Kinkaku-ji

I have a confession to make. 

Even though we live in Japan, with all its richness of history and tradition, in all the glory of its super old structures and artifacts … my husband and I aren’t much for temples and shrines. 

Gasp!

We’ve seen many.  And can’t deny that they’re fantastic.  They’re stunning and so old and rustic.  But for the most part, you see one and you’ve seen them all. 

A lot of people go to Kyoto in particular to go shrine and temple hopping.  Because there are a gajillion of them there.  Yes, a gajillion.  So when we were planning to go, I kindly wrote off really going to any temples. 

Until I did my research and discovered Kinkaku-ji.

This temple was placed on a pond and covered in gold leaf.  Again, I say gasp!  I knew we had to go.  The path leading around the grounds takes you past the Golden Pavilion, other small scenic ponds, and by an actual tea garden.  As in people sitting in a garden drinking tea.  Not dreadlocked people serving you bubble tea, though I love that too. 

This temple was legit; and certainly unique among a sea of temple after temple.  The atmosphere was relaxed and you can truly find your zen walking around and just letting your eyes feast. 

Ah the joy of deep, rich, unparalleled history.  

New Address!

This is a milestone.  After struggling with Command Sponsorship, having to work around outdated orders, and quite a few trips to the post office, I have a PO Box.  

YAY.  No more hoping a ship is in port so I can get mail.  No more changes in ship schedule meaning my mail gets rerouted to Sasebo.  No more postman husband.  He was starting to threaten to hijack my Sarah Paquin packages.  That is just not cool.

Now I can get mail.  Boom chicka boom.  

[LTJG Curtis Gaynor and] Carrie Gaynor

PSC 473 Box 2002

FPO, AP 96349-0021

Unlike the ship address, you can make the mail out just to me (I'm my own person now!).  

Send me mail?  Please?  I love pen pals.  And I make a great one.  

Who Let You In Here?

I got email #6 from a safari guide today.  I will always remember #6 as the discouraging one.  You know when you have a hefty goal and you’re pursuing it and things are bound to hit you that hurt?  

Yeah, I’m hurting today. 

I think this is called a setback.

After receiving emails with encouragement and sound advice, this email was full of can’t.  You don’t have experience.  There are two of you.  No one will hire you long distance.  There’s nobody you can go and talk to either. 

Boom. 

Like a large brick.  Scribbled with the words You can’t do this.

Really?  From a stranger?  A stranger in my field?  Full of hippies and dream-makers and white bush men?  Telling me I'm too normal or something?

I’m adventurous, but I’m still a fragile person.  It astounds me how fragile I can be.  Sensitive.  Easily discouraged.  I have a sense that I don’t actually know the world and it gives other people the edge.  Like they do know the world.  I’m naïve, and they’re telling me the ways. 

But this guy does not know the ways of the world.  I can’t allow him to know my ways of the world. 

Today, I am hurting.  But tomorrow will be better. 

 

Talkin' with Davy, Who's Still in the Navy

Navy guys talk Navy.  All you need are two sailors out on the town, and what they’ll do is talk Navy.  I’ve seen it at barbecues.  I’ve seen it at every chu hi stand in town.  I’ve even experienced it on double dates.  It was laughable to me at first – you spend 10-14 hours a day on a ship, and when you get to go home, you want to talk about … this?  But that’s just it.  When you spend so much time thinking Navy, doing Navy, working Navy, and so much time underway, there’s not much else to talk about.  I find it amazing that sailors can still talk about their jobs passionately.  If it were me, I would want to run away, divorce work from home, leave my Navy boots at the door.

So I’ve adapted.  To the Navy talk.  I’ve learned quite a few of the acronyms, the lingo, the jargon.  I know what it means when someone says they're going to the head or they like your cover.  I know who BMC is and that WEPS is now CSO, and all of the inspections coming up.  Despite this, I fall behind.  There are always hundreds more acronyms that are foreign to me.  People I’m unfamiliar with.  Processes beyond my understanding.  I would probably understand better if they were speaking Japanese; I might then be able to at least identify the subject matter.  It no longer bothers me, actually.  I know that if we’re out for a drink with 3 other guys from SHILOH wardroom – like we were last night – the talk will be Navy.  When the conversation ends up over my head, I have a chance to relax, sit back a little, and enjoy the atmosphere.  I’ve learned to truly take it for what it is. 

But the thing about sailors is that most of them are very considerate.  Respectful.  And they’re more than Joe Navys.  They have ambitions, and can talk culture, or politics (though I don’t recommend it).  Most like adventure.  Some like poetry.  The majority can talk religion.  They like karaoke and photography.

Last night, midst the deep Navy talk (i.e., I can’t even try to understand), I was quietly enjoying my surroundings and catching glimpses of the movie showing at the bar we were at.  One of the guys took notice.  “SO CARRIE, how’s Africa?”  It completely threw me and everyone else off guard.  And we all laughed at the turn the conversation had taken.  Though I wasn’t irked in the slightest to begin with, it blessed me immensely to be pursued in that way.  I was back in the game, talking the northern circuit of Tanzania and how adventurous Greg needs to go to Southern Uganda to white water raft and bunji jump and Western Uganda to see gorillas.  It filled my soul to be engaged in conversation. 

I very much appreciate the kind of person that joins the Navy.  They are adaptable and flexible.  They’ve learned to carry conversation and know people quickly.  They’ve learned to show respect for people, even when they don’t have respect for certain people.  And they work hard.  It makes for quite the person. 

The civilian sphere should be a little jealous.

Subarashii desu!

Japan is kind of ridiculous in how beautiful it is.  There are urban centers (or … it’s just one giant urban center altogether, haven't decided yet).  There are more shrines and temples than you’ll ever have time to see.  There are gardens.  Plum blossoms come in the spring right before sakura (cherry blossoms) are in full bloom.  There are people everywhere.  Even things that are regular have character.  

I’ve taken quite a bit of photos – each saying 1000 words just like the saying goes.  Here are some of my favorites so far:

At Hachimangu Shrine; my 2nd week living in Japan.

Harajuku; cosplay is best on Sundays.

A shrine around the block from our house.
Yes, this is my life.

Yokohama's Minatomirai cityscape.
Favorite.

Hakiwa Maru, a museum ship in Yamashita Park, Yokohama.

Yokohama Station.

Kamakura.

Sankeien Gardens. 

Cafe Bibliotec Hello! in Kyoto.

Fushimi Inari Shrine, Kyoto -
Home of the 1000 Torii Gates.

Fushimi Inari Shrine.
Right before I trekked the wrong way up the mountain
and got wonderfully lost.

Lost on Inari Mountain.
Oh well, right?

Fushimi Inari Shrine.

Iwatayama Monkey Park, Kyoto.
More on this one later ;)

Oh Mr. Sun

Despite the cloudy forecast, I got up at the wee hours of the morning in pursuit of a solar eclipse.  It was touch and go for a while (hence, the cloudy photos), but it turned out to be an amazing experience. The cloud cover turned out to be great for viewing (safely) and the bay was active with ships and boats.  What a great way to start my week.  I was stunned at how quickly the light would change.  The last photo in this stream is the reflection of light on the water.  It was all I could do in that moment, because it was so intensely bright.  This is what I came up with.  Forgive my lack of zoom lens!

Airplane!

Siiiiick.

Such Is Life

Photo credit: Joe & Colleen Federer

Federer Photography

Curtis and I are no strangers to separation.  From the time we started dating to the day of our wedding, we saw each other for only 7 chunks of time, each period being 10 days or less.  It was difficult to defend our story to people who didn’t know us.  Marrying a guy you’ve seen a total of 27 days since you started dating a year and a half ago wasn’t the greatest argument.  What was convincing was the fact that we’ve been best friends since we were twelve, and had survived separation due to mutual trust, great respect – our relationship was mature - and primarily, the grace of God. 

The grace of God. 

Since getting married, I’ve grown faster than I ever have before.  Thank God, because it barely keeps up with the other fact that I’ve learned more junk about myself than ever before.  Getting married is like adopting a mirror.  Roommates, family members, and even best friends don’t have to live as closely to you as your spouse does.  And it’s easy for life to point out things. 

Some days I think – poor guy ;)

Like I said, I’ve grown.  I find myself more capable of controlling my emotions.  I can endure separation.  I say that we’re no strangers to it, but there’s a difference between a long-distance relationship and moving across the ocean to be with your husband, the person that you are one with.  Your very flesh and bone.  Separation in this realm is a little wrong.  But in our world, it’s necessary.  I find myself taking a healthy (yes, healthy) numb approach.   I control my thoughts in terms of this.  I refuse to entertain pity.  Or despair.  Or even facts, sometimes.  I need not know when he’s coming back.  It could change, and probably will.  I need not know exactly where he is.  It makes me realize he’s not here.  It’s sometimes a game of fooling myself.  Of mind trickery.  I simply just don't get into it.

But then there are days.  You’d think I’d elaborate, but I have no desire to.  I guess that’s something I should refuse to entertain also.   Let’s just say the grace of God again steps in and I am carried.   It’s the one set of footprints in the sand, the storm that you can only sit through.  You just Keep Breathing. 

Waiting it out.  And finding stamina.

Haaaa Shooo Meow.

There's a common question my husband and I encounter.  

In small talk, we're often asked, "How's Lord Byron?"  

Lord Byron (バイロン) is our cat.  My husband picked him up from the animal shelter on base.  He was chosen because my husband liked how ornery he was, and he liked his character.  First his name was "Grandpa Cat" (which apparently equates grumpiness).  So when we were brainstorming names for our cat, we were trying to think of names our grandpas might have, names from an older generation.  I think we even googled "old man names."  Henry, Harold, Alfred, Ralph, Seymour, Stanley, Howard.  Nothing sat right.  Until we hit Byron.  My husband jumped on the idea of Lord Byron because of his love for poetry.  Yes, really.

Lord Byron is loud.  And large.  He's about 15.5 pounds and expresses himself through voice.  How poetic.  If he is meowing loudly in the stairwell (for echoed amplification), you know he's feeling neglected.  If he greets you with a airy rasp, you know he's just woken up.  If he's incessant and direct, you know he wants to be cuddled.  Now.  And if he's moaning, you know he's encountered a stray cat in our yard and will not tolerate.  Those times are always fun.

meooooooow

I've never been much of a cat lady, but I sure am now.  I don't know how to express this without being utterly cheesy, but he's been a great blessing to me.  We live the Navy life, i.e., long work days and a good dose of separation.  We are forward deployed, so deployments can be sporadic and plentiful.  I have been blessed with friends who fill the gap, yes, but Byron really keeps me company at home.  He talks back.  He demands cuddle time.  And he's good at it; I melt every time.  He's full of energy and spunk and is altogether entertaining.  My house is in no way empty when my husband is gone.  Because Byron fills it with his booming man cat voice.  And though it can get on my very last nerve, I think it's one of those things that will get me by.

Whep!

I'm not that great at this yet.  I read blogs almost every day.  And most people captivate me.  How is it that the world is full of so many great stories?  It blows my mind.  I don't write like that yet.  

I've had it easy before.  I started my first blog in order to document my DTS experience, which had a different discussion topic every week, complete with guest speaker.  So not only did I have a ton of reflections and ideas and messy mumbo jumbo running around in my head, I had experiences throughout the streets of West End Winnipeg and the huts of Eastern Uganda.  Not difficult to write about.  

It continued on through a transfer of universities, exploring Madison, and a Wildlife Management school in Tanzania and Kenya.  Again, exciting times.  

But now I have to become better.  I get easily disheartened by this blog.  I know I'm not bad, per se, but I need to grow.  So forgive me as I write with randomness.  Because the only solution I can come up with is to keep writing.  And letting it be a bit of struggle.  I need to avoid having a journal blog.  I'm not going to tell you what I ate for lunch today.  

So I will pursue meaning.  And few words.  Well, minimal words.  

Some posts will be touristy.  I live in Japan, and refuse to avoid that.  But I hope also to make something more than a travel memoir.  

Bear with me.  :)

Infectious

I tend to share obsessions with those I'm closest to.  Not exactly common ground we come in with, but more like things that are contagious.  My closest friend was obsessed with the Friends series when it was still running.  It didn't take long for me to catch the bug and now my husband loves it too.  Now that we're married - oh, and on the same continent - I have him hooked.  We both love Japanese egg sandwiches, a drink I call miruku ratte (milk latte), and baumkuchens (sponge cake).  Another friend showed me how freaking delicious Kahlua milk is.  Over the years, it's been various coffee shops, Arizona iced tea, Velveeta Shells & Cheese, edamame, Indian cuisine, Target stores, blueberry n cream frappuccinos, She's the Man, and kettle corn.  We tend to go through phases together.  And I guess I'm downstream, because I was shown this video, and here I am again.  Addicted.  Take a peek; I don't want to be the tail end.

Be Good Now

More often than not, we don't know how we appear to the world, how much we mean, impact.  So that just means we have to keep sowing seeds.  Being good, seeing good, sparking good.  Our ripples are unknown to us.  And also our lack of ripple when we may attempt one.  Some of our efforts are effective, blessing people and throwing more camaraderie and goodwill into the world.  But some of our efforts go nowhere.  They may fall on hard hearts or go unnoticed.  Some of our ripples are even unintentional.  We are simply being ourselves. But the good majority of our efforts go unrewarded. We may never know how a smile to a stranger, talking to a friend or writing an article will effect the world.  Where it will go and how far.  So our efforts have to be rewards in themselves.  They at least provide a building of our character.  We gain more hope, more will towards selflessness.  

I recently experienced being rewarded by seeing a ripple of something I did unintentionally.  A friend of mine, Arima Rose, recently started a blog devoted to her outrageous adventures through Jewish pilgrimage to Israel and Peace Corps volunteering in West Africa.  Yeh, I think that story needs to be told.  It goes without saying that I am so utterly crazy excited for her, and was enthusiastically expressing that over Skype yesterday.  Little did I know she was disheartened by selling everything she owns in order to prepare for this trip.  I can imagine how difficult that would be, but my initial reaction was utter joy.  She is selling.  Everything.  She owns.  She's shedding physical possession for the sake of an adventure.  And to me that is exciting.  I guess we are contagious to each other.  With or without knowing it, we can bring others up or down.  

So bring someone up today.  Little do you know, you have the power to.  

In My Dreams Awake

I'm always just a little bit lost.  Or maybe I'm wandering.  Speculating.  

Oh my gosh.  My aspirations are becoming tangible.  In my mind, I always put a little word pipe in front of the thought of my dreams.  Not as if they can't or won't come true.  Not in a sense that they're impossible.  Just in a sense that they're always in the future.  Out there.  Years from now.  And it freaks me out that I'm actually, really, seriously looking into it.  I have a list of real, living, in-the-flesh safari guides and they're like celebrities to me because I want to be them.  Well, I want to be me, of course.  Just in their context.  And I e-mailed them yesterday.  And asked for their help.  Because though I have an idea of how this could all work out, there are still so many mysterious parts.  And they're the experts, after all.  They've all, in some way, gotten themselves to working in Africa.  They're breathing the air and standing on the red dirt.  They're probably really grimy and I just want to be grimy too.  They're seeing wildlife day in and day out, and helping other people do it too.  I was in this context for 4 short months and I cannot even begin to describe the things I saw.  I thought I might die or get seriously injured a couple times.  Elephants and snakes can do that.  

Anyway.  

But now I have to think.  And I have to pray.  I have to pray first.  Because I have little idea.  Should I take a safari school now?  It seems inconceivable now.  Am I frozen?  Do I act now, or prepare now?  I will never feel ready, but where's the line between feeling and being?  There's this big cake in front of me.  It's so large.  And I have it but I want to eat it too.  I want family and I want adventure.  And I still believe I can.  Boom.  

Don't worry, I'm still breathing.  

Moving On Up

I do believe congratulations are in order!  Two years ago yesterday, my now husband was commissioned with his NROTC class by President Obama for service as officers in the US Navy.  So that means yesterday, Curt went up in the ranks from Ensign (O-1, the rank he was commissioned into) to Lieutenant Junior Grade (O-2).  He was pinned as LTJG with his good buddy, Jay (the bromance continues!), and as Captain James Jones said, they can no longer act like ignorant Ensigns.  They have to know what they're doing.  ;)  So kudos to two of the Navy's finest.  They've sure earned their keep.

Taking an oath with Capt. Jones

A single gold bar (O-1) to a single silver bar (O-2)