Thailand Day 2

We got up and had a nice breakfast at the hotel, hailed a taxi, went to the airport and checked in for our flight. The plan was to fly from Singapore to Krabi, Thailand and then immediately get on a flight from Krabi to Koh Samui, Thailand. However, we had a hard time booking our flight from Krabi to Samui… it’s a bit confusing as to how this all panned out, but we weren’t very confident we even had our seats reserved. So we wanted to go to the counter with the other airline to get it straightened out. However… our flight from Singapore to Krabi was with the “budget terminal” which was a whole taxi ride away from Terminal 1 where that airline was. So we paid $9 for a taxi to the other terminal. What a joke. And then they didn’t even have a single staff member on duty since their only flight of the day wasn’t until that evening. ::sigh::

Long story short, we made our flight in plenty of time and got it all straightened out with no problems. We had lunch at the airport near a group of young European guys. They had on stupid sunglasses with long hair and George and I had a pretty interesting conversation about how I thought it was cool they were all likely backpacking through Thailand and Asia and George thought they were lowlifes who needed to get real jobs and contribute to society. The never ending laughter about my free spirit and George’s sense of logic struck again. Sometimes we both wonder how we ever ended up together. While we are the same person, we are very different… and I think that’s part of what makes us tick.

We landed in Koh Samui airport and we were delighted to see the most precious airport imaginable. They had tiki-hut looking buildings and the airplanes were painted with fish, sunshine and rainbows. (See… free spirit)

Unfortunately since we booked our hotel through a budget website (agoda.com…. awesome by the way) the hotel apparently didn’t get our request for airport transfer so we had to get a taxi. We drove all of 5 minutes to the resort and we couldn’t have been more pleasantly surprised. The Bhundari Resort Hotel and Spa was beautiful. It was separated by a road into two pieces, one on a hill and one down the hill along the beach. We gave them our info at check in and they escorted us to couches overlooking the ocean and brought us an ice cold drink. The only thing that could have been better was if it had alcohol in it. We were informed we’d been upgraded from the deluxe pool villa to a luxury pool villa. No complaints there! So they took our bags and put us on the back of a golf cart and drove us up the hill to our room. Here’s where the problem was: In our days and days of research we had selected this particular hotel for the “beachfront pool villa” but we were 150 yards up a hill from the beach. Normally I wouldn’t have dared to complain but hey- you want what you paid for. So I sent George back to the reception area to have him straighten it out. They did, no questions asked and we moved down the hill and across the road to the beach. We were still separated by one other villa and the resort’s pool but the view was beautiful. And we had our own pool. And it was a villa. And I could live in that room forever and be happy.

Our room was done all in teak with the prettiest hardwood floors. It had high ceilings, a settee, a king sized bed that was super comfortable and the bathroom was 3 times larger than the one we have at home. It had an outside shower with dual showerheads, a Jacuzzi tub, and dual vanities with the cutest sinks. I loved that bathroom, and have made a mental note to live in a house with a bathroom like that someday. ::sigh::

We splashed around in our own private pool for a little while and then went to the resort pool because they had a swim up bar… and how could you not love one of those? We spent the rest of the afternoon there and then headed into the Chaweng Beach tourist area for dinner. George made me try a Maekong Lippo, which is a Thai whiskey and red bull drink (or something like that)… George goes on trips to Thailand pretty often and he knows all about those sorts of things. So I had one and it was delish. This meal came with the largest shrimp I have ever eaten. They were SO good.

 After dinner we walked around the area and were bombarded with people selling us suits, dresses, tickets to Muay Thai boxing, and massages. We ended up deciding it would be pretty cool to see a boxing match. Our friend Kate won the people’s choice award for her photo at a boxing match in Thailand last year and they had a good time at the match. Plus I divulged in Ashley’s season of the bachelorette… where they traveled to Thailand and participated in a Muay Thai boxing match, so it was on my list of things to do.

We walked to Chaweng stadium and got our seats in the second row. I was slightly terrified for these guys’ lives. This boxing is pretty intense but it also involves a lot of culture. Each boxer prays and hits each corner of the match, does a little dance to the live band and then the fighting began. It seemed like sometimes it would take 10 minutes for a match to start. The guys were all greased up and slippery, and their goons were passionate about their winning. Cheering them on, telling them which moves to use, yelling, screaming, and jumping up and down. Good grief was it entertaining. I think all together there were 7 fights. The smallest guys were in a 104lb weight class and didn’t look like they could be a day past their 15^th birthdays. The largest were in a 165lb weight class but George and I both thought they looked more like 195. There were kicks and punches and slaps and blood and sweat and knockouts. While it was really fun to see I was a bit worried some of those kids were going to have some serious brain damage. My favorite fight was the last one of the night. It was the most advertised too. It was an Australian guy vs. a Thai boxer. It was the Australian’s first fight and the crowd was pumped up. This is where we learned the phrase “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!!! OY, OY, OY!” This is apparently a pretty popular phrase for the Aussie’s, as we heard it a couple more times during our stay in Thailand. The ring leader was funny too and introduced the Thai boxer as a boxing champion who has won over 100 fights… then he declared he was just kidding, and it was only his third fight. Funny.

So homeboy fighter Aussie had a whole brood of goons with him. I made up my own back story for this guy, which I’m sure is probably pretty accurate. Here’s how it goes: Aussie kid (probably early 20’s) went to Thailand on holiday (since they don’t use the word vacation) with some of his buddies and saw a Muay Thai boxing match. They thought it looked easy enough and since he had a few extra weeks to spare he stayed and trained and will probably participate in three fights and then head back to Australia with some sort of scar, lifelong injury or disease for thinking he could be a badass Muay Thai boxer. End story.

By the way, Aussie won.

We negotiated a taxi ride home on what they call a “Baht Bus”. It’s basically an old pickup truck with a cover and benches built up on the side of the bed for passengers. It was terrifying riding in that thing with all of the traffic. And by traffic I mean 100’s of motorcycle scootering tourists who were all leaving the boxing match and had probably been drinking. We made it back to our oasis room though, and slept through to morning.  

I can't believe we didn't have our camera with us for the boxing match but we took a few on George's iPhone.

Thailand- Day 1 (so really... Singapore)

We climbed Fuji on Friday and then George left first thing Sunday morning on a trip to Australia. What a lucky guy! We were supposed to leave Thursday for our vacation to Thailand! We wanted to take a trip when George got home from deployment in June but it took us a few months to find time in our busy lives to make that work. So, August it was! We spent weeks starring at the computer screens learning about the areas we were traveling to, airplane tickets to get there, which hotels to stay at and recommended restaurants in the area. It was exhausting. The only solace I took from this research was that eventually we would get to go there and experience Thailand. Long story short… George didn’t make it home from his trip in time for us to make our scheduled flight and hotel reservations so we had to cancel and reschedule for when he did finally get home. It only delayed our trip by 4 days and was truly a blessing in disguise because airfare dropped because of the different days and he was able to get a few extra days of leave.

The night before we left for our vacation George and I were relatively busy. And when I say busy we had two events to attend. I had my monthly Bunco game and George joined a fantasy football draft here on the base with some of his friends. And so although we had to check in at the terminal at 4:15, I wasn’t home until about 10:30, with several loads of laundry to do, and George didn’t make it home until almost midnight. Then we packed and George ended up getting in about an hour and a half of sleep, and I slept for zero minutes. With coffee and bagels in hand, we were off to the base terminal to sign in for a flight. We made it on the flight!!! (I am behind on a blog or two but when (if) I ever get caught up, I’ll explain why making it on a Space-A flight is such a big deal.)

So we got on one of the nicest planes we could have imagined for a Space-A flight. There were only 7 passengers on a flight with 27 seats. They gave us two different meals, snacks and drinks galore and they played 3 movies during our 6.5 hour flight. My favorite snack choice was the king sized 3 Musketeer’s bar, which I put in my purse for a snack for later. My only complaint was how cold it was. Seeing as how it was August it was hot outside and I knew it would be in Singapore too so I wore some cotton gaucho’s I bought in the PJ section at Target (I’m bringing them back) thinking they would be enough warmth. I ended up with two blankets wrapped around my legs. It almost made it miserable!

We landed safely, got our bags and headed towards our taxi. At one point along the short walk there was one of those metal revolving door turnstile things. (Know what I mean?) George made it successfully through with his two bags and then it was my turn. I’ve been afraid of revolving doors since I was a kid. I couldn’t begin to tell you why, but they make me nervous they’ll scrape my heels as I go through or something if I’m not walking quickly enough. Anyways, as I went through this thing with my two bags, one in front of me, one behind me, I got stuck. It wouldn’t turn. And I was trapped. And I kind of freaked out.  And by freaked out, I mean hyperventilating and screaming. George started yelling at me to stop screaming and then there was a guard who came out of nowhere to help me move my bags and remove myself safely from that awful contraption.  Crisis averted.

We got checked into our room which was small but adequate for what we needed. It was clean enough and since it was only one night, certainly nothing to complain about! We took a walk to an area known as Little India (after a short detour because we got lost) and finally settled on an Indian Restaurant on the corner for dinner. I ordered butter chicken and rice because at our favorite Indian Restaurant in Japan that dish isn’t too spicy. Wrong assumption here. I should have specified. I was literally fighting back tears and coughing and blowing my nose. George’s dish was even spicier so there wasn’t trading either. I guess this was actually a great introduction to spicy food, seeing as how we were headed to Thailand: home of spicy food. We stopped at McDonald’s on the walk home and got me a double cheeseburger. :) 

Fuji-San Champions!

I’m not really sure when my obsession with Mt. Fuji started. The first time I even realized it existed, I was probably in middle school. My BFF Kayla and I went to a restaurant called “Mt. Fuji.” It’s the same concept as Benihana’s, where they cook in front of you and do tricks. My favorite is the onion volcano, with bonus points to the chef if they then push the volcano around while it’s smoking and say “choo-choo!” I’ve eaten at different variations of these restaurants since then and have never found one I've enjoyed as much as Mt. Fuji.

When we heard the news that we were moving to Japan, George and I sat down and brainstormed about everything we knew of our soon to be home. We knew they used chopsticks, and spoke Japanese. We knew it was an island, and what their flag looked like, and we knew what a kamikaze shot was. We also knew about Mt. Fuji. We knew it was a volcano, but I’m pretty sure I even googled that night to ensure it wasn’t an active volcano. (It’s not.)

Upon our arrival in Japan we learned that you could see Mt. Fuji from the base. I was enthralled with this idea. One week went by, and then a second, and a third. A month, two months, maybe even three passed by with no sightings of the great Fuji-san. I was convinced that it had all been a hoax; a joke to play on newcomers to the base. “Very funny” I thought, but really felt “very disappointing.” Just when I’d given up hope that Fuji-san even existed, one day when were in Yokohama (an hour and a half away by train) we were at the top of a building and we saw a Japanese couple pointing out the window and saying “Ooooh! Fuji-san!” And they pointed it out to us, and it was peeking out from behind the clouds. And I was instantly, and I mean instantly, in love.

We got back to the base that afternoon and were driving around the flightline. We both turned our heads at the same time to look at the mountain range we see daily, and there it was. Fuji-san. In her glory. Just staring at us. Massive, and truly breathtakingly beautiful.

So the talk began of climbing Mt. Fuji. The conquering of the feat quickly rose on our list of things to do while living in Japan. When George deployed we agreed to get in shape for many reasons: to lose weight, be healthier, be able to run together and to be able to climb Mt. Fuji this summer. George got in shape, losing 25lbs during those 4 months, and since his homecoming he runs about 4 miles daily, just for fun. I gained 6lbs while he was gone, and struggle walking up our one flight of stairs with groceries. Since his return in June, about once a week, he’d say “Still climbing Fuji this summer?” And I’d say yes, and go to the gym that day… and then resume my semi-sedentary life style. And then all of a sudden... it was August. Where the summer went? I have no idea, but it seemed to fly by. So we agreed to climb Fuji on Saturday night. The plan was to both work Friday (I was nanny-ing for a sweet family on the base), and then sleep in really late on Saturday to be prepared for our night climb up Fuji with a group of friends.

Problem was we somehow forgot about this whole military life we live where you hear news at the drop of a hat, and life changes. So Friday morning at 9am George sends me a text that says “I need you to call me asap.” Crap. I don’t care much for texts like that!!! He says he got put on a TDY leaving first thing Sunday morning. So we can’t climb Fuji Saturday night. So he suggests we either do it next summer, or we do it tonight. I laugh, and of course think next summer is our only option. I only slept 6 hours the night before and anyone who has ever met me knows I need a lot of sleep to function properly. So we get off the phone agreeing to do it next summer. Two hours go by, and I get another text. “I’m going tonight to climb fuji, you should still go tomorrow. I promise I will go with you next year.” Crap. Nobody in their right mind climbs Fuji more than once. I go back and forth on this for the next couple of hours. What should I do? Climb it tonight when I’m miserably tired and mentally unprepared but do it with my husband? Or go the next night with the friends I had originally planned on? Or just let him go tonight, and pray he has a good enough time that he wants to do it again with me next summer, when I’m in better shape?

Eventually I agree to go tonight. Why not? It’s our shot. It’s only advisable to climb Fuji in the months of July and August because it’s snow covered almost year round, and we have plans every weekend until the end of August. So I agree. I swing by Outdoor Rec after lunch and I see George’s car in the parking lot just as I’m about to call him and tell him I’ve decided to go. I go inside and he says “You’re going? But there isn’t room for you! I invited other people.” So my reaction is anger. How couldn’t it be? “I’m going. You can make room for me.” He clarified that of course he wanted me to go, he wanted to do it with me. So we decide we’ll take my car that seats 7. We rented rain pants, boots, gators, and headlamps. (And I got a can of oxygen) At 4pm when I’m done with the baby I head home and packed up snacks, a first aid kit, got my jacket ready, and George filled up our Camelbak’s full of water.

Mel, DJ, Kevin and Erol met us at our house and after a stop at the ATM and gas station we were on the road by 6:45ish. I had imagined everyone would want to be just like me and nap in the car on the drive out there; after all, everyone worked that day too. How wrong I was. Everyone was pumped. Super excited, and chatty. There was no sleeping in the car. We drove out to the Mt. Fuji train station and parked there, and then took a bus an hour or so the fifth station. It’s as far up as you can drive a car. We bought our walking sticks, paid our 50Yen to use the bathroom, and stretched a little bit. Mel and I noticed a group of Japanese girls similar to our age stretching. They were chanting as they stretched and giggling. It looked like fun! So we got brave and joined them. They humored us for one round of chanting and stretching and we thanked them. Japan never ceases to offer us entertainment.

Here's the whole crew! Erol, Kevin, DJ, Mel, Chelsea & George! This is us in the parking lot where we parked our car. That's Fuji Q Highlands amusement park in the distance!

Rule number 18: Limber Up!!!

This is us at the very beginning of the trail. Smiles on our faces, and we were relaxed and ready to go!

We start walking at 9:50pm Friday night. The walk is simple enough for the first 10 minutes, and then we hit the trail head. And it points up. And within those first 20 minutes Kevin, Erol, Mel and DJ are almost out of sight. I’m huffing. And puffing. And struggling. The air is thin already, and again—I am OUT. OF. SHAPE. They stop for me and wait, and I feel SO guilty. I really hate to be the reason to slow everyone else down. I explain this to them and they were all so nice about it. George sees how bad I’m struggling (don’t think he was really surprised) and he took my backpack from me. What a guy. He would have carried my water too if that wasn’t such a big part of my survival for the next 7 hours. Somewhere in that first hour I turned on my iPod and it was such a huge motivation. Throughout the hike I listened to Taylor Swift’s Speak Now album, Alanis Morisette’s Jagged Little Pill, and Ashlee Simpson’s Autobiography. I just needed a little “girl power.” As those came to an end, I finally selected the Beatles as the artist and hit shuffle. All 300+ songs shuffled about, and they were so energizing. It gave me a beat to walk to, and I think without that, it would have been a much more difficult accomplishment.

Here we are at probably the 6th of 7th station. There's my sweet husband carrying my backpack! I think I was eating a power bar when this was taken; it's certainly not an attractive picture of me, but it's funny!

We reached the 6^th and 7^th stations pretty quickly. I think we were making great time, in spite of my slowness. Each station is like a checkpoint, where you can get a stamp on your stick. The sticks are wooden, with bells and flags on them, and in my opinion is the greatest souvenir you can take back with you from Japan. There is nothing I wanted more than that stick and those stamps. Each stamp was 200Yen, and we both got 16 stamps. It was pricy. Plus we paid 1,000Yen each per stick. Plus anywhere between 50-300yen for each bathroom break! We sweated enough to not have to go too often though.

At each station as I’d arrive, the other 4 would be ready to take off again. I felt like in those 7 hours I never had a chance to catch my breath. My deep breaths never subsided. Once. It was a strange feeling, and I almost felt like I knew what it would be like to be an astronaut. Around the 7^th station I started to see people using oxygen cans. I was so envious of them, so I finally broke down and took my first pump of oxygen. I was really glad I brought the can with me. Even with the oxygen though, I never felt completed energized. I had a couple spouts of dizziness, lots of tiredness, and moments of doubt if I’d make it to the top. George never faltered to be an incredible support. We had a few tiffs when we climbed the Great Wall of China back in November (check out that post here http://chelseametros.blogspot.com/2010/12/long-awaited-continuance-of-china.html), but we never got upset with each other once on this trip. He was caring and understanding and I really feel like it was a strengthening experience for our relationship.

I don’t know how to explain the climb. It was incredibly difficult. Steep. Challenging. The changes in terrain were abrupt. You’d go from a steep almost dirt path to suddenly climbing over boulders. The path started out with us feeling like we were the only ones on the mountain and the number of people increased with time. I don’t know where they came from! We passed a lot of people, but were passed by others too. My least favorite was when the children that would pass me. I’d say we saw about 10 kids the whole time, if that. Stupid overachiever kids.

This gives you an idea of what the hike looked like 25% of the time. Vertical, with rocks. We were fortunate enough to have climbed during a full moon though! It was beautiful!

I feel like there is more to say about the climb up, but really, now, 24 hours later, it’s a blur. It sucked. But it was incredible to look down at the towns below us with all of their lights. It was incredible to see the stars. And I mean incredible. Living in Tokyo doesn’t offer us the opportunity to see many stars, but on this mountain, they were there. In general, this was just a spiritual experience. When I’d start feeling down and like I couldn’t make it to the top, I’d see one spectacular purple flower. You can only see what your headlamp is pointing at, and my eyes would drift to the one flower. And it was funny, because it made me feel like God put this mountain here for a reason. He wanted to challenge his people, but didn’t forget to add those little details like a flower for the weary. The greenery that survived at that altitude was one of the things that impressed me the most.

As we hit one of the last stations before the top (5 and a half-ish hours into this hike) it felt like we were going to make it with plenty of time to see the sun rise. And then we hit a traffic jam. The higher we went, the steeper, rockier and more narrow the path was. And the more tour groups we ran into. These tour groups would stop on the trail and let everyone in their group catch up, which would result in making everyone else on the trail halt to a standstill. At this point the other 4 in our group were far ahead of us and we were sure they’d beat us to the top! George and I had gotten so frustrated with standing around behind the giant tour groups that we began climbing around them, sometimes even stepping off the trail to do so. As the hours neared 4am, we were really hoping to make it to the top before sunrise, but were sure we’d miss it, and our 4 ahead of us would beat us up there! Then we saw them! We had managed to catch them during our passing of everyone. So we all reached the top within a few minutes of each other. As Twist and Shout came onto my iPod you couldn’t help but smile. We made it. I was alive. And I was at the top of Mt. Fuji!!!

What a champ!

At least you can see our silhouettes! The sun is bright in the early morning!

Here's a video George took of us at the top, watching the sunrise.

I was so exhausted. I had imagined I would’ve cried when I reached the top. But my body wouldn't let me. I was too tired. We watched the sun come up and then I curled up into a ball and allowed myself to sleep for about half an hour. It was cold, and I was glad I had a hat, and gloves. We had the breakfast of champions at the top of Mt. Fuji as the sun continued to rise. The bowl of hot ramen was tasty but a few bites in I began to not feel so well. I spent the next hour and a half in the bathroom. I’m not one to discuss any tummy issues I have because I feel it isn’t very ladylike, so let’s just say I felt really sick. I’m not sure if it was altitude sickness (I don’t think so), or if it was something I ate, or if it was because I was dehydrated (I drank a ton of water though), but I know I didn’t feel well! It really took away the appeal of the top of the mountain. Instead of really taking in the top and exploring around the crater, I had to just take care of myself.

Once I felt a little settled, I drank half of a 5 hour energy drink, and it really did give me the boost I needed. It didn’t make me feel jittery, but did make me feel a little more awake and energized for the walk down. The sun was up, the temperature was rising (it was probably 40 degrees at the top, it was cold, and windy!) and our spirits were relatively high. The hike back down was a new level of difficult. Instead of using your thighs to go up, up, and higher up, you used your knees and toes to keep from sliding down the mountain. We dug into the gravelly rocks with our heels, and braced with our sticks. There was a lot of sliding and slipping and I was SO grateful we didn’t have any rain on this hike because the way down would have been so much worse if it had been muddy!!! It took us just under 4 hours to make it to the bottom of the mountain, and get on the bus. We stopped much less for breaks, and I still can’t decide if the hike up, or hike down was worse. I think going up was certainly more physically and mentally demanding, but on the way down my body was so tired and energy was depleted enough to really struggle. And I was getting blisters on my feet at that point. I came out of the event with a total of six blisters. Four on my right foot, one on my left food, and one on my ring finger where my wedding rings were! My hands had swollen so much that my rings had dug into my hand and rubbed it raw. Weird!

We had a few odd experiences on the way down. One of them was when we saw a handful of steamrollers going up the mountain. And we saw one bulldozer. The path down was much different than up and was like sliding on marbles and golf balls for 4 hours, so we were pretty surprised to see the heavy equipment going up the mountain! At this one particular turn on the mountain the bulldozer was coming up and needed to turn on this path. Well, there was one lady who felt that bulldozer was in her way (or something) and tried to walk underneath the bucket of it. I’ve never heard so many people yell and gasp at the same time. She seriously almost got smoked (Tribute to you, Kyle!)

Notice the lady underneath the bulldozer. What an idiot.

Here's Kevin and Erol taking a little break on the way down!

We made it. We did it. I accomplished something most people never will. And I’m only 23. It was an extraordinary experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world. I’m so glad George and I did it together. What a blessing to have him to push me into these crazy adventures. We do balance each other out so well, and I just love that guy so much. I mean, he carried my backpack up the mountain. What a guy.

I truly understand the meaning of the phrase “Land of the Rising Sun” now. I’m sure my love affair with Mt. Fuji will continue for the rest of my life. Currently, as I sit on the couch crippled with pain and soreness from my toes to my head, the idea of that mountain makes me sick. The next time we have a clear day on the base, and I see that iconic mountain sitting there so grounded and powerful, I’ll probably have a good cry, and the respect for each other will be mutual. I conquered it. George conquered it. And we did it together. And for us, that is enough. It’s just another thing on our lifelong journey together to cross off the list, but it was awesome.

In the car on the way home George was the only one out of the 6 of us that said he’d do it again. There were dollar amounts thrown around about how much we’d climb it for. George said he’d do it for free in the next couple of days after a good meal, sleep and a shower. I think the next lowest bidder was $4,000. Someone said they’d do it for $7,000. I’m pretty sure you could write me a check for $10,000 and I’d laugh in your face. I would never do it again, but I wouldn’t trade the experience I had for the world. I’d maybe do it again for $100,000. Minimum. And that’s a BIG maybe. That being said, if you live here in Japan, or come to visit and you don’t do it… you suck. You’re missing out on a spiritual, physical and mental feat. Just do it. You won’t regret it. I promise.

We made it. Back where we started. P.S. Go Braves!

No Autographs

In case you weren't aware, I'm quite the celebrity around here. Two months in a row my picture has made it into the base's magazine. No, no... I'm not dating anyone famous. I didn't get a DUI nor am I on my way to rehab. I didn't adopt 7 orphans from Africa. BUT I am a frequent diner at the restaurants on the base, which is all you need to get your photo taken.

JUNE:

JULY:

Neither of these photos even warranted a caption with my name, and no one has asked for my autograph, but it is fun to see myself in print. Even if BOTH photos are of me with food. June was me at a buffet. Holding two plates. July is of me ordering a breakfast burrito. Does this make me a fatty? I think not.

Best. Weekend. Ever.

This past weekend is up for the award of “Best. Weekend. Ever.”

Friday: George and I slept in until 11am. Awesome. And so refreshing. We had Subway for lunch, did a little shopping, watched The Kings Speech (excellent, by the way), and then went to the Officer’s club for dinner. A handful of us had a drink at our place, and then met up with a second handful of people and walked to some local bars, did a little dancing, socializing etc… and then we wound up at a Filipino Karaoke bar. And that was fun too. I haven’t karaoked in a while so that was enjoyable, and then we took a cab home and got a little sleep.

Saturday: We were up by 8:30, dressed, showered, coffeed, and headed to our friend’s Melissa and Matt’s house. We picked them up and drove the 1.5 hours to downtown Tokyo to the New Sanno Hotel. It’s a US military owned fancy hotel in Tokyo and it’s just charming.

We got checked into our rooms, dropped our stuff off and then took a walk to the train station, and trained it up to Frijoles. Frijoles is the closest thing to Mexican food we get here in Japan. It’s basically a delectable Chipotle knockoff. I got a rice bowl instead of a burrito and as I watched everyone else eating theirs, I highly regretted that decision. Luckily, George let me have a little bite of his.

We’d gotten a suggestion from our friend Kate to go to Ebisu to the Yebisu Beer Museum. So… we went. It was neat to see the history of beer in Japan. After WWII Yebisu didn’t produce any beer until the 70’s so there was a big gap in their time line. We did some birru (Japanese for beer, in case you didn’t figure that out) tasting, and took a picture with a super cute Japanese girl wearing a shirt that said “Chelsea” on the front. [There’s a popular Japanese candy they sell here and the brand name is Chelsea, so when introducing myself to Japanese people, they can normally relate my name to that and they get it. (This girl’s shirt was not of the candy name, and none of this even applies to my story. Please ignore. End rant.)]

At the Yebisu Beer Museum

Chelsea!

This was a poster at one of the train stations. Please note: You are not allowed to take a bike on a train because it will bump people in the butt, and make tiny firemen wearing backpacks lose their hats. You also cannot fold them up, or put them in bags. Lesson learned. Thanks for the tip, train poster!

We got back to the hotel, showered and rallied for---get ready for this---A BEATLES THEMED DINNER AND SHOW. AKA, the best idea ever. YES! I made George et al suit up and us chicks wore pretty dresses. I don’t really believe that there’s such thing as “overdressed” so we were not overdressed. Everyone else was under dressed. And not even everyone. Actually, there was quite a mix of American riff raff. We saw people in anything from Jeans and t-shirts to suits and cocktail dresses. (The latter being us)

The doors opened at 6:30 so at 6:35 we were walking through the door of the giant ballroom of the hotel. It was, in every sense of the word, magical. The room itself was beautiful but the thought and detail put into the evening is what really made it sparkle. There was a 60foot wide screen playing Beatles movies all night long (not with sound), 6 giant blown up posters of their various album covers (that’s what they used to call CD’s, or Mp3’s for all you younger folks), a bar in the corner titled “The Cavern Club”, a drink menu featuring drinks such as a “Yellow Submarine” or my drink of choice for the evening, “Love Me Do”. It was genius. It was coordinated beautifully and I truly tip my hat to the designers and coordinators of the evening. They even gave away hats and “John Lennon glasses” for us to wear. We had a great time taking pictures with these props, and I think they really added an extra pull into the 1960’s for a few hours.

The bar.

Our table number. What a cute detail!

We all live in a yellow submarine.

We ordered a few cocktails, and got in line for the buffet, which was delicious. I had lamb, roast beef and ham with various sides of pasta, fruit, and salad. I didn’t get very far into my meal because the band “The Parrots” took the stage and my head was spinning with excitement. Straight up excitement. I could hardly sit still. I tried to force down some food but just wanted to dance! (Cue Dane Cook sketch)

If you recall, in April my mom, sister and I went to Las Vegas for the sole purpose of seeing The Beatles Cirque du Soleil show “Love” [well maybe not the sole purpose, but major purpose]. As the band came on and began their first song, I actually felt a little family sick (kind of like homesick, but not really missing the place, just the people). I wished my mom could have been there too. She would have loved it. The energy was vibrant and colorful and it took everything in me to sit still and eat. Sometimes George would get up and dance with me, but sometimes he’d just stare blankly at me and say “again?” Although he is the one who understands me the most in the world, his little heart is just not as into the Beatles as much as mine is. I can’t blame him. Not many hearts are. Lucky for me, Melissa was a fantastic sport and followed me out to the dance floor each time. We had a blast.

The Parrots were a really great cover band. They’re all Japanese natives, and each one played so well it really felt like I was listening to a Beatles record (another word for CD or MP3). Every cord was played to a tee, and during the first song I even questioned if they weren’t lip-synching. The only song of the evening I found a tad bit off was “Back in the U.S.S.R.” when the “R.” was pronounced much more like someone whose first language is Japanese would be. It didn’t hinder the spirit of the evening and only added to it. I mean hello? I’m in Japan, listening to a Japanese Beatles cover band. What more could a girl ask for???

Dereck, Jane, Me, George, Melissa, and Matt

We clean up nicely!

All you need is love.

The girls

The boys

Anywho… the night sadly came to an end (well… the show at least) but they announced the band would be back in October (YES!!!) and they also announced that we could find them playing at the Abbey Road Club in Roppongi. I turn to the group and say “google it!!!” So they do. And then the 5 of us (Poor Jane was sick, so she went to bed) head to the street to yield a cab. Well… I am no stranger to seatbelt laws. And I know that you can’t put 5 people in one taxi. So I’m counting the number of people we have over and over. 5. Yep. There’s 5 of us. 4 seats in a car. 5 people. Plus a driver. Uh-oh. We’re not going to fit. But some of the people in our group say “Daijoubu.” (Which means, “it’s okay/it’s fine/don’t worry about it”… or at least that’s how we all use it) “Daijoubu is repeated about 10 times to me, and then the cab pulls up. And he counts us as we are piling in. 5 people. 4 seats in the car. 5 people. Plus a driver. The group repeats "Daijoubu," and again I think they’re talking to me. We’ve all piled in and the doors are closed. “Daijoubu” is said again and again and somewhere in here I realize they are no longer reassuring me, but the taxi driver too. Which for some reason I find hysterical. And I don’t mean giggling-hysterical. I mean… OMG I’m going to pee my pants (dress), and cry hysterical. I could. Not. Stop. Laughing. I don’t know what was so funny, probably the fact that we all were still wearing our funny hats and glasses. It might have been the repeated and I mean repeated (over 100 times at this point) “Daijoubu.” Whatever it may have been, I laughed. And Melissa has her hand over my mouth because the driver is very distressed that “Daijoubu” is still being repeated. Once I am almost completely composed a Japanese cop car pulls up next to us at a red light. Driver starts yelling in Japanese and motioning for one of us to duck. I get shoved in a doubled over position where I laugh again. Hysterically. When we finally pulled up to the club we all shout “Sugoi!!!” (Which means great/awesome/super!) It doesn’t really translate well at all. Imagine driving a group of Japanese nationals around in America and at their destination they all shout “Super!” It sounds really stupid now, but at the time, it made perfect sense. I promise. Cab drivers don’t accept tips in Japan. (Neither do waiters, doormen, or anyone else in the service industry). But, this guy did accept our tip. No questions asked. I can’t imagine why.

We get to the club, go inside and it’s an all Beatles, all the time kind of place. (AKA, my kind of place). However, the band was only playing another half hour and then the place closed only 20 minutes after that, and they wanted roughly $40USD per person to get in. So… we left. We still managed to have one of the funnest evenings I’ve ever had. We went to a “shot bar” (for a brief few moments), several stops at the local Family Mart’s and/or 7-11’s, a Latin dance club called Copa Cabana, (where we met a group of guys waiting in line for the elevator (club was a few stories up) (Can you put parentheses inside of parentheses? I say yes.) and I assume these guys are Hispanic. I said something to one of them in English and got no response so I tried conversing in Spanish by asking where they were from, and why they were in Tokyo. I got a few blank stares and then one of them says “no English” and I’m thinking, “Yeah dumbass, that’s why I’m talking to you in Spanish…” after a while we figured out that they were from Turkey. How could I have known?)

After some great dancing and a drink at the Copa Cabana, we finally had some Kebab’s from a street vendor. Melissa kept talking about Kebab's and I could only imagine meat on a stick, which is fantastic, but it was actually chicken rubbed in some sort of heavenly sauce and stuffed into a pita. It was awesome. After a failed attempt at finding another place to dance and realizing it was almost 2am we finally gave up and found another taxi to take us back to the hotel. We went into this ride a little more prepared and thought it would be easier if we snuck Melissa into the taxi. She climbed in first and then ducked right down. I tried to lean over a little so it looked like I was up against the door. I don’t think we fooled this guy, by sneaking an entire person in the car, but it sounded like a good plan at the time. He didn’t seem to mind. And he did like 70MPH all the way back to the hotel. Not so safe. We arrived back at our hotel at 2:30am. I think it’s probably the latest I’ve ever stayed out. Well, maybe not, but all I know is… I was dead dog tired when we got there.

Sunday: Fast forward an incredible 6 hours later and we’re up. (Well, I’m up. Wide awake.) I showered and packed up the room, and got George up. We met our friends Chelsea and Rob in the lobby. (They drove down to spend Sunday with us) And we met back up with Matt and Melissa, and the 6 of us went to the legendary and renowned “Sunday Brunch” that the New Sanno hotel offers. It was in the same room as the Beatles night and I was shocked and awed at how quickly the room was changed to look so incredibly different. Instead of 1960’s themed, it was completely elegant and posh. There was a baby grand piano on the stage with a performer… she even played “Georgia on my Mind”… which this time made me feel homesick, and not just family sick. Funny how a song can do that to me. No matter where I am when I hear it, when I do, I think of Georgia pines, magnolia trees, Daddy's breakfast and my family. I can even taste the sweet tea and feel the warm humid summers. Seriously. Ahhh nostalgia.

I’m off topic. Bottom line… brunch was great. I wish I could have stomached more food. They had breakfast, lunch, a gigantic fruit tray, bagels, breads, waffles, crepes, an omelet station, juice, coffee, champagne, pork, ham, roast beef, pizza… really… anything you can think of… they served it. And it was beautifully decorated. The silver was shiny, the cloth napkins were ironed. It was lovely.

We met up with Dereck and Jane (who was feeling much better) and we all headed to see the Blue Man Group. I had heard it was a good show but was actually a little skeptical. I was afraid it would be men painted blue drumming the whole time. How wrong I was. It was really entertaining. The energy was great, the crowd was pumped, it was comical and sweet, and witty and smart. I loved it. I recommend it to anyone who hasn’t seen it.

After the show the Blue Men came out into the show lobby. They were still in complete costume and complete character. They never smiled. Never spoke. It was incredible. I’m much too giggly to ever be an actress of any sort. I think everything is funny. For one reason or another (probably because I’m blond and easily stand out in a crowd of 100’s of Japanese) one of the Blue guys and I made eye contact, and he walked over to me. I had my camera out, and snapped a picture of him. He stayed in complete character and looked at my camera like he’d never seen one, but didn’t mind me taking his photo. So while I still had his attention I put my face closer to his and turned the camera around to point the two of us and took a picture. It was pretty funny. Then he looked at me again and facing me dead on, with our eyes locked… he starts jumping up and down. And I mean jumping! So what do I do in response? I start jumping too! Except I kind of hopped, and shouted “oh boy!” cause it was just too fun of an experience. Our group and the surrounding Japanese spectators we’d gathered got a big kick out of it too.

Matt, Melissa, Me, George, Jane, Dereck, Chelsea (and baby) and Rob

Once we left the theater we found one more Blue Man and I had our group of 7 bombard him and stand by him and take a group picture.

George and I headed home after that. There was no traffic and took us only an hour drive! Sweet! It was such a great weekend and I’m looking forward to doing it again soon. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in activities to do on the base that we easily forget how close TOKYO is to us. As the crow flies it’s just a stone’s throw away, but it’s just such a hassle to get down there. Driving there we face the challenge of traffic and tolls. Trains, well… it’s a train ride, and it’s expensive. And I can’t convince George to steal a C-130 to fly me down there… something about nowhere to land, and prison. He’s a buzz-kill sometimes. HA!

Here's to more Beatles Weekends in my near future!
Cheers,

Chelsea

Welcome Home George!

My husband is home! Hooray!!! My heart is overjoyed to have him home safely and back into my everyday life. We’ve survived our first deployment. It was filled with short Skype conversations, dropped internet calls, letters, e-mails, Facebook posts, tears, joy, fear, strength and adventure. We figure this much—if the first deployment we faced dealt with an earthquake, tsunami, a nuclear disaster, giant decisions, 18 hours of college credit, a trip to the states and back, and returning to a forever changed country—and we can easily survive it... we’re going to be able to get through anything. And hey… all of that negative stuff was just what I dealt with. George has showed grace and integrity through this all, as well as faith, commitment, and just being an exemplary American. I truly couldn’t be prouder of my man. He signifies all that I could ask for in a husband. He’s incredible, smart, brave and handsome—and I’m proud to call him mine. He really is my hero.

The day of his return there was some debate about the time he would be landing, so after receiving various phone calls and e-mails I finally got to meet up with the other spouses who’ve been missing their other-halves too. We all looked fabulous in our colorful summer dresses. Hair was done. Make up was on. Houses cleaned. Beer in the fridge. Legs shaved.

Yep, it was going to be a good day.

I had butterflies in my stomach all day and could hardly eat lunch. I felt like I was getting ready for a blind date. Except with my husband; not a stranger. MY husband was coming home. Not just my husband, but my very best friend. The one who knows all my secrets, and loves me anyway. The guy who holds my hand in the movie theater, even though it’s uncomfortable over or under an armrest. The man who counted out the exact number of M&M’s that corresponded with the number of days he would be gone so I could eat one a day until he returned. The guy who left me random notes around the house that said “I love you” and let me spontaneously find them. The man who picked out my engagement ring and proposed within a few hours because he couldn’t wait. The guy who loves me, no matter what. Him. George. He was coming home.

Four months is really not that long. I realize that. There are thousands of couples who are separated for many many many more months than we were. But even if we’re apart for a weekend, we miss each other. How could we not?

So… the time SLOWLY ticks by. We wait about an hour at the squadron until their plane landed. It was easily the longest. hour. of. the. deployment. Easily. The anticipation in the room was as thick as the humidity outside. Truly. We passed the time with small talk about our plans for the next few weeks, and taking pictures before our hair was too windblown and our make-up sweated off.




Then the loud speaker came over in the building and said they were just a few minutes out! The butterflies seemed to flit a little faster. We all finally got to go out on the flight line. We took more pictures, made smaller talk with the other uniformed guys and girls of the squadron, and waited. Then, finally… a plane. There it was! They were coming in. The next thing I knew the plane turned and did another big loop. I’m sure some people thought that was funny. I couldn’t do a thing but be annoyed. Some of you may be thinking, what’s another 5 minutes? Ummmm… hello…? My heart is racing. I just wanted him on the ground.

One of the other wives, Melissa got a little teary-eyed during this 500 year wait and I took one look at her and kind of broke down too. She quickly pulled herself together and didn’t cry anymore. I went through about 3 tissues trying to stop crying. What can I say? I’ve always been an emotional person. I am a girl. In every sense of the word. A girl. A girly girl. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Anywho, I got the tears to stop just in time for the plane to land and taxi over to us. It stopped. Finally. Then the tears came again. I pulled it back together in time to see a group a people exiting that big, shiny, beautiful C-130. (Well... it looked like it at the time... in reality it's big, dirty and not so cute) All of a sudden there were people running. Men running off the plane. Other wives running. Oh! I could run over there too! My eyes scanned this crowd of tan flight-suits and then it was like the skies opened, the humidity cleared, the sun shined, and there he was. George. My panda. He was there. In front of me. Arms as wide as his eyes. It seemed to take another 30 seconds to get to him. He picked me up, and spun me around and I sobbed. Our arms found each other’s bodies and we just held each other. And then we kissed. And then looked at each other because there’s this weird moment of “… is it really you?” And it is him. And it is me. And we’re together again. And the world seems right. It was such a special moment. We just held each other for a few minutes. I don’t recall anyone else being there in that time. In that moment, it was just us. There were no cameras, no other people, no problems, no worries. It was all lifted, and if just for a moment, it was real.

Quickly there after George and I realized there were many more people to see. The sea of green flight suits looked strange to him, as everyone else he had been with and seen for the last four months wore only tan, or the gray and Air Force blue PT uniform. But there all his friends were, green flight-suits, smiles and all. There were lots of hugs, “welcome home’s”, handshakes, and happiness.

We took a bunch of pictures with our friends and with each other, hugged and hung out for a bit. And then it was time to go home and see Cheyenne. I left George at the bottom of the stairs and went up and got Cheyenne. I told her to “go see Daddy.” Her ears perked a little more, her tail wagged a little more, and there was an extra pep in her step as she hurried down the stairs. He was knelt down, so she could get to him and they embraced and she cried too. She remembered him, and he remembered her and my heart was happy and warm because my family was once again whole.

My neighbor Jane and I had made a sign that welcomed George and her husband Dereck home, so that was a special treat for them. I also had one on my door and a little sign that pointed to his name plate that said “my hero”, as well as a few balloons inside.
















He’s been home for about 2 days now and it’s been such a nice 48 hours. We’re just taking it easy and relaxing. We might do a few day trips here and there, but nothing too crazy. We’ve cooked dinner at home, had breakfast and lunch together, shopped, and ran errands. It’s just nice to have someone to share all of those “little things” moments with. It can be lonely living alone. Even though I was CRAZY busy during the last 4 months, in those quiet hours of the night, afternoon or the morning, when there’s no TV or music on, the house is quiet, strange and well… a bit lonely. I’m just thankful he’s home safely. Finally. The world seems to spin a little more, and my heart is constantly smiling.

I’m so proud of all of our men and women in uniform, and am thankful for the families and spouses of those who support our country and the rest of the world. I beam with pride just thinking about them and the sacrifices made by all. You’re all incredible. Thank you!!!


Love,
Chelsea

Here's a final photo taken by one of the base's staff members. It's on the base's home page as well as their official facebook page and has received a bunch of "likes" and comments. It really is a fantastic photo, and will treasure it forever. :)

I'm a busy bee...

So.... do not fret. I have not lost sight of this blog. I am just ultra-busy with finishing up the semester, taking finals and living life. I feel guilty doing anything else with school hanging over my head like an evil dark cloud... including blogging. I'll be back soon because finals will be over next week. I have lots to tell you. Get excited.

Love,
-C-