Cathedrals, Chocolate, Lace and Saints

It is pretty cool to live in a part of the world where I can wake up in The Netherlands and be in Germany in a 15 minute drive or in Belgium in about 25 minutes. Last weekend I went with my colleague Manny to Brussels.  The drive took an hour and 20 minutes.  We planned to go to Brugge this morning but it is 30 degrees here and only slightly warmer there, plus it is supposed to rain all day in Brugge.  I can deal with rain and cold but not both at the same time.  It just doesn’t sound fun. Maybe tomorrow. I keep saying to myself, “I have seen enough Medeival cities and cathedrals and castles,” but every time a new one is in my path I am equally awed. I did see a few unique things in Brussels though such as the Mannekin Pis (right) which I have seen copied in many gardens, ponds and pools over the years.  The original is actually smaller than I expected standing maybe 18 inches tall.  You know the statue, the naked little boy peeing.  Apparently, it was first made in 1618 but has been repeatedly stolen and the current statue is from 1965 but I took a picture anyway; me and the other 200 tourists standing on that tiny cobblestone corner.  The city feels compelled to dress him in one of over 2000 different outfits, although there is no way to hide his little wee-wee, the spout of the font. I felt a little voyeuristic, but mob ruled and I joined them. A short walk down to the lower city, the old town, led to the Grote Markt (Dutch) aka the Grand Place (French) aka the Town Square walled on all side by massive and magnificent buildings built in the Gothic, Baroque and Rococco style (left).  Everything here is written in both French and Dutch, actually Flemish, so we can all understand, including street signs and building names. The buildings were all closed by then so I had a 7 Euro ($9) Belgian beer, 2 veggie crepes for 12 Euro ($15) followed by a coffee (reasonably priced) with famous Belgian chocolates and then stood and looked around the square, kind of nodding my head and thinking, “OK… so this is Brussels.” Tintin comics originated here and it is the home of the European Union and Parliament and the home of SHAPE (Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe). Old city with a lot of new construction, many people, beautiful tapestries, chocolate and lace. For my euro, it was worth the trip but somehow not quite as awesome as I expected.  Tintin, I love, although I couldn’t find the Tintin and Snowy Statue or a copy of a book in English. Tapestries were waaay expensive (although I could imagine my castle walls adorned with them, to cover a wall would have proven too costly). Chocolate, in my mouth just tastes like chocolate; I’d be happy with 20 or 30 Hershey’s kisses for 2 bucks. And I am not delicate enough for lace. Although I barely have the patience to make a friendship bracelet, so I am impressed by people who take a week to make a doily. Maybe I have seen one 1400 year old church too many.  I still enjoy them but feel less compelled to take more than 2 or 3 pictures.  Manny (left), however takes about 50 shots of every statue and vestibule from every possible angle and zoom.  I remember when I was like that a year ago.

I did follow-up on Sunday with a day trip to Sittard (below), a small Dutch town about 20 minutes from my house which was quaint with its narrow alleyways, cobblestone streets and houses ranging from the 15th century to last week and, surprise, an ancient Medeival Cathedral of St. Petrus (right). I used to think that being named a saint by the pope was some kind of a big deal but it seems that there is at least one saint from every hamlet and corner in Europe and certainly more than any one human could name. Of course they all have a special kind of magic in the relics, which you practically fall over at every corner, and all the saints have either had visions or done miracles. Not that I am dissing the Saints…I am just saying that there are a lot of them.

 

The Dutch

Netherlands. Wooden shoes, windmills, tulips, cheese, dijks and beer.  Except for the wooden shoes, everything is pretty much as expected.  The shoes as it turns out were a product of necessity when the Dutch were so poor they couldn’t afford leather.  Tulips are out of season and the only dijks I have seen ride motorcycles and wear wooden shoes. Hans Brinker was American.  The beer is good stuff though; I have sampled about 10 breweries. And there are so many kinds of cheese I can’t even choose one at the market. Learning the proper way to pronounce Gouda is among my greatest accomplishments so far.  Dutch language is kind of complex, much more than I expected.  The cheese is actually pronounced GHow – dah with my tongue touching the back of the roof of my mouth somewhere between a Hebrew ח het and a hiss, like the sound a cat makes when it’s pissed off. And the “ch” making almost the same sound but with a little more of the guttural sound, distinctly different to the Dutch but virtually imperceptible to me. You roll the “r” in the back of your throat like the French do and the vowels have about 30 different sounds.  When my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth or I have a couple of beers, however, everything comes out unintelligible, including my spotty English.  I can say “Hi” in Dutch… “Oy!”  Enough about language, though.  The people here are helpful and friendly, everybody smiles (I’m thinking it’s the beer) and almost everybody speaks fluent English.  I don’t even ask anymore because when I ask do you speak English they say, “of course” as if it’s silly of me to ask at all. And they generally speak French, German and Italian, as well.  And the kids I work with are from all over the world including Turkey, Estonia, Poland, Italy, England, Canada, France, Germany, Netherlands and a few from the USA, so I also get to practice my language skills, such as they are. I am about 15 minutes from the German border and 25 minutes from the Belgian. Today was the first day of full sun all day.  Usually it’s cold and it rains at least half the day but the nice weather is supposed to continue for a few days with highs in the low 70’s and nights above freezing.  I went last weekend to Aachen, Germany (seat of power of Charlemagne in the 9^th century and the church he built is still in use) and to Valkenburg, Netherlands with ancient castle ruins and caves and a cool village-wide market. Oh yeah and Holland is a precinct in the north country where Amsterdam is.  The whole country is not Holland.  I live in Limburg, a precinct in the deep south of Netherlands where “Hi” is prounounced, “Oy, y’all”.  And the pics are me in trouble already, The Octagon Church built by Charlemagne, a sample of the Dutch language, and the village of Valkenburg.

Speaking Deutsch

I have been to some beautiful cities and some very amazing places, but I have to say that Salzburg Austria is one of the best.  The hills are alive with the sound of music but it is kinda hard to sum up in a few words that Salzburg really is a beautiful and almost magical city.  The city and countryside with it’s castles, cathedrals and palaces, alleys and platzes, rivers and lakes, and of course the Alps make it among my top maybe 5 favorites places.  The pictures speak for themselves, but it wouldn’t be my blog without a few thoughts.
I spent last weekend in Regensburg, Germany about an hour and a half from home, which sports a Roman gate and walls, and architecture from all eras from about the year 1 AD.  It is always interesting though the role war plays in history.  The Roman Bridge which spans the Danube River has been partially destroyed so many times by armies invading or defending the city that I don’t really know if any of the original work is there, although it is still called the Roman Stone Bridge or ‘Steinerbrucke’.  The city’s origins though go back to its Celtic days about 1000 BC with discoveries in recent years indicating that people have inhabited this  area since 5000 BC.  They say the city contains 1300 medieval buildings; I must have seen about 200 but I lost interest in counting after 4.  Regensburg was spared by the Allies during WWII, so it is a very old town with all the new stuff springing up in the space between old buildings and in the burbs.  Alas there is no Starbucks in Regensburg, but at least they have a McDonald’s.

Salzburg, which I learned is pronounced Salts-burg, was also spared in the old city.  The rest of town was nailed by the Allies, but fortunately the Aldstadt is intact. Mozart music playing around the Mozartplatz , a beer-fest behind the Cathedral, all the people in lederhosen and dirndlen, was just perfect plus having excellent weather, the whole city is one giant moving postcard.  I think I set a record by taking 411 pictures.  Then I deleted about 250 when I got home and realized that one mountain doesn’t require 6 photos, nor can one church façade be any better explained by 12 photos than one good shot.  Oh, and Salzburg doesn’t have a Starbucks either, but there is a McDonald’s. I learned the correct way to pronounce because although they laugh amusedly when I mispronounce something, the Germans and Austrians quickly then say, “But you must say “SALTSBURG…TS…TS…TS! Say it again!” It’s like language boot camp.  I was asked twice though if I am German or American, so I guess that is a good sign I am not sticking out like a tourist even if I sound like one.  This weekend it is supposed to be 82 and sunny when I go to Nurnberg so I might have to go American tourist mode and wear shorts and a T-shirt.  Then I won’t be able to blend but I will be comfortable.  Oh the choices we have to make. And one more thing:  I was in awe of The Sound of Music sites, but a little disappointed to learn that a lot was contrived.  For example the Cemetery scene was all in Hollywood because a cemetery like that doesn’t exist in Salzburg but it fit the storyline better.  Also the mountain they are scaling at the end when they escape to Switzerland actually would have led them into Germany.  I can’t believe Hollywood would change the story to make it fit a screenplay. (big sigh)
Oh yeah and my speedometer and plaques identifying the Jewish family who lived at this location when the Nazis took them, took their property and separated them.  They never returned.  Just take a look at their plaques.

Germany again

If I blogged more frequently, I probably would have such long posts. I don't know...

Back in Germany after 3 years, I find that nothing has changed.  It is still a beautiful place with lots of laid back towns and castles around every corner.  Here in Bavaria it is a little different from the Rhineland.  Not as mountainous where I live “in der Oberpfalz” but I did get to see the Alps, which of course is a lot more hilly. After Korea and Japan where I had good access to things like the shopping, wi-fi, and coffee shops, it has been a little frustrating to be in a one-horse town where groceries are small, wi-fi is either nowhere or at a considerable charge, and the coffee shops close before I get off work. The town is quaint however and it’s castle dates back about 1000 years. Nevertheless I am enjoying it here.  I spent the first weekend with my friends Sherry and Shelley in Bamberg which was relatively unscathed by WWII and has amazing old castles an awesome Cathedral and a great Altstadt (Old City).  It’s many breweries make it hard to sample all the local beers but I did have a great time at a Brauhaus with savory German food and Rauchbier, a smoky dark beer unique to the area and consumed within a few days of brewing, otherwise it goes bad.  At least that’s what they say.  I think they just can’t brew it as fast as they want to drink it and waiting for a beer is unacceptable. The next week we went to Neuschwanstein (Noy-shvan-stine) and Hohenschwangau at the north side of the Alps.  These were castles of Kings Maximillian and Ludwig II.  Neuschwanstein is the one that the Disney Castle was modeled after.  After being rushed through the castle in a fast guided tour and having a beer by the lake we found an elegant restaurant out in the country when we decided to go off road and find some food. The next morning in Stuttgart we wandered around and finally got on a train back to home.  This past weekend Shelley and I went to Munich and got a great room in the Aldstadt, climbed the tower at St. Peter’s Church and watched the Rathaus Glockenspiel do it’s dance at high noon in the drizzling rain. We spent the rest of the afternoon at Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial.  The experience was kind of different than I expected.  There are a few big memorials built on the site to commemorate certain groups of people who were murdered and martyred there.  Much of it seemed almost like a big empty park, but what do you do with a place like this?  It couldn’t be left as it was 67 years ago, it couldn’t be beautified.  Parts were very chilling. First was the entrance where the railroad stopped and people were marched through the gate that reads “Arbeit Macht Frei” (Work Brings Freedom) into the courtyard. The second was the gas chamber, clearly marked “Brausebad” (Shower) next to the crematorium, both fully intact.  The small rooms at either end of the crematorium were morgues where bodies were stacked by the hundreds. Some were even stacked outside against the walls because the morgues were full.  The barracks had been reconstructed and only two are there, although 32 existed at war’s end each having been crammed with up to 2000 people although they were built to house 200. The memorial is not a pleasant place to visit, but seems to have been watered down or minimized somewhat.  They advertise it as the Third Reich Tour, failing to address the holocaust that happened here. 31,000 people died at Dachau, most from disease and starvation and many from execution by shooting, hanging or gassing but it is not called an extermination camp.  Maybe semantics sometimes seem tedious, but sometimes calling it what it is seems more appropriate. After that we definitely need something to lighten us up a little and found a Starbucks WITH free wi-fi and had dinner and weissbier at the Ratskeller under the Rathaus (Old City Hall). I love speaking German, if what I do can actually be called speaking German. And to top it all off it snowed about an inch and continued to flurry til we had to get back on the train to ride home again.  Whew!  It has been a busy 3 weeks.  Work is going well and traveling is going well, I have lost a few pounds, and I am running every day.  Alles ist gut.  Next weekend we plan to spend in Prague.  I am fairly sure that will be a great time. The pictures in order from R-L and Top to Bottom are: Bamberg Cathedral, Streets of Bamberg, Me and the Alps, Neuschwanstein, Dachau entrance, the gate at Dachau, The Rathaus and Glockenspiel at Munich, Alstadt entrance in Munich, and a view of the altstadt in Munich, Me & Weissbier.

Stranded in Tokyo (almost)

It’s hard to believe I have already been back at home for 3 weeks and a few days.  I really  enjoyed my time in Misawa and even the cold, snowy weather kind of grew on me.  Trying to learn to speak a little if not read a little Japanese was a lot of fun and after having spent 5 months of the past year in Japan, I thot I was getting a handle on it.  Bowing, grunting agreement and learning the 4 idiomatic ways of saying thank you were starting to feel natural.  



Dennis and Fran

Short story time: I know it is expensive to get around in Tokyo, in fact the cost of living there is very high, but I decided to go off on a little adventure on my last day in Japan.  My flight arrived at Haneda Airport on time at 1115 on Sunday morning having taken in a spectacular view of Mt Fuji.  That was impressive in itself since Misawa had a lot of snow on the ground and the night before I left the sky had dumped about 6 inches of fresh powder on the area.  That morning the wind was kicking at about 15-20 miles per hour and it was still snowing, making visibility poor. Still, Japan Airlines arrived at Misawa on time and left on time with an extensive ground team plowing, 

Lawson's: The greatese Convenience Store EVER

washing and de-icing everything.  I digress.  So with 8 hours to kill before my next flight I went to visit Fran and Dennis in Shibuya, about a 30 minute ride.  I stored my luggage at the airport and bought a round trip bus ticket to Shibya and reserved my seat on the shuttle to Narita Airport, about a 70 minute ride from Haneda.  I figured I had a couple of hours to hang out with them and then I could easily make it back and get on the long flight home, all for about $25. Without going into all the small details, it turn out the bus from Shibuya (for 

Ramen House on an Icy Night

which, remember? I had a roundtrip ticket) stopped running after the last drop off which I was on.  I waited and waited a little more before I asked a cop when the bus would arrive, feeling a bit nervous because in Japan the buses and trains are perfectly timed.  Now would miss my shuttle to Narita Airport.  He told me to go wait at the bus stop and the bus would come.  I waited and waited and even rechecked the bus times on the schedule which indicated the bus was now 20 minutes late but another one would be along in a few minutes.  More waiting…until a concerned citizen wanting to practice his English asked me what I was waiting for.  When I told him he translated the bus schedule to me which clearly stated in bold and highlighted words that bus service stops on Sundays and holidays after 12 noon. So much for my Survival Japanese lessons. So I quickly located a taxi attendant who I asked in bad Japanese if any taxis would take a credit card, since I only had a small amount of cash.  He smiled and said yes and I got in the cab to the airport letting the driver know that I was running late because of the bus thing.  I watched in despair as the meter clicked and clicked and the driver engaged me in light conversation mostly in Japanese about Japanese food, where did I stay, did I see Fujisan etc, none of which lightened my mood. When the meter finally stopped clicking it settled at $128.00 for the one way 30 minute ride. Fortunately tipping is not done in Japan or dude would have just been SOL.  So I changed my reserved seat on the shuttle which left in 10 minutes, picked up my luggage and made it to Narita with an hour and a half to spare.  I felt deflated and mentally worn out but then, being a brilliant therapist, reframed my thinking to embrace the idea that I have the opportunity to do things like this.  Even if it means stranded in Tokyo or London, a car accident in Turkey, lost in Seoul or Paris, earthquakes or volcanoes, I’ve still had the most amazing past few years. 

Now I get to brush up on my German language skills a little, start relearning customs and basic phrases like when to say “Auf Wiedersehen” and when to say “Chus.” Since I expect to only be able to go shopping on the economy, I will have to learn how to read “decaffeinated” and “non-fat” in German. My life is soooo challenging.

Oirase Gorge



Snow sculture at Towada

thoughts on The War With America

(By the way, the photo is of Shinjuku and it appears the lights are definitely on.) 

Every now and then I have one of those moments when I am struck by revelation of a truth that is so obvious, that I wonder why it never occurred to me before, and I get them a few times a year.  I guess you just have to get to a point where you are open to the possibility, however remote, of not knowing everything. I spent MLK weekend in Tokyo for the second time in a month.  I knew I couldn’t really afford it, and then got a wicked flu on Thursday night (hotel and train already paid for and not refundable). I know that sometimes stuff just happens and I have to go and look for the lesson and the joy in it, despite the din created to distract me. So I went with a change of underwear, plenty of medication, a box of tissues, and a pocketful o cash for a couple of bowls of steaming hot soba. I gradually felt better through the night and the next day, then on Sunday night, as Sumo wrestlers strolled in the dusk, and as chanting and temple incense filled the cool evening air, I found myself entering Edo-Tokyo Museum looking at artifacts that have survived countless fires, earthquakes and wars, yet which contain substantial history within a relatively small space. I meandered through dark corridors and lighted models until I came to the corner of my epiphany.  It was the ‘War with America’ section.  I became suddenly very aware of my obvious Americanness looking at filmstrips of the burning of Tokyo, the mountains of bodies, the people in the smoldering streets and written and recorded accounts of some of the hundreds of thousands of men, women and children, whose homes and cities were targeted and destroyed by American bombers, in an effort to crush the spirit of the Japanese people.  Looking at artifact after artifact I could not avoid the gaze of small Japanese faces looking up at me from the behind a father’s leg or a mother’s winter coat draped across her arm. I knew they were staring because I looked different from their norm but I couldn’t help but feel a little as if I might bear some guilt for looking like the enemy portrayed in the photographs.  I approached the photos of the surrender of the Empire of Japan to General MacArthur aboard the USS Missouri.  The video of that moment is striking alone but watching it among a crowd of people who look at this moment in history from the opposite vantage point is a bit humbling.  My epiphany was this.  No matter which side you are on, the story is the same.  The enemy doesn’t value human life.  The enemy is ignorant.  The enemy is evil and capable of doing unspeakable things to our people. We can’t let that happen to our people. I wonder why wise men have filled thousands of pages trying to explain and understand war, yet never resolve the conflict. It is never, never what it seems, regardless of how right we are.

Creesmahs and New Year in Japan

Since my last blog I have spent Christmas weekend in Tokyo with my friends Fran and Dennis and Dennis’ niece and her friend.  I made some new friends (welcome Stephen to my friend list) that weekend as well.  After a nice Italian meal in a French bistro in Shibuya (Tokyo district) on Christmas Eve we wandered around for awhile mesmerized by the 50 Motorcycle Santas who kept popping up around Shibuya and Shinjuku (also Tokyo).  The streets were full of people celebrating Christmas by dancing in the streets in festive moods all shouting “Merry Creesmahs!” I am still amazed at how Japanese girls can dress in so little in the middle of winter; of course it was only in the 30’s at night so I guess there was really no call for a coat. Adding to the excitement was the house party in Shinjuku followed by a “rest of the nighter” dancing and celebrating at the Rock Bar complete with dancing on the bar and everybody wishing everybody a Merry “Creesmahs!” We rounded it all off with a banquet at Burger King and went to bed.  On Christmas day we went out for Christmas sushi and a trip to the Tokyo Tower.  Then I got back on my bullet train for a 300 kph, 4 hour trip back to the north where there was plenty of ice and snow.  Christmas is a festive time in Japan, but nothing, I heard, compared to New Year’s Eve.  I learned about some exciting events and traditions such as people going to shrines and burning their good luck tokens from the past year in bonfires and getting new ones for the new year.  Lanterns would be lit and the bells of the temples would ring in the new year.  I thot that sounded fun and decided to go to Aomori City, about 39 km from here, a seaport town that reportedly gets more snow per capita (whatever that means) than any other small city (whatever that means) on earth. Determined to conquer my fear of driving on ice and snow covered back country roads in high winds, I set out with my fearless colleague Holly for Aomori on Saturday morning with extra blankets and “Hot Hands” just in case we slid off the road and had to spend a couple of days in a snow bank half submerged in a rice patty at the bottom of a ravine.  Holly kept saying “hey look at that” or “Garry, let’s stop here” while I was praying and struggling to keep the car on the road.  Turns out her fearlessness has more to do with obliviousness to the incredible danger than with actual boldness.  Anyway we made it to Aomori and prepared for the events slated for our traditional Japanese new year celebration.  Now, Aomori had just received over 3 feet of fresh snowfall so finding my way around with Holly as my directionally-challenged (that would have been good to know before I put her in charge of the map reading) navigator was challenging since the roadsides bore 10- foot high walls of snow.  Everything was in Japanese (can you believe it?) including the name of the Hotel which was blatantly obvious on the front of the building.  After driving around for an hour trying to match the Kanji and Hiragana to what might be on a hotel or street sign, and after asking and receiving directions from Lawson’s convenience store (British owned, but no English) in Japanese – (YAY for me!) we found it and even though only 6 people in Aomori speak any English, we found the Tourist Information Center where one such person worked.  Long story short the lady informed us that the happening party was to be on board the ship “Hakkoda Maru” complete with alcohol, food and fireworks and it was free! So after exploring a Shinto Shrine and wandering around the icy streets and 10 foot walls of snow and ice, and having a nice kare dinner at another hotel (our hotel’s 3 restaurants were closed for the holiday as were 90% of the businesses in town) Holly and I went to see the two bands playing 80’s American pop which included a blond guy with a tamborine and a skinny girl in a kimono slapping a mean bass guitar.  There was also a Don Ho looking guy with an electric keyboard laying down some sultry sounds. The food varied from a cold bento to hot ramen and the Sapporo Beer was 6 bucks a glass, but we stuck it out and saw the new year in with a bang and some nice fireworks over Aomori Bay. Thanks to Holly clever conversation and a lots of laughs, the evening was a hit. The next day we went to an awesome little museum named for and featuring the internationally acclaimed local block print artist Munakata Shiko and then somehow found the giant Daibutsu (Big Buddha) and temple out in the country after careening down a bouncy alley with 6 foot drops off to the sides of the iced over and heavily rutted, one car wide trail. It was almost as fun driving as Turkey, especially with the rubberneckers standing in the road smoking cigarettes and laughing hysterically as I tried to negotiate my way around them and toward my destination. We walked around and rang the giant bell then headed for home…and made the 39 km in only 2 hours!  It snows here all day and all night with enough melt-off to give the roads a nice glaze in the morning and as I sit and write we have about 8 inches built up since yesterday.  Supposed to snow again tonight.  I think I will have my fill by the time I leave here in 6 weeks. pictures are top down and left to right:  Me Fran and Dennis,MotoSantas, Mt Fuji (never gets old), Me and the Rock Bar Bunch,Aomori Pagoda and Daibutsu, Lantern, very helpful sign, the last existing Bob's Big Boy, Shrine and me and the Holly Lama!

三沢市からこんにちは

Normally, I don’t wait this long to post about my current events, but this has been a very different kind of assignment.  I am back in Japan, but this time I am light years away from the metropolitan Tokyo area.  It almost feels like I am on vacation in West Tennessee sometimes, of course with exceptions.  Two exceptions are that everybody speaks Japanese and all the signs are in Japanese. Lots of nice restaurants and one particularly spectacular Chinese one where I order my food off a menu for 15 to 30 bucks instead of paying $7.99 to graze a buffet. I heard there is a MacuDonodo in town but I have not seen it yet. The Christmas spirit abounds here in this Shinto and Buddhist land.  There are loudspeakers in the streets of Misawa-shi that are playing Christmas Carols, everyone wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, Christmas decorations everywhere, and snow abounds making the whole thing feel a little “It’s A Wonderful Life” – ish. In fact, I think tonight I will walk around town tonite and shoot a little video just to prove it.  It snowed the week before Thanksgiving here and both days required brushing about 4 inches of snow off of cars, so apparently that means it will be a particularly snowy winter.  We've had snow a lot and it's snowing right now with about 6 inches of ground cover. The good thing so far is that the snow melts down during the day even with below freezing temps keeping it manageable for walking and driving.  The bad thing is that melt-off makes everything a sheet of ice, not good for my colleague Holly who busted her rump Thursday and ended up in the ER alongside of the string of people with sprains and assorted falling-on-the-ice injuries.  I am not going to make any remarks about that (and SO many come to mind) so as not to put a falling-down curse on myself.  Gotta avoid the evil eye, you know. There are some interesting places around here though.  Shipwreck Beach (aptly named) has tons of sea glass and supposedly glass fishing floats which drift ashore and people find them as genuine treasure, so I have been and will return to hopefully find an intact glass ball. A trip to Iwate Prefecture to the caves was cool, and a nice change of pace.  I saw a lot of recovery and damage from the tsunami.  Still there are piles of rubble which sadly includes homes, clothes, appliances and the remnants of so many lives lost in that disaster.  I am going to volunteer at an orphanage off base whose census has exploded with children whose parents were killed in March.  I think I can resist bringing home a handful of kids; I have my list of why it’s impossible ready.  I am going train-riding today to Hachinohe which is about 30-45 minutes south of here. Here are a few photos that I have taken so far, top down: Cutesy sign forbidding dumping of trash (cutesy, childlike and fun is very typical); rubbish and reconstruction in a tsunami affected area; a nice little park; a shrine on the beach for people to honor or pray for their pets; Shipwreck Beach.