WAHOOO!!!

Check out Page 5 of this week's edition of Stripes Okinawa, where I had an article AND a photograph published.

My Fantastic Article

It was a total ego boost, which will probably make me unlivable for a while because I'm pretty much my own biggest fan when it comes to my creative pursuits. This is the first time I have gotten paid for doing something creative, and it's the first time I've ever had any professional acknowledgment of a photograph.

AND to top my day off, I heard from Peter today for the first time in several weeks. He is doing well, and I'm sure he'll be posting a blog soon.

More dancers, because Obon was this week and I haven't gotten over the Eisa dancing yet.

More Eisa Photos!

I don't have much news this week because I have been working like a maniac. I was put in as the moderate/severe special ed teacher at the middle school, which will be full time until the new teacher moves to the island. Then I'm teaching two college classes in the evening and tutoring as well. So unless you want to hear about math, there isn't much to say! But here are the rest of the promised Eisa photos:

This is me with a clown and a drummer after my dance lesson.

This is a drummer.

These guys were clowns. Or at least, they looked like clowns to me.

A Tripod Makes the Difference

On Saturday night I was all settled in for an evening in front of the television when I heard noise outside. I went out on the balcony to investigate and there were about 100 Eisa dancers parading down my street. Eisa dancers are traditional Japanese folk dancers that perform to drum and shamisen music. I ran back inside, grabbed the camera equipment, and followed them down the street.

They stopped at a small park. There seemed to be a festival happening. There were tables set up, food, drinks, paper lanterns, and the dancers were performing. I was lurking on the outskirts of the park, trying to find a good location to take some photos without disturbing the celebration, when a lady in a kimono came over and invited me to come join the party and take photos. I think the large camera bag and tripod might have given my intentions away.

Not only was I the only American at the party, I also was the only person not formally dressed. Most of the ladies were wearing kimonos. I was wearing a pajama top and jean shorts. I tried to keep to the fringes and take my photos without intruding any more than I already was. The dancing lasted for about 15 minutes. When the dancers left, I followed them to see if I could get some to pose for photos. They started eating dinner, and I didn't want to interrupt their meal, so I waited outside the park again.

Kimono Lady

Kimono Lady saw me again and literally dragged me across the park to seat me front and center at the guest of honor table. They brought me food and tea, and found someone who could speak English to translate for me. They told me the names of each type of food on my plate. They offered me lessons in how to use chopsticks.

Male Dancers

They explained that the party was a function for the employees from the hospital down the street from me. They told me the names of the dances. I asked if I could take photos of the dancers. They thought I wanted to learn to dance. They brought me out on the dance floor and gave me dance lessons. It was SO FUN!!

Female Dancers

After the dance lesson, the party broke up. I asked my translator if he could ask the dancers to pose for me, and he found someone in each costume. They introduced lots of people to me, and when they found out that I am a teacher they all wanted English lessons. They said they will drop by for tea after work, and that they are honored to have an American friend. I was honored to be allowed to join their party. It was one of the most amazing cultural experiences I have ever had.

Note: There are more pictures but Blogger is not allowing me to upload them...I'll add them later when it cooperates again.

Sand, Sun and no sleep

Many of you here in the states have had frequent contact with me since I have been stationed here at Camp Pendleton. I have had a cell phone which I use frequently and internet access which I use even more. So, talking to Peter has not been hard.

However, all good things come to an end and the last ten days Peter has been "indisposed". I had my cell phone with me mind you but, it didn't work out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere (please excuse the language, I've been hanging out with Marines and it's kind of gone downhill). I have spent the last ten days "training" which really just means going with out sleep, food and water for extended periods of time while running and firing a weapon. It was fun and also made me realize that I REALLY don't like guns but, that's a different subject. Let me tell you about my week shall I?

Day one: wake up before the sun. Bring gear to staging area. Bring gear to different staging area and load on trucks. Wait three hours. Load on bus. Drive north three to three and half hours with crazy lady bus driver. Get lost on Fort Irwin. Drive to same spot three times and finally on third time realize it is correct spot. Offload bus. Move from hot ass sun into hot ass tent with Battalion (a Battalion is roughly 500-600 guys). Procede to sweat off balls in hot ass tent from 1300 to 1700. Load on 7-ton truck and await movement to real camp. Midnight- get woken up to be told we are spending the night in hot ass tent.

Day two: wake up with sun. Load on 7-ton. Drive on dusty road for about an hour to Forward Operating Base (FOB). Horray FOB tents have A/C (will cover this more later). Unload gear, set up sleeping area.

Day two night: 2100, all others are going to bed. My platoon (whiskey 3 or simply W3) gets called on to go retrieve some vehicles that have broken down. 2330, find vehicles as they are towing each other up dusty road. Drive ten miles an hour back to FOB. 0130 Get back to FOB. Sleep. 0330 (or about there I'm not really sure) wake up shivering due to A/C in tent being EXTREMELY cold.

Day three: wake up with sun. Eat. Hydrate. Attend BS class on something stupid (I honestly don't remember what they tried to teach us). Sleep. 0330 (or somewhere) wake up shivering again despite sleeping in fleece, pants and socks.

Day four: wake up and load humvees for overnight training, and I quote "we're only going to be out one night". Pack two pairs of socks and two shirts just in case. Around 1500 get told that we're not going back to the FOB and will be out on the range for the remainder of the week. Training site has no AC tents I might add.

Day Five: Shoot machine gun. Don't remember much else from that day.

Pretty much Days four through eight are the same. Wake up before the sun. Eat. Train. Get stopped in middle of training due to "black flag" conditions meaning it's too hot to train. It got to be thirty degrees hotter where we were than downtown Baghdad. During black flag we move to the shade usually, underneath a humvee. Yes, UNDERNEATH the humvee. We also take off our flak jackets and kevlar which are our protective elements that weigh a lot and keep body heat in. Enjoy coolness of not having flak and kevlar on. Get told to put flak and kevlar back on due to "hellfire" status. Meaning helicopter pilots are such bad shots that even though we're miles away they might still hit us. So there were are in heat deemed to hot to train or wear flak and kevlar... with our flak and kevlar on because some stupid Army pilot might miss his target. Army, they'll take anybody.,

As if this isn't enough to make you mad. We were waking up before the sun and training until mid afternoon. Then stopping due to the heat. Then we would train some more in the evening. Then we would sleep until about midnight and wake up to train at night. The back to sleep around two or maybe three. Then wake up before the sun again. So there we are. Weapons Company, tired, hungry, stinky, all of us have athletes foot (most people brought one pair of socks for the "one night" training that turned into five or six days, hotter than Baghdad and pissed off because we're sitting around not training. God I love the military sometimes.

Tiffany

This is a shameless plug for a home for Tiffany. Tiffany is a blond girl who likes long walks on the beach and the occasional steak dinner. She is good with children. She does not like cats. She enjoys rawhide bones. Here's a photo of her:

I will personally fly her to America and deliver her to your doorstep if you want her.

Poor Tiffy is only about four years old, and she is onto her sixth home now. Her first owner was abusive. He kept her locked up in an un-air-conditioned unventilated shed during the heat of summer (which is miserable in Okinawa. He only fed her sporadically. Sometimes he would smack her when he gave her food.

The neighbors noticed the abuse and took Tiffy in, but they had four small children in military base housing, and Tiffany was just too much dog for too small of a space.


So then Tiffany moved in with me. I was a foster parent for her, in charge of finding her another home.

She got along great with Peter.


She got along great with Rambo.

She did not get along great with cats. When my cat moved to Oki, Tiffany had to find a new foster family. Unfortunately in Okinawa there are a lot more pets looking for homes than there are homes looking for pets. Potential dog owners are typically in the market for a puppy, not a three year old dog. We were excited because after a few months, Tiffy's foster family was talking about adopting her.

Then they moved to a different apartment that did not allow pets. Around the same time, Tiffany "escaped." She was caught by animal control and spent most of the summer at the kennel, waiting for me to reclaim her.

But I still have a cat. And Tiffany still does not like cats (as we proved when she tried to eat my cat). Now Tiffy is living in an animal shelter and awaiting another foster home. We are hopeful she will have someplace new to live next week. But a new foster home is not a permanent home, and the poor dog needs a place to call home. So if you know of anyone looking for a dog, recommend Tiffany!

Back to Tomorrow

I am back in Japan again. The was a rather large spider waiting on my front door. I lost him in a flurry of suitcases, and then rediscovered him in the linen closet this afternoon. I chased him around with a dust pan (the nearest good spider smashing object) and it took about numerous attempts to stun him enough to flush him down the toilet. Jungle spiders don't die as easily as Colorado spiders.
I am not sure whether I am happy to be back in Japan again. This summer has been an emotional roller coaster for me, and I associate the end of my summer vacation with the end of my summertime problems, but the fact remains that Peter is still deployed, even though I am back home. In the few days that I have been back, I have learned that it is extremely inconvenient not having a husband around. For example, I had to haul my three extremely heavy suitcases up three flights of stairs all by myself. I'm a weenie, so that meant I unpacked them at the bottom of the stairs and hauled them up in about six different trips. I had the same problem when I went to the grocery store. There I was, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a car full of groceries and no one to bring them up for me.

Another problem I had to deal with was my car. The battery died and I had to jump start it to get it to the shop for repairs. That was all well and good and I dealt with that, but once I got to the shop I realized that I didn't have my husband around to give me a ride home. I was lucky and they did the repair immediately, otherwise I would have had to call a cab. These problems would all have been surmountable with planning, because I do have friends around who might kill spiders and carry things up the stairs for me, but I'm not used to planning things like that around my friends.

I was a bit worried about my pets while I was gone. I have a dog who hates humans and has a history of escaping and a cat who spent the summer experiencing typhoons firsthand. So I was doubtful whether either of them would be there when I got in. But both pets were waiting for me, safe and sound, and surprise! a third pet was waiting for me as well. A dog that I fostered about a year ago was dumped by her new owner and the kennel called me to see if I would take her again. Her name is Tiffany, and she needs a home. She is a wonderful, sweet dog, and I will blog more about her later, but if anyone back in the States would like to adopt her, I will deliver her in October. Here is a photo of her: