Lisa, Shannon, and Evy's Journey Through Life Together

Rm 2103-- Lanai, Hawaii

Lisa-san says:

Sailboat’s sleeping right now.  My belly, although round, solid, and heavy, is only moving to the rhythm of my own breathing.  I love feeling her squirm around inside me.  With every movement she becomes more real, more tangible, and more endearing.  We have conversations, she and I.  Her vocabulary is a little limited at this time, but she does the best she can to hold her own.

She got her fist necklace from Paula in Lanai.  It’s a delicate silver chain with a silver barrel hanging from the necklace.  The barrel is painted pink with sparkling rhinestones lacing both openings of the charm.  Supposedly the barrel is a Chinese symbol and the pink is to recognize and support breast cancer survivors and remember the victims.  (A part of me thinks the shop keeper just through that reference to breast cancer into his explanation of the symbolism for our sakes when we were perusing the knickknacks in his store.)  I’m storing Sailboat’s necklace around my own neck right now.  Oddly enough, the little barrel makes a nice charm for a necklace.  It also makes me feel like a very hard-up Saint Bernard. 

Lanai was wonderful.  I wasn’t looking forward to going because of the length of the flight and how uncomfortable I was sure to be.  Plus Shannon wasn’t going.  Paula convinced me to go a day early so we could have a little time to explore before having to sit in 8hr long training sessions for four days in a row.  I’m really glad now that she did talk me into it because literally 30 seconds after my eyes found the ocean looming out behind our hotel, did my mind see a difference between some of the dark objects playing in the waves below.  At first, I could see only people happily moving about in the salt water.  Then I recognized that some of the “people” were rhythmically diving in and out of the water.  A few more seconds of focusing, and I realized I was looking at wild dolphins!  I was stunned and in awe!  Not just one or two dolphins did I see but multiple PODS of dolphins.  Never before have I experienced this.  Luckily my brain was functioning enough to remember the camera hanging from my shoulder, and I shot a short video of the dolphins. 

First Dolphin Spotting behind Lanai, Hawaii Four Seasons

The dolphins were just the beginning of my delight at this experience.  Yes, there was snorkeling twice, coral, pretty fish (no, no dolphins when I was in the water), and scenic views… but more than the fabulous service, fantastic food, and beautiful scenery was the experience of being pregnant and experiencing it all.  I joked throughout this trip that once Sailboat is born I’m going to hide her and continue to stuff pillows or a basketball under my shirt just for all the attention.  My sister asked me the over the phone the other night whether there were other pregnant women at the resort.  “No,” I responded, “not that I’ve noticed.” 

“So you’re finally getting that special attention you’ve wanted, huh?” she asked.

“I guess I am,” I said with a smile.  Living in Okinawa, the land of the fertile, it is the minority of women that aren’t pregnant.  At least that’s how it looks.  During orientation to the military lifestyle on base they even made a point to say that there’s a rumor that something’s been added to the local water that causes all these pregnancies.  In fact, for a little more perspective, in October, I received an email announcement stating that the 1000^th baby of the year was born at the naval hospital… Think about that for a second… 1000 in ten months… two more months still left to go in the year…  I digress, however.  When I realized I was amongst the majority of women on the small island I would half joke that it’s tough to feel special during this pregnancy.  Ahhhh well, I compromised, at least they know what they’re doing when it comes to birthin’ those babies.

Well I can honestly say that this last week has rectified any disappointment of the past regarding not feeling special.  It’s like this gut of mine is actually a spotlight that causes everyone to take notice of me.  Not just take notice but be very kind and thoughtful towards me… like I am someone special.  On one hand, it’s a bit uncomfortable… all this attention.  My natural state of thought is that I’m invisible and sorta float through the world without being noticed much at all.  Don’t ask me where this came from, but it has been my internal belief since I can remember.  (To this day, if someone from high school or middle school remembers me I’m completely floored.  The second uncomfortable part is how unattractive I feel both in my physical appearance and in the way I move… lumber is more like it.  (I don’t know who ever came up with the phrase “she’s in a delicate condition” but it had to be a man or a woman that never has experienced growing a person inside themselves.  If there’s one time I don’t feel delicate it’s now.)  I know this is all vanity but whether people think I’m a horrid sight to behold I can never honestly tell.  Of course it’s customary to tell a prego woman how great she looks in the same vein as it is to tell newborn parents how absolutely adorable their new Mr. McGoo-looking infant is.  But I’m finding that I’m believing these compliments more often than not.  Maybe they see past the distorted shaped body and extra flesh to the magi of life creation.  I don‘t know but I’ve decided to over my vanity and just accept the kindness and thoughtful words as just that.

Here's a few more videos in case you're interested

Four Seasons-- Lanai, Hawaii

View from Behind My Room-- Lanai, Hawaii Four Seasons

DSCF3782.AVI

Sunset behind Lanai, Hawaii Four Seasons

Tsunami Dolphins that JUMP-- Lanai, Hawaii 2/28/10

Well If I Can't Galavant In Front of the Tsunami... Part I

Well If I Can't Gallivant In Front of the Tsunami... Part II

Rm 2247-- Hanolulu/Waikiki, Hawaii

Lisa-san says:

My stomach is rolling like a wave pushing just under the surface.  The little Japanese baby in front of me on this airplane has triggered unsolicited emotion from my chest when she was crying about an hour ago.  I wanted to ask her parents if I could help try to console her.  You know, like how people do in other cultures.  It takes a village-type cooperation.  Language barrier stopped me…. But more than that was the fear that I would fail at consoling her and she’d scream harder and louder.  I feel like I have an American vibe—whatever that means—that the baby will react to and lurch out for her parents.  Now whether that’s an American vibe or a Lisa Levin vibe I can’t be too sure.

Sailboat got her first piece of art today.   Autographed just for her by the artist himself.  We were in Waikiki’s Hilton Village where we stayed last night after missing our connecting flight to Osaka from Honolulu.  We were browsing around a little shop that sells 95% local products… handmade crafts mainly.  I asked the salesclerk behind the counter if he had any specials today, and he told us about the local artists that would be coming in to show off their art work later today.   In my head, I wasn’t interested.  I had meant 20%, 50%, or 95% off kinda specials.  But I smiled just the same, lied and told him how interesting that sounded. 

There was a bracelet in the shop that caught my eye.  I don’t know if I can describe it justly, but the majority of the bracelet—the part that made up the band—was thin strands of turquoise beaded elastic… maybe eight to ten strands that overlapped each other.  The strands stretched from one side of the main ornament to the other.  The ornament was an oblong, thin, fragile slice of shell that was made up of all the metallic colors of the ocean swirled together… at least that’s what it looked like to me.  It was very fetching and reminded me of how the ocean looked at various times through the day.  There were silvers, blues, whites, and greens all swirled together on this piece of shell that was meant to rest on the top of your wrist.  After staring at this piece of jewelry and battling the pros and cons of purchasing it (i.e.: “I never wear bracelets, what makes me think I’ll wear this one beyond the first week of owning it?” “Shannon would appreciate me buying a pretty piece of jewelry for myself,” etc.) I decided that I wasn’t going to buy it.  After a few more moments of browsing, my friend, Paula, was ready to purchase her one pair of blue and pearl earrings. 

As I stood with Paula at the counter, I silently congratulated myself for making it to the end of our browsing without spending any money.  The man ringing up Paula’s purchase interrupted my thoughts by saying, “There’s one of the local artists I was telling you about.”  Sure enough, my eyes followed the man’s pointing finger behind us, and I saw an older gentleman and a female counterpart organizing matted paintings on two different blond wooden stands for patrons to flip through later.  I gathered by the look of the two that the man was the artist and the woman was his assistant. 

“Hmmmm…” I thought as I watched them place certain paintings in the middle of the stack and others in the back of the stack, “so there is a method to the paintings order in the stacks.”  Curiosity about the couple painting placed in the back of the stack swam through my brain as Sailboat did what felt like it could be the backstroke in my belly. 

After Paula finished her transaction, we turned toward the door and the artist.  Paula headed for the exit while I went toward the displays of paintings where the artist was completing his set up.  I felt rude just walking past him and leaving the store without looking at his hard work.  “Paula,” I called after her.  She turned her head in my direction with a question mark on her face.  “Don’t you want to check out the art work?”  The question mark disappeared and she headed in my direction.  The stand we stood at contained about twenty to thirty matted paintings.  I addressed the artist, “Do you mind if we look at your work?”

“The man looked over and smiled at me, “No, of course not.  Please.” 

Forgetting my curiosity about the paintings he chose to place in the back of the stack, I chose to flip through a dozen or so paintings, coo about how lovely they were, thank the man for his hard work and creativity, and then leave without having offended.  Glancing at the first couple works in the front of the stack, I could tell already that his style was not my taste.  Paula commented favorably about his use of bright vibrant colors, and I agreed appreciating his use of colors as well. 

At age 24, I supported a friend having a tattoo party at her home by being present despite the fact I no intention of getting another tattoo.  The one I had was enough and satisfied my desire for body art. 

Flipping through the paintings in the Hawaiian gift shop reminded me of flipping through the pages of the tattoo artist’s photo collection of body art she had completed over the years.  I flipped through with disinterest.

Until… that one…

About six paintings through, a watercolor of a different style caught my eye.  This was not of beach scenes, regal architecture, or ocean…. This one was different.  It was of a young person standing ankle deep in a paddy of taro plants bending over engrossed in harvesting.  This person wore a baseball cap, headphones, and casual clothing as they worked.  Their face could not be seen… just long brown hair that hung out of the bottom of the cap.  I could not tell if this was a female or male.  The artist noticed my interest with the painting and explained that this was a depiction of the passing on of tradition.  He then took the matte board out of my hands and turned the watercolor upside down.  Immediately I recognized that the reflection of the this person in the wqter was actually of an elder ancestor in traditional garb also harvesting the taro plants. 

Sailboat squirmed into a more comfortably position in my belly as my spirit connected with the spirit of the art work.  Passing on of tradition…. Old to new… that’s my life theme right now.  Bringing new life out… preparing to guide her in this beautiful and ancient tradition of life.  Introducing her to my first love and hoping she’ll appreciate the traditions my family has passed on to me… the same traditions Shannon seems to delight in experiencing, participating and learning so he can make them his own. 

I did manage to walk out of the tattoo party oh-so-long-ago without a new tattoo engraved on my body.  I did, however, have a rolled up piece of paper that contained the tracing of a phoenix that would eventually be reworked to satisfy my need for uniqueness and symbolism… that would a few months after the tattoo party then be transferred painfully to my left thigh at my own tattoo party.  Similarly, today, I walked out of the Hawaiian gift shop with an autogrd painting that reads, “Aloha, Sailboat” and is signed by the artist. 

Sailboat's First Autographed Artwork

About the Artist

Rm 2247-- Hilton Village, Hanolulu/Waikiki, Hawaii

Mom-2-B-Zilla

Lisa-san says:

What's happening to me?  I'm fighting with my mom... I'm fighting with my dad... my brother and sister... I'm a complete and total wreck!  I can't say what I mean for the life of me, and no one wants to be around me because of my constant crying and anger.  Friends look crookedly at me, sigh, and turn their attention elsewhere.  Nothing I do seems to make a difference, but in reality it's all manipulation.  I can't bring myself to tell anyone that I crave love and attention more than anything right now.  I can only lash out against the world in hopes that someone picks up the true meaning behind it all.  No one ever does though.  It's the most horrifying and frustrating experience!!  Thank G-d it's only happening in my dreams.  That's right.  My dreams.  No sharks these days, but a complete mess of a woman.  And unfortunately for me this is what I dream EVERY NIGHT!  Man, I wake up exhausted!  Waking up is akin to resting after those kinds of dreams.

In real life, the seas are calm.  Pregnancy does not seem to emotionally affect me as so many women say they've experienced.  No moodiness... no cravings... (of course this IS coming from me.  Get Shannon alone and he may have something different to tell you, I don't know).  My biggest symptoms seem to be peeing every hour, exhaustion, and... well... gaining weight.  It's not so bad really.  Part of me wonders if naturally I'm so crazy that being pregnant just mellows me out... kinda like caffeine and stimulants mellow out kids with hyperactive disorders.  Things that make you go hmmmmm...

Oh man, I'm annoyed we didn't bring one or both of the motorcycles when we moved over here!  Bad idea.  Listen, for those of you planning on picking up and moving to Okinawa in the near future, here's a tid bit of advice: bring your motorcycle with you!  These Americans over here are price gougers!!  Who sells a 91 Kawasaki for over $5000????  It's so stupid.  And unless you speak fluent Japanese or have a reliable Japanese speaking friend, don't bother with the dealers.  Not that I could be riding right now anyway, but someday little Sailboat is going to want to ride on the back around the island.  I need to be prepared!

Sailboat... yes, I called her Sailboat.  That's her name for now.  Why?  Well it's simple really.  When the Levins lived naught by water suitable to house an actual sailboat, Shannon decided he needed to have one someday.  I, like the ever doting wife that wants to please her loving husband, told him that when he graduates with his undergrad degree his graduation present will be a sailboat.  One, I figured we had time, and two it didn't seem likely that he'd want one if we truly lived no where near a large body of water.  I'd deal with it when the time came.  Don't get me wrong, I planned to make good on my promise, I just didn't think it would be for a while.  Well, fast forward to the future, and Shannon is actually in classes full time.  He is nearing his graduation date.  Then what do we do???  MOVE TO A FRIKKIN' TINY SUBTROPICAL ISLAND!!  Oh no!  This may actually come to pass this sailboat promise! 

Wait... what?  I'm what???  You're kidding?  We're gonna be parents?

Hmmmm... this gives me an idea!  Shannon will finish all his classes right before this little girl comes into the world.  We can't very well afford a sailboat with a small person on the way can we?  Heavens no!  But just to make good on my promise... well, I think you get the picture... and he gets his Sailboat.  Right on time.  Sailboat Levin.  Good to know I'm a good wife that keeps her promises. 

We've put up a crib and a baby dresser (baby gifts from my parents-- thanks mom and dad).  This is what we did for New Years eve.  It was fun way to spend the holiday.  Especially when you compare what we did the previous year... FIGHT.  Oooh that was a bad one, and no, it wasn't a dream unfortunately.  Thank G-d it was our last major fight.  But a year later and our lives are totally upside down.  Funny how life progresses.  Fighting to the death one year and putting furniture together without a single fight the next.  Now that's progress. 

We've bought minimal clothing and accessories because... well... we figure she can wear a plastic bag or paper bag until she stops growing.  But sometimes, you know, sometimes you just can't help but buy something...  For instance:

Monkey towel

How can you NOT purchase a towel that has a monkey head hood on it?  Why we won't use anything but this towel anymore.  Poor Sailboat will find the hood a little outstretched by the time she gets to it.  That is IF we let her get to it. 

Or how about this:

Five piece dino-set

Snugglesaurus???

Smiley Dino-feet

 

Please, anyone that can turn down "Snugglesaurus" must have been hitler in a former life.  I mean seriously people, come on!  And those dinosaur feet?  Please!  I think I passed out from the onslaught of cute-rays bombarding my eyeballs before I could actually make it to the counter to purchase this.  Luckily Shannon's been able to manage to stay strong through this whole process, but it's not easy for him either. (He's the one that came home with monkey towel.)

Anyway, we're having a lot of fun.  Lovely people who want to clean out their kids closets are sending us all sorts of helpful stuff.  My sister's been a treasure trove!  And the advice we're getting from been-there-done-that parents is INVALUABLE.  (We're still taking more advice by the way!)  We even found a person on this island that will lend us expensive baby essentials like a jumparoo because she's going away for about a year and a half.  She wants these things back in good condition when she returns, but hey!  In a year and a half, Sailboat should really be moving on to other toys anyway, huh?

Of course the registering process is always fun.  We just got done doing that last weekend at the prodding of many friends and family.  It's sad that we aren't around our loved ones in person for this experience, but I must say that Skype is quite the lifesaver when it comes to this.  In fact, one of my best friends, girl-Shannon, has set up a Skype baby shower for us!  How fun will that be??  My school staff too has volunteered to put on a shower for us and that I'm really flattered about because I'm such a new entity in the school.  And my new friends here are VERY excited about Sailboat's arrival.  It's so fun to hear my adult female friends squeal with delight as they feel Sailboat squirming around in my gut.  They truly seem excited about her.  This makes being in a new land so much more comfortable and acceptable.  G-d love the great people in our lives!  Shannon and I are so blessed to have all of the wonderful souls near and far that we've come to know and love over the years.  In good times and in bad times people are just unselfishly there I've found.  It never ceases to amaze me because I am so very aware that everyone has their own lives, problems, and agendas... it is a wonder they have any extra time for us.  But they always do.  It's one of those everyday miracles I take for granted so often.

Okay okay... have I sapped you to death yet?  Oh but I have so much more sappiness left in me.  Perhaps this is a symptom.  Alright, I'll let it go for now, and give you your eyeballs back.  Thanks for reading!

 

5 months and 7-8 months

Down with Hate Speech

Get Fuzzy featuring Bucky the Cat

Top 10 Surprising Things About Okinawa So Far...

Lisa-san says:

(10) Sushi is better here than the states.  I love sushi in the states but it's the difference between either (you choose) going from audio cassettes to CDs or going from a regular TV to an HD TV.  You may be perfectly happy with the former, but once you have a taste of the latter the light bulb goes off and an epiphany is reached.

(9) Tattoo parlors are "family establishments."

(8) Motor scooters are the DEVIL!  They rule the road, literally...

(8.5) Stereotypical Harley riders look a little silly on Okinawan roads -- totally my opinion... please no one shoot me.

(7) Japanese uses a TON of imported English words... if you can read katakana (which I can, thankfully) you're in good shape!

(6) You can learn the entire hiragana alphabet just by reading license plates.  (Shannon has actually done this.)

(5) Parking is okay in the middle of a lane of traffic.  Sure you might be off to the side and parked, but the lanes are so narrow that your vehicle, no matter how small, will take up the entire lane causing all traffic to have to swerve into the oncoming traffic lane momentarily.  This is expected and oncoming traffic accommodates.

(4) No street names.. or at least very few.  You basically have to use landmarks to find your way somewhere, and if you don't know the same landmarks as the person giving you directions, you're screwed!

(3) Japanese and Americans have different laws that apply to them.  An American can get arrested for something a Japanese person would not.  That's because the US Military makes the rules and in general Americans are HIGHLY cautious.  So if a Japanese warning sign reads, "It is suggested you don't swim here" the American version right next to it reads, "Any SOFA status (ie: American) personnel caught swimming will be persecuted to the furthest extent of the law."   

(2) The heat in the summer (hot + humidity) IS worse than Georgia!!

(1) The Okinawan locals aren't running scared all the time.  They leave apts and bicycles unlocked.  Kids as young as 5 are seen walking to school every day WITHOUT an adult escort.  Their playgrounds contain actual MOVING structures like zip lines for kids to play on.  The kids learn that when they cross the street all they have to do is raise their arm high in the air.  It is like their own little personal crosswalk wherever they are.

Ok, so that was Lisa-san's 10 surprising things about Okinawa. Let me see if I might add 10 from my view...

Shannon-san says:

(10)  It is surprisingly easy to walk from the east side of the island (the Pacific side) to the west side (the East China Sea side).  I have done this several times now.

(9)  60 degrees (F) in the middle of winter is actually chilly. I was sure that I would consider this to be quite warm.

(8)  60 KPH (about 37 MPH) is the max posted speed limit anywhere besides The (singular) toll Expressway (which is 80 KPH, about 48 MPH). I thought this would be VERY slow when I first got here. It really is not and is, for the most part, quite reasonable.

(7)  Fast food, such as McDonald's and KFC exist here and are quite gross and about twice what you would pay in the states.  Fantastic sushi, which would cost a fortune in the states, can be found at very reasonable prices.

(6)  Awamori tastes like saki, but there is a tremendous difference. Awamori is an Okinawan invention and the minimum alcohol content is 3 times that of saki (once again, MINIMUM). Consume like you would saki at your own risk.

(5) Oh, BTW, the legal limit for driving after drinking is 0.03 BAC. If you kiss your significant other after he/she has been drinking, you are probably legally drunk.  Call a taxi.  (no, not personal experience)

(4)  There are a LOT of windy days here. "Windy" meaning 20+ MPH winds...

(3)  It may be that it is impossible to get tired of seeing the ocean.

(2)  Military personnel are some of the nicest in the world. It's true at least for those stationed here in Okinawa. They are tremendously polite, respectful, and friendly. (It might be that they understand that they are in paradise and don't wanna screw that up by getting restationed elsewhere?)

(1)  Good Jumpin' Jehosophat on a Pogostick, there are a LOT of pregnant folk out here! You couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting one of them! Even some of the men are pregnant, I believe.  I'm gonna go pee on a stick right now to see if I caught what's going around...

Okuma, Hiji, Hedo, and Habu...

OKUMA

Yes, we finally did it.  We ventured away from our cave and our kitties, hit the road, and headed north to Okuma resort.  We battled the fear of habu snakes lurking around every corner, Tour de Okinawa cyclists making their way to the northern most tip, and horrid views of water, waves, and a symphony of waves crashing on volcanic rocks.  It was awful.  I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy... but I might on my best friends. 

Traveling to Okuma was the first part of the fun journey.  Located approxmately 35-40 miles from where we live, we took the long up Hwy 58.  Hwy 58 lines the western most coast of the island and follows the water much of the way.  Needless to say, most of the drive was very scenic. 

GOING TO OKUMA-- video one

Going to Okuma

SPOTTING THE SIGN-- video two

Okuma-- spotting the sign

Okuma is a split resort between Japan and the US military. It is located HERE.  (We live near the Ginowan area south of central Okinawa.  The max speed limit is about 35 mph on the island if you're anywhere but the expressway, and there's only one expressway.)

ARRIVING AT THE RESORT-- video three

Okuma-- Arriving

OUR TERRIBLE DISAPPOINTMENT-- video four

Okuma-- the trashy resort

HIJI FALLS

Women's bathroom @ Hiji Falls

The next day, as we professed in one of the earlier videos, we made our way to Hiji falls which was apparently only 1.8 km away from our resort.  We were told that it was a killer hike that was nothing but stairs stairs stairs.  Now Shannon and I have had some stari-laiden hikes in our day.  Immediately what came to mind was Amicalola Falls in GA and the snake path leading up to Masada in Israel.  Both were very labor intensive.  Thankfully, Hiji Falls was not so bad.  Stairs, yes... lots of 'em, but they weren't straight up.  I think I stopped counting at 800 and something.  I was trying to get practice counting in Japanese.  Shannon was playing along until about 200 and something but apparently the game lost its shimmer after that.

HIJI FALLS-- video five

Hiji Falls-- Shannon, the Stick in the Rock

NASTALGIA AT HIJI-- video six

Hiji Falls-- beginning, nastalgia, and Habu...

TURTLE-RESCUE MISSION-- video seve

Hiji Falls- Turtle saving mission

This is the exact kind of toitle we saved

LISA'S STOMPING DISRUPTS NATURE-- video eight

Hiji Falls-- Lisa's stomping disturbs Shannon

SHANNON SPOTS WWII REMNANTS-- video nine

Hiji Falls-- WWII remnants

GETTING CLOSER TO THE FALLS-- video ten

Hiji Falls-- we're getting closer

 

WE'VE ARRIVED!!-- video eleven

Hiji Falls destination

Panoramic_Hiji_1

CAPE HEDO
After leaving the Hiji Falls park, we decided we should go all the way to the northernmost tip of the island known as Cape Hedo.  We didn't know if we'd ever venture back up this way, and figured now was the time.  The drive there probably ould have taken a half-hour, but was more like an hour since we had to dodge all the Tour de Okinawa cyclists heading to the cape also.  That was annoying to say the least, but they sure did have a great day for riding!

Once at the cape, I was delighted at it's beauty.  All around was cliffs of volcanic rock that jutted out over the wild ocean.  The waves were rolling in at alarming rates and sizes.  When they crashed against the rocks down below, you could almost hear the cymbal crashes that would have been if a symphany was performing.  It was awesome.  Unfortunately, the camera batteries decided to give out, so the last few videos taken didn't stick.  It's really too bad.  But we did get some still photos.  And Shannon got one video...

DSCF3378

DSCF3379

DSCF3380

DSCF3382

DSCF3383

DSCF3379

Now anyone that's been hiking with me or been around me being around rocks knows that I have some sort of magnatism to climbing rocks.  I don't know what it is, but climbing rocks IS SO FUN!  And here was a place with lots of rocks!  Naturally, I wanted to climb on them.  Shannon wasn't so thrilled as you see here in his video:

LISA IN PERIL-- video twelve

Cape Hedo-- Lisa in Peril

Now, with that "said" I want everyone to know that I knew for a matter of fact that it was safe for me to climb on.  How did I know, you ask?  Especially when carrying another person in my pouch?  Let me list the ways: (1) The rocks were grippy like super glue, so there was no slipping, (2) the rocks were managably spaced apart, no question as to whether I could get from one rock to the next, (3) the rocks were not on a steep incline that would make it hard for me to get back, (4) I was on all fours just to make sure that I was sure footed.  I'm not LOOKING to get hurt, as Shannon might have you believe.  I just needed to get out to the end and there was no signs or blockades preventing it.  When I reached the furthest point of the cliff and slowly turned around to show Shannon that all was well, he was surprisingly within licking distance of me!  That's right, Mr. Stick-in-the-Rock HAD to follow me.  I believe his quote was, "Fine... I guess it's not as dangerous as I was thinking."  We took this picture below as proof of his inability NOT to do what I'm doing.

DSCF3386

He's so funny.  Oh, and guess what else???  As I'm back on all fours slowly and carefully crawling my way back to regular ground, Shannon is basically SKIPPING over the tops of these pointy, treachorous rocks.  You can't see it, but as I type this I'm shaking my head and sighing.  Typical Shannon.  (Shannon would like everyone to know that he's now strangling the life out of me as he reads this.)

So that was our trip up north.  It was very nice, and I recommend that everyone come out here to see the beauty!  It's worth the 23 hr travel time.

Last but not least, here's the latest of the little-Levin-To-Be.  We had our second sonogram last Monday (the 9th) because I was scared something might be amiss... I was just feeling too good.  Nothing's wrong, thank G*d.  And here she is in all her glory!  Who knows how well you'll be able to see it (I think you can click on this image to blow it up and then click on the next image to blow that one up.)  Good luc

2nd sono_11-9-09

Where's My Muse?

Lisa-san says:

I really would love to blog right now, but honestly?  I don't have any idea what to write about.  The excitement from the move has been dying down.  Work has been slowing down.  Life in general is... hmmm... I don't know, actually.  Boring is definitely not the case.  Not interesting to you?  That might be it.

So today I'm going to blog about cultural differences between Okinawa, Japan and home, the good 'ol US of A.  Differences in general that I've noticed... that's what I'll be listing.  Oh, and they're in no particular order.  Just when they come into my brain.

(1) Driving: I am proud to say that I believe I've mastered the art of automatic driving on the left side of the road.  When I first got here they told me that it would take one to two weeks to get acclimated to the newness.  One to two weeks???  How many times can a person die in one to two weeks?  But in the end... or heh heh... luckily not the end... it's not so bad.  Once your brain makes the switch it seems to make the switch.  Not nearly as harrowing as learning to drive for the first time!!

"WHAT???  What did I do???" Lisa yelled at her father as she white knuckled the steering wheel and her heart crawled back into her chest.  16-year-old Lisa Levin glared over at her father in the passenger side seat after slamming on her brake when out of the corner of her eye she had no choice but to see her father non-discretely SLAMMING his foot on his imaginary brake and bracing himself with a terrified gasp for what was surely to be a horrible, fiery, and most gruesome death.  Lisa's eyes darted around the road trying in vain to search out where the obituaries would have listed their death occurred had they not been saved by her dad's heroic reflexes. 

Michael Levin took a deep, slow, breath, bowed his head and let out the extended exasperated sigh only a truly wise teacher can give.  "You don't" (he put extra emphasis on the word 'don't), "have to speed up all the way to the light," he said quietly and deliberately.

That?!  That's what the problem was that caused her father such a severe reaction that nearly caused her to die of a cardiac arrest at the tender age of 16??  What made it worse is that she was already braking when he lunged to brace his body!  Lisa's hear changed course from returning to her chest and made like it wanted to strangle her father.  Oh this was a nightmare.

No, nothing like that.  Once I figured out where the on-coming traffic should be coming from, my brain let my anxiety die down to a manageable level.  My biggest problem is calling "left" turns "right" turns because my brain has it cemented in that the easy turns... the ones where you don't have to cross traffic... are the "right" turns.  So, yes, I've given a few faulty directions in my time here.  Proud to say that I haven't caught myself driving towards on-coming traffic in a while.  The absence of this practice tends to help my anxiety quite a bit, too.  Go figure.

(1.a)  Street signs... or lack of them:  No GPS usage here.  Or at least none that I can imagine.  Barely any street names exist... or if they do they sure aren't labeled.  Neighborhoods and blocks are numbered.  So are buildings.  For example... our address is 5-29-31 2F.  No street name.  5 refers to  neighborhood #5, 29 is block #29, and we are building #31, floor 2, apt F.  There doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason behind which building is which number either.  Tell me how a GPS is going to track that???  Perhaps I'm wrong.  It's not like I've actually been out GPS shopping (and truth be told, if you pressed me I sure couldn't tell you how GPS tracks anything... something about a satellite, that's all I know).  Hell, yesterday was the first time I even looked at the Google map of my neighborhood. 

**If you want to be confused too, just go here: Lisa & Shannon-san's home .  You can see that we're living very close to a canal, and if you travel south from the canal is the KFC where Mickey-san thought we must be eating because... well where else would American's go?  To see the street view of the corner of our actual home, click here: Street View of L&S-san's home .  Ours is the building directly diagonal and across the street from the red columns.  Enjoy.  I can only imagine you feel as though your their with us.

(1.b) Traffic lights: They are confusing.  Instead of hanging vertically, most of them are horizontal.  That doesn't sound so bad, but they seem to be more difficult to notice at times.  Also the right turn arrow (akin to left turn arrows in the states) doesn't allow for the turners to turn before the straight-ers.  No, it is after all the through traffic goes that the arrow comes on.  Also, arrows can sometimes come on in conjunction with other lights.  For example, we have been highly confused and disturbed by a light that was indicating all at the same time a red (stop) with a green (go) and an arrow pointing another direction.  After closing our eyes and praying we make it through the intersection alive, we decided it meant only the left turners weren't allowed to proceed.  The straigters and the right turners were allowed to go. 

(1.c) Motorcycles/scooters: ...Are king, queen, and sultan all wrapped up in one.  If you are on a two wheeled vehicle rules do not apply to you.  I'm not kidding.  Californian car drivers think they have it bad what with the motorcycles splitting traffic over there... startling the drivers as they putt past.  Oh, you want to feel good about your situation??  Come here!  Two wheeled vehicles drive on the shoulders of the road, in between the lanes, and the worst???  Across the middle line heading straight for on-coming traffic!  Wherever they feel is the most spacious area for them to whiz through is where they are going.  It is the drivers of cars responsibility to look out for the cyclists, and this is specifically taught in the driving instruction!  We are told that if we should get into even the slightest accident with a biker or scooter, we will be at fault.  It does not matter if the biker did something horribly wrong.  The car will be at fault every time. 

So what does this mean to me, you wonder?  I AM SO JEALOUS OF EVERYONE ON TWO WHEELS!  We cannot for the life of us find a motorcycle that we can afford.  The Americans are price-gougers ($55K for a '91 Kawasaki) and the Japanese don't want to sell to us.  Well, let's be fair... two Japanese dealers wanted nothing to do with us.  We just stopped going into bike shops after that.  Not necessarily because of them... more because we were running out of steam.  (I really wanted Shannon to blog about his experience with outright discrimination... he had an interesting take on the situation.  You should ask him, too.) 

**Please note: we understand that there are jerks no matter where you live... Japan, US, Israel... We do not in anyway believe all Japanese people or even all Japanese motorcycle/scooter dealers hate Americans.  It is apparent that there are two that aren't fond of us and would prefer not to do business with us.

(1d) Little children: Yes, when you are driving, you must look out for little children who are taught they can cross the streets whenever and wherever they choose.  The only thing they need to do is put their hand up as they cross.  This takes a little getting used to as we have found that some little kids make up their minds at the last second that they are going to be crossing the street.  Yesterday things could have ended very badly for me and Shannon after leaving the flea market.  Very badly.  Thank G*d for quick neuro-connections and compitent brakes.

Ok.  That's it for traffic that I can think of.  I'll give you guys a rest.  I know how rivetting this blog entry has been. 

Peace out, and happy Halloween!

 

Shark Slayer

Lisa-san says:

I did it!  Never before in my 34+ years of life have I done this, but two nights ago, I killed a shark!  That’s right, me, Lisa Levin succeeded in killing a shark that was out to get me.  Normally, I won’t kill them.  Not just normally… every single time so far to date I have never harmed a shark that is trying to kill me.  No, on the contrary.  I actually try to HELP the shark.  I feel bad for the shark, who obviously, I think to myself, is just being a shark.  No shark should be penalized for being itself.  And what do sharks do?  Why they naturally kill people.  I happen to be a person… the shark is coming for me, so it’s my duty to do whatever it takes to yes, stay safe, but at the same time lead the shark back to its own safety.  Oh, I guess you should know that the sharks are 99% of the time chasing me on dry land.  Being as worldly as I am, I am aware they need to be in the water or they will die.  That’s where my martyrdom comes into play.  I spend the majority of the time trying to lead the shark back to water.  Problem is…  I can never find my way back to the water.  It’s very frustrating.

Two nights ago, it all changed.  I don’t even remember when the shark came into my dream, but I do remember that I was holding it with one hand out of the water.  This must have been post-attacking me because for some reason it wasn’t fighting me by now.  It was definitely dying.  And I was holding it out of the water knowing I had to kill it.  I felt anguished about it.  I really didn’t want to kill the shark. 

I was standing next to a large fish tank that I knew housed this shark prior to whatever happened before I got a hold of it.  I’m sure it was trying to kill me.  They always do.  Why though did I know I had to kill it this time?  The shark in my hand was very weak.  Almost dead. 

For some reason I threw it back in the water as part of my plan to end its life.  Oh, you should have seen the relief on its face!  It thought it was going to live.  More anguish and guilt.  Nope, Sharky… Sorry.  You gotsta go.  My plan was to turn up the heat in the tank until the shark could not survive.  I was going to boil it to death.  I figured that was the most humane way to kill it because it would never know.  Sharks are cold blooded, you see… In my mind, it would warm up with the water, and wouldn’t feel itself dying. 

I couldn’t watch.  I left the scene.  I’m sure I killed it. 

So what?  You wonder.  Yipdeedo!  You killed a dream shark.  Good going. 

Hey!  I happen to think dreams are highly significant and can tell you a lot about yourself.  Symbolic, yes.  Lots of symbols.  And when you’ve been dreaming about sharks and sea life in general for as long as I have, you tend to notice the little differences… like, say SLAYING a shark as opposed to SAVING the shark.  I think it means something important. 

I think it means that I’m going to have a healthy, full term pregnancy.

WOW, you’re thinking, how the hell do you get that????

Considering that since being on anti-depressants since age 28, I have only dreamed of sharks one other time… and that time was my last miscarriage.  I actually took that shark dream to be a good sign… I thought it meant that my pregnancy was causing my brain to return to its normal state pre-medication if I was allowed to dream about sharks again.  Hence I thought my pregnancy would work out that time. 

Now that shark dream was scary.  Shannon and I had been walking to meet up with our friend, Seann.  We could see him in the distance walking his pet.  It had been raining and there was a flood of sorts in certain areas on the ground.  Where Seann was walking was like a small in ground cul-de-sac that one would reach by stepping down a few stairs.  It was flooded with water up to his knees.  The animal he was walking on the leash we soon understood to be a shark.  It was a very menacing looking shark, too.  The closer we got to it, the meaner it looked.  When we finally got all the way to Seann, the previously docile shark became violently enraged and lunged repeatedly for me… not Shannon, not Seann… specifically me.  The sounds coming from this animal’s throat were gruesome and indescribable.  Although terrified, I understood instinctively that he couldn’t get to me.  I stood just out of the reaches of his jaws and stared at this horrifying creature’s gnashing razor-teeth as it tried over and over to get at me.  I did nothing.  I just stood there afraid and in awe.    

Shannon thought the dream was a bad omen.  I tried to tell him it was a good omen because I was finally allowed to dream about sharks like I used to.  Turns out Shannon was right.  Miscarriage number two came soon after the dream.

So this time I kill the shark.  What does it mean?  Why is killing a shark better than understanding its plight and letting it live?  Is it because I’m taking care of myself… Have I matured to the point where I’m ready to do even the most uncomfortable things if it’s for the best of my little one?  I don’t know exactly what it means, but I’m content that this time it means something good.

But wait, I have other reason to believe this pregnancy will last…

Shannon and I had barely found out about the pregnancy about a month-and-a-half ago when Dave and Rosemarie’s youngest whispered in Rosemarie’s ear that she thinks Mr. Shannon has a daughter.  Rosemarie said she got goose bumps… we had just been talking in cryptic adult language about the pregnancy.  Catalina being just over two-years-old could not have understood anything we were talking about.  But yet, she repeated her belief to Mr. Shannon.  “You have a daughter,” she almost whispered as she tucked her face into her mom's arm embarrassed.

One week later, another small girl-child that I have never met before made a similar comment to me.  I had been walking past a display of live koy fish swimming around a small pond where a little girl and her mother were watching intently.  The little girl couldn’t have been more than two.  I looked at her, and I looked at the giant koy.  “Those fish are bigger than you are,” I quipped.  She looked up at me with bright eyes and a brighter smile.  She giggled.

Then she tilted her head to the side, leaned against the glass surrounding the pond and asked me, “Do you have a daughter?”

I stopped short remembering Catalina’s comment to Shannon.  I looked quizzically at this little person, and said, “No.  I don’t have a daughter.” 

The girl wasn’t fazed.  “Where is she?  Is she at home?”

“Do you think I have a daughter?”  I asked.

The little girl giggled shyly, “Yes.”

At this point, the mother cut in and told the little girl to leave me alone since I had already told her I didn’t have a daughter.  Mom apologized to me with that “I’m sorry my kid is such a bother” look, and I left disappointed that I couldn’t ask the little telepathic child more questions.  I would have asked what my daughter’s name was and how old she was… but alas.  Leave it to adults to ruin a perfectly good psychic interaction.

So a girl it is.  I’m convinced we’re having a girl.  Shannon thinks so, too.  Not to mention it falls in line with my family history.  My mom had a girl first.  My mom’s mom had a girl first.  My mom’s mom’s mom had a girl first.  So it would stand to reason that my daughter’s mother would have a girl first, right?

It came to pass that today I had my first sonogram.  Whoooboy was I nervous.  After two miscarriages and then going from having pregnancy symptoms to not having any left me a bit intimidated.  I used the shark dream to help console me, and I thought about the two little girls’ comments which helped strengthened my faith.  Yesterday, Glen, over Skype told me I looked like I was glowing.  Glowing??  Only pregnant women glow!  Now how the hell could he see that?!  I rationalized that maybe my skin is extra oily because of the hormones.

Today though... today I have all the proof I need.  No more need for rationalizing.  They told us we're out of the woods!  The most dangerous time in the pregnancy is over, and unless something unusual happens we just may end up with a little person on the outside of me sometime relatively soon!  We're both so relieved.

This was our first sighting of the little girl:

Baby

Can you see???  See... she's already sucking her THUMB!  She has a thumb to suck!  And a little bloated tummy!  You can even see her profile.  Man... this is bizarre. 

It's not like I've never seen a sonogram before.  But... but this one is inside me????  (Not the sonogram... the person.)  Impossible!  How does someone grow someone else???  No one ever taught me how to grow a person!  I don't know how to do this!  I tried twice and failed miserably.  Where is this coming from???  Who the heck is she??  Who was she?  Who's she gonna be? 

The poor thing has to look like one or both of Shannon and me... that doesn't start her out with high cards, I gotta say.  Hopefully, she'll take on some of Shannon's facial characteristics.  I love his face.  I'd like her to be a little less stubbly then he is though. 

Cindy and I were talking.  She had her little one, Miles, almost two years ago.  It's amazing.  She said to me, "I know how you feel.  When I was pregnant with Miles  I thought, 'What?!  Don't you know that on the inside I'm only 3?'"  That's how I feel.  Am I a grown-up yet?  Well then why don't I feel like it???  I can barely keep myself fed let alone take on the responsibility of another life.  G*d I'm glad I have Shannon!  How do single parents do it?  Seriously.  Here's a dual parent household, and I'm flying by the seat of my pants.  Where's the manual for this thing???

This entry could go on for ever... so I think I'll just end it here by saying:

To be continued... throughout life.

Grief Comes

Lisa-san says:

Rituals are a powerful thing.  A lot more powerful than maybe I realized.  The most powerful, you ask?  Apparently, lighting the Shabbos candles for the first time in a strange land without your grandmother on Earth anymore.  Yes, that’s what did it.  Shannon says I can stop wondering now when my grief will come.  It has arrived. 

Friday night, for the first time since moving here, he and I were unpacked enough to make a good Shabbos attempt.  We had everything we needed: table, chairs, meal preparation utensils and tools, candlesticks, wine goblet, (Uhhhh come to think of it our challah left a little to be desired… we had to use Saltines as a substitute), and even my grandmother’s Judaica tacked up on our dining room walls.  (They were the only wall hangings we had put up at that point.)

Shannon made a fabulous meal including corn, steak, and spinach.  He took his place with the Kiddush Cup in hand, and before starting the blessing over the wine, he looked questioningly at the unlit Shabbos candles set up in the middle of the dinner table.  “Don’t you want to light those first,” he asked? 

A funny feeling crept over me.  A tingling maybe?  I’m not sure exactly what it was.  No, for some reason I didn’t want to light the candles first despite knowing that’s the tradition.  I looked past the candles outside at the sunny evening.  “Mmmm… I think it’s too early,” I responded.  “I’m not sure.  I think they’re supposed to be lit before sunset, and it doesn’t seem even close to sunset yet.  I don’t know… perhaps we shouldn’t be eating this early, either but…” I paused for some thought.  “… let’s go ahead and do Kiddush, and I’ll light the candles after dinner.”

Without hesitation Shannon blessed the wine and then the “bread” (AKA Saltines).  I got my portion of drink and leavening, and we had a nice Shabbos dinner.  Conversation was unremarkable… well, actually it was remarkable.  I believe I had the opportunity to apologize for being dumb and saying something upsetting to Shannon.  Our exchange left me feeling a bit subdued.  Nothing horrid, but definitely more mellow than normal. 

Dinner ended with me looking over a piece of mail that had arrived that afternoon from All State Insurance Company.  It was regarding my being one of the beneficiaries of my grandmother’s will.  If I wanted what she left for me, I had to fill out a lot of paperwork.  The thought made me a little nauseous and I pushed the papers from me.  “I don’t want to fill these out,” I said to Shannon. 

“Do you want me to fill them out for you,” he asked?

I didn’t respond with much at first and then I conceded.  Yes, I wanted him to do it.

“Why don’t you want to?  Is it because it’s a pain or because it’s your grandmother?”

I let out an extended sigh and looked at the papers.  I’m good at rationalizing without much feeling.  “If I were going to get money for any other reason,” I said, “I’m sure I’d have no problem filling these papers out… so I’m guessing it’s because it’s my grandmother… it just feels wrong… kinda like asking for money when we’re trying to find a home for one of our kitties.”

Shannon pulled the papers toward him, “I don’t mind doing it,” he said.

I sat for a second, and then remembered the candles.

Candle lighting time.  I stood up, lit the lighter, put the lighter to the wicks, and made sure the flames were stable before proceeding.  Satisfied with the growing flames, I bade the essence of the Shabbos warmth and light into my heart and mind by sweeping my hands over the flames several times.  My hands finally rested over my eyelids and I began the blessing slowly, “Baruch atah ado…”  As my mouth sung the words in a somewhat broken tune, my mind began to play a movie.  I could feel all the candle lightings of the past and see my mother and my grandmother standing next to me bathed in the orange glow of the candles doing the same movements and motions and singing the same words.  I could hear their voices in my mind, and at the same time I heard only my lone voice in the room.  It hit me then that there would never be again… could never be again another Shabbos… Yom Kippur… Chanukkah… or Pesach with the three generations together.  An important piece was now and forever missing. 

I could feel an old familiar stinging start behind my eyelids.  The sting was that of dry eyes finally getting moistened after a long drought.  I squeezed my hands tighter over my eyes and finished the blessing with a crack in my voice. 

Shannon answered my prayer with the appropriate Amen at the end, and he bent his head to study the papers we had been previously discussing.  I was thankful that he wasn’t looking at me because when I sat back down I knew that the tears should come, and I shouldn’t fight them… but at the same time I was embarrassed to be seen crying.  I don’t know why, all I can say is it’s a reflex. 

So Shannon silently read his papers and I started at the flames thinking of all the past Sabbaths that had come and gone with my family.  The tears silently rolled down my face.  I thought of my grandmother in the hospital before her death.  I thought of her repeatedly pleasantly surprising me with her thoughts and opinions on important issues.  I thought of her pushing her little grocery cart around the grocery store.  I thought of how she must have looked zooming around on her scooter at her retirement home, and the record of her singing she made as a young lady during the war time way before I ever was.  I thought of all the letters that are sitting in a box in my computer room made up of all the thoughts, dreams, and plans my grandfather had for them when he returned from the war still unread by me.  My thoughts kept churning out my tears, and I felt compelled to watch the flames glow and the candles melt. 

We were finished with dinner, and we were finished at the table, but I felt glued to my seat.  I did not want to leave those candles.  I wanted to watch them until they were gone.  I wasn’t going anywhere… almost as if the candles were my grandmother.  At one point I actually thought about embracing the candles.  My rational mind kicked in immediately, and said, “Now that would just be stupid.”  That thought made me smile a little. 

It may have been then that Shannon looked up at me and noticed the puddle below my chin.  “What’s going on?” he asked softly.  I couldn’t answer.  I just stared at the candles with a fresh batch of tears spilling down.  “Is it your grandmother?” he asked.  I nodded weakly and bowed my head.  Then I let the loud, gasping sobs come.  Shannon was right there behind me to comfort me.  Having just lost his grandmother two summers before, he understood.  His grandmother had been one of the two most important people on earth to him.  He also was quite fond of my little grandmother… and she him.  He hugged me and rubbed my back.  I cried.  Then I cried some more. 

When I returned to staring at the flames, he returned to sitting across from me.  He began staring at the flames, too.  We must have sat there for a good hour watching the one candle build its wax city, and the other slowly recycling all of its wax into the atmosphere.  We began to pontificate on wax melting.  It struck me that we would be seen as the world’s most boring couple on this Friday night if anyone could see us.  I think I even mentioned, “This must be a step up from watching paint dry.”

“I thought it was watching paint peel,” he responded.

“Either way.  We’re pretty pathetic.”

He nodded and we continued staring for a little while longer.  Finally, my need to be at the candles relinquished.  The one was getting down to the bottom, and now my desire was not to be there for the end.  The other candle may not ever end… and frankly…  I had stuff to do.

It is my belief that the spirit lives on.  I don’t think my grandmother will ever be completely out of my life.  And I know that I will see her again one day.  So while her physical presence is no longer, her spiritual one remains strong.  I’m sure she was there with me lighting the candles on that Shabbos.

I just need to get used to it.

The return of Mickey-san

Shannon-san says: this was an entry written when we had no internet connection.

The Levin’s Okinawa Cultural Day

AKA   The Return of Mickey-san

Shannon-san and Lisa-san says:

Following the successful acquisition of our new living space, we were so happy with the quality of Mickey’s service that we referred our new friends (Dave and Rosemarie) to her.  Saturday, Lisa called them to give them Mickey’s number, but Dave had already called her and they were set to meet her at Camp Foster. We were invited along to view some of the places that Mickey was going to show the Leons, and we were glad to oblige. We met up with the entire entourage, including Dave and Rosemarie’s two-year-old (Catalina) and six-year-old (Isabella), at Foster’s Gate 5. Mickey led our chain of cars a very short distance to an apartment complex where we all parked, disembarked, and proceeded up to the third floor. Mickey did not disappoint; she brought her large personality and outgoing nature, along with treats for the children. To make a long story short, we were jealous of the deal the Leons were able to negotiate (even though we are happy with our new place), mainly due to its location and our recent experiences with somewhat heavier than expected traffic. Before sealing the deal, Mickey bought us drinks from a vending machine across the street and in the 95 degree heat (100% humidity) gave us guava fruit from the apartment owner’s tree, and invited us to lunch. Mickey-san seemed oblivious to the excruciating heat blaring down on us from the sun, so Lisa-san led us to a little bit of shade nearby as we finished our drinks and guava and Mickey-san took to scheming with the Leons about how she would help them out of their current lease early. (Side note: the housing agency that the Leons wanted desperately away from is the same one that pulled the rug out from under us with the Happy House – karma’s anyone?)

Lunch ended up being at a Chinese restaurant at which Lisa-san and Shannon-san had previously eaten (where we rated the food as quite good, but in too small, extraordinarily expensive portions). Mickey picked up the menus before we had a chance to look at them, told us she would tell the staff what we were eating, and disappeared to give directions to the staff, all of whom she seemed to know. During lunch, Mickey showed us more of her personality. At one point (during one of Catalina’s many outbursts), she matter-of-factly informed Dave and Rosemarie that their two-year-old was a spoiled child. Dave and Rosemarie looked stunned for a second, but did not disagree, and may have looked a bit sheepishly at each other.

Mickey's Spread

Lunch was quite excessive with soup and rice for all, beef with asparagus, several chicken dishes, and some shrimp thrown in there somewhere... and Mickey insisted on footing the bill, despite our protests. As a final dessert for the children, Mickey had ordered the staff to make some homemade ice cream (or at least that is what she told us; “They don’t serve ice cream here, but I told them make some for you!”).  The ice cream seemed to be the trick to pull Catalina out of her "shyness" regarding Mickey, and this change in attitude was not wasted on Mickey, either.

Shy Catalina

She said, “Ah, now you like me!”  When Lisa-san attempted in Japanese to refer to Mickey as a friend in Japanese ("tomodachi") Mickey-san was hearing nothing of it.  "No.  We are family!  I am your grandmother!" she laughed.  Isabella, the six-year-old, wanted to know at that point what Mickey-san was to her, and Mickey laughed again and said, "I am your GREAT grandmother!"  None of us disagreed.  Great she seems to be.

Following the lunch, Mickey wanted to keep her previous promise to take Lisa-san and Shannon-san to  an Okinawan show. The Leons were of course invited to come as well, and gratefully accepted the offer. So, the convoy started up again with Mickey in the lead. What seemed an unusually long trip for “taking in a show,” we finally arrived at our destination. It turned out to be much more than taking in a show.  It was an entire cultural experience.  We were at what was termed an Okinawan Cultural Heritage exhibit, AKA Ryukyu Mura.

Rykyu Mura Pamphlet

It was a small village set up as Okinawa was a couple of hundred years ago. It seems that one of Mickey’s grandsons works here… however, he was not working this day.  (Shannon-san’s thought: Mickey-san’s grandson must be the Okinawan version of Bartlett Meeks as all the lavish costumes were reminiscent of a kind-of circus.)

Mickey led us into the entrance to the exhibit where a young woman was playing a traditional 3-stringed instrument similar to a banjo, called a shamisen, and singing. After claiming seats, Mickey insisted that Lisa-san dance with her and Lisa-san, although a little embarrassed, obliged while trying in vain to goad Rosemarie and her daughters out on the “dance floor.”  (There was no actual dance floor… Mickey took it upon herself to create one.)  Mickey, at 77 years of age, danced so hard that she broke her shoes.  This did not slow her down one bit.  (Shannon-san adds: This brings to mind that Okinawa is a so-called “Blue zone”, with an extraordinary percentage of centurions. Perhaps Okinawa itself is a veritable Fountain of Youth?)  During the breaks between songs (which were beautiful, even if not understood by us mono-linguists), Mickey would have a conversation with the musician, much to the amusement of everyone else in the audience.  She would also engage other audience members in conversation as though she knew them personally.  At one point Mickey-san looked up at us from the conversations she was having in Japanese with a group of young men and women, and in her broken English exclaimed gleefully, “They think I work here!”  (Of course before we left that part of the exhibit Mickey had doled out several of her business cards.)

When this show was done (which was free), Mickey took us to the ticket counter for what was to be the real show. Before anyone could stop her (like that was even possible, really), Mickey had bought all of our tickets.  (Lisa-san’s addition: We forgot to mention that in between the two shows, Mickey had us looking around a gift store.  Any purchases we meant to make had to be hidden for fear that Mickey-san would insist on buying them… the children for sure were being loaded up… Dave and Rosemarie seemed to have no clout!)   So on to the show we go…  On the path leading to this part of the exhibit, Mickey stopped to chat with the actors playing the King and Queen of the show (along with their guards) in Japanese. 

Ryukyu Drummers and Royalty

She laughed as she looked over at us from her conversation with a glint in her eye.  In English, she then shared with us the symbolism of part of the props. There was a definite fertility connotation, which Mickey explained in a way so that Catalina and Isabella would not understand (dirty old woman!)

The show featured Eisa drumming, singing by the village fool and others, dancing, and a Woo Dog (I believe they are called Shi-sa hIt was very fun!  Oh, and it was interactive, too. The audience was invited to dance on 2 separate instances and a child was invited to play in the Shi-sa bit. Lisa-san was shocked when Shannon-san actually played along and danced with everyone else!

Interactive Jester

**Visitors beware, you will be going to this show if you show up on our doorsteps**  After the show, we explored the rest of the village which included pottery making, sugar making (with water buffalo as labor), and various other village-type activities.  

This day gets an “A” in the “learning about the culture in which we are living” category. Mickey the tour guide also gets an “A+++” for her incredible, invaluable, wonderful personality and generosity.

Oh, and Lisa-san’s final comment about Mickey-san’s antics:  On the drive home, (as the Leons had to leave a bit early), Mickey-san led us toward our home insisting she lead us all the way home to make sure we made it okay.  We, however, were worried about Mickey-san as she seemed exhausted (and said as much).  We knew that where we lived compared to where she would be going was not a short distance, and we didn’t want her to take the extra time when we could find our way perfectly well.  Discussing this with Shannon at a red light, I look up to see Mickey-san dart out of her car and run over to ours.  Shannon hastily rolls down his window to see what could be so important.  Mickey-san blurts, “I am worried about your friends’ food in the car all day.  You call them and tell them not eat it.  I don’t know it’s still good or not!”  She darts back to her car in time to move forward with traffic.  Shannon and I look at each other and laugh.  Dave and Rosemarie had taken food in carryout containers from the Chinese restaurant earlier that day.  I flipped open the cell phone and left them Mickey’s message.  At the next red light, I decided to play Mickey’s game because I really didn’t want her to drive us all the way home.  I had forgotten that I had Mickey’s cell phone number and thought I couldn’t reach her by phone.  So… out of the car I go, up to her car window… startled she rolls her window down.  I blurt quickly, “We know how to get home from here.  You go home and rest.”  Mickey scrunches up her eyebrows and looks disbelievingly at me, and says cynically, “How you go, huh?”  Unbelievable this woman!  Most would be thankful for the out and probably say, “Are you sure?... Okay then… thanks.”  Not her, though, she expected me to lay out directions right then and there so she could make sure we knew our way.  The lights were changing… I stammered, “Uhhhh I can’t tell you that!” and darted back to the car laughing.  Once in the car, I was able to figure out I did have her cell phone number and could call and explain to her that we really did know how to get home.  Finally she relented and allowed us to go on our own.

Ryukyu Leprachaun

Shisa

 

In Rykyu Mura-- post ice cream