still with the toe shoes……

“Dad isn’t doing well Chris.  I think it might be soon”, I heard Chris’s sister say through the phone.

We had just gotten back from a trip to South Africa and both had a particularly bad case of covid. Our first.

They are still checking for covid at the hospital, we won’t be able to be there. And I hear as his sister tells him that he may want to say his goodbye over the phone-his dad likely hearing none of it with the dementia and the struggle to breathe.  This is for Chris, not Mac, and there is no grief like the grief that can not speak. So many things that should have been worked out and talked about between them-that now will have to be done by a son alone in the post script.

What a cruel time to be alive, and an even crueler time to die.

I watch him say a one sided goodbye to his dad over the phone while I sit in the kitchen, giving him the space something like this deserves, then I come in to comfort him. 

The first child sets the pace for the others, them watching how you do it and seeing the consequences before they have to do the same.  And when the first parent in a marriage dies- you realize that you are watching your future.  You know this is coming for you too, and the weight of that can be too heavy to carry alone- one of the wonderful and devastating things in a good partnership is you will help, and you will feel it too.  I know that I will need to help somehow, but I’m at a loss as to how to help him lift this, opting instead to hold his hand as he feels it. As we’ve always done.  Seeing what I may need when my time comes.

Then the calls are made to the kids. Both of us remembering when we got the calls about our grandparents. A dad trying to be of comfort while he is the most uncomfortable he’s ever been.

Things this big make life feel so small. 

We book a trip.  Knowing the distance will help us unpack- perspective so much easier for us when we’re out of it.  I’m thankful this is the case for us both, running away the salve for both of our wounds when we don’t know how to move forward.

We move forward together. Nicole and Gary at our sides as we attend a funeral. Holding our boy Chris up when he’s falling.

 

JAPAN DAY 8 AND 9

We meet for breakfast this morning in the busy restaurant of our hotel.  From the hotel we can see the bullet trains coming and going, hear the bustle of the city- which is very cool.

We meet the group a little earlier this morning and set out, our last morning with the tour.

We get on the train to start and stay for about 30 minutes..and again with the quiet trains. Not a peep, except this just makes gary say “WHATTTT?” louder and as we all look at him and whisper “no talking!!” he says WHATTTTTT???again, and Nicole frisks him for his phone and turns his hearing aids on “hear what the dead are thinking” level.  It’s a whole thing. Then we take a bus for a few stops, and finally are at the Nijo Castle.

This castle shows the history of the shogun period. Shogun was the title of the military rulers of Japan during most of the period spanning from 1185 to 1868. This is where the ninja’s entered the scene in Japanese history as they protected the Shogun head.  And this particular castle is one of the best-known castles in Japan, due to its historical importance, prominence in the city, and UNESCO World Heritage status.  And it is stunning.  The Castle served as the Kyoto residence of the Shogun. And when he wasn’t there, the samurai guards were hold up here at the castle.  Its ornate and filled to the brim with room upon room of rice paper walls and detailed murals.  All wooden and creaky, you have to take your shoes off to walk through which makes it even more eerie.  What makes it almost unbearable is the fact that, Minka Kelly, our guide, has to take her shoes off too. And she’s still sporting those toe shoes…..

Imagine Micky mouse taking off his red pants. Only to see that his skin is red under them in exactly the same spot where his red pants were.

That’s what this feels like.  Because as she takes off her toe shoes, I see with horror that she has on TOE SOCKS under them.  EVEN WORSE THEN THE TOE SHOES IS THE FACT THAT EACH OF HER TOES ARE WRAPPED IN COTTON BEFORE THEY ARE PUT IN THE TOE SHOES.  My face betrays me and as I look away in horror I catch Nicoles eye, who was watching to see my reaction.  And she melts into laughter.  We have to take a minute to cross our legs and bend over, trying not to pee our pants in this temple where you cant even wear shoes.

After being given the history by our guide and her toes, we are told to walk around the castle and meet back up in an hour or so at the entrance, and we feel like this is a LOT of time. But after we decimate the gift shop, we start the walk around the many motes and gardens of the castle and realize that it will take all of that time to see it properly.  We walk and chat, enjoy the flowers and all the little off shoot buildings.  How amazing this must have been back in the 1600’s when it was at its peak.  Perfect lawns with pine trees all around, roses with not a speck of rotten brown on them, pedals all evenly colored and healthy.

From here, once we all return and are given time for the toilets (clinger is camped out at the door to the bathroom, berating people if they try to go at the last minute.  Which means Gary gets particularly picked on as he ALWAYS decides to go to the bathroom at the very last minute- saying in his highest pitched voice- “I have to pee pee” all the way in. I’ll be ok with saying goodbye to her….and clinger….) She takes us to a large market to say her goodbyes and release us- and I’m sure go home to sleep and recover.  We give her a huge hug. She was amazing. And she took some punches- this group not being the kindest to her.

I have used many different names for her throughout the blog- because for the life of me I can’t say her actual name.  But I won’t forget her face or the way she got excited to tell us about her country <3 what a lovely human.  I hope our tip reflects our gratitude- and by the way her face lights up when she sees the fat envelope I imagine it does.

The first thing we do after goodbyes, is head to a ramen house she had pointed out to the group as we walked here- giving us a wink knowing that we in particular are here primarily for the nooders.  And it doesn’t disappoint! We watch as the chef steams the pork, carefully adds the hand stretched ramen noodles, slices the chilis and green onions, boils the egg for each bowl.  It really is life changing- a good soy base ramen. And we slurp and giggle our way into bellies so big we have trouble standing when done.  Bows and thankyous to the chef as we walk out the door.

The rest of that afternoon is a blur of credit cards and shopping bags.  The boys doing their duty and standing with their knapsacks open for filling until they are too full to carry.  Then holding out arms.

We walk through the busy streets of Kyoto to get to the Gion district for our Geisha show.  Kyoto is frozen in time in a lot of ways.  Its like cyborgs took over North Korea. Picture old volvo style cars everywhere- all the taxis are these two toned old looking sedans.  Busses that look like they were made in the 70’s and kept perfectly pristine, not a spot of rust or a rip in the seat fabric.  But also, you have a central tap card for entry, everything in sight is digital and hands free, even if you pay with cash at the smallest of shops- you put it in a machine that counts and gives you back change. Ordering in the restaurants is always by screen with pictures.

We walk slowly through the streets and drink it all in knowing this is our last night here. Our eyes thirsty- all of a sudden panicked by the thought of leaving.

We sit for the geisha show, all tired having walked another 22 km day- and I have to pinch myself to keep from falling asleep.  We bought the premium seats in the theater, which means we are at the front, row one and two, and have been given a translator phone.  The show starts with a traditional tea ceremony for the first act which is lovely and elaborate, if not a sort of lullaby….I’m really struggling.  But when the second act begins, I get a second wind via TERROR.  It’s a man, dressed in a Kimono, with a mask on that looks like a porcelain doll dancing in slow movements, and looking directly into my soul.  NOPE.  I’m trying to close my eyes to avoid it but I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and snore.  So I have to look at it, my nightmare playing out in front of me. And between his slow deliberate movements, and the sound of the music the people are hand playing on the sides of the stage, I’m near frozen with fear. Chris is laughing at me and I can hear Nicole giggle behind me as she sees me shaking like a chihuahua.  I mean its INTENSE.  When the third act comes out and it is a play of sorts, I have time to get myself together, which means almost fall asleep again. Pinching. Crossing and uncrossing my legs. Shifting from one hip to the other. All the tactics I use for the teams meetings at work.

Finally we get to the Geisha’s.

They walk out and I’m frozen.  They are absolutely stunning and perfect- and just as jarring as the man in the mask, but somehow not as scary since their expressions change slightly as they move.  Lips painted on with peaks,  white faces and ornate gowns.  There are two of them, and they are dancing at once and in perfect, I mean PERFECT, unison.  Fans opening at exactly the same time, feet peaking out under their Kimono’s at precisely the same time.  The music is memorizing, I feel like I have on headphones as it penetrates into my brain.  Its like its hypnotizing us slowly.  I can see why the men thought it was fascinating back in the day.

As the show ends and we walk out, I can tell we are all trying to be super artsy like the others around us.  We meet up with Rodger and Danial from the group as they booked the same for tonight.  We ask them how they enjoyed the show, and I can tell they are trying to be the same, appreciative of the art of it all.  They say- “it was fascinating huh?”  in their cute Australian accents, and ask us the same, and me, being me, says “how much acid do you figure they were on when they came us with those first few acts?”.  Nervous and knowing laughter all around, I can tell this makes them feel better.   We’re not heathens alone- we were all thinking the same.

We cab it back to the hotel and are all still so full from the ramen lunch that we choose Rum for dinner. Sitting around the Muppet Kyoto Club in Nic and Gary’s room, laughing about the day and discussing our favorite moments of the trip, and how Nicole and I are planning to buy the crap out of Kyoto tomorrow 😊 That’s ALWAYS the last day plan.

The next day we awake late- we have a 1pm checkout time. And we have to repack for the long flight to the next stage of the trip…BALI!!!! I mean, who can go straight home after such an epic trip. We need some winddown time. And Bali has ALWAYS been high on the list 😊 should be some days of heat and zen reflection. Just what we need.

But first, we have one last afternoon in Kyoto.

So once we are packed- which is always a whole thing-there are a few hairy moments where we’re not sure we can do the weight. Nicole and I dickering like 2 loan sharks in Vegas. “I’ll give you 2 lbs of weight for those cute robes you bought” and Gary trying to offload candles and candle holders- we are off for the afternoon. First stop is lunch.

We make our way back to the far side of the city to  the Pontocho street that Halitosis brought us to the first day in Kyoto.  We are looking for the perfect spot that is along the river and has a nice view for lunch.  Nicole declares its anywhere I would like! So after about 10 minutes I find a spot- and we are seated. And Nicole declares its not got a nice enough view and makes us leave. And we walk for another 10 mins, only for Nicole to declare that the first spot was perfect and we should go back. Which we do.   Gary explains that he goes through this on every vacation, even the ones they take alone.

If we were in the middle of the desert. Fighting for our lives after getting lost. We would see an oasis in the sand. Excitedly run towards it, gasping for air, begging for water. Only to have Nicole say, “do you have anything by a window?” and we would just pass on the life saving liquid because she decided that the view would be better at the next place, us all dead, me with my finger in the air pointed directly at her as rigamortus set in.

So we walk back to the restaurant that we had sat at and left from and beg for our table back.  As all the Japanese they are more then willing to forgive, and they seat us and we get to ordering.  Pork belly steaks and rice, cabbage salads and miso soups all around. And of course, 4 beers.  And Chris an I order the Sashimi plate that comes with raw Salmon, scallop, lobster, herring and tuna rolls. Devine. The chef comes out to meet us just before the food is delivered, probably deciding weather to spit in the food or not after our seat and run.

Every bite is better then the last, and I’m not sure I’ll ever eat the same again at home.  Where is the pride anymore? I feel a kin to these chefs, not in skill obviously, but in the look they give you as you take the first bite. They are desperate to see if you like the offering or not. That I can relate to. And something I just don’t see at home anymore. Perhaps when Pat my chef friend makes us something…but certainly not at a restaurant anymore.

After the belly, we start on the sashimi and Chris and I are moaning with happiness at the freshness and taste. I BEG Nicole to try some. Nope. More begging. Nope.  I try berating her. Nothin. I make her drink more beer. Nope. Then I offer a one time, ANYTIME=”go get me beer” request- meaning, no matter where we are, no matter how comfy I am, or how much I don’t want to- I will drop everything and go to the store or the bar and get her a beer….and that does the trick, my trailer trash sister is easily bought with that one. I almost dislocate my arm jumping to get the chopsticks.  I prepare with sweet ginger and wasabi and a dip and sit in the soy, and then she lets me feed it to her. And SHE LIKES IT!!! She agrees that it doesn’t taste anything like fish as she had expected, and I think a part of her is feeling bad she didn’t take advantage of what has been offered all this trip.  And then we start working on Gary. He is much harder to convince. And when we finally get him to give in, he has the opposite reaction and HATES it-pretty much throwing up like a cat when he swallows it. So I guess each to their own.

They bring us sorbet to finish off the meal, Gary eating it like it will cleanse his soul of raw fish.

Then we check for our beers, and go out to the river side. We do what the muppets do on every trip and haven’t done yet, we find the bank of a riverside and sit for a beer.  The water always knows us by name, calling us.  And we listen.  We saddle up on our jean jackets in the sun and pop open the beer, I break out the laptop and read the blog from yesterday.  And we watch a very young boy fish.  He’s maybe 11? 12? And he is baiting his hook with bread and trying to catch the beautiful koi fish in the river.  As I’m reading the blog, we hear the young boy gasp! He’s caught one! The brightest and most beautiful one and his excitement is palpable.  Everyone on the river bank is rooting for him, except my sister.  And although she just ate fish, she is definitely team flipper. So as everyone claps and urges him on to keep the at least 10 lbs fish on his line, as he struggles and pulls him in and tries to tire him out, Nicole is chanting “let him go!!!” from the bank.  Remember Sylvester, and how he would put a bag over his head and say “OH THE SHAME OF IT”….yeah. that’s me.  I get it. But also, this kid is SO EXCITED.

He pulls and huffs, reels and groans, and before long he is within reaching distance of this gorgeous fish.  He reaches out and everyone is clapping! He got it!!!

And in the flash of a second, the fish gets loose. And swims off. And as everyone moans, Nicole stands and starts to clap! “The fish won! Yay!!!” And I’m crawling away…oh the shame of it…….

We leave the river bank after the battle and we get in a cab. The last of these retro cars for us- and make it back to the hotel in time to get our stored luggage and off to the bus stop for the 80 minute drive to the Osaka airport.  Boarding is always scary.  You don’t want to be at the wrong stop or at the wrong time and look like tourists. Heaven forbid you look like those swine.  But we are at the right place at the right time-confirming with broken Japanese and hand signals.  We spend time shopping-30 mins of which includes me fighting with a vending machine mechanical grab game- I was determined to get a Yoshi for Codi- the little boy eyes from when he was 8 flashing in my head. I was absolutely DETERMINED I would get one, realizing 13 dollars in that I could have bought one by now, and the machine is rigged. Wish I knew how to swear in Japanese.  We also realize that our Icoca cards (the ones that are preloaded with money to use to get on and off transit that we’ve been calling Lee Iacocca cards) still have about $30 on them.  Nicole buys Wine with hers, we also buy wine and add on Kit Kats in every flavor they have- Macha tea, wasabi and dark chocolate with sea salt.

Once aboard in our designated seats, Gary quickly looks around and sees that this is one of those nifty “quiet as the dead” buses, and proceeds to open a bag of chips like he’s in the sound Olympics.  I’ve never heard a bag open like that.  Then he decides its too loud, and stuffs it back in his bag, making twice as much noise.  I see Nicole with her eyes so wide you’d swear she’d seen a snake. And Chris an I are laughing.  At some point Chris and Gary both realize that we can’t take and liquids through security- and we each have the better part of a bottle of wine left over from all the nights here, tucked safely away in water bottles.  And they get into that.  By the time we get to the airport Chris is doing stupid crap like asking me if we’re still in Japan, Gary asking Nicole if she has his hearing aids in her ears because he can’t see them.

Inside we go, for the next leg of the journey.

We talk about how much we’ve enjoyed it.  The highlights include the food! Absolutely better then I even imagined it would be- coming from the seafood capital of the world, I’m more then surprised at how much I trusted the fish offerings, and how much I enjoyed them- even, dare I say, better then home. By a long shot.  Then we talk about the toilets.  They are a whole thing here. Sound plays when you sit on the heated seats, and water comes from all directions when you tell it to- regular toilets will be hard to acclimate to.

Japan has been transformative. I am permanently marked by her-Japan is definitely a woman- quiet and unmovable. Strong when she needs to be, soft when the time comes to be so.  The beauty is unparalleled in Asia-now having visited 4 of its corners I can say that. We all four will move through life differently, as we do after every country that touches our souls.  Its very much the out of body experience I was looking for. The one that Anthony Bourdain talks about.

“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life—and travel—leaves marks on you.”

I’m proud to be marked by her. Branded by Japan.

Bows all around as we board the plane. Off for the next adventure.