NaNoWriMo

Hey people!

Once again, I have been neglecting the blog this month because it is the time of the year where I attempt to write a novel in only 30 days. NaNoWriMo. The month is almost finished, and my book is coming along quite well, so I figured I'd share a bit of it with you!

In all its glory, here is the prologue:

September, 1990. La Khongkhed, Laos.

Thala turned her head to look behind her, the wind whipping her long black hair in front of her as she climbed. She knew nobody was following her, and that she probably wouldn’t be missed, but she couldn’t help but nervously glance back every five seconds anyway. She continued to climb the mountain, trying her best to keep her stomach from hitting the rocks. 

She was almost there. Just a few more steps and she would reach the top of the hill. Just a few more steps and she would see the tip of the temple start to appear. As she climbed, she saw what she was looking for. The bright gold of the temple roof sparkled amongst the lush green backdrop. If it had been made of anything else, it surely would have been invisible amongst the greenery. As it was, however, the temple was a startling sight. With a gold roof, multicoloured glass walls, and intricate patterns carved into the surface, the temple was modest in comparison to others, but held just the right amount of respect for the spiritual path of Buddhists.

Thala took one final step and heaved herself over the ledge, taking care to land on her side and protect her unborn child from harm. She stood up and took a moment to wipe the sweat from her forehead. The air was still cool, but very humid. It felt like a blanket, instantly enveloping her in moisture as soon as she tried to do anything. She was tired, but she had come all this way, she might as well try. With that thought in her mind, she walked towards the temple, took off her shoes and lined them up in front of the entrance, and walked through the only door.

The inside of the temple was small, but well-decorated. In keeping with the Theravada style of Buddhism, the walls were intricately carved and decorated with stories of Buddha’s birth, growth, death and reincarnation. There was incense ready and waiting to be lit, and a large statue of Buddha sitting in the middle of the room. His eyes were closed, his palms facing upwards. He was at peace. “It must be nice for him,” Thala thought to herself, looking around. She had heard of the temple on top of the hill, but she had never been up here before. As a practising Buddhist, it wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed, but that whenever she wanted to pray, she just went to the wat in town. It was easy and convenient for her, just a couple of blocks away from her family’s farm. This one was reserved for men, mostly. People who could leave the town for a full day, since that is how long it took to climb all the way up. She had started at dark, walked through sunrise, and climbed for a few more hours. Finally, she had arrived.

Thala took her time, looking around and exploring before starting what she came up there to do. When she had finished looking around, she went back to the front, lit a piece of incense, and placed in the holder. She knelt in front of the statue, closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Clear your mind,” she reminded herself. “Only then will you achieve enlightenment”. She thought of the colour white. She thought of silence and stillness. She tried to think of nothing. She had never been good at the prayer and mediation part of her religion. She swatted at a fly that was buzzing around her head. Maybe it was time to change strategies. Maybe it was time to focus her attention on one thing, rather than trying to think of nothing. 

She thought. Her thoughts drifted all the way to the very beginning.

Thala had grown up in the small town of La Khongkhed, in Laos. In fact, the temple on the hill was the furthest she’d ever been from her little town, other than small trips to nearby farms to pick up vegetables. The town was quiet, peaceful. She wasn’t well off by any stretch, but then again, no one there was. They were equals, poor but self-sufficient. She went to a small elementary school, where she sat on the floor and shared a single book with the rest of the class, but she got an education. When she turned ten, she started to work for her family, tending to the small garden they owned, cooking meals for her parents, brothers and sisters. By fourteen, her family had found her someone to marry, a boy of sixteen from a town nearby. His name was Khamtai, and he was everything she wanted in a husband. He was kind, strong, brave, and he had a good name in the community. He was only sixteen, but he was already working  on his father’s rice farm. It was a family business, and one that made a decent amount of money. 

She fell in love with him instantly. They spent time together, talking about their future. They went for walks and frequented local festivals together. Even though it wasn’t official, it was only a matter of time before he would ask her to marry him. She knew it. And she was right. Soon enough, the families were discussing the bride-price. They went back and forth, and back and forth with gifts and alcohol, until they finally decided on the price. Then, they set the wedding date. The town elders were consulted, and everything was prepared, until soon enough, the time came. The evening before, Thala got together with her family and close friends at her house. Her mother rushed around the house, preparing the marital bed as was custom. Her aunts and grandmother were also bustling about, preparing enough food for the entire ceremony, including the pha kouen, banana leaves with marigold, a wedding specialty. Thala sat in the corner, unable to help for fear of where her life was going from then on. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but she was excited to spend it with Khamtai. She knew he would be good to her. 

The next day, the wedding had begun. She awoke from her bed by her mother shaking her at an unreasonable hour. “We have to get ready,” she whispered excitedly. “Khamtai’s family will be here in just a few hours!”

Thala awoke and groggily let herself get washed. Afterwards, she got dressed up in a sinh, a traditional Lao skirt, and adorned herself with mountains of jewellery. Finally, she tied up her beautiful long black hair with the traditional ribbon on top of her head. All of a sudden, she heard a knock on the door. Her mother ran to answer it.

“Hello, my name is Khamtai Phouma, and I am here to offer you money, a cow, two goats and ten buckets of rice, so that I may live with your daughter.” Khamtai still looked like a boy dressed up as a man. His formal attire was a little too baggy, and his short black hair still looked like he hadn’t combed it down. His mother smiled, accepting his offer, and he left to join his groom’s group. They all came back shortly after, smiling and laughing with each other, playing musical instruments and singing. Thala waited and waited as Khamtai talked and drank with her parents, answered their questions and had his feet washed. It seemed like it was taking forever, and she thought she might die of anticipation. Just when she could no longer bear it, she was finally called into the room to sit next to her groom. After a short ceremony, attended by all their relatives, they were finally led off to their marital room. 

Thala remembered hearing her relatives long into the night, drunk on homemade alcohol and delirious with happiness, as she laid beside Khamtai for the first time, unsure of what to do or how to do it. She didn’t have to worry though, because he was slow and gentle. That was the night that her child was conceived.

Things started to settle after that. She built a life with Khamtai out of her parents’ house. She tended to the house, washing the vegetables and learning from her mother how to cook and be a good wife. With a baby on the way, she also started making preparations for birth. Eight months passed more quickly than she could have ever anticipated, and she found herself nervous and anxious about the addition of a new life to their family. She had enough for herself and her husband, but they couldn’t afford to travel all the way to the next city to visit a doctor. She had no idea whether her baby was healthy, but she had a feeling that with all the kicking it had been doing, it was bound to be alive and well. It would probably be feisty, too. That didn’t really come as a surprise, given how headstrong Thala’s parents always said she was. 

Thala was due any day now. She was getting more and more nervous with every day that passed, until yesterday, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She had to do something. That was when she decided to come up to this temple for the first time. She crawled into bed with Khamtai, feigning sleep long enough to hear his snores, then silently crept out of bed, dressed herself, and tiptoed to the kitchen. She threw a few things into a small cloth bag, and crept out of the house, taking care to walk silently until she was certain that nobody from home could hear her. She walked down the main road for miles, not stopping until she could no longer see any lights. She wasn’t worried. Even though she had never been to the temple before, she had walked this street enough that she knew where the turn-off was. It was then that she started to falter. She stumbled a bit on the turn, and decided to use the time to rest for a little bit. She pulled a candle and a match out of her bag, lit the candle, and waited, using the faint light to observe her new surroundings. She was surrounded by thick green plants and shrubbery, but she could barely make out the beginnings of a path that she knew was there.

She picked up her candle, and started to follow the path. She hiked and climbed for two more hours, until she saw the sun starting to rise. That was when she had found herself here, at the temple. She was still kneeling, head bowed, eyes closed. She finished reminiscing and began to pray.

“Please bless me and my unborn son or daughter. I don’t want much, just let us be well fed and have enough to get by. Please bring money and prosperity to our town, so that we can build a livelihood for our new family. Who knows how many children there will be after this one. Please allow my child to be healthy and grow up strong and safe. Please bless them. with opportunity to move up in this world and achieve things I never did. Please give them an education. Please give us love and happiness.” Thala wasn’t exactly sure how to end these things. While she’d been to the wat before, she had never made a prayer for herself. She finished by leaving a small donation in the box, 1,000 kip, and putting out the incense. She stood up and walked out, taking one last look at the giant golden Buddha before closing the door behind her. It was still early and she had plenty of time to make it back to the house before anyone was truly worried. After all, she was sure they were used to her outbursts and disappearances, just as she was sure they would shortly get used to her child’s.

Pitch Perfect

So, I went to see Pitch Perfect the other day, and it was absolutely brilliant.

If you have been living under a rock for the last few months, here is the trailer:



The film is about a girl named Beca who gets convinced to join the all girls a capella group The Bellas, and then their collective stride from the bottom to the top. She is joined in the group with a crazy mishmash of characters, from Fat Amy, a ridiculous girl from Transylvania who is all personality, to Audrey, the leader of the group, who is hoping to get over a mortifying moment that made the group a joke during last year's Nationals. Along the way, Beca meets Jesse, a fellow freshman with a love for scoring movie soundtracks and a capella singing for the Bellas' all male rivals. What will happen next? Go out and see the movie!

The movie is a great mix of romance, comedy and music. It's got plenty of puns to go around, and the characters, while somewhat superficial are all different and well played. I highly recommend you go see it, especially if you dig musical comedy. Or romance. Or both. Or are friends with me.

ANYWAY.

At one point in the film; the main character, Beca, auditions for the Bellas, using the audition song "Cups (You're Gonna Miss Me)" by Lulu and the Lampshades. I hadn't heard the song before the film, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to play it myself. So I found the original, and practised and practised. Finally, I filmed myself! Here is the result: Hope you enjoy!

The Top 5 Call Me Maybe Covers

"Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen is pretty much the only song anyone is singing nowadays, which means that the internet is abound with fantastic covers of it. I wanted to put together my favourites.

The original song (for if you've been living under a rock):



1. Best elementary school cover (is it a cover if she's still singing?):



2. Best choral and orchestral cover:



3. Best indie cover:



4. Best Sesame Street cover:



5. Best Presidential cover:

Week 15: Peace Memorial Museum

On 8:15 a.m. on August 6th, 1945, "Little Boy" was released from 31,060 ft, and detonated 1,968 ft above the city of Hiroshima. The atomic blast almost wiped out the entire city. It is said that there were between 90,000 and 160,000 casualties, with roughly half of the deaths occurring on the day of the blast. This was one of the only two nuclear weapons used in war, and it was also the first.

And on that cheerful note, this was also the reason Cian and I decided to visit Hiroshima. We wished to learn more about the Japanese side of events and see the city firsthand. Needless to say, we weren't disappointed. Cian and I took the night bus to Hiroshima, which got into town at the delightfully early hour of 6:00 am. With nothing to do, we promptly got lost. Seriously, we couldn't even find our way to the right side of the train station. Eventually, we dragged our exhausted bodies over to the other side, and decided to walk to the peace park. It looked like a short distance on the map.

It was not.

After a few hours, we arrived at the park. It was beautiful and peaceful in the early hours of the morning. Before the bomb dropped, the site that the park is now on was host to the busiest area of downtown Hiroshima. When it was all wiped out, the city decided to turn it into a Memorial Park instead of rebuilding the buildings. Design competitions were held, and they eventually decided on the current design. I can't even begin to describe it, so I urge you to visit. You know, if you're ever in the area.

At the end of the park is the Peace Memorial Museum, which is what we were most interested in seeing. We went in, paid our 50 yen entrance fee, and were promptly taken aback. I can't remember the last time I was so moved by a museum. They didn't take sides, they explained the events leading up to the blast clearly, and they did not hold back when explaining the horrors that the bombing caused. It was a sombering experience. It ended with letters from the Mayor of Hiroshima to the countries that have recently undergone nuclear testing, urging them to stop in the name of world peace. That part felt a little overly optimistic, but after all they've gone through, I think they have done a fantastic job of making the world a better place and promoting an amazing message.

The park also features a number of other sights, such as the A-Bomb Dome, above, and the Children's Peace Monument. All of these are tied together beautifully in the park, and really serve to make an impression. I was half asleep, and bone-tired from walking all morning, but I will never forget how Hiroshima made me feel that morning.

Week 14: Fushimi Inari Shrine

Living in Hokkaido is a land of contradictions. I came here expecting to see temples on every street corner, and people living in houses erected in the traditional Japanese style of architecture. Needless to say to anyone who has read my musings over the last year, this is not quite the case here. Hokkaido is a lot more Westernized than the rest of Japan, and while traditional Japanese culture lingers on, it is not as evident as it is in, say, Kyoto.

This is why I was so excited to visit Kyoto and actually experience the true Japanese culture that everyone raves about. Kinkaku-ji, San-ju-san-gendo, geishas; get ready, Kyoto, because I'm coming for you!

Samara and I in front of a (very crowded) path of torii

There is one vision that lingers in everyone's mind, though, when discussing Kyoto, and that is the iconic look of Fushimi Inari Shrine, where the hundreds upon hundreds of red torii are lined up next to each other, forming walking paths that go on for more than 4 kilometres. Needless to say, this was at the top of my itinerary.

I woke up late my second day in Kyoto, admittedly a little (okay, a lot) hungover from the 4 am outing the night before with my friend Samara, who I had run into at the hostel. Jessica was not in the mood to wait for me to get up, so she scampered off by herself to do arts and crafts down the street. Left to my own devices, I called up the equally hungover Samara and her friend Kelly, and we decided to make the trek down to Fushimi Inari for some sightseeing.

Look, we made it to the train station!

We hopped on the train we hoped would take us there, and began the long walk up to the shrine in the blistering Kyoto heat. The area was packed with sightseers, as we were visiting during Golden Week, one of the busiest times of the year for Japanese sightseeing. We walked and walked, past little stalls and other goodies, until we finally came to the main shrine area.

So packed, guys.

Main Shrine

Fushimi Inari is not just one shrine, but a collection of five, I believe, all intricately linked together by the series of torii that you see in all the brochures for Japan. The mountain on which they are placed, Inari, was named after a Shinto God that was worshiped for wealth in the Shinto religion, and all of the torii were donated by merchants or businesses in the hope that donating a torii would bring them prosperity. The earliest structures were built in 711, but the main shrine was not built until 1499.

Inscriptions by the businesses that donated the torii.

Also, completely unrelated, the wiki for the shrine is also written in Esperanto. Fun Facts!

 

Anyway, as I mentioned, there are more than 4 kilometres comprising thousands and thousands of bright red torii, and we walked the entire thing up to the top of the mountain, where we saw a wonderful view of Kyoto in all its majesty. There isn't much else to say about the shrine itself, so I will let the photos speak for themselves.

We were taking a picture of the torii and these guys randomly walked through and made this face.

Look at me! look at me!

 So there you have it. Jeri dragged her hungover butt through 4k of torii to the top of a mountain and all you got was this blog post. I hope you enjoyed it.

Week 13: The Maid Cafe

Tokyo is a huge, cosmopolitan city. You can find anything you could ever want to find there, from shops that sell cosplay costumes for your dogs to craft beer that you can’t get anywhere else in Japan. The range of options is vast and ever expanding. When I was in Tokyo, I saw things and did things I couldn’t do anywhere else. I went to Meiji Jingu and saw part of a traditional Japanese wedding. I walked through Harajuku and saw tonnes of stores selling crazy stuff. I went to a prison-themed restaurant in Shibuya. One thing, however, stood out in my mind as completely unique and Japanese.

Shibuya, the bustling centre of Tokyo

I went to a Maid Cafe in Akihabara.

For those of you that don’t know what maid cafes are, let me give you a quick rundown. Basically, they are cafes where you can eat and order drinks. Big surprise there. The catch, though, is that you are waited on by a “maid”, which is normally a waitress dressed up in a little maids uniform. They are all attractive, young, innocent looking women. The maids will stir your drinks for you, chat with you, and in some cases perform for the whole cafe. What the girls do varies from place to place, but generally, the atmosphere is somewhat innocent, albeit a little creepy. 

I was intrigued by this when I heard about it, so when my group of girls and I found ourselves in Akihabara, we decided that we had to give it a try. We walked around for a little bit, trying to find a cafe that wasn’t too overpriced, when we came across a really adorably clad girl with a really high-pitched, annoying voice. I was hesitant, but Jessica seemed really excited and she offered a good deal, so we got in the elevator and went up. As soon as the elevator doors opened, everything changed.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

I was surrounded by lights and pink and cuteness. It was terrifying. I tried to back out and go back downstairs, but instead I was led to a table for the four of us by a waitress dressed in a french maid costume with another squeaky, high pitched voice. She helped us all sit down, then she introduced herself, kneeling at the table, and wrote her name on a little card, decorating it with hearts and flowers. I was half amused and half uncomfortable. She then took our drink orders and went away to get the drinks, leaving me some time to investigate my surroundings.

It was dark, made that way so you couldn’t really see the other patrons. I tried my hardest to scan the room regardless, and realized very quickly that everyone else was male. The few other females that were there were there with their boyfriends, and I even thought I recognised one of the patrons. If I did, however, he definitely didn’t recognise me, so I paid him the same courtesy. Most of the men were there by themselves, ordering drinks and chain-smoking.

Inside of a Cafe- Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Our waitress/maid brought us our drinks, and in order to make them “more delicious” we all had to say a magic spell together, complete with silly hand gestures. Jessica got really into this, and I just did it so I could drink my beer. We ordered a few snacks and went through the same routine to make them more delicious too.

Afterwards, we were treated to a special show, where all the maids danced and sang to all of us. They took turns picking out audience members to say silly things, and Jessica got really into it, making cat noises into microphones.  It was interesting, to say the least.

Then, after an hour, we packed up and went home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to take pictures inside, so I have no photos from the night, but you could pay to get photos with the maids. We saw one guy getting his photo taken with almost every single one. I am broke, so this story is kind of bare. Gomen.

I would recommend the experience as that. An experience. If you go in with an open mind and don’t expect too much, you might have a lot of fun.

Week 12: Eat Jellyfish

Sometimes, I plan these new things weeks in advance, but other times, they just sneak up on me. Sometimes, in fact, I don’t even know I’ve done something new until after I’ve done it. This was one of those cases. Read it and weep.

I’m not sure how many of you are aware of this, but I am a vegetarian. I don’t eat fish, seafood, pork, beef, chicken, or anything else that used to be an animal. Normally, I don’t have to explain what “vegetarian” means, but since I live in Japan, I know that I can’t take anything for granted. This was made particularly evident when I went to my first enkai, or work party.

An accurate representation of my stomach

The week leading up to the enkai, I had told everyone that I didn’t eat all of these things. I was willing to make concessions and eat seafood, because I realized that if I didn’t, the chefs probably wouldn’t know what to feed me. Satou-sensei got excited and started making calls. The days passed by uneventfully, and suddenly the fateful day of the enkai arrived.

My supervisor and I drove to the resort where the enkai was held, and seated ourselves in the big room. Speeches were made, the kampai was given, and the waitresses started bringing plates of food out. So many different things, and I didn’t know what any of them were. They brought out a few things for me, and I looked at the communal plates after finishing my own food, and asked Nakayama-sensei if there was anything I could eat.

“Yes!” she replied. “these are kikurage! It is a type of mushroom!”

Kikurage. Or what I thought I ate.

“Oh, okay!” I said, taking a few and putting them onto my plate. I put a few bites into my mouth, chewed and swallowed. Well, it seemed she was right. It did kind of taste like mushrooms, albeit slightly strange mushrooms.

The party went on, and I was continually served a number of different dishes, including crab, shrimp, and many other salads. I guess that since I said I’d eat seafood, they really took that to heart. All was well, until about 30 minutes later, when people had had a bit more to drink, that the subject of food once again reared its ugly head.

“How are you finding the food, Jeri? Are there things you can eat?” the (actual) PE teacher asked.

“Yeah, it’s been great! Nakayama-sensei pointed out that I can eat the kikurage here!” I replied, pointing at the mushrooms.

The room went silent and everyone at my table looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Uhh...” the PE teacher started. “That’s not kikurage. That’s kurage.”

Nakayama-sensei looked at me in horror.

“Nakayama-sensei, what is kurage?” I asked, fearing the worst.

“Jellyfish.” she said, obviously terrified.

Jellyfish. What I actually ate.

I started to laugh hysterically. I had just eaten jellyfish! Nakayama-sensei looked at me as though she had killed my child by accident, apologising profusely. “I am so sorry! So so so sorry!” she kept repeating over and over.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” I said. “These things happen.”

And then all was right with the world. And I didn’t touch the jellyfish again. 

What jellyfish looks like cooked.

I would never have eaten jellyfish on purpose, but you know what? I’m glad I did it. It was an experience I will certainly always remember, even if not for the best of reasons.

Have you eaten jellyfish? What’s the craziest thing you’ve eaten? Let me know!