I Hate Delta

I spent 21 hours at Sea-Tac Airport before I gave up on Delta Airlines completely. I was still flying on Kevin’s buddy pass and was optimistic about hopping a flight back to Atlanta so I could fly business class back to sweet Tokyo and get home in time to teach two days of elementary school.
Delta overbooked every single flight that week by at least 3-10 people. The people who gave up their seats were put at the top of the standby list and moved to the next flight. As were the next group of people, and the next, and the next. This left me eternally at position 24 on the standby list – I never saw the inside of a plane. I slept in the airport, hoping that the early morning flight would be able to take me to Atlanta even though I had already missed my flight to Tokyo. I would have to spend the night in Atlanta and wait for the Friday morning flight back instead. Whatever, I reasoned, I just needed to get out of Seattle.
I spent that night on a bench, freezing and sobbing. I didn’t want to call family to pick me up because I didn’t have the energy to be driven somewhere else, driven back, and have to go through security again. But it felt like I was never going to get out of that terminal, so I didn’t know what else to do.
After finally telling my family that I was stuck at the airport and having the remnants of my optimism completely crushed by the lack of empathy from the staff and the situation itself, my dad helped me buy a new plane ticket with a different airline for the next day. I booked a hotel room and left the airport, having gotten nowhere at all in all that time.

The Rest of It (Saturday June 13-Monday June 15)

I spent the weekend in Seattle after the funeral was over. It was nice spending more time with Megan and seeing Laura’s best friend Graham again. It was also really good to spend a lot of time with Zaydeh, who was taking this worse than anyone.

Zaydeh seems so forlorn without Bubbeh around. He’s just about deaf and he’s been that way since I can remember, but without my grandmother around the house he’s having a lot of trouble hearing the phone or doorbell ring.

He took us to see the apartment they had put a payment on in a brand new, very nice retirement community near Seattle Center. It was one of the nicest apartments I’ve ever seen, but knowing it would just be Zaydeh in it, it was too big. He thought so too, and has since canceled his lease on it and is planning to move into a smaller apartment at some point, but not soon. I felt better knowing that Zaydeh would be staying in their condo with all of his things, and walking up to Pike Place Market every morning for fruits and coffee. This, however, meant that Megan and I would not be moving into the condo in July after all. This too was fairly crushing news.

The condo was never ours, and we had done nothing to earn it, but it was the one thing that was fairly solid about my move back to the US. Having a place to live immediately – finding a job and applying to grad schools would come afterwards. Now I will have to do everything all at once, which is a bit stressful. Still, I suppose I counted a lot of chickens before they’d hatched.

Laura’s friend Graham is doing very well on Capitol Hill. We met him and his girlfriend for breakfast (making me realise that I’ve gone almost 2 years without eating a proper breakfast). Although I’m not nearly as close with Graham as my sister, it will be nice to know someone in the city! Also worth mentioning, his cat Leland is adorable.

I spent an entire day with Megan around her neighbourhood in Queen Anne. It’s a residential area primarily with a lot of cute, small houses. Seattle is not afraid of colours either! Purple houses, pink houses, mint green houses. It was really beautiful. I met her roommates Nick and Jonathan and we watched some TV while I battled off my daily jet lag fatigue.

I ate two slices of pizza (one slice too many) and Megan and I walked around her area and talked about the places we’d like to move into in July. We also talked about the general futility of knowing what we want out of our ‘careers’ and how little furniture we own.

Megan and her roommate, Jonathan.

On the last day in Seattle, my mother and I visited Zaydeh’s. Zaydeh drove Laura to the airport and my mother and I rested in the condo for a bit. I had a phone call from someone I’d never heard of and called her back. It turned out it was a debt collector trying to phone me to tell me that I owe $1400 in membership payments to Bally’s Total Fitness in Los Angeles. A gym membership I had cancelled thirteen months ago. Apparently the contract I had signed was good for 36 months, regardless of cancellation. What a crock. After a good twenty minutes of hyperventilating and talking to one of the ladies at the agency who told me “I could settle at $750”, I decided my life was officially bleak. No grandmother, no place to live, and now I have to pay a ridiculous amount of money for a service I did not require nor use. America is awful.

Dejected, I went to the airport with my mom. Her flight was 4 hours earlier than mine but I didn’t want to do anything or talk to anyone, so it seemed like a good place to feel disgruntled until my flights back to Japan. As it turned out, Sea-Tac Airport is the best place to feel disgruntled as I would soon find out flying standby on Delta Airlines.

The Funeral

Dressed in black, we met Zaydeh for breakfast at the hotel. Zaydeh smiled at seeing us in such unusual garb and commented, “Who decided on this colour anyway?” He had a point. I was one of very few people at the actual funeral who were all in black.
Breakfast was awful. I was smiling too much, trying to make everyone feel better. My sister was quiet, my mother was sad, and Zaydeh was distraught. He couldn’t believe he was burying his wife of 64 years – and neither could we. Those two had always been a formidable unit of teasing, cooking, and never-ending affection. The question began to rise in my mind, “What are you supposed to do when your family is broken?”
Sitting between my sister and my eleven-year-old cousin, Mo, I felt ridiculous. “I can’t believe I’m at my grandmother’s funeral. I’ve never been to a funeral and now I’m at her’s! Impossible.” In the past few years all of my four grandparents have been teetering into poorer health, but I never thought that Bubbeh would be the first to go.
My grandmother, being an unwavering defender of the women’s liberation, was honoured by a female canter in a purple suit. The canter, as it turned out, was the first women ever to perform a ceremony in the Orthodox Jewish cemetery where Bubbeh was buried. Breaking the moulds even after life. The canter led us in Yiddish folk songs and in prayers. We followed the pallbearers to the gravesite beneath a magnificent old tree. The tree reminded me so much of Bubbeh, it almost surged with her spirit. I immediately identified it as “The Bubbeh Tree” and I feel confident that it was a place she would have picked out herself, though my grandparents had never reserved their final resting places – optimists well into their mid 80’s. We took turns shoveling earth onto her grave and returned to Elliot Bay for her reception.

At the reception, I felt like I didn’t want to be around people anymore. I had no appetite, though the platters in front of me looked delicious (Bubbeh would not have held back – she was a champion eater). I took a glass of wine and sat out on the steps, looking out at the bay, thinking of how unfair it was for God to take someone we all needed so, so much. Bubbeh said, “God will never let the world end so long as there are ten good people in it.” But with her gone, we’re down to nine.
When I returned to the reception, people had begun telling stories about their times spent with Bubbeh. It was a gift that I was able to remember her through so many different people. She was kind, a good listener, never shied away from making friends with complete strangers, she could out-eat just about anyone, and she never sat down at the dinner table when she was cooking. She truly wanted to know everyone, and she wanted to understand people fully and without judgment. I hope that every one of us was able to take home a part of her spirit and that it makes us all better people in the future.

After everyone went home (“it’s like herding cats!”), I resisted the jet lag induced urge to nap for the next 19 hours and waited for Megan to get off work. Fortunately for me, her office was the next building over from my hotel. It was really nice to see her again – it had been nearly a year since she left Japan! But I was weighed down by grief and exhaustion and I don’t think I expressed my happiness as well as I could have. She took me and Laura out to a great happy hour place where we ate yam fries and tried local beers. It was nice having all of the funeral things over with and being able to relax a little bit, even though we were still very sad. Bubbeh had always known that food could cure just about anything; and I think she and yam fries would have been fast friends.

A Diversion

I thought that my next trip from Japan to the United States would be a one-way ticket representing the end of my JET Programme contract and my time spent in Japan as a teacher. Unfortunately, my first trip back to the US was not under any such circumstances.

My grandmother, known to us as Bubbeh, its Yiddish equivalent, passed away from lung cancer complicated by pneumonia on Sunday, June 7th at a hospital in Stony Brook, Long Island. She and Zaydeh, my grandfather, had once lived in Stony Brook for decades and had long since moved to Seattle to live across from Elliot Bay. The reason for their presence in Long Island was that it was the last spot on their long vacation to visit family and friends all over the world. They flew to Iceland, where they met my parents and explored glaciers and volcanoes. Afterwards, they flew back to London to visit with my parents a bit longer before boarding the Queen Mary and cruising back to New York in style. My grandparents have always been swanky folk. Only a short while after the Queen Mary docked in New York City and Bubbeh had met her older brother for martinis, did she fall ill.

Within 24 hours, friends and loved ones were coming out of the woodworks, racing to say their goodbyes.

I decided to fly back to the US to see my family and to say my goodbyes to Bubbeh, even though they would be a bit late. My schools were characteristically understanding, and they each gave me money for flowers, which they told me is the Japanese custom. I was really touched.
The funeral would be held on that Friday so I left on Thursday afternoon from Tokyo airport. My friend, Kevin, allowed me to use his family’s Delta buddy pass – enabling me a cheap fare from Tokyo to Seattle on standby. The first flight was a breeze – I even got to ride in business class! Unfortunately the flight was from Tokyo all the way to Atlanta, flying directly over Seattle and landing nowhere near it.

At the Atlanta airport I was on a very long list of standbys and was told that, “it didn’t look good.” As I sat, exhausted and unsure of what to do next, I saw my sister standing in line for boarding. Somehow she had found out my flight and booked herself on the same one. In the nick of time, I was put on the flight. It was a miracle. I sat next to an old man who was going to his son’s graduation from the University of Washington. He told me about his ex-wife who was in “lady’s prison” and his fiancée and that he had seen a few UFOs in his time in Georgia. Then he helped me with the in-flight trivia challenge and sure enough, we won a fair few games!

Laura and I met up with Oren and Michele (our uncle and aunt) and waited for my mother at the airport. Only my mother would bring two checked suitcases for a 5-day trip.

We checked into a hotel nearby Zaydeh’s apartment at Elliot Bay. It felt so wonderful to be back, but the reality of the situation was slowly starting to hit and I began to feel numb. Like I was watching myself on a TV screen. This wasn’t my life. The Sreebny women went out for a bowl of clam chowder that evening (at 10pm because the sun never sets in the Pacific Northwest, apparently) and fell asleep at different times, each one of us on our own jet lag.

Oe Yama and The Eight Person Date

Local Teachers Wander into Mist ; Camoflauge

This weekend I was invited by my friend, Yasuka, an employee of the Mineyama Town Hall, to join her in Amino for a konpa, or a group date. From what I understand, a konpa is a group of people (even amounts of single boys and girls) where they get together at a restaurant or bar and get to know one another. So, that’s what we did.

I took the train up to Amino from Mineyama so I would be able to drink (this would help me relax around perfect Japanese strangers). Yasuka brought her co-workers, Yumi and Yumi. The guys were pretty diverse… two of them worked at a bank, one works as a 4th grade teacher in Mineyama, and one was a jerk, though I did not hear what he did for a living.

Mostly the party was fun. We ate a lot of fried chicken and salad and drank a lot of cocktails. The two guys I talked two (and had to sit next to) were nice enough. Though, one of them smoked cigarettes into my hair all evening. Considering it was in Japanese, I think I held my own. Though there were times I had no idea what was going on and the jerk guy kept making fun of me in front of me, which wasn’t cool.

Four hours later we were all quite intoxicated. Kate and Natanya, champions of love and friendship, came to pick me up. After that I told ridiculous stories and passed out watching Gone with the Wind.

The next morning, after Kate made us eggs and told us that she did the dishes every morning because if she is ever found dead before she can get to them, she thinks people will judge her. Even though she’s dead!

We drove in the rain and mist to Oe Yama in Kaya and hiked up a good deal of it. The mist made the walk very interesting and we took a lot of fun pictures!

This Place is Death

We ended the day at Apple Farm with curry and sandwiches. We also talked about Octomom and how many children a crazy person should be allowed to pump into herself. Ridiculous. I made many poor arguments.

Then I came home and found out that my grandmother is most likely going to die, so that’s probably going to change the course of this week. Flying 7000 miles home when I’m leaving in less than 7 weeks for good? Absurd timing.

Track & Field Day

Track & Field Day

Every year the four junior high schools in the area, Honjo, Ine, Hioki and Yoro, battle it out in track and field competition. This year we gathered early in the morning (in the rain) for the 競技会, or kyogikai. It was raining fairly consistently, so there were tarps and tents set up to shelter our bags and bodies. However, the rain collected on the tents and would spill down at random intervals, soaking everything and everyone in its path.
Aside from that, the day was good in that I got out of the office! I also had an opportunity to see Mrs. Aimi, my JTE from last year. She told me that she’s very happy at her new school (Hioki) because the class sizes are tiny (the school population is 15) and she is much closer to home than she was working at Ine JHS. I was really thrilled to see that she’s enjoying her new job and that she’s doing well. This will probably be the last time I see her before leaving.

As always, the relay races were among the more exciting activities of the day. The students work really hard for about a month practicing their sprints and passing the baton to their friends.

In the end (as always), the biggest school took home first prize. Once again Ine JHS will house the trophy. It must seem unfair… the points seemed to correlate directly with the size of the school. Ine taking first place in most everything, followed by Yoro, Honjo and finally Hioko. Seems a bit less exciting when the same school always wins. Nonetheless, everyone really tried their best and we were all thrilled to go home out of the rain.

Dust in the Wind, the Karaoke Story

Weather Crummy; Disappointed Females Trek to City

This weekend, due to crummy Tango weather and family duties, Natanya, Kate and I decided to take a literal rain check on our hike. Instead, Natanya and I drove down to Kameoka so we could head into Kyoto and play!

The morning started as crummy as the weather. I thought the elementary school next door told me that I could bring my recyclable cardboard (or cardboard boxes I've had since July 2007...) to the school between 7:30 and 10:30. So I showed up around 10 and one of the teachers/caretakers was there and he said, "Haha, they've gone home already." THANKS. So, stuck with cardboard, I said farewell to Kirby and drove South to Kaya. Natanya had plenty of cardboard waste too, so we placed it surreptitiously in the parking lot of a convenience store. Apologies to the 7-11 employees on Rt. 176.

Once in Kameoka, we snagged a free spot at the station and walked over to Laurel's apartment to meet her new friend, Kuma. I never knew rabbits had so much personality! This little boy or girl (we just don't know how to find out) thumped his feet when vexed, nibbled at our socks, and let us cuddle him as only a kind and thoughtful rabbit might. Meanwhile Margaret was wandering around muttering something about boys and dates... but... bunny... d'awwwwwwww.

Continuing on our day of planned fun-things, we took the train into Nijo to do some quickie purikura at the arcade and to see Star Trek with Greg, Ian, and Masahiro. Hooray for student prices and employees who believe that we are foreign exchange students! I don't think I'll be able to get away with that for too much longer... they might start to wonder once I'm 30.

Star Trek was vastly entertaining and the beers we all got helped our viewing pleasure go to where no man has gone before. Or something witty.

After that, people wanted food so we ate some kaiten sushi nearby, but this sadly cut the night short as people had last trains to worry about. So, all but me, Ian and Natanya went on in search of karaoke and more beer. We met up with Lauren, who changed her mind and went home.

Ian, Natanya and I ended up doing karaoke at two locations due to the waiting list at the first place. We are superstars, no lie. Natanya and Ian sang a 35 minute ballad by Bob Dylan while I weighed the options of eating my pastries now, or later. I chose later, and then tried to sing Kate Bush. Oof.

Somehow we ended up at Radio Clash around 2am and chatted, made paper cranes, and I texted everyone I knew that, simply, "I LOVE YOU." This was well received, and it's all true!

Around 3am, we poured ourselves into Ian's apartment and slept until the voices of children woke us up at 8am.

I have no explanation for this, other than it exists and I saw it.

So! Karaoke, sushi, movie, friends, and bunny all add up to one final note: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Driving home was relaxed this afternoon... Natanya and I listened to podcasts and sipped water and watched the scenery turn from sunny to cloudy to drizzly. We were home! When I got back to my apartment complex, I had to wait a bit longer to get inside because three monkeys were playing in front of my doorstep! Blagh! Deftly (and after 15 minutes) I trundled my car slowly up the path, chasing them back into the jungle. As I carried my groceries inside, they glared at me from trees. Eep.

A Weekend of Estrogen and Tofu

A Weekend of Estrogen and Tofu
May 23 & 24 2009

I’ve been packing boxes early in order to beat the heat that will soon be here and inescapable. Another reason for getting my personal belongings out of the house and onto freighters is that I am trying to slowly adjust to the idea that in about 2 months, I will not longer be in Tango. The thought of waking up to an empty house breaks my heart. I am also finding a new home for Kirby, my loyal and charming pet ferret, as a result of plane regulations not allowing ferrets in the cabins nor in the baggage areas. After so many weeks of researching customs and quarantine regulations, I have to give up my pet because an airline doesn’t consider Kirby to be feline or canine enough to go on an airplane. It’s been really exhausting (somewhere between the guilt of not being able to take him back, and the stress of finding him a good new home).

So it was a relief and a delight that Natanya and Kate came up for a rather impromptu sleepover this Saturday evening. Natanya had come with her English conversation friends, Keiko and Mieko (there are no two finer women on this peninsula). They brought with them strawberries, sugar peas and regular peas – all from Mieko’s garden. I blushed like the baby Jesus in his hay-crib.

We had coffee and strawberries and walked over to Urashima-jinja Park for a bite to eat. Three of us had tempura udon and Keiko ordered the “famous” soba. It’s famous because the town makes it.

Afterwards we took the Ine boathouse ferryboat around the bay and fed the seagulls, and the hawks that decided to trail nonchalantly, floating over our wake.

Hawks love crunchy snacks, as proven by this terrible photograph.
I do love my boat-houses. A student once wrote "funaya are where people put boats". Deep thoughts, deep thoughts.
The loneliest island.

Soon after Mieko and Keiko left Ine and Natanya and I decided to try our luck at making a tofu pudding recipe she found on the New York Times website. However when it’s cooking with Rachel & Natanya, it’s certainly not cooking with directions. The pudding turned out more or less “OK”.

Honjo at dusk. Now that it's not freezing, we can go outside and enjoy it.

The elusive floating island. It may or may not be in the sky.

Kate drove up and we went for a walk to catch up on gossip and talk about our weeks. It was nice getting some movement into my otherwise immobile daily routine [drive to work, sit at work, drive home, sit at home]. Afterwards we made mabudofu and had dinner together while watching too many episodes of America’s Next Top Model. This preceded Ever After, one of the silliest movies I’ve ever seen. Drew Barrymore, you ridiculous woman.

It was really nice just having Natanya and Kate around, and not doing anything particularly out of the ordinary. Just being normal with normal people. The weather was fairly cooperative too, but by no means sunny. It seems May is being stubbornly unseasonable this year.

After a nice night’s sleep, Kate cleaned my entire house because she was ignoring her oncoming asthma attack and then Natanya cooked eggs for breakfast! Then we decided to head to Mineyama for some fun-times™ at MINE, the mall there. We took some pretty excellent purikura and bought some things from the 100 yen store (especially Kate, who spends 90% of her paycheck on knick knacks for friends back home). After a donut and a run-in with Brynmor Thomas (gasp!) we went to kappa zushi for a late lunch and then I dropped Natanya off at home.

It was simple, girly, and covered in stickers. (pictures to come when I am less lazy)

WE CAN'T KEEP THIS SECRET ANY LONGER!

Because the World Needs to Know:

We've all seen the news, and I'm not going to sugarcoat the situation. Hundreds of millions dead in Osaka, the unlucky survivors quickly turning to cannibalism. Hyogo has literally detached from the archipelago and sunk into the ocean. And now, we're hearing that someone's been infected in Shiga. We are surrounded, and all the masks and vigorous gargling in the world can't save us now.
~Gregory Q. Khezrnejat

I think Greg's e-mail about swine flu in Japan really says it all. After being asked for about 21 days striaght if "I felt OK", I think I can safely say that I do not have swine flu. I am however selfishly hoping that enough students get it that we can not go to school for a week. I could use the time to write down the reasons I still think of the Japanese people as 'sensible individuals who will not be convinced of the end of days by a kid with a cold in Kobe".

In other news I've sent 6 boxes back to the states. All of the boxes are sick with swine flu.

A Weekend with Goats

A Weekend with Goats

Two weekends ago, the first weekend after Golden Week where everybody was back from vacation and all in the same place again, Natanya invited everyone she knew to her house for a party. This was a veiled excuse to play “Celebrities”, our favourite game combining charades, gestures, and taboo. It also generally involves ridiculous people such as Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Gandhi, Miss Piggy, Tyra Banks, Ahmadinejad, various New York Times columnists (naturally I don’t remember their names, out of apathy) and of course, Zac Efron.

However, most of the invited were unable to acquiesce this kind invitation, and so the group became four people; Natanya, Kate, Ian, Rachel and the Other Rachel (hereby referred to as R2).

The weekend began at an empty train station in Amanohashidate (the station that seems to evade nicknamery) as Natanya and I shared stories of our sunburns and ate chocolate from Hokkaido. Ian and R2 arrived promptly 3 minutes late, and we drove to Sutenten, an izakaya [food-place] in Iwataki. This was the first of many meals where I proceeded to watch other people drink, as I was the driver. We then retired to Ine for an evening of beer and Pringles, all while sitting on the kitchen floor. Ian was reunited with Kirby the Ferret and all was calm.

Home-made mudslides... smell like vodka

The next day, after a leisurely French toast breakfast, we drove onto Otoko-yama, the nearby mountain that separates Ine and Yasaka. The drive was nice, though the sky threatened rain throughout the day. Near the top of the mountain (where the wind turbines live), there is a farm called Ikari Highlands Ranch (碇高原牧場) and we stopped there to watch sheep, goats, cows and rabbits frolic on the strangely rolling hills. I bumped into the Head of the Board of Education and met his lovely wife and adorable toddler grandchildren.

Two girls a'mooing and an Ian in a Pear Tree.

I recommended the adjoining steakhouse, where we went for a late lunch. The corn was spectacular.

Goats play upon a bench.

It was time to leave and drive to Mineyama to meet Kate, who had invited me to dinner. I was going to drop Natanya, Ian and R2 off at Natanya’s house in Kaya and then drive back to Mineyama to do dinner further north in Kumihama with two of Kate’s co-workers. However, my cunning sense of map-reading and direction failed us all and we ended up on the narrowest jungle roads in some town I’d never heard of.

Terribly, terribly lost.

Driving down the mountain, I expected to reach Yasaka, but instead we ended up too close to the Sea of Japan and had to backtrack and head North, and THEN go to Mineyama. In a nutshell, there was no way we were going to reach Kaya. I convinced the group that we should all go to dinner together, which is what we did.

I had never been to the Bay Cook restaurant that overlooks the Kumihama Bay (and all of the large fish within). We had to sit separately due to lack of reservations, but everybody had a good time eating the pizzas and pasta dishes and watching the sky grow darker.

Everyone spent the night at Natanya’s. It wasn’t the most energetic or interesting night of anyone’s life, I don’t think, but it was certainly nice to spend time together in a non-wintry environment. I went to bed early, when Ian started reading aloud passages by David Foster Wallace, another name I’ve come to know, and hate.

Bali : There Were Excursions, Also

Excursions, Also.

At some points throughout the week, Ian and I managed to leave the comforts of the hotel for new horizons.

Our first outing was by shuttle bus to Geger Beach. It was possibly the least fun beach I have ever been to, which is really an accomplishment in itself. The water was littered with boats and seaweed (oishii!) and the sand was occupied by a bunch of burnt, mostly nude Eurotrash. What a dream!

We weren't pestered too much by any of the beach employees. "Massage? You like Balinese massage?" "Nope." "Cheap price, cheap price!" "Nope." I did however buy a sarong from a lady on the beach. With a smile like that, she could have sold me timeshare. My favourite part of that beach was watching the two Germans nearby attempt to make love to each other while wearing swimsuits... and I think while the girl was asleep. We have photographic evidence.

Can you spot the fornicators?


It's cocoa!

The second outing we went on was a bus tour around Eastern Bali. This was a lot of fun, even though the majority of it was on a bus. We went to a 'traditional style village' to see how the Balinese live. Old people sleep outside, we were told. A lady ushered us into her residence and showed us papaya and coconut trees, cocoa, and coffee growing in her yard. Then she sold us junk (however, the sarong I bought from her is my favourite).

Back on the bus, we drove on to see a big Hindu temple (which I have forgotten the name of). (Ian has pictures of that, so I'm still waiting on them). We had to wear sarongs and walk about 3/4 a mile up a hill while kids offered us a ride on their motorbikes for a dollar. [[I have not mentioned up until now that everyone in Bali either drives a bus or has a motorbike. I'm not just talking men and women, but entire families and small children are hanging off of these things. Seeing a motorbike whiz by with about 4 schoolgirls was no shock after a few days of it. In fact, one of the hotel pamphlet advertisements for Bungee-jumping while on a motorcycle stated that it was "safer than riding a scooter in Bali". So there you have it. ]]

You fly and you know it.

The temple was really spectacular looking - coloured umbrellas to represent the various Hindu gods (Vishnu, Shiva, Rahma... and more my memory did not retain). People carried food offerings in baskets on their heads up the many stone steps, placing it in front of the umbrellas. We, as non-worshipers, were not privileged to enter the gates of the temple, but we were able to observe from the other sides. Some of the sneaky Balinese offered us a quick trip into the worshipers' area... but we were warned by our tour guide that they were not telling us the truth (of course three of the guys in our tour forgot this quickly and I suppose they'll be going to Hindu Hell now, provided there is one).

It looks like a party! Don't be fooled though, it's like going to church.

Back down the hill, we got back on the bus and went for a late lunch in a gorgeous area near Lake Batur and at the bottom of Mount Agung, the volcano. I can't describe how beautiful it was so I'll put up a picture instead. Lunch was also delicious.

At the foot of Mt. Agung, where Balinese Frodo must journey.

Our final tour stop was at the Floating Pavilion near the Klungkung Palace. In the city centre stands a large monument, tall and dark, representing the warfare between the Balinese and the Dutch in the area.

I've seen floatier.

I suppose the Dutch won... otherwise there would be less of a need to sell biscuits and sun tan lotion in the local stores. Everyone put on a sarong for this temple as well.

Why Ian, I do declare! You look sensational!

I thought that the pavilion on the still water surrounded by flowers seemed very Japanese to me, but the statues and intricate carvings on the stone around the building were certainly something new. It made me think of the dim memories of my last trip to Bali when I was nearly 4 years old. We took home a garden statue with a ghoulish face and named him "Goodbye-bye". I believe he met his end on one of our moves, but he remains in my young memories as being a weird freaky statue that greeted me on my way home from school every day.

Hollah, I'm a stone fox, boys!

It was exhausting being in the heat all that day, so wandered over to the actual seaside restaurant (called Tao) and I ordered some spicy Thai soup. It was a fitting end for one of the more exciting days of the vacation.

Our final outing was to Kuta Beach -- a popular tourist beach littered with cafes, western eateries, a mall, and hotel resorts. The beach was HOT. I got sunburnt the worst I've ever been in my entire life -- even with sun screen and reapplication! The sun was just too hot, and we never managed to get away from it even under our overpriced umbrella.
The terrible part of this excursion was the constant, relentless pestering of the salespeople around us. One woman wanted to give me a manicure and would not leave me alone. She came back 3 times and each time she bothered me for about 5-10 minutes. I finally gave her one of my hats and told her not to come back. That seemed to work, and the hat only cost me a dollar anyway. Worth it.

Don't be fooled, this beach is death.

After I couldn't take the heat anymore, we wandered back to the city area and plopped ourselves down in a Starbucks for frappucinos and then read books on the steps until it was time to catch the bus home. Not the best beach experience ever, but it did change my skin colour from porcelain to... other. I think my skin is about 3 different colours at the moment (white, burnt, and in between).

Bali, Hotel Days

Hotel Days

View from the "Seaside" Restaurant at the Hotel

I woke up to palm trees and golden sunshine. Bali!!!! I got up, brushed my teeth and waited around for Ian to wake up so we could go exploring and find breakfast.

We walked to breakfast, finding ourselves feeling warmer and muggier than usual. The buffet at the hotel was fantastic! Breads, cheeses, eggs, and tons of melons and other fruits. My usual breakfast routine during a work week is a piece of toast, hastily eating in my car on the way to school. This was like paradise.

Stomachs full, we tried out the pool area. The pool was big with a lot of fun statues and silly waterfalls. It also was a hotel pool bar, which we would visit later.

"By the time we swim to the bar, it will be Happy Hour."

One of my favourite parts about the hotel was the little cabana canopies around the pool area. Shaded places covered in big pillows where we could pass the hours reading and chatting and avoiding the direct sunlight.

For lunch we discovered that the hotel restaurant, the "sea side restaurant", although that was a definite embellishment, had some delicious cuisine. Ian ordered an enormous Reuben sandwich (to our surprise they had rye bread on the island) and II tried to order something more 'traditional' and got satay and rice pilaf. This was the first of many delicious meals we would have at the hotel.

I can't say we did much more than that, but it was a spectacular thing being able to sit around at my own pace, switching off between an easy-reading book of Bengali stories and "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" (less easy) and sipping frilly drinks at the poolside bar on happy hour.

I think we ordered room service and watched Cinemax all evening.

The other guests at the hotel were primarily German (or German-sounding). A group of corpulent, sunburned folk who we didn't get to know. It was easy to recognize faces in the hotel as there didn't seem to be a lot of people staying there (even though it was the start of the high season in Bali). I suppose the economic crisis truly has affected the globe... except the Germans, apparently.

One afternoon we ventured into the salon for massages. This was one of the more memorable parts of the trip for me.

My masseuse gave me a nice, long full body massage using scented oils and elbow grease! She managed to teach my knots a thing or two, to boot! Afterwards, they scrubbed me down with a sand body scrub and I rinsed it off. Last on my massage schedule was my floral bath -- a tub filled with flower petals where you can sit and enjoy sugary tea. Delightful. However, when I got into the room Ian was there. I was confused as there was only one tub and clearly two people. The masseuse told us we had 10 minutes and closed the door. They thought we wanted to share the floral bath. Instead, I got in with my bathing suit on and 'enjoyed myself' for about 3 minutes before getting out and leaving. Ah well, I suppose when a boy and a girl of the same age go on a vacation it's well assumed that they are romantically involved.
As humiliating everything felt to me (a proud American brought up with a proper amount of shame), it definitely broke the ice. After that we were happy to tell people we were on our honeymoon; nobody really cared, anyway.
One evening at the hotel, we went to see a Balinese show and eat special foods. Unfortunately the giant lunch I'd eaten had not yet digested, so I mostly drank wine and enjoyed watching other people eat the spectacular looking dishes that surrounded us on cloth-covered tables. The show was really spectacular. I don't remember the story, but it involved royalty in shiny costumes and expressive make up doing some fancy footwork. Far more entertaining than anything I've seen on a stage in two years, anyway. Ian mentioned how attractive the girls looked, and I told him that I reckoned the oldest person in the dance crew was nearly 14. We finished off the wine. After the traditional dance was over, a four person, poor man's mariachi band appeared. They asked each table to give them a song request. While the songs were not the most impressive, the guitarist did a mean Bryan Adam's impression. The wine may have helped our enjoyment of this, however. I believe we completed the evening by watching van Helsing on Cinemax and falling asleep in our dinner clothes.

Easily my favorite hotel moment was our last day when we lay, sunburnt, in a canopy area making paper cranes. After learning so much about Ian's romantic history, I decided it would be therapeutic for us to make paper cranes named for his past girlfriends. What this resulted in were some interesting photos and a new paper-folding skill for me!

The hotel seemed like a place to rest. Not only from general every day stress, but from the actively pushy hawkers and salespeople on what felt like every other place in Bali. No one pushed us into buying anything, nobody begged us for money for a service not rendered, and people left us well alone. They were also extremely friendly... we had a few nice conversations with the various young bartenders, some of whom had fallen out of practice with their Japanese since Japanese people had stopped frequenting the hotel.

All in all, I think the hotel was my favorite part of the trip. Coming home to my apartment later on would make me appreciate the good food and attentive service all the more. My cooking's just not that good, even though I get to eat it in my room for free.