In the City... City of Guampton

Although Erik has been there plenty of times, I finally got around to visiting Guam this past weekend. Or as we like to call it: Guambodia. The boat pulled into port for a few days and its a pretty easy hop to the island from Tokyo, so I packed up and headed there to meet him.

Guam is in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and is technically a US territory. It is an interesting island that primarily caters to Japanese tourism -- its about a 3.5 hour flight, so I guess its kind of like their Miami (except instead of driving the I-95 corridor, you fly the typhoon alley of the Pacific). The main hotel areas are littered with stores like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Kmart, etc so the Japanese can spend their paper. This is how the local economy thrives for the most part (that and lots and lots of booby bars).


So I didn't really escape the Japanese life during my visit, but that doesn't really matter -- there was sun, sand, clear blue seas, pina coladas, and time with the hubby. The beauty of Guam is that it is a "forced vacation". There is nothing really to do except lounge by the water -- no check list of tourist spots to visit across the island from what I can see. In that way, I almost preferred it over my Hawaii trip earlier in the summer (that hurts to say since the price difference is quite considerable). Plus a 3 hour flight is better than an 8 hour flight any day.

There was beauty in watching our Japanese friends on vacation, actually. This is going to sound super super cheesy, but I will finish my thought: This additional lesson in overseas living re-emphasizes what I am learning, which is that we all have the same hearts and morals at our core, regardless of race and culture. Watching mom and dads play with their cutie toddlers in the sand, slathering SPF 100 on their little cheeks. Watching couples walk along the beach, hand in hand. And watching families sit at the pool and drink cold crisp Asahi beers starting at 10am, also recognizing there is nothing to do but lounge. Kompai!

My Quick Getaway is Enabled

Everyone here is posed for their getaway, Italian Job style. Pulling out of a parking spot is fast and easy, despite the narrow footprints and turning radii. This is because the Japanese incessantly reverse cars into spots, so the nose is always pointed out and ready to run. Much like Japanese shoes when you enter a home (remember to turn them so the toes are turned away from the wall - otherwise, a little old Japanese fairy comes along and mysteriously does this for you, perfectly aligning them amongst other pairs).

I have read a little about this - I ain't got nothin' but time on most days - and apparently there are plenty of studies on the subject. It turns out that us Americans will all die in a sad unchoreographed dance of reversing cars if an emergency should ever arise. Safety and traffic flow studies continuously prove that if all cars exited by pulling forward (i.e. park backwards), the world would be a better place. A utopia, if you will. Visibility and clearance are paramount in the Japanese way of parking.

And everyday people seem to agree that they have more time at the end of the day to spend the extra 15 seconds parking in reverse and appreciate a quick start in the morning by just pulling forward. There is also a vanity argument that cars just plain look better from the front (although Japan indeed is not a rear-obsessed culture by any means... because they don't have any... zing!).

Alas, I have taken to reversing my car into spots, not only to respect the uniformity that the Japanese find important, but because I have to admit it is just plain easier. Meep meep.

Hey Pretty Laaadies

This past weekend, we took a nerd photo of the Gauntlet Spouses so our hubbies can look at our pretty faces in the ready room. Of course this photo is invalid in less than a month as we are always losing/gaining new folks in the squadron, but its a nice idea.


I think the Japanese would be impressed with our uniformity. However, it did lend itself to be a bit embarrassing when many of us went on similar errands after the photo and other patrons at the grocery store were doing double takes.

We'll Try the Fist Bump Next Time...

I've always been a big hand shaker. Its kind of like a reflex when introduced to someone new (unless I have drink in one hand and food in the other - in this case, I jokingly shrug my shoulders and inform the person I would shake their hand but am tied up at the moment - come to think of it, this happens often - hmmm). So I find I'm in an interesting position here in Japan where hand shaking is foreign in practice. In the rare cases hands are offered in return, they are usually limp and contact lasts for a few seconds, or they are very grasping and continue well beyond the typically 2 or 3 "ups and downs" that I've come to expect as standard from a solid shake.

I believe I've finally gotten into a groove with introductions now. If they are students of mine or of friends, I will shake their hands since they understand this is the practice and they usually provide a rehearsed chorus of "Nice to meet you." Otherwise, the slight bow is the way to go. Especially with women. (Don't want to crush their tiny bird-like hands with my giant American man hands anyways.)

There is something to be said for introductory bowing - it comes across respectful rather than a "I don't want to touch your dirty hands" kind of way. Buuut I'm pretty sure its mostly the latter sentiment, veiled with the respectful tradition.

Prost!

This past weekend, some friends and I went over to Yokohama (second largest city in Japan, but closer than Tokyo) to attend Oktoberfest. Erik and I stumbled upon the festival last Fall while I was visiting and it was a great time, so it made perfect sense to get a group of gals to go again this year.

It was such a beautiful sunny day - perfect to kick back with some delicious beers and nosh on some German goodies. I saw some Japanese eating schnitzel and sausage with chopsticks (hashi) which was amusing (yet impressive), but there were forks and knives for the rest of us to dig in. I think our intake of beer surpassed intake of food, but that made things all the merrier! Towards the end of the evening, we were dancing and clinking steins with the locals.

Video from 3:00p (phase 1: Enjoying beer and atmosphere):


And video from 9:00p (phase 2: I love you man! Lets dance!):

(Not sure why all the gaijin stand in the front)

The only drawback of the event is that the lines at the different beer and food vendors are quite long, but perhaps its a good thing since it slows down the rate of consumption! Also distressing is the fact that all the port-a-potties were squat-a-potty style. If you think port-a-potties are already hygienically challenged, visit one of these to feel better (or worse, as it were).

Oktoberfest at Yokohama runs through next weekend. If interested in checking it out, its near Aka Rengo Soko (The Red Brick Warehouse) and we each spent probably about 5000 to 7500 yen for the day on beer, food, train, etc. We took the Sotestu line to Yokohama and then transferred to the Minato Mirai subway line.

Say Hi to Your Mother for Me...

Andy Samberg is always hilarious and his digital shorts are one of the reasons we still watch Saturday Night Live. Once in a while, he ends up in a live skit and he, again, makes everything worth while. I find myself giggling out loud at this Mark Wahlberg impression everytime I watch it. Is was spot on. Omoshiroi (hilarious)!

(PS: Because SNL actually plays on Sunday nights here, its still okay to abbreviate it as SNL.)

Come and Gone

Well I just got back from dropping Erik off at the carrier so he can get underway for his Fall deployment. He was back here in Japan for the last 5 days and it was great to be together - we basically just hung around the house so Erik had a chance to relax and spread out, eat non-boat food, and watch football (we wake up at 9am on a Tuesday morning to catch Monday night football in the States - and yes, we still make chili and eat chips despite the technicality that its breakfast time). We definitely got out, though, to do the regular circuit of karaoke, imbibing with friends, and visiting our favorite restaurants like the noodle shop across the street and the Indian place up the road.

Side bar: To clarify, Erik works out of the Atsugi (pronounced At-soo-gi) Naval Air Station. This is where all the hangars and runways are for the air wing. So we live near Atsugi base. But the carrier itself is actually located about an hour south in Yokosuka (pronounced Yoh-koh-ska), which is a huuuuge base and - most importantly - by the water. There are lots of ships down at Yokosuka, so the community is much larger down there. They have a lot more shopping and restaurants on base, so its always a bit of a novelty to pick up/ drop off Erik down there. Our standard is to eat at the Chili's the night before he goes back to "the boat."

Anyhoo, we did go into Tokyo (about an hour train ride) over the weekend to visit the music district and also the electronics district - which may as well be any district within Tokyo as far as I can tell. The music stores were well stocked, and I found humor in the flying V guitars, with 80's metal pumping in the background, and older staff with their salt and pepper mullets. The electronics district was just super busy and was store after store of things like network cable, PC parts, etc. To humor me between the sight and sound overload of those districts, Erik acquiesced to visiting a park I wanted to check out. It was so beautiful and peaceful to escape the crowds and concrete for an hour. Because as much as you'd think Japan is an aesthetically genius place to live, it really isn't, save for the temples, shrines, and old gardens you find once in a while.

So it was a quick 5 days and we are looking forward to this much shorter Fall deployment ahead. In the meantime, I am back to searching for neat things to do, hanging with a great group of friends here, and just plain enjoying the relaxed lifestyle.

Why hello there - A blog from ERik

First BLOG for me EVER....here goes.

Well...where to begin. Back in March we set out for a good old fashion summer deployment...seemed pretty simple. 6 months, a fire, and a stop back in the good old US and A later and we are finally back in Japan...but not for long. After our 5 day "port visit" to where we "live" we head back out to sea for the fall deployment and a number of port visits around the western pacific. Don't worry, the fall deployment is only about two months and I will actually be in Alabama for a week or so of it.

Other than the mainly unknown element of our summer deployment, it all actually went pretty well. Before we started trekking east we pulled into Hong Kong and Guam..good times. On our way back to the US, we got to live the same day twice (June 13th) as we crossed the international date line...this was actually a pretty big buzz kill as it make our time at sea one day longer than was on the calender...and in case you were wondering, we dated paperwork 13A and 13B to know which date we were talking about.

Then did a lot of flying in a big exercise off of Hawaii called RIMPAC (Rim of the Pacific). And also we were able to stop into Hawaii TWICE, once before and once after the exercise, to get a little R&R and I was fortunate to be able to spend a week of those port visits with Kate. With the exception of a terrible fishing trip...the port visit/vacation was awesome.

At the conclusion of the HI exercise we headed back to San Diego to swap ships. After flying through Whidbey Island for Prowler Ball, we landed in San Diego and began preparing all of our belongings and work spaces over to the USS George Washington (CVN 73). It took the better part of a week to get everything moved over and all of our spaces set up the way we like them...and at the end of the day, we are pretty happy with the move.

I now have 3 roommates in a "4-man" very close to the ready room and wardroom...it is pretty nice. The GW is definitely a huge upgrade as far as size and the quality of the spaces...but there is a part of me that will always miss the good old USS Kitty Hawk (CV 63) where I have spend almost 9 months at sea.

I leave you now with a few pictures of my OLD stateroom on the Kitty...standby for pics of my new room in a couple weeks.

What Did You Have for Breakfast?

As some background info: I have been in the States this past month to help around the office and visit friends and family. Erik is still off somewhere in the middle of the Pacific so temporarily leaving the muggy (and buggy) summer of Japan was a no-brainer decision on my part.

I don’t know if I’m more aware of it now after being immersed in the courteous culture that is Japan, but I realize there are a lot of inconsiderate people floating around these parts. Mind you there are plenty of wonderful people, but there are some just plain jerks in everyday American life. [Actually, there are probably plenty of jerks in Japan, too, it’s just that I don’t understand when they are being jerks, short of someone placing a "kick me" sign written in kanji on my back.]

For example, I was in line the other day at the little deli shop next to my office building and the woman in front of me was ordering a sandwich. The dialogue went a little something like this:

Customer: Give me a tuna salad sandwich
Deli Staff: On white or wheat or a wrap?
Customer: No wrap – I said a sandwich. As in bread. Pssh. [Eye roll.]
Deli Staff: White or wheat?
Customer: Give me white. I need tomatoes and onions on there.
Customer: [in response to the deli staff temporarily helping her coworker get a new jar of mayo out] I placed my order before them – give me this to go. Oh, cut the crusts off, too.

Now that you’ve read this fascinating dialogue (“It's like I was there!”), I will continue my thought. Point is: I don’t know why this woman didn’t smile or say thank you or say please, but it bothered me. I figure even on my worst days, I can muster up a small smile and a thank you for a simple transaction like ordering a sandwich. Its tuna salad, not a debate on Roe vs Wade. This one woman’s attitude perplexed me for the rest of my lunch hour.

As fate would have it, I was later interviewing someone that afternoon that had a relevant thought to share -- in response to a question about how he would work with a difficult person on his team, he said “Well I don’t know what he or she had for breakfast.” After tangentially remembering my delicious bagel from earlier in the morning, I asked him to further explain what he meant. He basically said that he knows some people act like asses, but that person could have problems at home or overall wasn’t privileged to be raised in an environment of good communication. Or they are drunk. So he tries to look past the person’s attitude as much as possible and seek out the business task at hand.

Good answer. I don’t know if the company ever hired him…

So next time I am in line and see the person in front of me being rude or inconsiderate, I will just breathe and try to remember they may have had a big ol’ bowl of poo for breakfast. And when it’s my turn at the counter, I will just smile a little brighter.

I Found Richard Marx

The age: Preteen glory of the late 80s and early 90s. The hair was crimped, the sweaters were geometric and bright, and orthodontic treatment had begun.

The setting: The Mares household in suburbia (specifically, the confines of my bright teal-painted bedroom).

If you were a fly on the wall, you would have seen me seated next to my pink tape deck, obsessively using the play, pause, and rewind buttons to listen over and over to the most glorious notes of 1989: The beginning piano music from Richard Marx’s ballad Right Here Waiting.

I would quickly turn and mimic the notes on my nearby Casio keyboard and muster a soulful sing-a-long with Rich’s endearing raspy voice. I would have another tape deck nearby to record my notes and voice, self assured that Richard would want a copy. However, after listening to the home production, I was convinced that someone else was recording their horrible voice and/or the tape deck was malfunctioning – surely that warbling replaying through the speakers was not me. [Dramatic sigh] Richard would never hear my tribute.

Alas, years have passed by and multiple mimic-worthy ballads have come and gone. To this day, I still bring that Casio out once in a while to play an homage to the musical flavor of the month. And also to this day, I believe that every recorder has malfunctioned while recording my voice. I digress.

Anyways, I was driving the other day and Right Here Waiting came on, and my body reflexively went into a response of turning up the volume, scrunching my face in romantic pain, and holding a fist to my heart while I sung along. After I was done the mini car concert, I resolved to find Richard Marx, circa 2008.

Turns out he isn’t that hard to find. This guy’s in Chicago and actually has done a lot of stuff; he still records, produces, and plays live in concert. No one (no one!) can break Richard Marx.

Richard Marx: 1988























Richard Marx: 2008
















My favorite part is that his hair hasn’t changed in 20 years, except he has cut off the party in the back. The bushy top has been completely preserved. How entrancing.

Oh, Richard, if you only knew that I am still right here waiting… for you.

(Learn more about Richard Marx at www.richardmarx.com)