Caution: Sharks at Local Beaches

Happy Halloween from the Great Wyatt Shark of Okinawa!

Going out Swinging

I refuse to just lay down and die, acknowleding the end of our Okinawa tour. Therefore, we jammed as many favorites as we could into the weekend and even checked out a park we'd never visited. Saturday included one Chinese furniture sale, one gift corner opening and a pottery sale as well as a trip to Starbucks (okay, that's not exclusively Japanese but we went to Coffee Casa on Friday) and a dismal amount of purchasing. An aside to all the furniture vendors: can you not see that I am trying with all my might to buy something? Why do you bring me nothing worth buying? We, of course, did all those things with Lisa & Nathan and used their van as our means of transportation. Let me tell you, Jeff looks right at home behind the wheel of a Town Ace.

Saturday evening we had dinner out with four other couples while one (very brave and talented) sitter watched all our kids. To break it down for you, there was exactly one adult for a 4-year old, a 2-year old, 2 16-month olds and a one year old. And we had her feed them. She earned every penny, we loved our kid-free, early dinner and we were back in time to hang out and watch the kids play.

We set Sunday aside for "one last" trip to Pizza in the Sky, the butterfly garden and the aquarium. I think it was our third or fourth "last" trip to go up there to eat (although this one really was the last...I think) and it didn't disappoint. This time we packed all five of us into the Carina (she has re-earned her real name since (1) she's sold and (2) her hubcaps all match again) and started at the butterfly garden. We were just sure the boys would love our plan. We were wrong. Nathan started saying "go home" before we were out Gate 2 and Wyatt pretty much freaked out the first time the butterflies started swirling around him, going all rigid and shaky in my arms, the kind of behavior that immediately precedes a full meltdown, though he did manage to calm down enough that we didn't have to bolt. He enjoyed them from a distance, especially the ones on Daddy's legs. Yep, I'm kind of laughing at him. Who's afraid of butterflies?!

The butterflies came a distant second in Wyatt's book, with the stream running through the greenhouse and grounds earning that coveted first place. We probably should've seen it coming since as soon as we got off the expressway in Nago, Wyatt started pointing at the ocean, squirming and grunting to get out of his seat. I swear, if you want to make my kid happy, just put him in front of some sort of water.

Jeff finally caved and let him touch the water running through the concrete stream.

What? You don't like butterflies? Okay, sweetie, just smile for the camera.

It was a perfect day for Pizza in the Sky, as if it was supposed to be how we remember that place. The ladies remembered us and, as always, wanted to hold Wyatt who, as always, loudly protested. He had a lot of fun while we were waiting for our table - so many rocks to pick up, so many shisas to hug, so many Japanese people to smile at - but was less thrilled to be strapped into his seat for lunch. He wanted nothing to do with the PB&J we packed for him until his creative father tore off chunks and fed it to him using chopsticks. I swear, sometimes I think I should get a paying gig and let Jeff be the stay at home parent.

After stuffing ourselves with the best pizza on island, we made a last minute decision to forego the aquarium and try the Neo park instead. While we have the aquarium pretty much memorized (ride down the escaramps, admire the flowers, take in the view of Ie, turn right to the dolphin, turtle and manatee pools, go inside to the fish tanks, turning deeper and deeper, past the dangerous aquatic life of Okinawa to the life in the mangroves display then make a hard left to see the whale sharks from up high, sidetrack to the shark area, go lower and lower until that massive tank is directly in front of you, above you, then out past the giant squid, the cold water life and through the gift shop), we've never visited the Neo park and I'd heard there were monkeys. Loose. That would climb on you. And for whatever reason, that interests me.



Despite Wyatt having fallen asleep in the car and Nathan being darn close, clutching his nana and perfecting his 10 mile stare, we plunked them into their strollers and headed in. First impression: it smells like a zoo. After taking ten steps past the admission desk and passing through one set of doors we knew why: birds. Everywhere. And where there are birds, there is poop. But still, I enjoyed it. I really enjoyed the part where both boys were awake and interested in their surroundings, but not wanting out of the strollers. According to the map, this first area is called Flamingo Lake. It should probably be called Poop Loop or For God's Sake, We Should Provide a Shoe and Stroller Wheel Wash Station area, but it was cool and there were monkeys. Strangely, most of the monkeys were in two cages but a quick glance skyward also showed four monkeys in a tree and there was one monkey loose and having a snack. And after I got that close, I was really okay that they didn't want to climb on me.


We were grossed out by the muck all over our stroller wheels and were just discussing how we would be leaving our shoes in the trunk for the ride home when Nathan dropped nana on the ground. Yuck. The double yuck? Before Lisa could register what'd happened, she'd rolled over it with said muck-covered wheels. Annnnnd that was the end of nana.



We forged on, through the "Amazon Jangle" and the Giant Tortoise Farm (where you can pay Y200 for some carrot sticks to feed the goats, llamas and shetland ponies but for free can wonder "what's that noise?" and realize it's two giant tortoises going at it in the tortoise love motel at the back), past the "Afurican Savanna" and the Oceanian Flora and Fauna until we reached the Research Center for International Species Conservation. That, my friends, is a very fancy title for a row of bird cages around a pond with monkeys on an island in the middle. But really, it was very enjoyable.



By then it was 4:30 and neither child had really napped. We loaded everyone back into the car, strollers in the trunk, nana in the stroller, and headed home. Nathan was still saying "go home" (he'd interjected his refrain into our conversation approximately every 25 minutes since we'd started the day's journey) but now alternated it with "nananananananananananana" because he kind of has to have that to go to sleep. Lisa tried explaining that nana was yucky, nana had poop on it, nana was in the trunk but he wouldn't take no for an answer. So Jeff offered up his spare shirt, a nice green collared number from Banana Republic, claiming it was his nana and he'd be willing to share it. Surprisingly that didn't work either. So we alternated between ignoring the sound emanating from Nathan and singing "na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye", neither of which he found pleasing. Go figure!

Luckily, if you drive about 110 on the expressway, you can make it home in no time. Sadly, I didn't get to hear the chime of my car telling me I'm going too fast - have to leave something for the next time.

A Sweet Goodnight

We had a big day today (still have to get the photos organized so I can share the details) which resulted in no nap for Wyatt. On days like this he is so ready for bed! I did bathtime and Jeff read him a book - I thought they looked sweet so I grabbed the camera. I love my boys!

P.S. Wyatt is really into having bedtime music again (probably only because he likes pushing the start button on his CD player) so tonight Jeff put him down to The Songs of Old KU. Rock Chalk!

Life's A Beach

It really is. And I'm the shell or something.

Here's the deal: every time we move, I'm the new shell on the beach who doesn't quite fit in with all the other shells. I don't know all their names, I don't know their faces, I don't know their quirks. But over time, the waves of friendship, kindness, fun and shared experiences toss me around with all the other shells so that I blend in. I'm one of them. I'm settled, right there in the sand, all happy and content with a whole lot of awesome shells around me.

And then someone comes along and plucks me out of the sand, leaving a hole in my heart and a divot in the sand. And I know it only takes a couple more waves until my divot is washed away and all my shell friends have rearranged themselves so you can't tell I was there. And the hole in my heart is gradually filled in as the waves of time and new friendships wash over me. So the process starts again and it's good, because I don't forget the old beach or the old shells and I get the joy of exploring my new beach and maybe even seeing some old shells again.

It's just that when you know that plucking is right around the corner, it kind of sucks.

Immunity Eludes Me

Wyatt and I just got back from a trip to Nishimatsuya (a.k.a. the pink bunny store) and it has left me wondering if I would ever get numb to all the funny Japanese things. Take, for instance, his new sweatshirt that features a karaoke-singing frog. It's all in kanji so I have no idea what it says, but do I really need to? It's a frog, with a microphone and some musical notes that are upside down. And the frog might be tipsy.

I also noticed for the first time that they sell banana cases - I guess so your banana doesn't get all bruised in your bento box? It must be a fairly popular item because there are two styles, one neoprene (that would also insulate it, right?) and one hard plastic. Very interesting that they don't feel the God-given peel does its job. Why so down on the banana peel, Japan?

And then we stopped at Starbucks on the way home, where I ordered a tall iced, non-fat latte. They (of course) got the order exactly right and served it with true Japanese panache: a smile, a bow and a happy face drawn on my cup.

Japan, I will miss you!

How To Not Get A Sunburn

They're doing some surveying down here in the 'hood and this nice Okinawan lady is, apparently, dead-set on avoiding sun exposure. Please note the long sleeves, gloves and especially the towel over her face. I took this picture from our kitchen window a mere 5 feet from where she stood and I couldn't see her eyes! Really, if not for the ponytail, would you even know which direction she was facing?

Ahh, Japan. You make me laugh.

Photo Update

It's been awhile since I've inundated my readers (translation: the five of you) with pictures, so here you go!

Wyatt's first ferris wheel ride.

Yay for swings!

My happy boy(s).

The 2007 version of drinking from the hose.

Fun with Nathan (and by "fun", I mean a brief interlude where they were able to play with the same toy at the same time.)

This is Wyatt's way of telling me he's ready to go to the beach. Now.

Three cheers for Kadena's fire prevention week! Thanks for the free hat.

Wyatt modeling part of my bat pass costume and, perhaps, giving me a little foreshadowing of his attitude to come in the following days!

Feeding fish at the botanical garden.

And last: Wyatt woke up from his nap the other day with a hairstyle that might remind some of you of Jeff in high school. And who says he just looks like his mom?

Getting Ready

I'm glad we have a real reason to buy winter goods this year (and thanks, Ade, for the head's up on this stuff!) Wyatt is now prepared for crisp air.

Where's Wyatt?

Surprise!

Yo! You wanna mess with the dog? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Good ol' puppy love.

I'm A Bad Mom!

It took me posting and seeing the date to remember that this is a very special day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MILLIE! That's right, our first baby is celebrating her 7th birthday. Maybe we'll have to play a little extra frisbee during naptime today!

The birthday girl, looking a little camera-shy.

Happiness Is...

A quiet Saturday morning with windows open, the smell of freshly cut grass being carried through the house on a gentle breeze. Does it get any better?

The Things We Do...

...are very boring. We're just living life, pretending the end of our Okinawa journey isn't approaching with the speed of a shinkansen :) A few highlights:

1. Wyatt has switched from "a-wa" to just "wa". And he kind of has to think about it first but he's obviously amused with how it feels to make that new sound. Lisa has him practice a lot because she likes the impish grin that comes with it.

2. The Crapina is sold! Miracle of all miracles, we thought we'd have a hard time getting rid of that one but it turns out a guy in the other squadron is in the market for another car. He emailed Jeff, who laundry-listed all the work we've done to it while we've owned it, and voila! Sold. That was so easy!

3. Fall has arrived in Okinawa. I love fall here. I actually love all seasons here, but spring is short and summer is super-humid and winter gets rainy and cool, so fall is my favorite. The air is crisper, but it's just so beautiful out. We went to the beach this morning and it was awesome. We'll be going at least once a week until we leave.

4. I've been sorting for the flea market for a while now but decided to list some of the bigger/better items on Japan Update. And now I'm sitting back, selling stuff left and right. I love found money!

5. We officially have a real estate agent in Virginia and she's started sending us listings. That alone is exciting, but the better part is that it looks like we can actually afford a decent house! We'd like to thank the US housing slump for our good fortune.

6. Wyatt loves walking backwards these days but won't spin in circles. I tried to teach him but he just shook his head no. And I just got dizzy, so we'll work on that at a later date.

7. Wyatt does, however, love to "jump". It started a couple weeks ago when the neighbor girls were jumping rope outside. He was fascinated! And they're really cute with him, so they were holding his hands, saying, "jump, jump!" and he started picking up his feet. Now when you ask him to jump he kind of stomps but just grins from ear to ear.

8. I don't think I ever shared that Jeff is IPUG complete. Translation: his weekends are his own again (for the most part) and he's actually getting to fly some rides as the instructor. It's great to see him less stressed and loving work again (in all fairness, I think he always loves it but it seems to me he really enjoys being in a teaching role...just like the good ol' days in Enid). It's a huge accomplishment and I'm really proud of him.

And some things never change...I should be pricing the rest of my flea market stuff, cleaning, moving laundry through and starting to make lists for our Great Sort, but here I am: blogging. I guess I'll go (now that I've guilted myself into it) and try to be productive before the kiddo wakes up.

You'd Think We Live in Mexico

I'm over the moon right now because Wyatt seems to be mastering a word that doesn't involve "da". He's been saying "water" differently for the last few days but today his new sound has been the go-to instead of "a-da" (which, by the way, can mean a slew of different things based on inflection and how you pronounce the vowel - fairly impressive but definitely not a full vocabulary). What is this new word, you ask?

Ah-wa. Say it out loud to yourself.

Congratulations, you speak Spanish! Just like my kid.

FYI

If you're at a birthday party and your 15-month old only eats an ear of corn, a piece of cake and a scoop of ice cream, he'll probably bounce off the walls when you get home.

If You Blog It...

..they will come. Lo and behold, pumpkins! Available right here in our local commissary for only $.35/lb. and you can get your very own mini-pumpkins or bumpy gourds for the low, low price of $1.65 each! Oh, and if you want any Indian corn, bring your $2.55. Per ear.

A bargain they aren't, and they come with a bonus of slightly moldy stems, but the those big cardboard boxes brimming with a hint of fall are a sight for sore eyes.

Conspicuous Absence

Today is October 11. That means there are exactly 20 days until Halloween. I can't help but notice there are no pumpkins on this island. There are, however, pumpkin carving kits at the commissary. Very helpful.

So, to those of you who will be trekking to a local pumpkin patch in the coming days - and to those of you who won't even though you could - please take an extra moment to be thankful for your pumpkin-laden fall and remember those of us who would settle for a giant cardboard box of moldy orange melons right about now.

Bright Side of The Road

Instead of detailing the delightful napless afternoon here in our concrete bungalow, I'll focus on the positive: I bought Wyatt his first "bike". I actually got it yesterday and told Jeff about it over the phone, hoping he wouldn't be irritated with another sizeable plastic toy cluttering our lives immediately before everything we own gets shipped across the Pacific. It was sitting on the porch when he got home and his first words were, "well I couldn't have passed it up either!" Whew.

Now if we could just get Wyatt to actually ride it. So far he's in love with it, but only because it's so fun to push around. Either way, I think it's safe to say that this is only the first of many bikes my child is destined to own.

Without further ado, I give you A Boy and His Bike:

An All-Time High

I went to the commissary today and was looking for some fruit to bring home that wasn't a banana, an apple or canned. Oranges sit around our house and get funky, pineapples are tasty but we never manage to eat a whole one before it goes all weird and limes and lemons make horrible snacks (unless they're sliced and perched on the side of a cocktail, of course) so that left me with two options: grapes or blueberries.

Wyatt doesn't seem to like grapes, despite me practically peeling them for him (I'd like to give a shout-out to Lisa and the AFN commercials for freaking me out about how tiny a mom should cut up those little choking hazards) so I thought maybe we'd give blueberries another try. Last time we had them he loved them at first serving with his interest waning at each additional appearance, but it seems like they're always on those "top ten world's best foods to keep you healthy and encourage world peace" type lists, and grapes never make an appearance in those circles until they've been stomped and fermented so....blueberries.

Until I noticed the sign above them that read $5.94. For a container that is about four inches square and an inch and a half deep, if that. How about if I just pay for that in gold bouillion? Would that work for you, Mister Commissary Man?

So I'll let you know how he likes the grapes.

Stupid Americans

Perhaps I've mentioned it before, but in the interest of our upcoming departure, we're trying to soak up all things Japanese. Last night we had a date night - Wyatt had his date with our local sitter and Jeff & I went to dinner. After our long and lingering, but still so yummy, dinner at Zen (where I learned that my husband taught an ironing seminar to the younger ROTC cadets while he was in college - isn't that funny?), we decided that we should give Love Motel Alley a whirl.

We know a few people who have checked out the local love motels and we've heard pretty positive reviews. The stories we heard before we got here and also from our sponsors when we arrived told of elaborately decorated, themed rooms. So we thought that would be pretty fun(ny) and started driving up and down the roads in the Alley to pick the "best" one. We narrowed it down to Hawaii, Hotel California (despite the creepy name, it was shaped like a pirate ship = fun!), Hotel Santa Fe, Hotel Island and Silkroad. We discovered that you can drive through the parking lots and get a slightly better feel for the hotel but that none of them had pictures of the rooms. After four or five trips and driving through parking lots, etc., we decided Silkroad looked like it was most likely to be themed on the inside (due to the Great Wall, pyramids and general Chinese-lookingness exhibited outside), it looked newish and we were getting tired.

And then we realized we didn't exactly know how this whole thing worked because each room had its own garage but no visible method of paying. We figured that must be in the room, so we pulled in, Jeff pushed a button with some kanji on it and the garage curtain came down. At the same time, we heard a door click open. So we open the door from the back of the garage and there's a white u-turn painted on the ground pointing us to the now open door to our room. We climb up the steep, u-turning steps and there are two sets of sandals at the top of the stairs. That's nice, and I'll respect their wishes that I not wear my shoes in the room, but no thanks on the overused, underwashed vinyl slippers. So we kick off our shoes and open the door to the room knowing that we're in for some sort of unique and hopefully hilarious decorations.

It was unique, alright! But only if you've never stayed in a somewhat sketchy dive motel which, courtesy of some budget-friendly family trips, I've had the joy of sampling. Let's see if I can paint you an accurate picture since we forgot our camera: medium-sized room (though large by Japanese standards) with a few too many smoky and gold-marbled mirrors on the doors to the shower room and toilet room, a built-in desk with a tv on top, a karaoke microphone hooked into the sound system, and a bed that looks just yucky with a raggedy, thin rust-colored bedspread and two lumpy looking pillows. We surveyed the surroundings for approximately 10.4 seconds (making a point to touch nothing) before deciding that everyone who'd raved about love motels is crazy or, at the very least, has supremely different standards than we do, or knows where the "good" ones are. So we promptly turned back out of the room (Jeff had locked the door behind him when we came in so when I was in boltnow! stage, I kind of momentarily freaked out that we were locked in while frantically pulling on the handle), darted down the stairs, exited to the outside, closed the room door behind us and re-entered the garage.

I pushed the little button to lift the garage curtain and voila! Nothing. I pressed it again. Nothing. I confirmed with Jeff that he had, indeed, pressed that same little button and I pressed again. Or maybe another twenty times in rapid succession, but still, it didn't work. Jeff decided to go into the room again and look for a place to pay but discovered the room door has locked behind us. Congratulations! We're officially locked in a love motel garage. That is not exactly the experience we hoped for.

So I tell Jeff that we need to use the phone and call the desk (this was, incidentally the only English: "9 Office" in the whole place). He picked it up and it's rapidly apparent that whoever answers "9 Office" only does so in Japanese. And we only speak English. And it's really hard to do the pointy talky over the phone. So Jeff started with "where do we pay?" (since we'd never put any money anywhere, he felt like doing so would raise the curtain and let us go on our merry way. I felt like our 30 seconds of time in the Silkroad establishment did not warrant any yen changing hands so was saying, "no, we just want out!" - very helpful). Needless to say, he didn't make any progress so he handed the phone to me, since I'm so fluent in Japanese and all.

I get on the phone and say, "gomen nasai, we want out! Out, please?" I'm greeted with silence. And then finally someone else gets on the phone and I try "we no use room? out? pay?" to which she says, "cancel?" and I say "hai! hai! cancel!" and then the line goes dead. So I pressed the button again and nothing. Jeff has, at this point, decided he can lift the curtain so I can drive under it and then he'll just crawl out. But just then, he decided to try the room again and crosses paths with a maid. Apparently our locking the door behind us indicated that it needed cleaned. Let me tell you, I've never been so glad to see a real live person! But she saw us, spewed some Japanese and started to dart away. I'm sure that encountering the "clients" isn't supposed to happen. But we both start talking immediately and I threw the two-arm "x" at her indicating that we "no use the room" and she finally understood what we wanted and scurried back to her office. We heard her get on the phone and then, as if by some great cosmic miracle, we heard a buzz and discovered the button worked. It would be fair to say that I've never been so glad to get in the Carina and drive away into the night.

I felt dirty all the way home just for having been there - where's the hand sanitizer when you really need it? - and also a little like we might have really broken some great love motel rules but mostly I just felt so. freaking. glad. to be going home. So to all the people who sold the love motels as a fun! unique! clever! and to the couple who said, "oh, we went all the time when we lived there!": I might be the one who was temporarily locked in a garage, but you are the stupid Americans in my book.