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Coming Home

The first thing I said to my dad when I got off the plane at Dulles two-ish weeks ago was, “I’m not doing this again till I come home for good in 3 years.” It also happened to be Father’s Day. I am officially the worst daughter ever. But seriously, what a trip! As I’ve mentioned before, my new job sent me back home to the DC area for two weeks of training, which I was not thrilled about only because I had just recovered from the lengthy trip over here in the first place. “What do you mean I have to go back already?!”

All in all though, it was a wonderful visit,and I am grateful for the free trip back (minus the flights themselves and associated recoveries…those really were quite agonizing.) In a serendipitous twist of fate, my aunts and uncles from Florida – one of whom has terminal brain cancer – just so happened to be visiting my Dad during a portion of my stay. It was wonderful to spend time with her, and to take her to the National Cathedral, which was one of her many DC bucket list items. There was prayer, lighting of memorial candles (I lit one for Habu Lily), and tours of all my favorite nooks and crannies. She even found the perfect set of rosary beads to take home.

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I was also able to spend some quality time with my in-laws, which included a tour of the West Wing. It had been a while since I’d visited the White House at all, but this was a particularly up-close and personal view of where all the action actually occurs. I was struck by how understated most of it was, and kind of proud that our President is not entitled to anything overly opulent or pretentious, as many other world leaders are. Still, it was exciting, intriguing, and greatly tickled my fancy. I know Chuck was super jealous to miss out on this one!

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 I was not authorized a rental car, and I didn’t want anyone to feel pressured to drive out to lazy Springfield to see me while I was home on such short notice, but I was lucky enough that a few friends were able to come have dinner with me at my hotel. I took no pictures, which is very unlike me, but we all had a great time with our unexpected opportunity to catch up in person. Houlihan’s was the hotel restaurant that wreaked havoc on my body for the first week before I adjusted to its mediocre fare, but I now associate it with some pretty fond memories, with both old friends and new. 🙂

The training itself was overwhelming at first – at least due in part to my excessive jet lag (who can sit and pay attention for 8 hours straight every day when your body’s clock is on the other side of the world?) – but I learned a great deal and met/bonded with some pretty cool people. We are scattered at military installations all over the world, but it’s nice to know people everywhere. Odds are good that I will run into them again.

I can’t lie, though. While I miss my friends, family, and many things about ‘Murica, my countdown to getting “home” again started rather shortly after I arrived in DC. I’ve only been in Okinawa for about two months, but it’s funny how Home has become wherever Chuck and Annie Bean are. I mean.. who would have thought? 🙂

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A Few of my Furry Friends!

It’s kind of sad, but I have more feline friends than human ones at this point. I’m back to paying regular visits to the shrines down by Uken Beach and have a posse of regulars who flock to me as soon as I exit my car or dismount my bike. Other people feed them for sure, but no one else brings tuna fish… so I am definitely their fave 🙂 Here are six of them, with a few details about each in the captions! Crazy cat lady… what?

Introducing: Thomas, Merckel, Bethany, Elf, Simone, and Bertha.

Thomas: at one point a total alpha tomcat, but he seems to have toned down lately. I like to think it’s because he knows I’ve had issues with his behavior in the past! You get more tuna when you’re NICE!
Merckel: shy and lanky gal with a mutilated tail; she always seems perplexed or appalled by something. Super athletic!
Bethany: pregnant mama-to-be, and sweet as pie. I spoon feed her directly to make sure the more aggressive kitties don’t steal her share! If I could take one home, it would be her!
Elf: poor guy’s been sick with a stuffy nose :-\ He has two doppelgangers that occasionally show up that must be his siblings. I get them confused easily, so I call them all “Elf” because they are petite and, well, elfin looking.
Simone: kind of a recluse, and bullied by the other cats. It’s always a struggle to give her a decent share! Sad.
Bertha: pregnant mama-to-be, and total b*tch to the other cats, especially Simone. I don’t know why I put up with her. She’s super flirty with me though!

 

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My Problem With #YesAllWomen

I’ve been thinking long and hard about this. I agree with most of what it has to say and don’t deny any of it. However, I have a few issues with the movement, and I say that as a woman, a feminist, and someone reasonably well-versed in the realities and psychology of rape culture.

First, I feel like #YesAllWomen is dangerously close to straight up fear-mongering. Every woman has her own quiver of experience with sexual harassment and assault, and I am no exception to that. There are certain realities in our culture that absolutely should be addressed and changed. But do I really walk around every day in fear of being assaulted or harassed? Do I really view every man as a potential rapist, as many of these activists are claiming I do? Hell no! And what a sad, misguided way to look at the world and to teach our daughters, especially in privileged American society (which is where many of these voices are coming from.) Now, if I lived in India or South Africa, or even in the American inner city, it would be a different story. But I don’t – so why are you insisting that all women live in some sort of fearful haze? I know I am not the only one who doesn’t.

Secondly, there seems to be an underlying effort to undermine the notion of common sense. I think we all know that while we should be able to dress however we want, wearing a miniskirt with condoms in my purse will be more inviting for some rapists in the same way that leaving my car unlocked with the iPod in the glove compartment will entice more burglars. Awareness and acknowledgement of this reality does not make me anti-feminist or victim blaming. It just makes me not naive. However, it must also be noted that while I’ve been harassed when dressed like a skank at a party, I’ve also been harassed when dressed like a prude at the library (and even at church!) So I completely agree that wardrobe choices are a dumb point of burden in rape cases and the question should not even exist when a violent crime has been committed against you. #YesAllWomen is right in this way. However, I feel like the movement is encouraging women to stop being aware of these things, and to do whatever we want – that we can walk around naked with our legs spread without consequence, and that it’s a form of victim blaming to learn self defense because it puts the burden of prevention on the woman, not the man. Huh? That makes no sense to me! It ends up just sounding really ridiculous – as if we were telling people we should leave our doors unlocked with the gun on the table because the murderers should just stop murdering. You don’t say.

#YesAllWomen is shaming an entire gender in the hopes of eliminating rapists worldwide by emphasizing the fear that women apparently live with every day. It spreads the message that all men fall on the Rapey & Misogynistic spectrum somewhere, and that it’s anti-feminist for us to make our own decisions and use common sense on how to best protect ourselves from this omnipresent threat. “View every man as a threat – but don’t do anything logical to calm your fear because that’s not your responsibility and it’s not how the world should work! Let’s just change the Rapey Male Species with our hashtag of guilt and then we can walk around freely from fear… naked.”

In all seriousness… I completely agree that we should teach our boys not to rape, rather than blame the victim for getting raped. You can count on the fact that my boys (if I have them), will be taught to respect women for their intelligence and humanity, and both my hypothetical sons and daughters will be taught the power of “no.” I want to balance their worldview with ideals of how things should be, but also the reality of what is, and how to deal with that. Candy is delicious and it should be okay to take some from an old stranger… but it’s not… so get your own candy. I want them to know that alcohol can make both men and women do things that are out of character and potentially dangerous, and the decisions made while intoxicated can ruin lives. I don’t want them to be afraid or to shelter themselves, or to blame themselves when something goes wrong  –  I just want to help them be smart. And while #YesAllWomen no doubt agrees with all these things, I feel that it focuses too much on instilling fear and resentment by telling women they don’t have to be (or shouldn’t have to be) smart anymore. While I get the idealism behind that point, it still irks me.

Portraying all men as rapists and all women as victims is NOT the answer. All men are not potential rapists – the same way all black men aren’t thugs, all Muslims aren’t terrorists, all gay people don’t have AIDS, and all teenaged girls aren’t bullies. Sweeping generalizations never do anyone any good. There are better ways to empower and instill change!

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Asian Food Porn 3.0

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Featuring Saturday night dinner with friends at Sushi Zen in Yomitan: the Zen Roll! Most of the rolls I ordered (especially the Typhoon Roll) were decadent and way too large to eat without cutting up or taking bites.

Sushi Zen is Japanese-owned but for American customers only – no Japanese allowed unless they have a membership. Totally odd concept to me… But it was yummy!

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Osaka & Nara: First Trip to the Mainland

One of my good friends from the U.S. is half Japanese. Much of her family still resides in Japan, so she had long planned to spend a couple of weeks this May and June visiting the country. Luckily, I was able to meet her and her husband for a weekend in Osaka. It was off to a great start when I realized that my airplane was pink:

Peach Airlines, you're adorable

Peach Airlines, you’re adorable

We spent Friday night and Saturday mostly in the Shinsaibashi district. It is very much as you would imagine a large Asian city – lots of bright colors, large signs, trendy indoor shops, and gaudy figures. We ate a lot of yakitori (fried meat on skewers) and I even tried chicken heart (off someone else’s plate, of course… I am not brave enough to order that on my own!) Honestly, it wasn’t half bad. The one food that I did not try and should have was the Osakan specialty takoyaki, which is basically a round, fried octopus fritter. Yum? Anyway, I do apologize for the lack of food porn photos!

Shinsaibashi by night!
Shinsaibashi
Shinsekai

Saturday evening we visited Osaka Castle, which was one of my favorite attractions. It played a major role in the unification of Japan in the 16th century. During World War II, the arsenal became one of the largest military armories, employing 60,000 workers. Bombing raids targeting the arsenal damaged the main castle tower and killed 382 people. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to go in, but I found it to be strikingly beautiful. I also loved that the grounds were populated with fat lazy cats 🙂

Osaka Castle peering from the trees
I blend right in!
Osaka Castle looking grand

Following our excursion to the Castle, Alisa and I enjoyed a night out with some of her friends. We enjoyed peach shisha, mojitos, and mostly American music (which I found interesting) at a Shinsaibashi lounge known to be a social hub for the international community. Many nationalities were represented there, though I was certainly the only white American girl in the building!

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The next day was logistically interesting, but quite memorable. We rode the train for an hour before arriving in picturesque, ancient Nara, the land of temples, shrines, and Bambi’s. There were deer everywhere – in parks, on temple grounds, in busy shopping areas – just waiting to be fed with a pack of biscuits you could purchase for less than 200 yen. As an avid animal lover, I was completely delighted by this.

Want a biscuit?
Of course she wants a biscuit!
BFFs

Then of course, there were the temples. We only had time for two, but I feel like they were the main two. First we visited Kofuku-ji Temple, established in 669 by a wife wishing for her husband’s recovery from illness. It was an important center for Buddhism and retained influence over the imperial government, even by “aggressive means” in some cases.  The second was Todaiji Temple, which is dated back to 729 and serves as the Japanese headquarters of the Kegon school of Buddhism. It currently houses the world’s largest bronze statue of Buddha.

Kofuku-ji Temple
World’s largest Buddha
Golden Hall & Pagoda – Kofuku-ji Temple
Todai-ji Temple
Todaiji Temple

It was sweltering outside, and since we had checked out of the hotel already, we had to tote all of our belongings with us, but the sites (and the deer!) were completely worth it. All in all, a wonderful weekend in Osaka!

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Memorial Day Adventuring: Fukushuen Gardens & Katsuren Castle

Not everything about this past weekend was depressing. During the “up” times, Chuck and I ventured out twice to explore some local Okinawan attractions. The first was Fukushuen Gardens in Naha, which is actually a Chinese-style garden established to honor the relationship between China and the Ryukyu Islands (of which Okinawa is a part.) The relationship goes back over 600 years, and as I have noted in previous posts, there is quite a bit of Chinese influence here. ImageThe gardens were lovely and expansive, even if the water was rather sickly green. I particularly enjoyed the large waterfall, the numerous turtles and fish, and the gazebo-like structures scattered about for relaxation and shade. Of course, there could always be more flowers! I told Chuck that when we are older and richer we can have a garden like that… so long as we get a professional landscaper to do all the work, since I have a brown thumb! 🙂

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The second trip took us to nearby Katsuren Castle, which is only 25 minutes from where we live. In fact, we could see our Tower from the top of the Castle! Now, when I say castle, I actually mean ruins. There isn’t much to the place, but it makes for a fun excursion nonetheless. It dates back to the 15th-century, when a lord named Amawari reveled in its golden era. It is perched on a magnificent hill with a simply stunning view of the ocean and the village below.

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Side note: it’s really interesting to see how the Japanese manage their tourist attractions. There were quite a few occasions where I thought to myself, “This would NEVER fly in the U.S.!” Case in point, the fact that there is no railing on the top of the castle (note the lower left corner photo of me standing on the ledge in the above collage.) There were a number of high-risk areas in the Fukushuen Gardens, as well – gaps in walkways over water, slippery stones, etc. Not that I mind. I actually really like that there is no added hindrance to the beauty of the sites. But in my American mind, I could only think of the lawsuits that could come out of places like these. The accidents! The children! Oy vey.

Anyway, here are some more shots of Katsuren Castle and its surroundings. I kinda want to go back for a romantic late-night picnic someday. It was completely unsupervised 😉

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In Memoriam: Habu Lily

ImageAs you may have guessed from the title, this is not a happy post. At first, I didn’t want to talk about it at all, but now I feel the need to write about it – almost as an act of closure.

Earlier this month, I described how I found the local cat hangout, near the beach among the Japanese graveyards. Well, my Facebook and Instagram friends will know that a few days ago, I found an adorable kitten there – not truly alone, since there were the other usual cats around, but without an obvious mother or siblings nearby. Ultimately, I brought her home and gave her a bath, food, Frontline for parasites, and as many cuddles as I felt was safe given her unknown health condition. She was an affectionate and bone-thin little thing with fluffy fur but gooey eyes – sweet and social, yet uncertain and nervous in my apartment. I even let her meet Annie (albeit from a safe distance that precluded any physical contact.) Chuck returned home from his trip, and after discussing the situation, we agreed to return her to the shrines the next morning to grow up with the other wild cats (and hopefully Mama Cat), cleaned and fed and with regular visits. As I’ve mentioned before, we are not yet free to keep a kitten, much less a feral one that wasn’t fully litter trained (I had several unhealthy looking poops to clean up the next morning…)

She seemed excited to be back at the shrines the next day. She recognized the other cats and pranced around in the sunshine. Without fail, I had brought tuna with me, and fed her and the other kitties like normal. Then, she approached Thomas (the male alpha cat), who promptly swatted her down with a force that made both Chuck and I cringe. My eyes watered as the other cats looked at her with recognition, but not fondness. Maybe this was just the natural order of things… putting a kitten in her place? I prayed that Mama would emerge and find her soon. Chuck and I forced ourselves to walk away, while the cats finished their nibbles. We agreed to check on her the next day, and if she was still alone and didn’t seem any better off, we’d take her back home and commit to keeping her – whatever it took.

We did return the next day and eventually found her lying between two graves… barely conscious, eyes sealed shut with goo. Dismayed and feeling horridly guilty, I Googled for a local Japanese vet while Chuck drove home for supplies. I wet a large leaf and wiped her eyes clear, and managed to get her to drink some water. She could barely hold her head up, and was even bonier than the previous day. I perched her on a shrine to examine her more closely, reached back around to grab something, and she promptly fell off… hard. I hated myself for adding to her pain, but she barely seemed to notice as I gingerly got her comfortable again…

Upon Chuck’s return, I wrapped her in a towel and cradled her as we drove to the vet, periodically checking her breathing. I fully expected her to die in my arms by the time we finished the 35 minute drive, but she didn’t. The clinic was amazing, and there was even a translator. They checked her temperature, which was low, and fed her before hooking her up to an IV. They determined she was only 4 weeks old, and explained that sometimes a mother will abandon a kitten she believes to be ill. They also said a kitten this young must be fed every hour. I immediately started to fret about the rich tuna I had fed her (not every hour), as well as the Frontline dose I’d given her that was intended for kittens 8 weeks and older… twice her age and probably more than twice her weight. Fresh guilt filled my heart.

“Will she make it?” I asked the translator. It is possible, was the answer. They will do the best they can. Chuck and I agreed to take full responsibility for her and adopt her. I filled out the paperwork and momentarily paused at the space for her name before filling in “Habu Lily” – my Japanese equivalent for “Tiger Lily.” I watched as she was pumped with nutrients and fell fast asleep. We were told to check back the next day, to see if she was ready for release. I started to relax knowing she was in expert hands. Maybe I would be bringing home a kitten after all!

About 4 hours later, I missed a call from the vet. My Imagegut sank, as I assumed it couldn’t be good news. They called back moments later and told me that she had stopped breathing. Despite having prepared myself for that possibility, my heart broke, and I burst into tears. I couldn’t help but think that it was my fault, or that I had contributed to her hasty downfall by making the wrong decisions and not knowing what I was doing. Every step of the way, I thought I was helping her and doing the right thing – for her, for Annie, and for us – but now she was dead, and there was nothing more I could do for her. Knowing how much she had suffered in the 24 hours before hand made me even more morose. She was so sweet and so innocent. All I could do was cry and cry, and speculate as to what exactly killed her and how perhaps there could have been a better outcome if I had done a few things differently.

Chuck was an absolute gem during the whole ordeal. He never once made me feel like I was overreacting for a kitten I’d known for only a couple of days. He had been looking forward to adding her to our family and shared in the trauma of the experience with me, but he said not to blame myself and not to waste energy over “what if’s”, pointing out that she was sick and malnourished already. After all, we had to keep Annie’s well being in mind, too. Even though I couldn’t accept all of his rationale, his comfort and support were amazing. We drove to the vet the next morning to finalize the bill, and they offered to let me see her one last time. My tears came anew and I hastily said no, of course not – but I changed my mind  on the way home and asked Chuck to take me back. It sounds morbid, but I am glad that the last time I saw her wasn’t in the misery of suffering and sickness. She was not alive, but she was not in pain anymore either. She was at peace.

The Japanese are so respectful of their dead – even homeless animals. They handed me a brochure (that I couldn’t read) and explained the cremation and funeral services for deceased animals, adding that there would be a group service for her and others that evening. There was the option for a private ceremony too, if I wanted one. That made me cry all over again. It was so touching they would do that for her. I am so happy that in her death, she has love and recognition… and a name. Love was all she wanted. From me, from Chuck, from the other cats…from anyone who would give it. And as it turns out, Nature can be rather loveless sometimes.

I’m not sure when I will have the heart to return to the shrines, but I hope I can, as it has brought me so much joy to visit (though I am not sure I can look at some of those bully cats the same way again.) I’m also not sure I deserve another opportunity to save a kitten, given that I got my chance and royally f*cked it up. But I like to think I learned a lot from this experience and know better what to do if I ever do find myself in a situation like this again (bring it to the vet immediately and not take care of medications and feeding myself, especially if it’s that little.) I now know what 4 weeks looks like.

In the meantime, I imagine I will eventually recover. Annie’s been getting more squeezes and snuggles than usual (much to her chagrin), but it helps make up for the fact that Habu Lily is not here to do it herself (as a kitten, she desired that very much.) I know she must be in a better place, getting all the affection she could ever want, from cats and humans alike. That’s my hope anyway.

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Rest in Peace, Habu Lily