perspective

girls from detroit know some things about cars. they know how to drive them, for one. they know what to do with jumper cables, can coax a slipping transmission into submission, and will tell you that the CLUNK coming from under the car when you turn is likely the result of a problem w/ the CV boot joint. and while our grandpas think we have lead feet, and should change the oil more regularly ... one thing we all agree on, is that we nEVer drive with a flutter foot.

so this morning on my way to the airport, the driver was doing just that. his shiny little shoe was tapping the gas to the rhythm of some song i couldn't hear. accelerate. coast. accelerate. coast. he was in his groove, and when we were up close to 130km/hr and zipping through cars, i wondered if in his mind he was racing towards the finish of a real life super mario cart grand championship. i wasn't sure if he knew how close he was to winning my breakfast in his back seat.

then it occurred to me that the flutter foot may aCTuaLLy be a sign of a highly skilled driver in shanghai ... one who has to be ready, at any moment, for anything ... and therefore has to always be somewhere between slamming the brakes or jamming the accelerator to the floor?.?.

i never concluded my thoughts on this theory, but when we arrived at the airport, i knew that i had been escorted by an angel ... either in the form of my driver, or because of him.

i crossed "cardio workout" off my list, as i had clearly gotten a good 45 minutes, and was so thankful that statistically, my odds for survival looked so much better for the remainder of the trip.

SF, come to mama.

a typical cab experience

me: "huashan lu hunan lu" (my cross streets)

him: "huashan lu hunan lu?"

me: "dui. huashan lu hunan lu." (affirmative ... my cross streets)

him: "huashan lu hunan lu?"

me: "dui." (i hand him a map from my apt).

him: "ooooohhhh! huashan lu hunan lu!!!"

me: that's what i said. you act like i'm speaking chinese.

10 on 10: june

a day at the office...

FAT ... without a P

twice in the same week:

korean man on train to japan: you have family? married 8 year? you must marry when teenager. you look like university student.

me: i'm 31, but i'll thank my acne and my slipping fashion sense for that compliment.

kmottj: 31! usually american 31 look-a-like-a BIG MAMA (he says this while using his hands to shape the female curves)

me: yeah, i wasn't allowed to have food until i officially stunted my growth.

in a cab:

ida: 'let's bake in your oven.'

me: 'ok, what do you want to bake?'

ida: 'cookies. but cookies in china are much smaller than america. in new york, i saw cookies THIS big!'

me: 'yeah, there is no end to our excessiveness.'

ida: 'but i don't understand how you are thin? you are thin compared to most americans?'

me: 'yeah? do elaborate on my amazing physique.'

ida: 'in london, i see people both of me. but in new york, i see people THREE of me!'

me: (laughing hysterically at this point) 'americans are fat.'

ida: 'SO fat!'

me: (now crying and unable to speak)

ida: 'did i offend when i say fat?'

me: 'no... no... i'm laughing at the way you said it. you are adorable. and you are correct. sometimes the truth hurts.'

ida: ???

me: 'never mind.'

there was a teacher taught chinese, marina was her name-la

today some very official people visited our office. there was some discussion, and royce said, "rebecca, your chinese teacher is here. go in for an assessment." i looked at my british friend, oliver (who studies mandarin as a full time student), and said, "assessment of what? mental sanity? ability to communicate w/ charades? ability to eat oily chinese food w/ chopsticks and no napkin? cake walk."

i went into the room, and the instructor said, "ni hao, insert many other words i don't know that likely total to be a formal introduction." i said, "ni hao. i don't know any chinese, so i don't know what you said after that."

"NO chinese?"

"maybe 5 words that mostly relate to food. can you tell me how to say HAUS in chinese?"

shocked and amazed, it took them a moment to recover. the 'ass-essment' was clear, and we made a plan to start my lessons.

i came out and told oliver i failed.

'i didn't see that coming." was his response. "what did you say to them? 'can i have my bill?'"

"pretty much."

FEAR does not exist in this dojo, does it!?!

sadly, my only reference to japan before last weekend was karate kid 2. ironically, a few days before we left, it was on HBO (and apparently not entertaining enough to block during earthquake coverage). the question i have is this: when did the man i remember as daniel larusso turn into a boy?? last i checked, his bulging muscles were strong enough for any challenge ... he was wise and mature ... he could drive a car ... and i wanted him to be the man that would fight for my honor.

when i got older, i also wanted him to take me to the prom.

this time, when sensei no mercy tells johnny to 'sweep the leg,' i screamed at the tv ... 'no!!! he's just a child!' but then again, what child is named 'ralph' in real life?

japan lived up to all my expectations, and then some. i stepped off the plane to clear air and the smell of donuts. it is lush ... the climate comfortable, and i do believe it to be an OCD paradise. here's why:

there are rules. people with OCD like rules. even better, the japanese actually follow them.

there is no jaywalking. on streets with no cars, we watched groups of people wait for the walk sign to signal their right of passage.

stand on the right ... walk on the left. when everyone does it, it works.

there is discipline.

trains are not late, and you don't talk on the phone while you are on them.

tokyo, as a whole, is quiet ... a stark contrast to the vegas like stimulation in shanghai. the streets are IMMACULATE. this is the single craziest thing. i am a germaphobe ... but i tell you, if i were homeless, i would spange until i could buy a ticket to japan. i'm pretty sure i would eat off the streets, and i almost got the chance. while walking w/ scott and the baby grizz (scott, nicole, and bg are cousins who have been in japan for some time now, and graciously welcomed us for a long weekend), little graham thought it hilarious to dump his baggie of cheerios from his perch on scott's shoulders. chad, scott and i traded uncomfortable glances, getting the distinct feeling we had committed an unforgivable sin. we used our feet to try to move the cheerios off the walkway. within seconds, the shopkeeper came out to tell us our efforts were not acceptable. he and scott exchanged words before he produced a broom and dustpan, demanding we clean our mess. after we had finished, i noticed him doing it again ...

despite the streets being clean, there are no shoes in houses.

there are mountains, and water ... the freshest sushi ... and you can drink from the tap. there is fashion and art, and old school bikes with baskets of all sizes. you can walk through the subway w/ your bag open, and during a hike, we saw un-manned vegetable stations w/ little bowls to collect payment.

with government implemented 'relaxed summer dress code policies' to help businesses save energy on AC, and no public garbage cans (as everyone is expected to take care of their own waste - in 17 different types of recycling cans), i'm thoroughly impressed at what is possible when a community works together.

japan, i heart you. and i hope to be back soon to roam barefoot on your meticulously laid brick streets.

living under the sun

i've been quiet. mostly because i didn't know how to follow a post like my last. i still don't. it seems an unnatural transition to move into conversation around anything else when tragedy sits unresolved. it is a strange dichotomy ... the world turning, as it always has, when so many of its parts are broken.

i continue to learn this lesson ... the holding of two things that appear to contradict, but don't cancel one another. there is pain. there is beauty. both undeniable. both simultaneously whole.

i typically fixate on the negative ... so much so, that beauty lives only in its shadows, and tragedy becomes evidence to support my worst fears. in that middle place, i miss what sheldon vanauken calls the "heights and the depths" ... and worse, i miss genuine connection along the way. ecclesiastes calls it 'living under the sun' ... the perspective through eyes that cannot see beyond this earth.

so as scary as it is, i want to chose authenticity ... knowing that pain is inevitable ... and soaking in the contrasting joy that hints at what is to come.

'you can hold back from the suffering of the world. you have free permission to do so and it is in accordance with your nature. but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could have avoided.' - kafka

'if there were a choice -- and he suspected there was -- a choice between, on one hand, the heights and the depths and, on the other hand, some sort of sage, cautious middle way, he, for one, here and now chose the heights and the depths.' - a severe mercy (sheldon vanauken)