Japan Day 1--Travel

Well, we have all arrived safely in Japan. There were a few near misses (no trip is complete without them), but we made it through and I’m sitting at a table with Anna Schortmann, Ethan Hunter, and Mike Gilbert in the downstairs of the Nozomi center.

Ethan and I are the designated chefs for the duration of our stay here, and killing time trying to make the internet work before we need to start on breakfast.

But back to near misses. Wednesday night as I was packing, it suddenly occurred to me that I would need my passport. It’s one of those things that’s so obvious you assume you’ve already taken care of it—like inviting your best friend to a party at your house: of course she’s invited, so you must have already told her about it, right? Well, I meandered over to the drawer that I always keep it in and discovered that it was not in fact there. I did, however, find my international driver’s license (the one I didn’t get to use last year because Uncle Brian had to be chivalrous all the time—David Moore did let me drive once, though, bless him), and discovered that it’s valid for a year from the date I got it (August 23^rd of last year). Hooray!

Anyways, after searching in all the obvious places I told the boyfriend it was time for emergency prayer while I kept searching.

“Got it,” he said.

Thirty seconds later I found my passport under my bed.

I’m a big fan of the prayers that get answered in less than a minute. The prayers that take years to get answered “yes,” or “no” teach one patience and trust in God. The ones that get answered in thirty seconds make one all excited about the POWER OF GOD. I have now experienced both.

Passport tragedy averted, I experienced no other airline problems until we were all on our flight from Atlanta, GA, to Narita-Tokyo. Then I was just completely miserable for over 14 hours. A combination of antsyness from sitting still for so long, plus air sickness, made for a very long bout of grossness. Our flight was supposed to be 13 hours and 40 minutes, but ended up being 42 minutes later than expected. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing… until you realize that we got into Narita-Tokyo at 4:42pm (Japan time), our flight from Tokyo to Sendai was supposed to leave at 6:20pm, and we still had to go through customs, exchange our money, pickup our bags, check them in, then get bused to our flight. Losing 42 minutes was a huge blow to this process. Also I accidentally left my pillow and blanket in one of the customs sections and had to ask a nice Japanese flight attendant to go back and find it for me, which she kindly did.

Due to this time constraint we had what would have been a brief but hilarious comedy scene consisting of a slow-motion montage of our team jogging through the airport alongside some similarly-tardy, neatly dressed Japanese businessmen, their ties and our tongues flying in the breeze while elegant and smiling airline hostesses urged us on. To add a more serious tone, the theme music from Chariots of Fire could be playing, and anyone watching would be swept up into the drama and excitement that combined desperation and hope can bring.

This rush is also why I did not update anybody on the fact I’d made it to Japan alive (sorry, Garrett!)

We made the flight. Instead of the dreadful 7 hour drive from Tokyo to Sendai that we had to make last year, we hopped on a plane and were in Sendai in under an hour. It was a glorious relief. Cal and Edie Cummings, Yui-san, and some other people met us at the airport and drove us to the Nozomi center. It is beautiful. It seems so much bigger now, what with the walls, floors, and furniture, and everything. Cal and Yui took us through the “Rules of the House” and some of what our schedule will be like. Anna and I find it very different from last year, which was basically a “fly by the seat of our pants” sort of affair. This time around we have official jobs and everything. I ended up volunteering for cooking duty with JB and Ethan. Ironic, since I normally do not enjoy cooking. I do, however, sort of enjoy the power that comes with the title. Also, this is a very grateful crew.

Well, we are heading out to work in some strawberry fields and a private garden today. Cheers!

EDIT: Pictures!

Thursday in Atlanta, I meet the first of the team... Ed Pearce, Ethan Hunter, Jo Pearce, and Ben Schweitzer. 

Ben practices on the keyboard... IN THE NOZOMI CENTER. I remember passing bags full of tsunami sludge out of that window on the left while standing on 2x4 boards.

Out one of the windows. Mountains in the distance.

Most of the group in devotions this morning.

Anna Schortmann is glad to have her Pocari Sweat again. 

We found this fabulous caterpillar in a garden. Any ideas, Dr. Jenkins? 

Japanwards, ho!

Last year the night before I left for Japan I had to deal with all sorts of Traveling Travails thanks to Hurricane Irene and airlines confusing themselves and me.
Tonight there are no hurricanes in Atlanta, GA (that I am aware of), so I've just been packing and doing laundry.

Random aside--my spacebar was sticking, so I took it off and discovered several dust bunnies still in the fetal stage of development, and a mouse poop. I don't even.

Robert the magic Japanese dust bunny

This will be my keyboard some day. Then I will feed it to Robert. 

Okay, back to packing. 

Please pray we all have safe travels tomorrow... and the next day. :p

Cheers!

Japan, take 2

Welp, I am heading back to Japan this Thursday morning. Our entire team (minus Anna, who's flying from Germany) will meet in Atlanta, then fly to Tokyo. Blessing of blessings, we won't have to endure the interminable 6-7 hour drive from Tokyo/Narita to Yamomoto-cho at 55 mph in the dead of night with jetlag. Instead, we're flying from Tokyo to Sendai. Then the drive a half hour or so to the Nozomi center where we'll be staying.

A co-worker today asked me if I've started packing yet. I told her I'm more of a "start packing at midnight before the flight early the next morning" type of person. I have bought some things I'll need, though. I usually kind of end up picking a corner of my room, then for about a week ahead of time garnering articles of clothing, sunscreen, and the like into it--ready for the midnight-Wednesday packing. Actually, last year I started packing around 10pm, but then realized my flight out of Newark had probably been cancelled thanks to hurricane Irene, and spent an hour and a half figuring that out before I started packing again (only one airline thought it was cancelled--the other was under the impression it was not). Luckily, God decided he wanted me in Japan and arranged it so I managed to snag the VERY LAST SEAT on the plane from San Francisco to Tokyo. And two hours later than my original flight. This meant I got a whole four hours of sleep in that night before driving to Pittsburgh.

Well, I should probably go find something Japan-related and productive to do. Updates will continue.

The Results of Sleep Deprivation

Sunday night I went to bed at 2am because I was up late lesson planning, talking to my S.O., his brother, a friend of theirs (all different conversations), and a friend in Vietnam. This is important information for you to have because I had to get up at 6am Monday, which means I got 4 whole hours of sleep.

Anyway, I stumbled around the house doing useful things (I think I somehow even pretended to sweep and possibly mop the kitchen?--it's all sort of a blur now). I gathered up my messenger bag, ammo-bag purse, cell phone, tea mug, and lunch bag, slipped on my red heels, and headed for the kitchen door.

There is a large frosted window in this door through which you can peer down into the mudroom a few steps below. As I approached across the kitchen, I looked through this window and realized there was a puddle of pee on the mudroom floor. No, sorry, two puddles.

I opened the door and sighed. The cat was sitting on the windowsill directly to the right of the mudroom door leading outside.

"Really?" I said. "Really? You had to pee on the floor?" I then noticed a poop. "For reals?"

I walked down the steps and looked to the left, to the other side of the mudroom. The trashcan had been turned over and and contents dispersed over the floor, then surrounded neatly by several more urine deposits.

"The crap," I said to the cat. "What were you doing in here last night?"

I sighed. "Whatever," I said. "I can't deal with this right now; I've got to go."

I tipped precariously on heels under the weight of my burdens to the door and reached with my left hand to open it while at the same time I reached with my right hand (both hands still full of items) to give the cat an affectionate petting so she'd know I didn't hate her.

My hand was within an inch of the cat's face when some gear in my brain that had been rusted still with a lack of sleep suddenly ground its way free and I actually really saw the cat.

Guenevere our "cat"

Needless to say I said a bad word and jumped back on the steps to the kitchen door. The possum hunched down, but made no move to attack. I unloaded my burdens and took off my shoes (so I could escape quickly if our visitor decided he hated me). I then edged back to the door and opened it so the possum could escape. It was then that I remembered that possums are actually about as intelligent as a dirt-filled beer bottle; he refused to get down.

Freedom is clearly only a jump away. Instead I had to take five minutes and use a broom to try to push him off the ledge.

He only got more prickly about it, and determined not to move.

I finally got him dangling from that little bench, then dumped it over on him. He lay on his back for a moment before slowly rolling over and, purely by accident, ending up with his nose out of doors. As it was the way he was facing, he decided to move in that direction. He trundled slowly out onto the step and then into the grass. 

Once his feet touched grass, the three neurons in his brain fired and he realized he was free. He took off across the lawn towards the red barn. He had to swerve a few times, though, because a small rock in the yard looked temping as shelter.

Basically, possums are idiots, but definitely cuter up close than they are dead in the road. 

And also, for some reason, chocolate in the shape of body parts

Tonight at work a friendly co-worker called me over when she was putting bread in the oven.

"Hey Abby!" she said.

"What's up?" I asked, approaching.

"Some of us girls are going to go see a movie next week--want to join?"

"Ooh," I said. "Sounds cool--what movie?"

"Magic Mike," she said.

"What's that about?" I asked.

"Male strippers," she replied.

"Huh," I said. "How about you tell me when you guys go see a different movie, and I'd be totally game to hang out."

"Male strippers not really your thing?" she asked.

"Not so much," I said.

"Okay!" she said. We parted ways equably and went back to our respective jobs.

She's new; anybody else could've told her not to bother.

This is much more attractive, for one thing. 

Phone Adventures II and III

Thursday night I was chilling with my friend Christina at her house. We were drinking tea and talking Life.
Then we heard the sound of the Tardis materializing in the room. I checked, and I'd gotten a text from a random number: "Nice c-n u hope u home safe. Nite."

Not knowing who this person was, but willing to have some fun, I texted the person back with a greeting and said "How drunk are you?"

"Jimmy!!" the number replied.  "does it matter?" (all typing left intact)
Then, "4get-it wild 1"

I said something about knowing they were drunk from the lack of English typing skills and Jimmy laughed.

"Lol," he said. "mis-d that class"

I offered that maybe he should stop drinking while he was ahead. This seemed to cheese him off.

"I stop all the other shit that made me money after my son. Aint stop-n anyting.!"

I realized this was getting personal too quickly, so I told him I was proud that he'd stopped that other shit for the sake of his son--that was a really great thing. Also, I was not the person he thought he was texting; "my name is Joe," I said. This name was supplied by Christina, who was in hysterics over the whole affair, and agreed we oughtn't to use real names.

"Haha sorry joe" our new friend, Jimmy, replied.

I then said something about it being no problem--I've gotten random texts from wrong numbers before, and I just think it's amusing.

"FknLOL" Jimmy agreed.

I couldn't let this go and replied in good humour with "ChknYEA" to encourage him.

Jimmy then called and left me a semi-incoherent and very alcohol-laden voicemail explaining that he didn't know what my text response had meant, but I should call him whenever I had the chance (somehow I guess my voicemail answering thingy hadn't alerted him to the fact that I was not in fact the Joe he thought he was talking to).

I then sent him a text, explaining what had happened and that I do not actually know any Jimmies, and then, for good measure, "Jesus saves." Because, as Christina said, "why not?"
Jimmy pondered this for a few moments before responding.

"K," he said. "its all good. Nite."

I thought that was the end of my weird phone adventures, but it was not.

An hour or so later Christina and I went to bed. At 3:15am my phone rang. I usually think that if someone is calling me at 3:15 in the morning, it's either going to be a really weird phone call, or an emergency phone call. Both are worth answering.
I picked up the phone. "'lo?" I said.

"Hey," said the young male voice on the other end of the line. "Do you have Tabasco?"

"No. No, I do not in fact have any Tobasco. I think you've got the wrong number."

A pause. "No. I definitely don't have the wrong number. Who are you?"

"Abby," I said, forgetting that we weren't using real names.

"Abby...?" he pushed for further information.

"Maarsch," I said, regretting it as soon as it came out.

"Don't we go to school together?" he asked.

"I don't think so," I said. He then told me his name was Dunlan or Dolan or Dexter or something like that.

The next morning I couldn't remember the name he'd told me, and all that came to mind was "Dolan." Sad day.

"Nope," I said.

He then somehow pulled me into a two minute conversation about schools in the area and whether I'd been to SRU and when I told him I graduated from Grove City he said "Ooh. Grove City sucks."

I didn't really respond with more than a grunt of acknowledgement that he had said something, and he seemed disappointed.

"Okay," I said at last. "Well, it's late, and I'm really tired, so I'm going back to bed."

"Goodnight!" he said, and hung up.

I'm thinking it was probably a friend of Jimmy's, intent on revenge or a good time. It seemed as if everything he was saying was intended to elicit some sort of reaction from me, and I wasn't giving him any of the reactions he was expecting. Luckily this seemed only to amuse him, not anger him.

And thus ends another tale of me and my cell phone.

Horse pictures plus some ungulates. Nothing to see here.

Gage and Tomme

Tomme with his mane all down.

Ronni and I took Tomme out for a spin during one of the first warm days this spring. 

Gage loves hugs.

He is shameless and sometimes makes a pest of himself and won't leave me alone because of his touchiness. 

It's pretty cute, though.

 
Hayden, Isaac, and Gage/Gauge.


This is Yearling. She is obnoxious and ugly (half friesian and half gypsy). One day she will grow into herself and be lovely. Perhaps. We are still working on her letting me touch her without throwing pretend tantrums.

Molly when still very pregnant. Yearling being obnoxious. 

Momma Molly. <3

I got to be the first person to find Molly's baby. 

Unfortunately, Molly stopped producing milk for some unknown reason, and Ronni had to get a surrogate mare to feed him. But Baby Bubba got pretty skinny before that happened, hence why he's looking a little droopy. He's recovering quickly, though!

Nathan. 

Nathan is some sort of African antelope thing. I forget what he's called.

Nathan was unimpressed with my S.O., but this deer liked him okay.