tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8519778816730330952024-03-08T13:39:15.597+09:00Summer in Japan!Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-13059151475942544232008-07-26T13:31:00.003+09:002008-07-26T14:44:59.037+09:00Last GoodbyesSaying goodbye to Japan and all of my friends and family there was every bit as hard as I thought it would be, if not more so. Thursday morning, after I had put the finishing touches on my packing, my host mother and I walked around to her friends' houses in the neighborhood so that I could say good-bye and thank them again for the various gifts that they have given me.<br /><br />At 9:30 we left for the train station, just the two of us. My host dad had to work and Midori had school in the morning. Our conversation was on good books that we had read, and it felt as if this was just the beginning of another adventure, not the end of a chapter of my life.<br /><br />At the train station we went to a kiosk that sold beautiful obento lunches and my host mom bought one for me for the train ride home. We found my platform, along with the other YFU students staying in Sendai. Midori managed to make it to the train station right before I left so that we could say our last goodbyes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIqtzAlf0FI/AAAAAAAACdo/E3kuC14Ve-g/s1600-h/IMG_1114.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIqtzAlf0FI/AAAAAAAACdo/E3kuC14Ve-g/s320/IMG_1114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227181409359089746" border="0" /></a><br />We managed to take a few last pictures before tears started falling. We shared our favorite memories, the baseball game Mimi and I went to, afternoon tea with my host mother every day, the trips to Matsushima.... At the end my host mother said a little speech in her broken English about how she knows I will be able to accomplish great things, how she hopes that I will be able to go to Oxford someday, and how she knows I will one day be able to help with world peace. Her words made be break down in a fresh stream of tears and for a moment all I could do was bury my face in a tissue. I told Mimi and my host mom that when they come to America they must come and stay with my family, and then the train called for final boarding.<br /><br />The train ride to Tokyo was two hours, and then there was another one-hour train ride to Narita Airport. At the airport I met up with many of the other YFU students. It was an extremely bittersweet reunion, with exciting tales of our adventures in Japan, and our sadness at having to leave after what seemed like such a short time. Everyone was talking about the huge <a href="http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/breaking-news/world/asia/strong-earthquake-injures-more-than-100-in-japan-13919914.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">earthquake</span></a> the previous night. It sounded as though nearly everyone had felt the shaking in some form or another. No one seemed to be any closer to the source of it then Sendai though.<br /><br />After a 10-hour flight to San Francisco, a three-hour layover, and another three-hour flight to Denver (we circled above the airport for an hour as we waited to land) I was finally home.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-32779064821112903382008-07-24T00:32:00.002+09:002008-07-24T00:43:45.934+09:00Earthquake #183746548Yikes that was terrifying! I've grown used to the feeling that you're on a plane that is experiencing a bit of air turbulence - it happens at least once a week here - but this was different. This time it didn't stop after a minute. This time everything in my room was shaking so hard that it looked like it was about to fall over. My hands are still shaking from it. What in the world must a REAL earthquake feel like? o_oLexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-85617915884263186982008-07-23T22:44:00.004+09:002008-07-24T00:32:40.297+09:00My Last Night In JapanWell, this is it. My calendar claims it's been six and a half weeks, and I wouldn't believe it if it weren't for the fact that YFU has been sending me endless reminders that they are indeed dragging me back to America at exactly 11:21 tomorrow morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIdMyMTn_-I/AAAAAAAACdQ/d8UfSK-YNtc/s1600-h/IMG_1102.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIdMyMTn_-I/AAAAAAAACdQ/d8UfSK-YNtc/s320/IMG_1102.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226230317767458786" border="0" /></a><br />For my last night in Japan, my host family took me to a kaiten-zushi restaurant. Conveyor belt sushi. It was so much fun. You sit at a bar which has a conveyor belt of sushi going round and round, and you take whatever you fancy, and then the waiter counts up your empty plates at the end.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIdMyumBa-I/AAAAAAAACdY/VB6b_aIU584/s1600-h/IMG_1104.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIdMyumBa-I/AAAAAAAACdY/VB6b_aIU584/s320/IMG_1104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226230326971427810" border="0" /></a><br />I discovered my new favorite sushi. <span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja">辛子明太子.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIdMy5Q2v4I/AAAAAAAACdg/JgIUkO41Svc/s1600-h/IMG_1105.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIdMy5Q2v4I/AAAAAAAACdg/JgIUkO41Svc/s320/IMG_1105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226230329835437954" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja">I think I cleaned up pretty</span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja"> well. =D<br /><br />...Oh all right. They're not all mine. A couple of them are my host mom's.<br /><br />After the kaiten-zushi restaurant, we came home and I expected that that was it. When we walked into the house though, Midori pulled out two huge packages of sparklers and said "Alexa! Shall we light fireworks?!" Two of her friends from across the street arrived a couple minutes later and the four of us spent the entire evening playing with sparklers, and using them to burn our names onto the asphalt road. It was so much fun. At that point the thought of leaving really seemed surreal. This place truly has become like a second home, even in the short time period of six weeks, and the thought of leaving it is heart-breaking.<br /><br />Tomorrow is that dreaded day when I have to say good-bye to everyone here that I have come to love so much, and then I have over 24 hours of traveling to get back to Colorado, including two train rides and two airplanes. Funfunfun.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i><span class="t_nihongo_romaji"></span></i></span>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-85683771567335916852008-07-22T16:21:00.000+09:002008-07-22T16:44:36.150+09:00ZaoMet'sI just got back from an overnight stay with my host mom and obasan at ZaoMet's - a hot springs spa, or onsen. It was so amazing! I don't even know where to begin.<br /><br />The drive took a couple of hours, through mountains, and forests. We finally drove off onto a little side path which wound it's way through about a mile of trees, and then finally arrived at the onsen. We deposited our shoes by the door, put on slippers, checked in, and then went up to our room. It was a small traditional Japanese-style room with tatami mats and sliding doors and a low table in the middle of the floor surrounded by cushions. There was a window that looked out over a breathtaking view of the forest and the river beyond. In the closet were yukatas which we changed into and then sat down to have tea.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SIWNHUuadcI/AAAAAAAACcE/iCXBwJGoDWE/IMG_1080.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SIWNHUuadcI/AAAAAAAACcE/iCXBwJGoDWE/IMG_1080.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />After tea, we took our first visit to the hot baths. I'd kind of been a bit uneasy about this since I arrived in Japan - trying an onsen - because onsens = no bathing suites. Not a problem for most of the world, but a bit unsettling for an American. Actually it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. And the onsen was wonderful.<br /><br />There were actually three separate hot baths, two indoors, one for men and one for women, which would periodically switch, and then one outdoors. You enter, remove your slippers, there's a small area with cubby holes for clothing, then you enter through another door where you shower before finally entering the hot springs.<br /><br />We returned to our room to relax for a couple hours before going downstairs for dinner. Dinner was quite a surprise. When I imagined what kind of dinner would be served at a "spa" (as my host mom kept calling it) I pictured some sort of nice light healthy meal. What I didn't expect was a huge ten-course feast. I'm not even exaggerating. I have the menu to prove it. I didn't think it was even possible to eat that much. They just kept serving plate after plate after plate, until I thought I was going to explode.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIWOCCoRdII/AAAAAAAACco/zdpAckFjCQ8/s1600-h/IMG_1088.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIWOCCoRdII/AAAAAAAACco/zdpAckFjCQ8/s320/IMG_1088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225739108349998210" border="0" /></a><br />One of the larger dishes was served with a knife and fork, which was an incredibly welcome sight. I'm the kind of person who always eats with a knife - none of that silly cutting food with your fork business. It doesn't work. I haven't used a knife and fork in six weeks though, and it took me forever to get reacquainted with the silly things. It was kind of sad actually. I finally gave up the attempt and went back to using my chopsticks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIWOc4b7VII/AAAAAAAACcw/ysYjNOsmQ7A/s1600-h/IMG_1089.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIWOc4b7VII/AAAAAAAACcw/ysYjNOsmQ7A/s320/IMG_1089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225739569470329986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIWOdCCDd1I/AAAAAAAACc4/XeiANiFx4v0/s1600-h/IMG_1091.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIWOdCCDd1I/AAAAAAAACc4/XeiANiFx4v0/s320/IMG_1091.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225739572046165842" border="0" /></a><br />After the tenth and last dish was finally served (I was plenty full after the second one), we went back to the hot baths. The men's and women's baths had switched by this time, and I walked in to find a much larger pool. It was gorgeous. The entire room was dark tiled, there were floor to ceiling windows looking out over the dusk setting over the green mountain forests, and the hot springs stretched the entire length of the long room.<br /><br />The next morning I got to try the outdoor springs. It was the greatest experience - the brisk morning air, the stone pool surrounded by nothing but dense green trees, and then the water which was hot enough to make your head spin. They even had the sugegasa hats which were adorable and tons of fun to try on.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-44192425645538621192008-07-20T18:35:00.004+09:002008-07-20T18:56:40.034+09:00A Small Summer FestivalToday Midori, one of her friends, and I, went to a small summer festival put on by an elementary school. The big three-day summer festival that Sendai is famous for - the Tanabata Festival - doesn't happen until right after I leave.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIMIVSNQfuI/AAAAAAAACb4/0_LaIdZ6LS8/s1600-h/IMG_1072.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIMIVSNQfuI/AAAAAAAACb4/0_LaIdZ6LS8/s320/IMG_1072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225029154437627618" border="0" /></a><br />It was so much fun walking around in our yukatas, eating cotton candy, and playing all the various games. There was a traditional dance that everyone did, and about the third time going around the huge circle, someone came up and put a fancy origami award of some kind around my neck. Apparently I had won the yukata competition. lol. Not that my yukata isn't gorgeous, but I have a suspicion it was more the fact that I had blond hair and dared to even wear a yukata to their festival that they gave me the award for. It was all very entertaining. I got to go up on the podium and speak. In Japanese!Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-15704491705431787092008-07-20T18:25:00.002+09:002008-07-20T18:33:02.962+09:00Korean FoodWhen I get home I'm learning how to make Korean food. It was amazing! AND SPICY!!! :'D I don't know why it's not more popular in America.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SIMF8Rbs-WI/AAAAAAAACbc/ZFbUYP-DL84/IMG_1070.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SIMF8Rbs-WI/AAAAAAAACbc/ZFbUYP-DL84/IMG_1070.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, we went to a Korean restaurant for lunch today. The picture is of my host dad and Midori sitting at the table which had a hole full of coal in the middle. Very strange. I was so excited to actually have something spicy that I forgot to take any other pictures. The Jjigae and Toppoki were incredible though.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-83860684247825649112008-07-18T21:11:00.004+09:002008-07-20T18:35:35.122+09:00Last Day at Shirayuri<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICbnYUJC4I/AAAAAAAACbU/ATEWJyoNz1o/s1600-h/IMG_1040.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICbnYUJC4I/AAAAAAAACbU/ATEWJyoNz1o/s320/IMG_1040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224346668593908610" border="0" /></a>Back row: Yu, Alexa, Miracle, --, Hiromi; Front row: Mayuko, Keiko, Chihiro<br /><br />Today was my last day at Shirayuri Gakuen High School. It was so sad. I've made so many amazing friends there, and hugging them all goodbye today (I don't care if the Japanese don't believe in hugs - I insisted on hugging all of them) was one of the most bittersweet experiences ever. I really don't know how I managed to get through the entire school day without crying. It wasn't until I was walking home in the pouring rain that I really broke down.<br /><br />So last night after dinner my host mother said "Alexa! I have idea!" And then she proceeded to carry a huge plastic bag into the room filled to the brim with washcloths with Minnie Mouse, and Miss Bunny, and the Aristocats on them. Gifts for each and every one of my 39 classmates. So then I was up till midnight wrapping them and handwriting letters to everyone.<br /><br />The walk to the bus stop this morning was no different then usual, except that it was extremely gray and rainy out. For being in the middle of the rainy season, we have had a staggering amount of sunshine. Funny that the gray skies and thunder should hold out till my last day of school, the beginning of the end.<br /><br />I got off the bus and my two little primary school friends came running after me as usual, calling "Onesan! Onesan!" in thier adorable sing-song voices. They gave me goodbye letters, and we took pictures, and now I will never again see the two little girls who put such a huge smile on my face every morning.<br /><br />The morning proceeded with normal classes; lunchtime came and many of my classmates gave me more letters and gifts; I got to go to the teacher's office to say formal goodbyes to everyone; I met, and said goodbye to the principle, who gave me a pendant of the Virgin Mary, or maybe it's just a nun, I can't really tell; I took pictures with all of my friends; was given even more gifts, and letters; attended the closing ceremonies for their meager 20-day summer break; and then went back to the homeroom for the final minutes of school.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICbDuvMSPI/AAAAAAAACbM/y1HuRbCY5BU/s1600-h/IMG_1038.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICbDuvMSPI/AAAAAAAACbM/y1HuRbCY5BU/s320/IMG_1038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224346056137656562" border="0" /></a>Midori, Akane, Alexa<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICZ4h_-eVI/AAAAAAAACa0/T1ugpztdoF0/s1600-h/IMG_1044.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICZ4h_-eVI/AAAAAAAACa0/T1ugpztdoF0/s320/IMG_1044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224344764228204882" border="0" /></a><br />I was called to the front of the class, and presented with this, which is signed by everyone, and made me realize all over again just how much I really will miss them all. I gave them all their gifts, and then we said our final goodbyes.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICaoixT5uI/AAAAAAAACa8/n7SEHirrb3w/s1600-h/IMG_1022.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICaoixT5uI/AAAAAAAACa8/n7SEHirrb3w/s320/IMG_1022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224345589068850914" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICa3PlLlvI/AAAAAAAACbE/3t_5T4-9jCg/s1600-h/IMG_1036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SICa3PlLlvI/AAAAAAAACbE/3t_5T4-9jCg/s320/IMG_1036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224345841615738610" border="0" /></a>Me, and Momoka<br /><br /></div>Having the opportunity to attend a Japanese high school has been the most incredible experience. It is an experience that I will always look back on with the fondest of memories, and will always wonder at the fact that it was actually five weeks, for it flew by as if it were only five days. The things I have learned and the memories that I have come away with are irreplaceable, and my only regret is that it couldn't last longer.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-29619508441934832182008-07-14T21:36:00.004+09:002008-07-14T22:11:51.373+09:00YukatasSunday evening my host mother's younger brother invited us to a fancy sushi restaurant for dinner, and Midori asked me if I thought we should wear our yukatas. I agreed immediately. My host mom bought me a yukata my first week here and I hadn't had a chance to wear it yet, and was eager to see what it was like.<br /><br />Yukatas are extremely difficult things to wear, and so we had to start getting ready an hour before we left. It is a very complicated process. The right side has to be folded over first, otherwise it signifies death. then you have to pull it up so that the hem just reaches ankle-length, tie the first tie around the waist as tight as possible, fold the excess fabric over the tie, straighten it out so that everything lays flat, make sure that everything in front and back in centered, tie the second tie around the lower chest as tightly as possible, and then the real sash, or obi as it is called. It is wrapped around several times until it is suffocatingly tight and just barely loose enough to let you breath enough to stay alive, and then it is tied in a very complicated and artful way to look like a large butterfly. And don't forget that the entire robe and especially the obi are made out of very stiff cotton so that it is nearly impossible to move.<br /><br />Okay, I made it sound a bit torturous, but it was actually a lot of fun.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHtLFZTpnPI/AAAAAAAACaM/hrxIrorD4y4/IMG_0930.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHtLFZTpnPI/AAAAAAAACaM/hrxIrorD4y4/IMG_0930.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />This is Midori and I wearing our yukatas, and behind us are Midori's two cousins - Yoshitomo and Miho. My host dad thought it would be funny to make Yoshitomo and I, boyfriend and girlfriend, so apparently I have a boyfriend now. lolol.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHtNZbGOYJI/AAAAAAAACaQ/jonfDUo27Z8/IMG_0933.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHtNZbGOYJI/AAAAAAAACaQ/jonfDUo27Z8/IMG_0933.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It's my extended host family! I'm not going to remember everyones' names, but I can tell you who everyone is. Back row: host mom's younger brother, his wife, host mom, host dad; Middle row: Midori, Yoshitomo, Miho; Front row: ALEXA!, obachan (host mom's mother), obachan (host dad's mother), and ojichan (host dad's father).Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-27171355174234656062008-07-14T20:41:00.003+09:002008-07-23T05:08:53.749+09:00The OceanSunday was yet another incredible day here. My host parents told me that we would be going for a drive, but it wasn't until we were in the car that they actually told me where we were going. Still, knowing the name of the place didn't actually mean anything. After a long drive we arrived at a small bay with a dock, an information booth, and several small motor boats. My host dad bought tickets and then after about a half-hour wait, we boarded one of the small boats. They were just your ordinary motor boats, but even so, the little enclosed area was still covered with tatami mats and cushions to sit on, and a place to remove shoes. I sat next to the only window that was actually open, and after everyone else had taken a seat, we were off!<br /><br />The scenery was gorgeous - beautiful rock formations and islands jutting out of the water, and caves and trees everywhere. We went through an area with a huge flock of seagulls and opened the windows to feed them. It was amazing; they would fly right up to the boat and eat out of our hands.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIY8hkzv-gI/AAAAAAAACdA/yTUbclkpOkY/s1600-h/P7130648.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIY8hkzv-gI/AAAAAAAACdA/yTUbclkpOkY/s320/P7130648.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225930965124119042" border="0" /></a><br />When the boat slowed down again my host dad went to the back portion, outside of the enclosed sitting area. I dashed over to join him; the fact that we were on a boat and completely sheltered from the elements was killing me. A couple other people came out to join us in order to snap a few pictures, but then returned to the safety of their tatami mats once the boat started up again. My host dad and I were the only ones left, which I found ridiculous considering I was the one who lives thousands of miles away from any sort of ocean, and there I was the only one not afraid of getting wet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIY9MlzpI7I/AAAAAAAACdI/n5nudWLr-d0/s1600-h/P7130653.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SIY9MlzpI7I/AAAAAAAACdI/n5nudWLr-d0/s320/P7130653.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225931704126481330" border="0" /></a><br />It was incredible! Until that point, I hadn't realized just how much I really have missed being on the ocean, with the hot prickle of the sun, the cool salty ocean spray, the sound of crying gulls, and the adrenalin rush of riding up and down with the crashing waves. It was amazing. I had the best time. But curse that boat ride for making another hour of my precious time left in Japan pass as if it was mere minutes. lol.<br /><br />After the ocean, we drove to the small island of Miyatoshima, which is connected to the mainland by a bridge. We parked at the base of a mountain and my host dad told me that the two of us were hiking to the top to see the view. My host mom stayed behind because she was too tired. So we started the ascent, with me wearing high-heeled sandals. It was an incredibly steep hike with a very jagged path and lots of roots to climb around. Every few minutes we would come across another group of sight-seers, standing on the side of the path to catch their breath. I was extremely proud of myself when I reached the top without having stopped once, high-heels and all. It made me wish that I had bought the tshirt I found in Colorado that said "Sea Level is for Sissies".<br /><br />The view from the top of the mountain was incredible, more so then I ever could have imagined. You could see the ocean in nearly every direction, sparkling in the bright sunlight, the mainland in the distance, and all of the little rock islands scattered everywhere. It was something that a picture could never begin to capture the beauty of. Ever. I only had one small complaint: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Of all the silly places to not have a vending machine!</span>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-1407156315450999772008-07-14T07:27:00.003+09:002008-07-14T07:53:09.442+09:00Meysen KindergartenSince I arrived here, everyone has been asking me if I have been to Meysen Kindergarten yet. The question seemed a bit odd; yes, my Japanese is very limited and I would probably get more out of kindergarten then out of high school, but still, why is EVERYONE asking that question?<br /><br />Saturday evening Midori, my host mom, and I went to a YFU meeting for Midori's departure to America. And it was at the kindergarten! Yes, it was very cute but besides the numerous cages of fuzzy little rodents, I did not see anything special about it - until we went outside after the meeting.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">Maysen kindergarten had the playground to end all playgrounds. And I'm not even a huge fan of playgrounds. This was incredible though! The slides were monstrous! And there were rock-walls, and monkey bars, and amazing things you've never even seen before, and things that could spin faster then should be possible without being electronic, and then you'd walk a little ways through all the beautiful trees that surround everything and find even more slides and jungle gyms.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpww4-sXkI/AAAAAAAACZo/Wj8jyXLYhqM/IMG_0926.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpww4-sXkI/AAAAAAAACZo/Wj8jyXLYhqM/IMG_0926.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a>Amazingly fun slides. (Let's forget about the fact that I was wearing a skirt)<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwt0m-mUI/AAAAAAAACZk/RaQPg78a_FE/IMG_0924.JPG?imgmax=576"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwt0m-mUI/AAAAAAAACZk/RaQPg78a_FE/IMG_0924.JPG?imgmax=576" alt="" border="0" /></a>Jungle gym #17 was hiding in the trees<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwq6xql4I/AAAAAAAACZg/shoXUQSNc3c/IMG_0921.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwq6xql4I/AAAAAAAACZg/shoXUQSNc3c/IMG_0921.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />This was actually even taller then it looks in the picture, and on the other side was a yellow slide which was pretty much just a steep drop.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwoDFEi7I/AAAAAAAACZc/d7GCh7Mo37g/IMG_0920.JPG?imgmax=576"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwoDFEi7I/AAAAAAAACZc/d7GCh7Mo37g/IMG_0920.JPG?imgmax=576" alt="" border="0" /></a>And they had actual ponies! At a kindergarten!<br /></div>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-7330344129561853802008-07-14T06:39:00.002+09:002008-07-14T07:26:59.075+09:00TempuraSaturday afternoon my host mother and I picked up one of her friends, who had invited us to a fancy tempura restaurant. We drove downtown, and eventually came up to a very small traditional looking Japanese building squished within the midst of all the other large modern city buildings. The seating hostess, dressed in a traditional Japanese yukata, led us to a small tatami mat room where there were a number of seats surrounding the area where our tempura chef was cooking. Tempura is a very skillful art that requires many years of practice to perfect. Wow, was it amazing. We were served on piece at a time - numerous different fishes and vegetables that I have never even heard of, and each had a specific way to season it. Some we dipped in salt, some with lemon, and some with the usual tempura sauce mixed with minced Japanese radish. It was so perfect that it just melted in your mouth.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-77015674080667390112008-07-13T17:00:00.002+09:002008-07-14T06:38:55.322+09:00LibrariesJapan, or at least the Sendai area, seems to have some pretty awesome libraries. My host mom has taken me to three so far, and they've all been completely different and equally amazing.<br /><br />The first one was in downtown Sendai, a couple weeks back. It had crazy architecture, such as the glass elevators, and was decorated very retro.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpweShfoNI/AAAAAAAACZM/SyaGwoER99c/IMG_0728.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpweShfoNI/AAAAAAAACZM/SyaGwoER99c/IMG_0728.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The second library we were invited to because one of my host mom's friends actually works there. They had a bunch of activities set up for little kids, which we watched for a while, and then we went upstairs to the media room. It was so cool! They had dozens of large television sets set up with seats that had headphone jacks, and you could use them to watch any movie you wanted. My host mom and I spent the afternoon watching Kiki's Delivery Service.<br /><br />The third library is actually right next to my school and from the outside looks like a huge metal spacestation. My host mom brought me there for the first time after school on Friday. It was so beautiful, with glass windows that looked out over the endless forests covering the entire height of the two-story building. It wasn't just a library either. There seemed to be a small arena and a coffee shop as well. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwhel7BGI/AAAAAAAACZU/ren72CZ7RAk/IMG_0906.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpwhel7BGI/AAAAAAAACZU/ren72CZ7RAk/IMG_0906.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-29317432918388407572008-07-13T09:39:00.006+09:002008-07-14T06:24:18.536+09:00English ClassEvery week my host mom goes to her English class with an instructor from America. I went with her the first week, and somehow the entire class turned into a question and answer session with me. The five older women all got to go around and take turns telling me about themselves and then asking me questions. It was all very cute. Then the English instructor invited me to come back on Thursday nights for the class that he holds for college students. It's been really fun! There are always about a dozen or so Japanese students, and then a bunch of students from all over the world. I've met a girl from Sydney, a girl from Switzerland, two boys from America, and then this past week there was a whole group who had just flown in from England! They're here for a month to visit different colleges and help out with the English classes. I got to visit with the girl from Cambridge University, Hannah, and then also one of the guys from Oxford, Peter. It was kind of funny because he started talking about treacle and I was the only non-British person there who knew what in the world he was talking about. Also, all of the Japanese girls thought that Hannah (the girl in the green shirt) and I were sisters.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpxoVBgAuI/AAAAAAAACZw/pd-VmqNrgZk/IMG_0896_2.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHpxoVBgAuI/AAAAAAAACZw/pd-VmqNrgZk/IMG_0896_2.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-40827081266980823672008-07-10T18:36:00.004+09:002008-07-11T17:26:29.570+09:00Vanilla LotionApparently vanilla scented lotion does not exist here. I pulled out a bottle of it after school today (thank-you again Jacenta ;) ), and I was suddenly surrounded by a group of girls exclaiming how good I smelled. Only a bit awkward. I pulled the lotion back out and passed it around and they were all practically swooning they were so excited. Seriously, I've never seen anything like it; you'd think I was handing them each a million dollars. They all started bursting into hysterics over all of the boys they'd be able to attract - too bad there aren't actually any boys at our school. Then the entire rest of the day, down every hallway I went, there were hands waving in front of noses and more fits of swooning. It was the funniest thing ever.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-32085265382764547922008-07-10T18:11:00.000+09:002008-07-10T18:56:39.432+09:00Picture of Sendai Shirayuri Gakuen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHXLigTgKmI/AAAAAAAACYY/FGn31NA8-nU/s1600-h/IMG_0881.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHXLigTgKmI/AAAAAAAACYY/FGn31NA8-nU/s320/IMG_0881.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221303136653683298" border="0" /></a>It's a picture of my school! High schools in Japan are very different from high schools in America. You don't just get sent to the nearest one (except for exchange students), but rather you select the ones you'd like to go to, and then take really difficult entrance examinations to actually get in - sort of like our colleges I guess. Because of this, very few students actually live in the area. One of my friends actually takes the train from another prefecture everyday. She travels two hours each way, every single day.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-2795444708596528092008-07-10T17:41:00.003+09:002008-07-10T18:54:12.365+09:00Another Music StoryWednesday is the day that I have music classes three periods in a row. First, two periods of "music," then a period of "religious music." For "music" class, the sensei had given me two pieces to work on, which I did, and then I was to play them this past Wednesday in class. That was a disaster. My fingers decided that they didn't actually know how to play and would not move. The first piece was for the entire choir, which was fine, because at least they could drown out my playing. After that, the sensei told me that she had set aside the class time for me to give the class a performance. hahaha. No one had told me anything about that. I sat down and played Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu for the millionth time since I've arrived here, no problem. Then they wanted an encore! I was terrified. I tried my best to play Gershwin's Prelude No. 1 even though its been eons since I last played it. I guess it didn't go too terribly because they wanted ANOTHER encore. I had been afraid to play them Prokofiev's Diabolic Suggestion, because it tends to sound like a cat running across a piano and not many people can appreciate that it actually is an incredibly difficult piece. I finally decided to play it though, figuring that if they did think I was only banging on various keys, they at least wouldn't ask for another encore (my repitore of memorized pieces sadly ends here). When I finished I was amazed to find that they actually were impressed, and so gave a quick bow and ran back to my seat before they could ask for another song. A little while later though, the sensei asked me to come up and play the other piece she had asked me to prepare. Apparently this was her turn to preform and she would be singing a solo. She set the music in front of me and it was the same song she had given me two weeks previous, but the key had magically changed from F major, to D major. I guess it's a good thing that I was so terrified, because otherwise I would have died of laughter. The situation was exactly like a joke that my cello teacher used to tell.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-44829922993601755192008-07-08T06:11:00.002+09:002008-07-08T15:52:25.152+09:00My Host FamilyI've been here nearly a month and I just realized that I haven't written much about my host family. They have been amazing and I do not know I will ever be able to say goodbye to them in three weeks.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHMIRs0ObBI/AAAAAAAACXk/E-F-81VZtsM/s1600-h/IMG_0749.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHMIRs0ObBI/AAAAAAAACXk/E-F-81VZtsM/s200/IMG_0749.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220525493233544210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Host Mom</span> - My host mother is definitely the person with whom I have been the closest since I got here. She has done so much with me, and has shown me all over Sendai, and has been incredibly generous in teaching and showing me all that she can about Japan. In return, she has asked everything she can think of about America. It seems like everything we come across, she asks "In America, is similar?"<br />Every day after school she has afternoon tea waiting for me when I get home. During this time we talk about school, she teaches me some Japanese, and I teach her some English. I am amazed at what a determined learner she is! She has improved at English so much more then I ever could have imagined possible. It's amazing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHMJUkaF5CI/AAAAAAAACXs/l4iPzNZNwkE/IMG_0470.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 193px; height: 183px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SHMJUkaF5CI/AAAAAAAACXs/l4iPzNZNwkE/IMG_0470.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Host Dad</span> - I haven't had much time to spend with my host dad<br />as he works at the clinic all week long. The weekends we have had together though have been great. He's shown me lots around Miyagi (the area of Japan or "prefecture" that Sendai is in.) Even though his English is very limited, he likes telling me about random things such as the history of this bridge, or the origins of that festival. When he's not around he occasionally leaves small gifts, such as my favorite green-tea ice-cream, or episodes of kids' Japanese shows for me to watch.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHMK2Da23sI/AAAAAAAACYI/RouWk85YYWA/s1600-h/IMG_0852.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHMK2Da23sI/AAAAAAAACYI/RouWk85YYWA/s200/IMG_0852.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220528316799704770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Midori</span> - I'm beginning to think that my host sister, Midori, is the Japanese carbon copy of myself. We share many of the same likes and interests; she also plays the piano, our fashion sense is frightfully similar (her friends teased her the other day when she introduced me because we were wearing practically the same skirt and leggings,) and she studies NON-STOP. The other day I walked past her room after she had been studying for several hours, and saw that she'd fallen asleep at her desk. It's amazing how dedicated Japanese students are.<br />In just a few weeks, Midori leaves to study abroad in America for an entire year. When she's not studying, she asks me everything there is to know about American high school. She had a lot of fun looking through my yearbook from this past year, and now is all excited for Prom (they don't have proms here.) Also, we watched "High School Musical" the other night, which made her even more excited for life in America. I felt really guilty trying to explain to her that it wasn't a very good representation of American high schools.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ojichan and Obachan</span> - As I mentioned before, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHMLpmQAvgI/AAAAAAAACYQ/W2NynIolmtM/s1600-h/IMG_0890.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHMLpmQAvgI/AAAAAAAACYQ/W2NynIolmtM/s200/IMG_0890.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220529202322783746" border="0" /></a>my host grandparents (my host dad's parents) live directly next door, and join us for dinner every night. The grandma doesn't speak any English, but still enjoys talking to me in Japanese whether I understand her or not, and has the most adorable laugh. The grandpa does speak English, and he is so sweet! He is easily impressed by everything, such as my piano playing, my poor Japanese skills, and the fact that I can read and write in Japanese characters. He is also very interesting to talk to. He tells me a lot about the history of Japan, and frequently mentions how sad he will be when I leave.<br /></div>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-47242695605022989522008-07-07T23:50:00.009+09:002008-07-08T00:23:38.375+09:00Sweet Irony<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHIyZra2JOI/AAAAAAAACXM/KHMYh5X5qvM/s1600-h/IMG_0747.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHIyZra2JOI/AAAAAAAACXM/KHMYh5X5qvM/s200/IMG_0747.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220290334809269474" border="0" /></a>Japanese sweets are the best, mainly because they are not as disgustingly sweet and loaded with sugar as American sweets, and they are a million times more delicious.<br /><br />Still, I've been eating way too much, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHIzVjc9VkI/AAAAAAAACXU/FSx7GEgQSx8/s1600-h/IMG_0851.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHIzVjc9VkI/AAAAAAAACXU/FSx7GEgQSx8/s200/IMG_0851.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220291363462796866" border="0" /></a>and in a hopeless attempt to cut back a bit, I started giving the sweets that my host-mom packs with my lunch to my classmates. At first it was great; they were super appreciative, and couldn't thank me enough (even if it was nothing more then one of those little chocolate filled koala cookies).<br /><br /><br />Then it backfired on me.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHIzn4CiAPI/AAAAAAAACXc/6UqKfZHDviA/s1600-h/IMG_0894.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SHIzn4CiAPI/AAAAAAAACXc/6UqKfZHDviA/s200/IMG_0894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220291678226743538" border="0" /></a>The Japanese are extremely fond of giving gifts, and never pass up an opportunity to do so. Now I am suddenly bombarded by a parade of sweets from my classmates everyday. Not just little things either. Apparently one little koala cookie = an entire box of Elise Wafers in return. I'm going to have enough Japanese confectionery to last me a year by the time I go home. So much for trying to have less of it. lolLexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-28306994619854222202008-07-07T23:44:00.001+09:002008-07-07T23:50:03.684+09:00GymGym class here is so much fun. Haha. I never thought I'd actually say that. But it's so random that you can't help but love it. Unlike in America where we have separate classes for different sports, here we have a standard "gym" class where you never know what you'll be doing. So far we've had relays, tennis, badminton, volleyball, and gymnastics. Volleyball is terrible; I've become an expert at running away from the ball when it's heading for me. Gymnastics is amazing though! I'm having so much fun! I haven't done gymnastics of any sort since I was about five, and yet I can actually do somersaults backwards and forwards, and the sensei actually applauded me, which was pretty cool considering I was surrounded by Japanese girls, all of whom are beyond tiny and on the verge of being contortionists. Okay, run-on sentence is over. Obviously I've been speaking one- and two-word sentences for too long.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-36060301637230919892008-07-04T18:04:00.002+09:002008-07-04T18:09:10.896+09:004th of JulyHappy July 4th everyone! No one here in Japan even knows what July 4th is and I'm beginning to suffer withdrawals from the complete lack of celebrating. And fireworks! I miss my fireworks!<br /><br />I hope you all have a super day. Set off some poppers and sparklers for me!Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-76046796033345839352008-07-03T17:53:00.003+09:002008-07-03T18:33:52.890+09:00The Consequences of Language BarriersI'm beginning to think that language barriers deserve a bit more credit; they make life so much more amusing. Because of language barriers, I ended up singing in front of the entire school today. I'll explain.<br /><br />During lunch breaks and after school the past few days, my class has been rehearsing choir songs, and not once have they let me sit out. They insisted (by way of hand gestures and body language) that I join them. It was so nice of them to include me, but I have no singing experience at all. I had absolutely no idea what we were singing, but apparently did a stellar job of BS-ing it. Okay, not entirely; I actually did manage to learn one of their songs, and the majority of the other one, which made them all very pleased and even more eager to include me in their practices. Then today the entire high school filed into the auditorium for their big choir competition! I probably should have seen that coming. I really didn't expect to be singing Japanese songs in front of the entire school though. The competition was a huge event. It took the entire day, and all of our classes were canceled because of it. We didn't win, but we still had a lot of fun.<br /><br />So that's my story. The blond gaijin who can't really sing was in a Japanese choir competition today.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-66466955659595801822008-07-02T23:21:00.003+09:002008-07-02T23:54:44.285+09:00Go Eagles!This evening my host sister, Midori, and I went to the Rakuten Eagles baseball game. It was so much fun! My host mom dropped us off at Sendai station and we took a taxi to "Kleenex Stadium." Our seats were in the very front, about six rows back, a perfect view over everything. It was crazy; we were nearly hit by flying baseballs numerous times.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGuTsk3X_AI/AAAAAAAACW0/S6dVia_tx_o/s1600-h/IMG_0862.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGuTsk3X_AI/AAAAAAAACW0/S6dVia_tx_o/s320/IMG_0862.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218426987258313730" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After one of the innings, there was an awesome fireworks display, which made me so happy. I thought I'd be going the entire July 4th week without seeing any fireworks this year. That would have been sad. I got to see my fireworks though!!!<br /><br />Before the lucky 7th inning, we sent up a fleet of crimson balloons for good luck. I guess it worked because that's when our team scored their home run. It was so weird standing on my toes cheering, and actually being taller then everyone around me. haha.<br /><br />We won 4:0. Go Eagles!Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-63202381536291122252008-07-02T22:45:00.002+09:002008-07-02T23:19:56.009+09:00The Things You Learn In Japanese Catholic SchoolThis week has been back to school for me. I must say, there's never a dull moment there (except English class maybe). After a week of being gone, we had to start all over with everyone screaming KAWAII!!! at me every time I walk down the hall. I don't know how I'll ever live without it once I return to America. lol<br /><br />When I got off the bus this morning, two of the little elementary school girls ran up to me and said something in perfect sing-song unison. They were so adorable!!! I felt so bad though, because their voices were so melodious that I couldn't for the life of me understand what they were trying to say. But they were the cutest things ever!<br /><br />Homeroom this morning was hilarious. They passed <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/alexa.ophelia/SGuKZglYm-I/AAAAAAAACWY/uC4Nbh0LYOE/IMG_0880.JPG?imgmax=512"><span style="font-style: italic;">these</span></a> out. It's priceless, really. A full 25-page booklet, complete with illustrations, all in Japanese. This is the last thing I ever expected to be going over in an all girls Catholic high school in Japan.Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-64152293264041604612008-06-29T19:14:00.004+09:002008-06-29T19:20:59.727+09:00Sendai MuseumThe Sendai Museum was amazing. It was fascinating learning about the history of the city that I am staying in now. I saw some really incredible samurai armor, paintings of Masamune and his wife Megohime, and learned that Masamune was married off at the age of 13, to Megohime who was only 11. Also, Masamune went blind in his right eye from small-pox at the age of five, earning him the nickname “one-eyed dragon.”<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGdhNjjxPxI/AAAAAAAACWM/UCkoIUQsQ6g/s1600-h/IMG_0824.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGdhNjjxPxI/AAAAAAAACWM/UCkoIUQsQ6g/s320/IMG_0824.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217245578843471634" border="0" /></a>A copy of Masamune's iconic helmet with the crescent moon<br /></div>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-851977881673033095.post-74437419642596560382008-06-29T19:08:00.004+09:002008-06-29T19:14:21.760+09:00The Strangeness of JapanYesterday, after my lunch of jellied fish, and fish custard, we had squids for dinner. Whole squids with the head and tail and everything. I think this is the part where my sense of culinary adventure begins to wane. The squids kind of creeped me out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGdfaoxE09I/AAAAAAAACV8/2mxBVmYwc30/s1600-h/IMG_0807.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGdfaoxE09I/AAAAAAAACV8/2mxBVmYwc30/s320/IMG_0807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217243604556501970" border="0" /></a><br />Then today my host mom and dad took me to Sendai’s famous Kanezaki Belle Factory, where they have all kinds of kamaboko. Kamaboko is a processed fish loaf made from pureed white fish, and in my opinion not something to brag about. Whoever decided to process fish into a chewy piece of fish cake should be punished. Kanezaki also had some really weird mechanical fish contraptions. It was definitely one of the strangest places I have ever seen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGdf4CehiaI/AAAAAAAACWE/GL0eZ373h64/s1600-h/IMG_0821.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aY07o5zykDM/SGdf4CehiaI/AAAAAAAACWE/GL0eZ373h64/s320/IMG_0821.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217244109674219938" border="0" /></a>Lexihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212696080457093146noreply@blogger.com1