within a week, I came up with the four strategies I would use to set myself up for success.

First, I assessed my battle with food in an honest way. My "If they don't see me eat it, it doesn't count" attitude had to go! Using the Nutrition Tracker, I took a close look at my food choices and it opened my eyes! Over time, I chose to eliminate caffeine, table salt, alcohol, sodas and excessively high fat, high-calorie foods from my diet. Some were harder to let go than others were, but one by one they fell by the wayside in exchange for healthier options.

Second, I stopped hiding my struggle. Those who loved me had known all along anyway—my size 18 wasn't a good disguise. I was only fooling myself. I realized I had fallen into a habit of secretly losing a little weight with the hope that others would notice. When they didn't, I became discouraged and eventually quit. I decided to try a different approach and bring God, my family and friends into the program with me. This way, I was encouraged and held accountable. Eventually, I joined a SparkTeam and even started one of my own.

Third, I set my goals. I set concrete short, medium and long-term goals based on my interests. Some I knew were attainable, like doing cardio four days each week. Some were a stretch, like climbing Mt. Fuji someday—something that would take a lot of hard work to reach. I needed to have something on the horizon to aim at, a target. It was important for it to be realistic enough that I could focus on it instead of my overall weight loss goal. If I had begun by focusing on losing the whole 70 pounds, I would have become overwhelmed and possibly given up.

Fourth, I put a concrete plan in motion to help me succeed. I wrote out my plan on my SparkPage to keep myself accountable. This included making my Nutrition and Fitness Trackers public so others could see what I was tracking. I devoted myself to following my plan, even on the days when I wanted to quit. I determined there were only two choices: to quit or continue. And quitting wasn't an option.

Along the way, a funny thing happened. I found me! Each honest step I took loosened the control food had over me. Once I began to see the fruits of my labor, I realized that I could have done it all along. I had been making excuses and giving away my freedom to choose a better life. Through overcoming the old me, I realized that my personality had been stifled. I wasn't energetic enough to be on the outside the person I was on the inside. Now, I have a zeal that was lost for years. I am alive! I've even tackled new physical challenges and along the way come to think of myself as an athlete. In August, I climbed to the top of Mt. Fuji. And in November, my whole family decided to run the Marine Corps-sponsored Toys for Tots 5K on Yokosuka Naval Base. I'll never forget what happened between my son and me that day.

The horn blew and we started at a good clip, with my young son jogging easily and setting a good pace. It wasn't long before he was ready to slow down a little, and not long after that, he was ready to quit altogether. He had brought a lime green bandanna to wear around his neck but had taken it off. As he was about to give up, I took the bandanna from him and grasped one end tightly. Handing him the other end, I said, "Come on, I won't let go. We can do it together every step of the way." I wanted so desperately for him to overcome all that held him back and simply persevere to the end.

I spoke to him of children who would benefit from what we were doing and of those who walk more than five kilometers just to get a drink of dirty water. We spoke of climbing Mt. Fuji and other challenges that life still holds ahead of us. I pulled and pushed him. I cheered for him. I empathized with him. I shared bits and pieces of life wisdom with him. This was not the first time I had told him that I believe in him, that "You can do it!" Even still, today was different. Today was that opportunity for him to rise above something bigger than he was, and not just to call himself a conqueror, but also to feel it in his spirit.

During the last leg, as we could see the finish line, I was giving him a pep talk. I wish I could recall the exact words I said to him at that moment, but I'll never forget his response: "Yeah, just like YOU believe in me." At that moment, my heart swelled with love and hope. Hope that he will embrace those words and grow to be a confident man who does not fear life's challenges. He confirmed that he does truly listen to me and believes me when I tell him, "I believe in you."

As we neared the finish line, he told me he was ready to sprint. He let go of the green bandanna we had carried together for the last 3 miles and we sprinted together to the finish line. During the whole race, he never stopped moving forward—not once. He had ups and downs, but he never quit. And as we crossed that finish line side-by-side, he became a little more of the adult I will someday know him to be.

After grabbing some water and finding my husband, we stood together to listen to the race results. My softhearted 8-year-old son said to me, "That was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I'm glad I did it." In that moment, I learned the most beautiful truth: Today he came to believe in himself, like SparkPeople helped me believe in myself. This would have never happened had I not wrestled with my food and exercise demon and come out victorious, believing in myself. This moment was made possible by SparkPeople and one life changed—no, make that two.

I realized that perhaps the greatest consequence of my weight loss (60 pounds to date) is that I have the ability to help others in a meaningful way. I never thought I would see the day when others would call me an inspiration. Living as a fat person enabled me to relate better to the struggles of others. I guess those 11 "fat" years weren't completely wasted after all.

Okinawan Cookies & Pizza in the Sky

We took a field trip with a group of homeschooled families to Motobu, Okinawa yesterday. Our first stop was a recreational area called the Motobu Wellness area, where the kids made salt from seawater and traditional Japanese cookies. They all seemed to have a good time making the cookies and an even better time eating them. They tasted a little like sugar cookies and had a different texture and a slightly chalky aftertaste.

The wellness area had a nice beach with volleyball nets set up. There were kayaks and jet skis as well. I'm not sure how it fits in, but they also had a pen full of goats, rabbits, roosters, and hens. Animals, they contribute to our sense of wellness! :)

After our short stop at the wellness area, we made our way up a large hill to a restaurant called Pizza in the Sky, more appropriately known as Cafe Kajinho. We had a group that included eight parents and fifteen kids ranging in age from 2 months to about 16. We converged on this place and it was somewhat of a zoo.

The menus were printed on large Japanese fans, with Japanese on one side and English on the other. It was a very simple menu. For the most part, they have one special pizza they make and people order that. You can get 7" or 14" pizzas. Yesterday, the toppings available were thick pepperoni, onions, green peppers, and corn. I ordered a loaded pizza and was pleasantly surprised that the corn fit right in with my other toppings. The pepperoni had a different sort of spice to it that wasn't hot, but had a wonderful flavor. The crust was somewhere between a thin and hand-tossed crust. Overall an excellent pizza!

The area around the restaurant had heavy foliage. The perimeter was skirted by a wooden fence that wouldn't keep out a goat. On the other side of this fence was a steep drop on three sides of the restaurant. Beyond that drop, the town of Motobu opened up on the horizon, flowing to the sea. It was a beautiful day and from our perch, we had nearly a 180-degree view of the ocean and surrounding hills.

Perhaps the most interesting thing I found on this trip was a certain table at the pizza restaurant. Sitting on the porch overlooking the ocean, I noticed one lone table that stood out. Every other table in the whole place was low to the floor for traditional Japanese seating, but this one was different. It was a large, odd-shaped, thick slab of wood perched atop the metal framework of an old, treadle-style Singer sewing machine. My mom would have loved it but wondered what happened the the sewing machine. :)

I must give a mention to the ice cream we encountered as well. We stopped at a market area and killed some time while waiting for others to arrive. While there, we grabbed some ice cream. Koen had his standard vanilla, but I got adventuresome and went out on a limb with some black sesame ice cream. I was slightly skeptical, but it's what the ladies recommended. I wasn't disappointed! It had an unusual flavor, though not overly sesame. I'd do it again, but next time I'll go for the sweet potato. :)

This was our first major outing since arriving in Okinawa. I am so looking forward to spending some more time up north, away from the American concentrated areas around the bases. We had to drive about 60 kilometers away from the base to find a Japanese person who didn't speak English. It was nice to experience a little more of Okinawan culture and yet I know I've not even scratched the surface. I'll keep you posted as the adventure goes on.

On Top of the World - My Experience Climbing Mt. Fuji

My goal of climbing Mt. Fuji came about quite by accident. Actually, it's my son's fault. While creating my vision collage, he stumbled upon a photo of Mt. Fuji. I thought it would make a great center photo since it was large. As my collage took shape around the photo, it occurred to me that I could make climbing that mountain my goal. Voila! I had my first lofty, long-term goal. At least it seemed pretty long-term at the time.

Just after making my collage, I met a woman on eBay. She was selling some workout DVDs, which I purchased from her. In the process of communicating with her over the purchase, we found some common ground and began e-mailing one another on a regular basis. It is this woman, my newfound friend, who took a leap of faith six months later and flew halfway around the world to climb a mountain with me.

Three days after meeting in person for the first time, we headed out at 12:30 a.m. to catch our bus for Hakone National Park, where Fuji is located. We drove an hour, caught our bus, and rode another three hours to get to our starting point. With walking sticks in hand, we headed out on an adventure that would strengthen the bonds of friendship. Within minutes the rain came.

The path began easily enough. Our bus had dropped us off at station 5 and before long, we were greeted with a nice view, looking down on the clouds. We walked along on flat ground, talking about our strategy for pacing ourselves. Soon enough, the terrain began to change. During our 6-hour and 15-minute ascent, we zigged and zagged upward. We climbed stairs. We climbed steep boulders. We climbed in loose gravel. Occasionally, we stopped for electrolyte water or organic energy bars or to simply take a short rest. The rests got longer and more frequent the closer we got to the top, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

As we ascended, we passed a variety of people going both ways. One Japanese man even had a toddler on his back. I couldn't help but wonder if he had made it to the top. In retrospect, I don't think he did, but at the time I marveled at his accomplishment.

About 20 minutes into our climb, I asked my friend to pray with me. I gave the climb to God. I asked him to give us the strength to climb this literal mountain, as well as for protection. My friend and I spoke briefly about believing in angels. She felt she had received confirmation of a guardian angel just before we got on the bus. After our prayer, my step quickened. I felt a burst of energy propelling me forward. At that moment, I was more sure than ever that the mountain was already conquered, though my body slowed, my head certainly kept up the mental momentum!

We stopped at every mountain hut to have our walking sticks branded with a unique design. With each stamp, I grew more determined. Inevitably, we would stumble across people from our bus and we'd have a brief exchange. Several times we exchanged "ganbatte" with Japanese people. This word means "do your best" or "go for it."

There are ten stations on Fuji, with the tenth at the top. Around the 8th station, my hands began to get really cold and one of my fingers had turned yellow - a symptom of my Reynaud's Syndrome. I worked to get my circulation back, then put on my gloves and kept trucking. Around this time, we rounded the corner of one of the mountain huts and came face-to-face with a steep wall of rocks. My first reaction was, "YES! Let's do this thing!" In fact, this was a scenario that replayed itself numerous times. Each time, I had a similar "oh yeah!" reaction. It was my own way of cheering myself along. It worked for me.

Somewhere about halfway to station 9 I began to experience some altitude sickness. At first, I only felt slightly dizzy. Obviously, the dizziness only got worse the higher I moved. Within about 30 minutes, I also felt nauseous. We stopped, drank, and ate, then began again. We moved more slowly. Though my friend was not experiencing the same effects, she was an amazing support throughout this process. Together, we worked through it taking five steps while breathing deeply, then stopping for two deep breaths. Eventually, I did begin to feel better and our pace quickened somewhat.

For the last 1.5 hours or so, the wind and rain picked up. A storm was rolling in. At times, the wind was so harsh that we had to brace ourselves against our walking sticks and lean heavily into the wind to keep from being blown over. Just when I thought the climb was never-ending, we ascended the last flight of stairs, passing under a red, Shinto tori gate. We had arrived!

We stood in line to have our walking stick stamped with two special red stamps, then stepped out to find the crater. The wind was blowing so hard and fog was covering the crater. It had become dangerous and we were told not to go to the crater. We could not have seen it anyway. We planned to travel around the edge for however much time we had left, but ultimately could not for safety reasons. It was hard to come all that way and not see the crater and the view around Fuji.

After making a quick bathroom break, which was really a squatter, we bought some fresh, dry gloves, took some pictures at the pillar monument, and decided to head down.

Compared to the ascent, the descent was only 2 hours 45 minutes. It was also zig-zagged, though the terrain never changed. It was loose lava, pea-sized gravel. My toes pushed into the toe of my boots. Over time, my big toes became quite sore. In the end, I finished the descent with one cracked toenail and a blister between two toes. Not bad, I think.

During the hike down, I realized we were surrounded by some beautiful plants. They were so lime green that they almost appeared to glow. The rocks were lovely as well - a rainbow of colors, but mostly red and turquoise.

There was one truly inspiring story I saw unfolding on that mountain. On the descent, we passed a young Japanese girl moving very slowly while her family encouraged her. This girl had one foot that was inverted, like a club foot - yet she made it up that mountain! My friend and I wanted to cry. It made all our obstacles pale in comparison.

Once down the mountain, we stopped for something to eat and did a little souvenir shopping. I had an "American dog," a.k.a. corn dog. It was much different from a true American corn dog, but I was thankful for it. Finally, I stopped at the post office to mail a few postcards before heading back to the bus.

I slept awhile on the ride back to base and woke up just as they were playing a video - "Touching the Void." It's a documentary about the perilous and near-fatal climb of two friends. It was an appropriate topic and made me wonder if I could ever do the kind of climbing required to scale a 20,000-foot mountain. I'm not convinced that's an undertaking for me, but I won't rule it out. Like Confucius said, "the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." This was my single step. I'm just not sure yet where the journey will lead. I'm excited to find out!

Climbing Molehills and Mountains

When I was little, I recall my mom saying on more than one occasion," don't make a mountain out of a molehill." She was teaching me to assess a situation honestly, not exaggerating the intensity of the problem.

I believe this attitude has helped me conquer many obstacles in life. Some of them have truly been "molehills," while others have been mountains. My molehills and mountains have consisted of things like moving around the world every three years, deployments, family illnesses, college, miscarriage, molestation at 12, and widowhood at 23.

On August 23, I climbed Mt. Fuji. It was the most physically difficult thing I've ever done in my life. At times I felt my body wouldn't make it. I was pushed to what I thought was the limit of my capabilities, and yet I conquered that 12,388-foot mountain! Though the altitude, wind, rain, and cold took a toll on me physically, mentally those obstacles had become molehills to me. I had given myself no other option than to see the top of that mountain!

If I had stopped years ago and applied this logic and tenacity to my obesity, I imagine I would have conquered that sooner as well. I was perfectly capable of literally climbing a mountain. The problem was that I had turned my weight into a figurative mountain so much larger-than-life, that my mind could not overcome it. Now, I realize that it was my mind preventing me from succeeding at my weight loss, not physical limitations. Turning molehills into mountains helped me defeat myself before I even got started!

So, today is a celebration - a celebration of overcoming great obstacles! I glow with joy for reaching the top of my literal mountain. Mostly though, I glow from the realization that somewhere deep inside me is the strength and fortitude to overcome obstacles both large and small. See, the important lesson my mom taught me is not to determine which is a mountain and which is a molehill, but that I can conquer them all.

Sand Storms, Star Wars, & Shark Fin Soup

Today's experiences were varied to be sure. After yesterday's dust and sandstorm, I spent the morning vacuuming up red sand, mainly from my kitchen. Wow, if it wouldn't have been so bad for my camera, I would've taken some pictures. The sky turned reddish brown as it was rolling in. The wind was horrible! I've since learned that the DSS (Dust and Sand Storm) phenomenon is a growing problem in Japan. The dust blows in from China and elsewhere. I woke up this morning having a horrible time breathing. After cleaning up the sand, we headed out to church, and then on to lunch with friends. (I'll leave out all the details in between...although church was inspiring and had a good message.) We headed back to our favorite restaurant in Chinatown. Thanks to the nice Japanese lady next to me, I learned a little more about their menu. Most notably, shark fin soup. I'm familiar with shark fin soup and have been outraged in the past about the collection of shark fins. Though I have felt morally opposed, I wanted to see what the rage is all about. Japanese people love this soup. I'm skipping to another paragraph because shark fin soup needs to be set apart, it was just that unique of an experience. The fin itself was not overly apparent in the bowl. In fact, when I scooped up a bite, it appeared to have some sort of rice noodles. Using chopsticks, I lifted an opaque clump from the broth. I studied it a bit and noted that the shape was consistent with a shark fin. This particular one was about two inches tall. That was a small shark. I could not bring myself to put the whole fin into my mouth, so I decided to break off a piece. What I found was that the fin was easily pulled into strings, similar to string cheese. What I thought had been rice noodles were actually strings of the fin. Upon trying my first bite, I concluded that the "shark noodles" had a texture similar to a very al dente noodle. It didn't have much taste. The broth contributed most of the flavor, which was mildly fishy. I feel as though I have a better understanding now of the draw for shark fin soup...though I must say I'll never have it again. It was interesting, but I'm mostly disappointed in myself for having this culinary experience. I will say this, I'll never try turtle soup. On a slightly happier note, Koen watched Star Wars today for the first time. After investigating which order is the optimal order to view them in, we opted to start with episode IV, the original movie. Some of the plot has already been spoiled though since he just finished reading the book for episode I. That's okay though, he's still hooked. I think he understands now why his friend Micah loves Star Wars. Now they'll have more to talk about. Overall it was a good day. The coming week is sure to be full of fun and adventure. We'll be going to a couple museums this week, which should be lots of fun. We're heading to the Anpanman Museum and the Ramen Museum. I'm looking forward to seeing what fun and adventure those have in store for us.

Chinese Go-Round (Kai Ten)

Okay, so we were back in Chinatown today. We joined several friends for lunch at a very interesting Chinese restaurant. I'm not sure if I've shared with everyone about the sushi-go-round restaurants here in Japan. These restaurants have small servings of sushi dishes that run on a conveyor belt around the restaurant. The belt passes in front of each seat, where each person then reaches and grabs a plate and digs in.

The restaurant cost 1260 yen for me and 630 yen for Koen. It was all you can eat. We were able to try about 10 different dishes, including: eggplant; dumplings filled with greens and onions; wontons filled with I don't know what; chicken with cashews, peppers, onions, celery and eggplant; and a coconut milk cake. That only barely scrapes the surface of the dishes they had to offer.

My husband is going to be in love! I can't wait to take him there. It'll be our first stop after he's back from deployment.

Chinese New Year in Yokohama, Japan

Chinese New Year
Current mood: excited
Category: Travel and Places

Last Friday, Koen and I headed to Chinatown with friends for the Chinese New Year celebration. Two words describe the festivities, loud and colorful. There were probably several thousand people lining the streets to watch the parade.

The parade included women dancing, people in festive costumes, and several lions doing the Chinese lion dance. All of this was followed up by a metal cage being pulled along by a Chinese man who occasionally tossed a large pack of firecrackers into the cage, which filled the air with incessant popping and smoke.

One of the costumes was of a large, tall, barrel-chested Chinese man. The character had a large plastic head with movable eyes the size of a grapefruit. Each time he would jump up and down, the eyes would blink just like a baby doll. He was quite rolly poly.

Without a doubt, the lion dance was the neatest part of the parade. The colors were vivid - red, pink, blue, silver, turquoise, yellow, gold, and black. Each lion weaved in and out of the crowd "pouncing" on innocent bystanders. Koen stood along the edge of the street as the lions appeared before us. He didn't so much as flinch, but was completely unmoved and stoic. The turquoise lion made its approach shaking its head slightly and rising menacingly into the air as if to intimidate Koen. Still, he was unshakable. Then it happened, the lion moved swiftly and enveloped Koen. It seemed to swallow him whole and just when I knew all was lost, Koen emerged victorious, having survived his "attacker." He was elated and now could claim some bragging rights (sort of). By the way, my friend Naoko says the lion's head coming down on you like this brings good luck.

Another highlight of the parade was seeing Po from Kung Fu Panda, and the two men in costumes below.  They seemed somehow celestial.  Their faces were painted and they carried swords. At times they would stop their forward movement and engage one another in mock battle. Swords flew, bodies spun, and they energetically threw themselves into the air.

All of this was so exciting that Koen and I ran ahead of the parade. We had to take it all in once more before it was over. We wound the corner and followed the widening curve of people down the street weaving in and out of throngs of Japanese people, all the while looking for a break in the bodies to get to the street's edge. No luck.

With the crowd impeding Koen's view he wound up on my shoulders - a motherly sacrifice to be sure. If you haven't seen him for a while, he's over 70 pounds. Getting him up there was fun. Japanese people around me stared as we went through the process. The bird's eye view only lasted about five minutes, after which a lady on the street's edge reached through, grabbing Koen and pulling him to the front. I was very thankful. So was Koen.

After enduring the final blasts of the firecrackers, we were ready for some dinner. 

Chinatown is one of those places where it's just as easy to eat dinner standing alongside a vendor's stand on the street as it is to sit down at a restaurant. There are plenty of both. We decided to head to a vendor known, by our friend Ashley, to have the best gyoza.

On the way, we stumbled onto the Kanteibyo temple (Buddhist). To say that the temple gate was ornate is a gross understatement. It was absolutely beautiful. Scores of people were climbing the steps, arming themselves with incense before penetrating the inner workings of the temple. I found myself drawn by curiosity. People left their incense sticks sticking upright in large bowls at various numbered stations. One lady stood the whole time we were there praying with her eyes closed at station one. On the inside was a large statue of Kuan Yu (Guan Yu). There were offerings on an altar before him. As a Christian, I've never seen such a blatant display of idolatry. It was fascinating and sad and I walked away feeling thankful to know the one true God.

In the end, we found our gyoza stand and partook of some pretty good eats. Ashley was right, it was excellent. They also made a variety of Chinese steamed buns called baozi. Koen and I tried one with pork, shrimp, veggies, and spices. Boy was that delicious! Chinese food is one of my favorites! We had fun just standing there eating our baozi. (In Japan you don't walk around eating food. It's more proper to stand in place next to the vendor stand and consume your food before walking around.)

On the way out of Chinatown, we stopped by an antique store. I found a Japanese doll in a case that was really beautiful, so I inquired about it. Long story short, I bought four Japanese dolls of various genders, sizes, and dress, for 5000 yen. That's less than $50. I was thrilled and some friend or family member may be the lucky recipient of one of my good fortunes. 

We all had a great time and look forward to going again next year. Although... we don't have to wait until next year to visit Chinatown. We're going again today to sightsee with friends. What adventure awaits us this time? Hmm...we'll see.

Skiing at Mt. Naeba in Niigata, Nagano Prefecture, Japan

It has been 20 years since the last time I went skiing. Arie has not skied for more than 10 years and has been talking about going for a long time. We finally decided to take a trip and visit Niigata, Japan, for a couple days to ski on Mt. Naeba. Unbeknownst to us at the time, Mt. Naeba is the most popular ski resort in Japan and widely considered to have some of the best conditions.

We rented our ski gear from Outdoor Recreation on base, reserved our hotel through ITT (Information, Tickets, and Tours) on base, and then headed off to buy our Shinkansen tickets (the bullet train). We were excited about our newest adventure and it didn't disappoint.

Our first train left Yokohama at 5 a.m., which got us up early. After almost an hour on that train, we got off in Tokyo and reboarded the Shinkansen headed to Yuzawa, Japan. When we arrived it was snowing with some flakes the size of quarters. Koen marveled at the site and was bouncing off the walls. We waited around the station for a bit for our bus to come and take us to the hotel. While we waited, Koen found a candy he wanted to try - a chewy, fruity, grapefruit-flavored do-dad that turned out to be quite good. It's a new favorite of his.

The bus took about 50 minutes, during which we played and goofed around with Koen. We had a ball and hadn't even put our skis on yet. Our bus pulled up in front of the hotel and we piled out ready for lunch and ski lessons. The hotel had many restaurants and we decided on curry, which has become our family standard favorite. A few tables away, people were soaking their feet in the hot spring foot bath. What a combo! Lunch and a foot hot spring with a view of the ski slopes. Pretty neat.

Once Koen was settled in with his ski instructor, Arie and I set off to get in as much as we could while we had the chance. The slopes were perfect powder - the best I've seen in my limited experience. I think I've only skied maybe 5 times, this one included. I was quite surprised that I never fell while I was skiing, though I did fall once while I was standing still watching Koen's lesson. Then Koen made it number two when he skied into me, knocking us both over.

The first day we skied until about 8:00 pm, nearly missing every dinner the hotel had to offer (restaurants close at 9 pm there). We did manage to hurry into a yakiniku place and have a great meal before collapsing in our twin beds.

The second day my legs from the knee down were so sore from the boots (ill-fitting, but the only option I had) and from using muscles I forgot I had. I tried my best, but I couldn't make my mind overcome the pain, so I didn't ski that day. Arie spent the late morning and afternoon skiing while Koen and I explored on our own. We went snowmobiling first together, and then Koen rode his own kid-sized machine. Later, he was pulled on a raft behind a snowmobile. He loved it! We wound our way through a maze of igloos and stopped for a bit inside an especially large one to enjoy some hot mochi with azuki bean sauce. It tastes a little like a hot, but chewy marshmallow topped with a sauce that tastes like sweetened, liquidy, mashed pinto beans. It doesn't sound appetizing, but it was lovely and we felt like we were taking part in a special moment. Mochi is a special Japanese dish that is eaten year-round, but especially for New Year's.

We broke for a quick lunch, and then Arie and Koen were off to do some more skiing together. Koen had a blast and Arie did a great job skiing backward and helping him practice. I never knew how well Arie could ski. After nine years of marriage (as of January 1) I'm still learning new things about my husband. It's refreshing.

So, now Koen has decided that skiing is his favorite sport after soccer. Arie has decided that after retirement we need to live within an hour of a ski resort. As for me...I'm thrilled no one broke any bones and I'm ready to commit to a life of skiing. I never thought I'd say that, but I really loved it. Isn't it interesting how you change as an adult? I don't recall enjoying skiing as much when I was a kid. It's nice to know that some things do change.

The trip back home was nice, quick, and uneventful except for the old Japanese man who kept falling asleep and leaning over on Koen on the train. The look on Koen's face was priceless and after a time it became quite funny.

Back home, I realized yet again, that there is no better way to appreciate your blessings until you no longer have them. In other words, I'll never complain about my mattress again! We had a blast and we're happy to be home.