Pre-Packing

So it begins!

In an effort to make this move as smooth as possible, I'm starting the process now. I'm leaving sometime soon and Jeff will be leaving sometime after me, so the actual packing and moving will be somewhat confusing. Throw in a required move to another apartment before we even leave Misawa and it's a little chaotic over here.

I'm starting the fun process of getting our stuff ready to be packed. Taking things off the walls, cleaning out the stuff we don't use, sorting items into piles, etc. etc. etc. I need to ship some items home for when I go home, Jeff needs some stuff out in the new apartment, and there's some things we can pack up right now and not use until we get home. (Books, mostly!)

It's amazing how much STUFF you can cram into a two bedroom apartment. It's even more amazing to find things we haven't touched since we moved here. I've kept every phone I've had for some reason... and found them neatly piled in a drawer. Why do I have them still?

I'm slightly afraid to find out what else is buried in our apartment...

Blossoms

Without argument, one of the most well-known pieces of Japan is the beautiful cherry blossoms that cover the country come spring. They may bloom in other countries too, but cherry blossoms will always remind me of our time in Japan.

It's bittersweet to see them blooming now. For someone who's never been into trees or flowers, these little suckers have come to mean a lot to me. After the devastating earthquake and tsunami in 2011, the beginning of spring and the new life these blossoms signified hit me hard. The cyclical nature of well, nature, and the way the Japanese dug right into rebuilding and restarting got wrapped up in the blooming and falling of these little blossoms.

Because they bloom once, and for so quick a time, the blossoms can't help but be associated with the passing of time. They flourish for a week in the end of April or early May, then are overtaken by sprouting green leaves. Since our time has been limited in this country, that passage of time resonated a lot with me.

This is my last year in Japan. It's likely we'll never come back to Misawa or Japan at all. Leaving Lemoore didn't hold this bittersweet transition for me. I didn't ever feel like Lemoore was home. Misawa may be far from friends and family, but we still fell in love with the country, the culture, and everything about Japan. We missed our true home, but made a happy home here.

Seeing the blossoms bloom and knowing my time is ticking just makes me think back to all our experiences in Japan, which is what got me started blogging one yesterday.

Here are my older posts with cherry blossoms - just because they are so damn beautiful.
2011 - With a Cherry on Top
I don't have any pictures from 2012, dang!
2013 - Walk Around Town
2013 - Hirosaki Castle Cherry Blossom Festival

And this one is my favorite picture of the bunch.

Sumo Wrestling

Don't judge, but we took this trip in September 2012 and I'm just now getting around to blogging it. I'm terrible with this habitual blogging thing. But I've been thinking about our travels in Japan a lot as our time winds down, so I wanted to write down the memories before they fade.

As I said, this was in 2012. We signed up for a trip through base that included transportation and hotel and transportation to the sumo tournament, so details were minimal. It was our first trip to Tokyo and we were so excited to get to the big city. I'll have to share the rest of our trip next. 

The sumo tournament was the main event. Wikipedia has a pretty good description of the basics of sumo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sumo 

The arena is round, with the mat in the middle of the stadium. The closest seats were mats on the floor, but our seats were regular stadium seats. There were headphones with English translations available, but we decided to just enjoy the visual. We figured it wouldn't be too hard to guess the winners of each match. 

Each tournament lasts for several days. We just went to one day in the middle of the tournament. Our tour guide excitedly told us which wrestlers were doing well, but those kind of details fly right over my head even in American sports. The postered wrestler on the left is a yokozuna or "grand champion". He has the white belt to signify his status. There are generally only one or two yokozuna active in wrestling at a time, and it's a highly regarded status.

Jeff's favorite fact that the tour guide shared was about pay. Only the top performing wrestlers are paid. I think it was something like the top 10%. If you fall below that rank, or never reach that rank, you are not paid for the tournaments. Their salaries are much more modest than similar athletes in America. I don't trust Wikipedia for exact figures, but the link above says the yokozuna's salary in 2006 was only about $36,000.

The crowd grows as the day goes on. We got there early because we were so curious. These early wrestlers were relatively unimportant, so the audience was scarce. By the time we got to the last round of wrestlers, the place was packed. Our tour guide said most serious sumo fans only show up for the last few rounds because those are the only ones that really matter.

The rituals before beginning a match were so interesting. And lengthy. If needed, someone would smooth the clay of the ring. The judge would sprinkle salt on the ring. The wrestlers would stretch their legs on the outskirts of the ring, then do this seated pose at their corners. 

The would move to the middle to repeat the leg stretches. Some of these hefty males could get their feet higher than I thought possible.

They would then take this pose until the judge signaled that the match could begin. The object of the match is fairly simple - knock our opponent out of the ring or onto the floor. I'm sure there are more rules to this, but we didn't get into the details. 

Something else I found interesting - the judges are ranked just like the wrestlers. Note this judge's outfit in comparison to the one above. Only the most prestigious judges mediate the top wrestlers' matches.

The matches were pretty entertaining. Some of the wrestlers would (painfully, I'm sure) try to lift or throw their opponent by grabbing the belt he wore. Some of the smaller wrestlers would try to dodge or duck and throw their opponents off balance. Jeff and I enjoyed guessing how long the match would take and who would win. Some matches would end in seconds, some would take a minute or two. It's a quick sport.

Each division of wrestlers began with a little procession. It sounded like the announcer named each wrestlers as he entered the ring. They did a little ritual hand clap or something and then exited to wait for their individual matches. 

(Sidenote - can you spot the white wrestler?)

The more prestigious wrestlers had flags - maybe signifying their wins or titles. These were all the flags of either the yokozuna or his opponent, I'm not sure. 

The rituals grew longer as the ranks grew higher. I believe this is the yokozuna, and there was obviously some special ritual to complete here. We might have learned if we had taken the translated headphones, but we enjoyed the matches nonetheless.

We both really enjoyed seeing this sport in person. While it's not something I'd turn on the TV to watch or keep track of the rankings, it is a quick paced and entertaining sport. If tournaments were closer to Misawa, we might have returned for more. I'm glad it was one of the trips we took while we were here. Sumo wrestling is still a huge aspect of Japanese culture and it's entangled in the history of Japan. It's a different experience entirely to see it happening in person. Japanese also play baseball and soccer, but it was fun to see a sport so different from American sports.

Transitions

I work with toddlers right now. One of the most stressful times of the day: transitions. Toddlers don't like change, don't like having to stop what they're doing to go do something else. It's chaotic and stressful and a simple activity like cleaning up to go play outside can cause meltdowns and panic.

Adults really aren't that different. We don't like change either. We may not throw ourselves down on the floor in a screaming fit, but the chaos of a big change in life can throw us for a loop too.

The transition from military to civilian life is something we've been planning for, waiting for, and looking forward to for years. Somehow, it changed from waiting forever for this time to come to holy cow, it's almost here.

My time in Misawa is winding down. I'm quitting my job next week, so I have some time to do things like frantically pack our things and have wisdom teeth removed (guess which one sounds more fun to me!). I'm mailing clothes home to my parents. I'm slowly preparing for the travel back, the details, the JOB, the apartment, you know - the details. It's exciting and scary and everything in between. The amount of choices we have without military orders astounds me, but it also makes narrowing things down hard. We can live in ANY city we want! We can pick ANY apartment we like! We can pick ANY jobs we can find! But we're leaving the safety net of a steady income and all the benefits. I don't yet feel like throwing myself on the ground in a fit of screaming, but I'll keep you updated ;)

I've lived in Misawa longer than any city since I've left home. It's been a string of two year living locations, but we've passed three years in Japan and we're still here. We moved here in January 2011. I was twenty-three. I could write a book on everything that's happened while I've lived here. From national disasters to personal triumphs, it's been a surprising couple of years.

While I can't wait to get back to the states and everything that entails, saying goodbye to this Japanese life will be hard.

The Descent

When I last left you, we had made it to the top of Mt. Fuji, finally. I was severely injured and barely able to walk. Jeff and James were searching for the first aid station.

Okay.

The boys brought our completed hiking sticks back and sat down to share their news. Apparently, there is NO first aid station at the summit. They spoke with the people at the little restaurant and shop area and they explained we had to go back down to the 8th station for first aid.

They swore it wasn't too far.

I gritted my teeth and tried to suck it up. Just a little more until we got to the doctor. Okay, it is what it is. I can't stay on this mountain the rest of my life. I'm sure motivating thoughts like these ran through my head as we packed up our bags and prepared to descend.

As mentioned, the trail up the mountain is separate from the trail back down. We walked oh so slowly over to the descent.

And then it just got bad.

The climb was mostly rocky inclines and dirt paths. The descent was this loose gravel and sandy soil that slipped and slid under our feet. Instead of carefully and slowly stepping down the path, we were sliding all over the path. Every slip of my foot was a shooting pain that radiated up my body. I couldn't catch the hang of walking down this slippery hill, so I slid every third step. It was dusty, from all the loose soil. We came prepared with bandannas for our faces, but my eyes watered until I couldn't see clearly. And then they watered more each time I slipped. I reached that awful point past pain where I believe I was openly sobbing as we walked. It was pretty pathetic. We all knew it was the only way, but god it was awful. And it wasn't just awful for me. Jeff needs to take care, and to watch me in such pain with no way to help or stop what we were doing was such a stress on him as well. It was just awful.

We reached a log on the side of the road. There had been no helpful signs and no clear view of this 8th station. The log looked like an entry to a station of some sort, so I sat down and cried while Jeff raced in to try to find help. He came back saying something along the lines of "this wasn't it, we had to continue down the mountain"

Now I had toughed it out and sucked it up for hours today. I had broken through exhaustion and pain and damn near everything in me to get this far. But I was out. Empty. Completely drained and just hurting. So I said "no". I said I couldn't do it any more and kept sitting on the log. I didn't know how I was going to get off the mountain, but I wasn't walking anymore.

This was the point that Jeff lost it a little. Remember, he's in the terrible position of watching me delirious in pain and being completely unable to help. He decided to get me down the mountain by creating a sled out of one of our backpacks. That amazing man, he was going to find a way. Jeff and James discussed the logistics of this idea and probably more as I sat on the log and cried.

I'm sure we were quite the visual for fellow hikers.

We caught the attention of, of all people, a Canadian hiker. A Canadian hiker, all the way over here in Japan?! He stopped and very nicely asked if something was wrong and if he could help. God bless this stranger, he said he would hike all the way down to the 8th station and relay our situation and come back up to help. He had also just hiked this mountain and was probably just as exhausted as us, but was totally willing to help a stranger in pain. People will amaze you when you least expect it. We convinced him not to do all that.

Our little group caused an even bigger scene as hiker after hiker stopped to ask if we were okay and the Canadian hiker (who spoke better Japanese than us) relayed the situation. It was like an attraction that just grew a bigger audience. I swear at one point 15 people were circled around me speaking in various languages about getting me down the mountain. The Japanese understood I was hurt badly and could not walk. There was one amazing lady absolutely determined to help.

During this chaos, Jeff was frantically trying to get ahold of our insurance company. We needed to notify them before I was admitted into any Japanese hospital and we were under the understanding that the first aid place would admit me right away. He was calling our travel guide to explain the situation, he was calling friends in Misawa to find the insurance number, he was calling like crazy. All through terribly spotty reception, because hello, we're on a mountain.

All the chaos is funny now, but I'm fairly certain none of us smiled during this saga.



Apparently there are bulldozers trucks that travel up and down the mountain to transport workers and do...whatever else they need to do. By some weird coincidence, one happened to be driving down the mountain with a trunk full of workers.

The nice Japanese woman very forcefully asked the driver to stop and spoke to him in Japanese rapidly. We never figured out what she said or asked, but somehow she got him to agree to bring me and one person into the truck to take me down to the 6th station, where he was going. This is against the rules in every form of the word, but she must have been very persuasive.

Because Jeff was still trying to get into touch with everyone and trying to cope with the stress of injured Teri and reception-less mountain, he decided he needed to walk and find his calm while James rode with me. Since James was a little removed from the pain, he kept his cool. So about six Japanese men hoisted me up into the truck and James climbed in after.

Scariest ride of my life!

Pardon the terrible face!

So the inclines on the descent are still pretty steep and this truck was booking it. Apparently they drive forward down one turn all the way to the edge of the road, then reverse down the next turn all the way to the edge of the road and so on. Every time, it felt like we were about to fall off the mountain. We were bouncing around the truck like crazy and it was just the craziest ride. I think James and I just laughed as we rode because it was so ridiculous and so relieving that I was getting down a major chunk of the mountain.

Our tour guide worked some magic while we were descending. Apparently there are horse rides available between the 6th and 5th stations so she worked it out for me to ride one down the rest of the way. I think we paid $50, but I honestly couldn't have cared how much it cost as long as I didn't have to walk.

The lovely bulldozer driver dropped us right in front of an office at the 6th station, and the nice workers helped me into a chair to wait for the next step of the descent. James tried to get in touch with Jeff and figured out that he was making his way down the mountain, just more slowly than us obviously. I waited patiently for the horse. As I sat and calmed down, I realized how incredibly hungry I was after all the climbing.

I've never ridden a horse in my life. James grew up on a ranch. He thought my trepidation about climbing on the very calm horse was hilarious. He walked next to the horse as the tour guide walked him down the path and took pictures of me. I was so nervous! The last leg of the walk is cobbled stones and since it was wet, the horse was slipping as he walked. And he kept huffing when people got close to him so I don't think he enjoyed the crowded path. Still, I was so grateful for the horse and the guide and the help down the last leg of the descent.

We got back to the 5th station and a very nervous tour guide. She was ready to send us to the hospital if needed and a few of our fellow hikers that made it back early were eager to help however they could. I knew that the worst was over now that we were down the mountain though. I didn't need a Japanese hospital, it wasn't broken. I wanted to wait and be seen by the Americans in Misawa once our trip was over, so I assured them no hospital was necessary and James and another hiker helped me over to the restaurant area. We called Jeff again and he was still rapidly climbing down the mountain.

Since we still had plenty of time (the tour didn't leave for hours since we made it down the mountain a little faster with the truck and all), James and I hobbled over to a restaurant to get some food and water. Jeff eventually met up with us and all was well again.

We waited impatiently for the last stragglers to board the bus and head back to the hotel. We all washed the sweat and grime off and fell asleep almost immediately after getting some food.

The next day Jeff and James ventured out into Tokyo to see some sights and stretch their legs. I stayed in bed and iced my foot. I had some of the most glorious naps that day. My foot was still in pain but manageable so we could finally relax and enjoy the last day of vacation.

Once we got back to Misawa, I began the fun process of recovery. I had badly strained the tendon on the bottom of my foot connecting my heel and ball of the foot and recovery was a bitch. It took months but my foot is finally back to the state it was before the trip. I can run again, I can stand all day with minimal pain, and I don't have to worry about turning too quickly and sending it back into shooting pain.

The journey was a once in a lifetime experience. Despite the pain and rather unique events, I'm so glad I did it. It made me appreciate all my body can do. It made me appreciate just how much my husband supports me. It made me truly appreciate health and the ability to do simple things - like walk.

I have bragging rights for the rest of my life that I made it to the top of Mt. Fuji. And I have a truly unique and hilarious story about getting down the mountain. Because now that the memory of the pain has faded, it has to make you laugh. Who rides a bulldozer down Mt. Fuji anyways?