It's all about the love

Of Paris.
Of wine.
Of street music.
Of street artists.
Of painters.
Of cute old men.
Of streetside cafes.
Of french baguettes.
Of chocolate fondant.
Of metropole diversity.
Of french cabarets.
Of everything grand, glorious and chic.

It's all about the love... of the bestest of friends.

If anyone would have told me that I was going to be giddy with excitement to make a weekend escape to catch up with T at her new home in Paris, I would have laughed. And yet I was. Giddy like a four year old waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve.It'd been a year since I'd seen the woman, yet you know what they say...

"What destiny brings together, let no distance break apart."

Crutches, miscellaneous infections and sheer exhaustion aside (are we getting old, or what?!), I walked off the plane, and straight back in time. We never missed a beat.

We got hopelessly lost... in the airport.
We 'lost' the car.
We ate Spanish tapas to make up for lost time.
I approved The Boy (as if it were ever up to me).
We drank wine.
We wandered and gawked, posed and took pictures.
We laughed at the 50EUR wedding super streets.
We played flower-on-the-wall in cabarets full of character.
We talked and chatted, gossiped and counseled, conspired and sympathized ...
for two days on end.

We were reminded of the power of friends.

It could be the city, but I'm pretty sure it has more to do with the people inside it.

Winter Olympics 2010: Homestyle

You'd think I would have learned from this experience that sledding in the Schwiiz is a little ... different.

When I think (thought?) sledding, I think of curling up criss-cross-apple-sauce on our bright orange saucer-sled, and the 10 foot long stretch of slanted ground behind our house. Two minutes to run up; four running strides for a running start, and one spin-filled minute down. That was sledding. It was fun.

Apparently it was also childs' play.

Last weekend found us at La Tzoumaz, famous for its 10 kilometer sledding run. Seven m-i-l-e-s. Complete with gondola to take you to the starting point ... at 2354m (7723ft). So much for one minute down, two minutes up. When helmets, goggles and back protection are required, you know that you're in trouble.

First there was the minor issue to learning how to steer, AKA avoid our friends the skiers on the run, as well as fellow lugers and, above all else the dreaded, pain inducing, three-foot (I kid you not) "potholes". (See R's highly accurate interpretation below)

Then there was the slightly more major issue of mastering the art of speed control--a highly valuable, yet underrated skill on a seven mile run that covers a 2782 foot altitude drop. Case in point?

It's day two. The A-team thinks she's mastered the skill of Swiss luge. She's in the final stretch, down the luge "tunnel", with 50 foot mesh netting protecting from any potential over-cliff spillage over the snow wall on the right, and happily populated ski run over the snow wall on the left. We're going 20 miles an hour and ... suddenly you realize you've mastered neither the art of speed control, nor steerage.

Visions of Nodar Kumaritashvili suddenly flash through my head as we're missing the hard turn right ...

heading straight up and over the left-hand tunnel wall ...

catching air ...

arms flailing, legs yanking back down by the sled leashed to my leg ...

and catching a quick glimpse at the look of panic on the unsuspecting skier's face across the way as I crash land in a heap of ridiculous holy-*&^!-I'm-alive laughter.

On the ski piste.

On the other side of the luge track.

Why watch the Games on TV when you can "play" them yourself?? Reason no. 1: Occupying the sofa with a cold drink in hand is a lot less painful.



















PS For those that missed reading this in the first 12 hours it was up ... sorry you missed out on the sound. The copyright police caught up with us for borrowing a little too much inspiration from "Born to be wild" ...

PPS Thanks again for the pics and the video, Morales!

And the little guy goes pro

So excited for my good friend "Mr." Andres Morales this week, who's launched a major redo of his very cool photography website www.andresmorales.org. Not only does it now includes hundreds more of his stellar photos from around the world, but it also finally includes the option to buy and download. Yahoo! Rarely do I take up personal promo, but ... Check it out!

Andres Morales Photography

PS. For those in the Schwiiz, he's also got a line of photo postcards up for sale "in select stores only" ... drop him a line if you want the full list.

The things boys do for fun

What do you get when you give five guys a camera, sound effects and some old lady clothes?

Something like this third-in-a-now-annual-series of old-school videos intended to raise money for Marcel's old gymnastics club ... but somehow more likely to get us banned from public areas including roadside rest stops and world famous ski resorts.

Seeing as good friendships with several of these odd balls may be my only claim to fame in this world, I proudly invite you to grab a cold one and settle in for the next 9 minutes of (da da da dum) ... Onkel Maga's Skihutte.

The treasures of New Year cleanings

Just when I think that I am the only one who starts things (especially handwritten letters ...), only to leave them unfinished and find them buried in the piles months--if not years--later, good friends are here to remind me that, no, I am not alone.

Case in point, this 2005 unsent postcard-turned-2010-New-Year's-treasure rediscovered by G amidst New Year cleanings.


Oddly enough, it brings just as much--if not MORE--of a smile to my face now as it would have five years ago.

In the spirit of sending smiles, maybe I should follow suit and scan over all of my own 'unfinished business' ...

On angels' wings

Me, all the PJH women's softball crew and so very many others missing the boisterous laughter of yet another of our very best... Family, friends mourn Central Kitsap grad killed in California

She lived like she knew nothing lasts
Didn't care to look like anyone else
And she was beautiful, so beautiful
I still hear her laugh like she's here

Shower it down on all the young
It isn't so wrong to have such fun

Forever angel
I hope they love yo like we do
Forever angel
I'll be proud to be like you
Be like you
(I'll be proud to be like you)

Does the sun shine up at you when you are looking down?
Do you get along with the others around?

It's got to be better than before
You don't need to worry now you're gone

And when I go to sleep at night
I'll thank you for each blessed thing surrounding me
For every fall I'll ever break
Each moment`s breath I wanna taste
Confidence and conscience
Decadent extravagance
Never ending providence
For loving when I had the chance

Forever angel
I hope they love you like we do.

Farewell Miss ... Hello MISSUS!

It's time for the girls to mix and mingle -
these are your LAST DAYS of being single!
Think that you're ready? Tonight we shall see,
but first we must test your audacity.

Let's take a walk now, down Memory Lane
There are a few things that you must obtain.
One may take time, so we'll tell you right now ...
Between now and midnight when you take your bow
Ten men you must find, and their business cards too
Signed with a message that's meant just for you.

So now let's get going, we don't have all day
Let's hope you solve clues without further delay.

We'll start you off easy, we won't cause a scene
No penises or panties, no, that would be mean.
The first stop is sunny, it's laid back and hip
It's where all the cool people stop for a sip.
Head down towards the water and order one up
It's hen night, you know it, and need lots of luck.

When you came to Geneva, this wasn't your home
Yet when you moved in here you were not alone.
Ready-made breakfasts and tiny fridge lockers,
Women and church bells but no late-night talkers.
Now you will marry and na'er be allowed
To rest here with hubby, he's too well endowed.
But Peter is happy and sends his regards
In the form of a treasure kept safe with the "guard".

Good work, you've got it. Don't open it yet,
There's no fun in looking before breaking a sweat.
Head to the tower that leads straight to heaven
The stairs you must climb are one hundred and seven.
From here, look around and reflect on your life
Then open the bag, you're nearly a wife!

You've now seen the future, it's looming quite near
But come on, admit it, Marco's a dear.
We're so happy for you and know you've picked well
But take a quick shot, no one will tell!
It's on to the party, the countdown's begun
Come 15 August we'll have lots of fun.
Let's take a wander and scope out the place
Where you'll flash your bling with o-so-much grace.

Well done, you've made it, you must be so proud
It's a beautiful park, yes it draws quite a crowd.
Now before we get going, there's one thing worth knowing -
Are there other cute men named Marco or Roux?
Muster up that courage, start asking around
Leaving here sans photo just can't be allowed.
When you're quite sure you've got it, start moving along
To that one special place where love was so strong.
Miki and Elke couldn't make it tonight
But please do stop sneezing, you'll cause quite a fright.

The time has come, the end is near
'Tis the 'fling-before-the-ring', but there's no need to fear!
We'd order a pizza if we had the time,
Laugh at dancing puppets if they fit with the rhyme.
But since they do not, we'll cut straight to the chase
You've got one task to do before losing face.
Take a drink, my dear, whatever you fancy
Then find your way home 'fore we all become antsy!

Congrats KB!

You know it's going to be a great summer when ...

... it's only the middle of May and your last two consecutive weekends have already been fully blessed with...

tent-worthy sunshine...

oodles of food ...

cold beer on tap...

authentic "campside" Irish song and dance...

great company...

... and seven hours of free wine in picturesque countryside.
(OK, this pic is from last year, but I had my hands full of other things this time 'round).

Add in a fab birthday party, delish Nepali food, horrendous allergies, lazy days in the lakeside parks and some Italian-style gelatto and, well, you could just about say summer's already here.

PS Cheers to Charles (or whatever your name is) for all the great pics.

Hero and heroine of the blog

I have a terrible, horrible, very bad habit of pulling my eyebrows out when I am deep in thought, consternated or generally flustered with something that should be figure-out-able but is not. They say this is a disorder, but that's beside the point. What I'm really trying to say here is that we can all thank blogger hero of the day EDUNARDO for the fact that I still have hairy arches on my face, thanks to his brilliance in restoring A day in the life least expected to its proper entitlement. Mil gracias, campeon!

And of course, abundant blessings of sparkling cider and foil dinners (or perhaps in the form of a well-deserved JOB?!) for dear SUG for being the first to offer a hand ... is this what blogger buddies are for, or what? (insert cheesy smile here ;-) You're the best.

We're still slightly under construction, but at least now we have our identity straightened out again.

Resolving to resolve

Right about this time every year the infamous subject of resolutions seems to arise, with all kinds of promises to eat healthier, save more money, lose weight, exercise more ... suddenly the morning streets are filled with new found runners, the gym locker rooms become full, no one dares touch those chocolates in the staff room that were once so tempting ... and right about this time of the year, I (re)decide that I am not a resolutioner.

But then I remember this card that a great friend sent four years ago - one that meant as much to me then as it does now, still hanging on my fridge - and I can't help but think that perhaps I should reconsider that resolution not to resolve...

If I could live 2004 again ...

I would travel more; I would try to go on more day trips; I would climb more mountains; I would climb higher and higher. I would watch more short films, go to more concerts and exhibitions, if I could go back and live this year again. I would relax more; I would have more real problems fewer that are imagined; I wouldn't take some things so seriously. I would try to enjoy more great moments - the ones borne of every day life. If I could go back again, I would try not to be so egotistical and not think soley of myself. I would spend more time with people, listen to them more. I would think more in terms of family and friends; I would be more kind than what I have been. In fact, I would show people that they are important to me, that I love them. I would write more postcards, make more gifts and wouldn't lose contact with friends ... that is what I will try to do in 2005!"

In the blink of an eye

I've always felt slightly jipped being (at least) a year behind all of my cronies in age. You get to your birthday, and are inevitably somewhat disappointed when someone congratulates you out loud on "turning the big ___ (fill in the blank)"... they're off by a year, aren't they? I mean, haven't we been saying that age for a whole year now? I swear I'm older than that. I find some solace in reminding myself that this sense of perpetual disappointment most probably will not last too much longer ... pretty soon I'll be wishing people were "behind" by two years, or perhaps three.

In fact, the big 2 - 5 feels like a bit of a "whoa" year. One of those HOLY-SHOOTS, I-really-need-to-get-my act-together life moments/illuminations. Certainly not all of the "whoas" are bad though - a lot of very good and be very thankful "whoas" are in there too, together with a good number of "who woulda thunk-its". In no particular order ...

Big 2-5 realisation #1: I HAD A LARGER INCOME (not to mention fewer expenses) WHEN I WAS 17 THAN I DO WITH 25. Thanks to painfully detailed personal history/job application forms for the reminder...

Big 2-5 realisation #2: I AM MY MOTHER'S DAUGHTER. I remember when I was just a punk kid never understanding why mom ran around the house in such distress trying to get ready for house parties/guests. Why couldn't people just see us how we really live? With guests en route this weekend, who else but yours truly had a mop in one hand, Windex in the other and was using eye-rays to check off the significant others' "honey please do" list as he ever-so-kindly painted the (fabulous) newly installed window sill just hours before go time?

Big 2-5 realisation #3: I HAVE INDEED BECOME DOMESTICATED. Birthday gifts this year just about perfectly fall into one of two categories: plants or cook books. And not because the generous gift bearers were strapped for ideas and grabbed the first thing on the discount shelf, but because they've got me figured out in my most recent evolutions. Apparently my "original" lunchtime concoctions have made quite an impression at work, and, if my current collection of some thirty-three (live!) plants split between work and home isn't evidence of my bio bug, I'm not sure what is.

Big 2-5 realisation #4: "JE SUIS CE QUE JE SUIS GRACE AUX AUTRES". ("I am what I am thanks to others"). So goes the publicity currently circulating around town; so goes my life. Just over a year ago, I moved to a new city in which I hardly spoke the language, hardly knew a soul, began living solo and started a new job on a wing and a prayer. Last year, I celebrated the Big 2-4 in the company of very good friends who, knowing I'd be sore for birthday company, traveled from afar just for the occasion, to feast on an intimate homemade fondue at home. This year, I not only was blessed to celebrate in the company of very good friends here in town (and a good number who still traveled from afar!) who know me well enough to know that cookbooks and plants are indeed excellent gift choices, but there were so many great friends that we sought a restaurant destination (known only to Genevan locals) for our Once-in-a-quarter-century fondue party. Once there, we not only sang happy birthday in English, but managed to get into highly competitve linguistic birthday wars with the table next to us - English, French, German, Spanish, Italian .... (see the PHOTOS HERE)

Big 2-5 realisation #5: THE "PARTY" IS OVER. In the blink of an eye, I am no longer covered by Mom and Dad's insurance, no longer eligible for youth transport discounts, museum discounts, movie discounts; I can hardly pull off the "student" excuse with any great success and friends are now buying houses, cars and baby strollers at a truly alarming rate. Certainly not to say that the last four years have been typified by thumb twiddling nor horsing around, but it yet again begs the question ... Just where is that full-contract paycheck again?

And with that, I leave you with a shot of the best birthday bouquet ever, courtesy of my wonderful and ever-so-thoughtful family.

Survival of the fittest in the land of the Lochness Monster

This weekend can pretty much be summed up in two words: "I survived".

Ok, so perhaps I'm being a little dramatic, considering that it was in fact THE weekend of all stellar weekends, but somehow it sounds all that much more Hollywood-esque when you invoke images of our own rendition of Survivors ... with Interlaken, Switzerland as a backdrop. If all you're interested in are the pictures from the weekend, you'll find them here, but if you're looking for any kind of possible distraction from the Monday work blues, feel free to read on ...

You know you're a survivor when you live to tell about ...

1. Three testosterone-filled days as the only representative of the XX chromosome population ... for a weekend identified as (the following must be said in a deep, ar-ar-ar manly voice ...) The "bier und fleisch fest" (aka "beer and meat fest").

2. Swiss National Day fireworks/3 foot bottle rockets, lit off by the above mentioned XY population, slightly under the influence of cool summer beverages.

3. The confines of a horrendously stinky neoprene wet suit + moon boots + painfully small helmet.

4. Hypothermia inducing glacial river rapids supposedly classified as a class IV (the highest permissible for river rafting in Switzerland) ... without falling out of the boat ... unlike our friend, who decided to "go for a swim" and test his boat's rescue skills along with the ginormous man next to him.

5. Dive into the impossibly turquoise waters of Lake Brienz thinking that, with those colours, it must be tropically warm ... only to realise you've committed a grave mistake that even your neoprene suit cannot fully remedy. But then again, at least the full line-up of lakeside tourists were there to document the event as your body began to lose colour from the cold ...

5. Being starving after a day of rafting and no food. No, we weren't such genuine "Survivors" material that we went out and hunted our own food ... but really, who knew that it might not be the hottest idea to inhale the cold beer and abysenthe under the hot sun ... and on empty stomachs ... while the BBQ was warming up?

6. Not getting kicked out of the campgrounds when the XY population, following the scenario described above, decide that taking additional beverages + floaty toys to the pool sounds like a brilliant idea. Particularly brilliant, "surfing" down the slide on the inflatable mattress with beer in hand ... covering the bottle opening to protect its contents, of course.

7. Cervela. (See photo at left. Not the man, the thing in his hand.) I'm told it's the most infamous Swiss sausage, but really, there's not telling what they use to make the stuff ... and yet, heaven forbid if we ever have a BBQ without it.

8. Your first-ever Hooters experience, again, in the exclusive company of the XY population, one of whom doesn't seem to remember ever having been there ...

9. Not ending up in jail when your ever-so-tipsy comrades decide that it sounds like a brilliant idea to seek out and chat with each and every one of the five million police officers and security guards in the city of Interlaken en route chez nous.

10. You spend an entire weekend in the glorious sunshine and manage not to get sunburned.

Wine for whiners

[slideshow id=432345564257209798&w=426&h=320] Apparently Geneva is the third largest wine producing state in Switzerland ... a little known fact we had to put to the test this weekend with the annual "Caves Ouverts" (free) wine tasting extravaganza. We jammed into the little shuttle train (which obviously doesn't see so many riders but for one time a year), not quite sure if we were awake enough to begin drinking the toxins of fermented grapes, but we paid tribute to our youth :-) and held up in good fashion ... first to the true working farm cave with amazing wines, then to the cute posh cave with not so good wine, but full sampler glasses and good (cheap!) food, then on to the open air cave with THE most charismatic wine server. After watching our oddball group intently for a bit to figure out just who speaks what language (apparently it's not normal to switch back and forth between four different languages within one group of friends? Who knew??) he quickly stepped up to the challenge, guessing who was from where and impressing us with perfect English, perfect Spanish, perfect French and, of all things, perfect Swiss German (German is easy enough to come by, but Swiss German is a true oddity). Next up, Alanna orders a taster of the "Evolution" wine, which, thanks to the fact that I was sporting a somewhat military-ish hat, was creatively interprested by the server with a whooping "THE WOMAN WANTS A REVOLUTION!" and an outburst of laughter across the bar ... and the "Evolution" wine was thereafter re-christened as "Revolution" by the rest of the servers for the remainder of the afternoon. "Revolution? You said you'd like to try the Revolution? THE MAN WANTS A REVOLUTION!!" Que viva el vino!

Hitting The Psychological Wall

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I keep saying that I'm going to run a full marathon ... all 42-point something kilometers, all 26-point something miles ... and I never do it. The year that I was actually trained for it, I got sick. The year I wasn't trained but felt like running I quit at 27 kilometers - and wanted to curl up and die. This year, despite grand intentions, I didn't finish either. I hit The Wall.

I really wanted to run the Madrid marathon for two reasons: A) the city has a personal sentiment ... it's the city where I first started "really" running and thus seemed fitting for a first marathon finish and B) I wanted to finish my first marathon with a friend who had become my "personal trainer" while I was living in Barcelona but who, as it happens, doesn't have papers to legally live in Europe and thus can't travel outside of Spain for (even greater) risk of being caught. Thus, Madrid it was.

Then, Geneva happened. Cheese and chocolate in abundance, a sedentary desk job and not exaclty the warmest, sunniest climate to train in, my training plan failed miserabley. And then, when I did manage to talk myself into running in the dark cold, I tripped over my own two feet, resulting in an ankle the size of a grapefruit and rendering me useless for much self-transportation that required my feet. Murphy's law, when it was just about healed up 'real good, "oops I did it again" and was back in the ankle-the-size-of-grapefruit gimpy club.

Needless to say, come marathon time, I had ZERO expectations of getting to the finish line. In fact, even half was semi dreaming. Add in the sun and heat factors that I'm no longer accostomed to and that my running buddy was down for the count with injuries of his own, and expectations were low. Again, keeping in mind that I'm back in Madrid with beer, wine, tapas, friends and fiestas galore, it's no suprise that I tossed all caution to the wind the night before the race ... after all, I wasn't in shape anyhow.

Here we should pause for an honoring of my roof-over-my-head hosts, personal marathon cheerleaders and photographers, Sylvie, Hector and Dani. And honored also for their bravery in attempting the day-before marathoners pasta party ... they nearly did better than I in getting the pasta paste down. Spaghetti may be difficult to screw up, but these chefs certainly succeeded. THE most disgusting pasta you can imagine ... though Hector took a liking to it for sentimental reasons, saying it reminded him of elementary school lunches. Mmmm. Did I mention our forks stood straight up in it?

Anyhow, back to the race. Quick summary:

1) Almost missed the start waiting in the dang bathroom lines. Again, some things never change.

2) Get to 11km where Sylvie and Hector are cheering and photographing from atop the concrete barriers. We're in the ugly part of town and I'm ready to keel over. I tell them I'll be done shortly.

3) Reach the 15km mark, passing through Sol, the center of Madrid, which was JAM packed with manaiacally screeming fans, bands and clapping hands ... suddenly feel inspired, if not to say emotional, and begin imagining myself unexpectedly eating up the 42+km

4) Totally zoned in at the 20km mark, don't even see/hear my personal fans screaming at me (my deaf obliviousness is documented on video), Hector jumps over the spectators and runs several meters with me before blending back into the fans

5) Fly by 22km - the half marathon point - in grand form and hardly even noticing. Time: 2:14. Not bad for not being anything close to in shape.

6) Kilometers 24 - 29 psychological hell. Half the runners quit at the half marathon point, those of us who are left are entirely spread out, many start to walk and due to the fact that we were now traversing a difficultly-accessed natural park, ZERO fans cheering us on. My feet are numb.

7) Kilometer 29. I claim to be bored. Physically I'm doing quite well (thank you Red Cross roller bladers for the consistent muscles sprays throughout the race), though I am now quite grouchy about the fact that the race organizer's "earth friendly recycling plan" has cut out any food/fruit distribution during the race, as well as drink lids that would otherwise allow you to carry your bottle with you. Send SMS to my fan club who was waiting eagerly at km 33 - I'm psychologically beat. I quit.

8. Head to the finish line by metro, sneak into runners area to claim "free" food. Low and behold, it's the first race I've ever seen that offers beer boths rather than PowerAid. Paramedic mayheim, collapsing runners found in all parts, being run around on stretchers, ambulances running over separation gates.

9) Go for FOOD. Contemplate the surely pending days of utter stiffness. Wonder in curious realization that marathons really are 90% psychological and a 30km in 3 hours untrained personal best!

10) Find out that the "psychological hell stretch" is notoriously known for being the most difficult section of the Madrid marathon because of the sense of isolation. Discover that the 30km mark in any marathon is lovingly known as "The Wall" for being the psychologically most difficult point ... if you can get past 30km you're good to go.

Next time, I'll be bringing my wall climbing shoes.

Living up 24

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Birthday commentary to come ... in the meantime, for those of you familiar with my history with fire, please note picture #20. Didn't realize until I was just posting these pics that I had actually been looking at the flames the whole time I was taking those pictures. In real life I was just smelling them and not knowing where they were coming from. Where is that designer fire extinguisher I was given for my 21st birthday when you need it????

Tribute to my peeps

In honor of the entire crew of Carlos III Accion Solidaria Internacional 2005 graduates ... and all of the many, many cana-in-hand conversations we had about this very thing.  God help us all in our ´aimless´wanderings ... in all our million corners of the world! (Taken from an anonymous email forward ...)

AID WORKERS: THE NEW GYPSIES?

You´re an aid worker with 10+ years of experience under your belt.  You earn a pittance but it works for you because you are non-resident at home so you don´t pay tax, you are catered for on assignment so you don´t pay rent and your mortgage is covered by the people renting your place because you are never there.  You can´t hold down a relationship for more than 3 months and you secretly know that despite what you tell him/her it´s really not because you´re only ever there for 2 months ... it´s because you can´t live without the independence.  Things are OK now but you are approaching 40.

What should you do? What does the future hold? Are you one of the new world order of aid worker gypsies?  Welcome to your future - These are your Life options:

OPTION 1: You go back to a HQ job.  Instead of doing what you want to do, you now advise people who are doing what you used to do.  You earn more or less the same salary as you did before, but your costs of living shoot skywards because you are now paying tax, rent/mortgage and utilities.  You consider sharing accomodation and, bingo, you are a student again and, like a student, can´t afford to do 1% of the things you think you would like to.

OPTION 2: You go work for the UN.  Keep the job you love and the lifestyle that goes with it.  Your salary jumps to levels that used to get you all riled up after a few drinks back when you used to work for "honest" down-to-earth NGOs.  Now you´re cynical about them all and aggressively defend your need to raise a nest egg to plough the way for the family/dog/cottage/brats you´re planning.  After all, you´ve done your bit.  You do this for awhile before you realize you sacrificed every dream you ever had in this line of work and can no longer look yourself in the mirror in the morning.

OPTION 3: You find something suitable in the commercial sector and live happily ever after.  This only happens to 1/10,000 aid workers and if you´re a logistician, forget it. 

OPTION 4: You retrain and change course.  You take a massive pay cut.  Your skills and experience in aid work go unused and unappreciated.  You marry someone who will never fully understand where you are coming from and why you are quiet for long periods of time.  If you haven´t left it too late to have kids, just remember, dysfunctional.

OPTION 5: You write your memoirs and someone makes a movie out of it starring Leonardo De Caprio/Angelina Jolie, you become an even more arrogant git, lose all your friends and make a lot of cash.  This only happens to 1/100,000 aid workers and will definitely not happen to you!

OPTION 6: You become that lonely, jaded expat at the bar in some third world piss pot letching over young locals and making snide remarks.

OPTION 7: You decide to set up home but not in your own country.  Forget moving back to London, Paris, New York or Munich, but head for the Balkan Adriatic or one of the emerging Easter European States before the property developers get there ... and you develop a serious liver problem.

OPTION 8: You hit the road along with thousands of your cohorts with visions of huge bands of ex-aid worker families roaming the European countryside in caravans, plastered with "No guns on board" stickers and, of course, pulled by white Toyata Land Cruiser hardtops and pickups, scratching out a life by erecting latrines and living under plastic sheeting.  You take stock of everything you come across ... and from time to time seek charity.

Old friends, new friends and many smiles from ... JAPAN

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Funny how life is ... as some may recall, I worked with the Asia University America Program way back when, which consequently inspired a year of studying Japanese and some serious considerations about studying abroad for a semester in Japan. Five years later and all notions of Japanese long forgotten, I finally got to go! Marcel had been sent to Tokyo for a big job, which served as the perfect excuse to hop over for a couple of weeks’ vacation when he was finished.

No time was wasted in making the most of our precious two weeks ... the night that I arrived Yuka, Rukko, Ayumi and the rest of the AUAP crew had miraculously arranged a reunion dinner with all but one person from our group (Masa was working the night shift) plus several other good friends from other groups. Not an easy task!! Not only was it the first time that I had seen most all of them since they left Bellingham in 2002, but many of them had not seen each other since, and with weddings and new babies for some and new jobs and old WWU memories for all, we certainly had more than enough to talk about. What fun!

Having bought the Japan Rail Passes we submitted ourselves to a perfect mix of neon urban craze and tranquil rural beauty as we ventured through Nikko, Nagoya, Osaka, Koyasan, Hiroshima, Miyajima, Kyoto, Himeji and, of course Tokyo. Don’t ask what the ‘favorite’ place was … they were all amazing, I really don’t know. In fact, there were so many highlights, I’m not even sure how to narrow them down :-7

NIKKO: cool “temple city” hidden in the woods, amazing waterfalls, incredible hospitality with mouth-watering food

NAGOYA: visits with college friend, Brenna Schenkle! (forgot to take any pictures with her though, how sad!!!) Vegas reminiscent Little Italy??

OSAKA: Dingy hotel, but fell in love with the city … too bad it’s one where we spent the least amount of time …

KOYASAN: In the woods, on the top of a mountain, the ancient Buddhist stronghold with some 3,000 temples and shrines … we stayed at a working temple with monks who served our vegetarian meals in-room, wake you for prayers at 6AM and keep a 6PM curfew that applies to everyone!!

HIROSHIMA: As you might guess, certainly all of the impressive WWII memorials, museums, etc, but also great food, bars and nightlife …. (had to make up for lost time with our 6PM curfew the nights before J)

MIYAJIMA: COOL island … most plazas are covered in pigeons, here they are covered in DEER that attack you for any scrap of food they can scrounge … and then follow you throughout the island

KYOTO: The Golden Shrine being the exception, pretty much ‘templed and shrined out’ by the time we got here, but LOVED the monkey park and huge markets … complete with crazed knife sellers

HIMEJI: Himeji Castle, all wood, all white, centuries old and well worth the trip

TOKYO: Amazing hospitality, good friends, insane electronics quarter, incredible views from Tokyo tower and Odaiba bay, US Embassy 4^th of July festival …For speaking zilch Japanese and for there being very little English around anywhere, I must say we did pretty well (THANK YOU Lonely Planet), though we highly valued any hard to find English subway maps we could muster up as well as those treasured nights when we were in the company of friends for dinner who could actually make heads and tails of the menus (THANK YOU AUAP crew, Brenna, Akiko, Remi & friends!!)

In fact, if I had to choose just one thing to take away from Japan, it would be the InCrEdiBlE HoSpItAlItY we received from the very moment I arrived until the very moment I left. From the AUAP crew organizing dinner … to visiting Ai’s parents and joining the local festival with them and Ai and Megumi’s kids in full out kimono … to Brenna playing local hostess … to the amazingly hospitable couple we stayed with in Nikko … to about everyone within 20meters jumping up to help us with directions in Osaka … to our host monks in Koyasan … to Ayumi for showing me around Tokyo … to all of Marcel’s co-workers and especially Akiko, who offered to let me stay at her house and took me around to the US Embassy 4^th of July festival where Remi, Jun and their friends then showed me around to dinner, karaoke and drinks … to Junji, who MIRACULOUSLY tracked me down at the airport (food court, of all places!) to see me off for my departure - without knowing what airline, what departure city nor what terminal I was headed for.

En fin, THANK YOU to everyone for a wonderful, wonderful time, the many laughs and even more fantastic memories …