Saturday, December 17, 2005
Day Two (and Part of Three)
It's morning now. About 5am or so. I've been up since probably about 2 o'clock thinking and dozing in and out of sleep. But finally, the fumes emanating from Joe's butt forced me out of bed.
Yesterday I woke up at about 2 am too and kept trying to get back to sleep. Finally at 4am, I just couldn't do it anymore. I rolled over and looked at Joe and he was wide awake. He looked at me. "I'm all sleeped out," he said. So we got up.
After puttering around for a few hours, we went for an exploratory jog around the base. I was very proud of myself, I must say, for jogging at like 7am on a marine base when I had jet lag. I could just imagine marines watching me jiggle by like, "Damn that woman's slow!" But I wanted to see stuff! Unfortunately, after seeing many an identical family home, and not one Dunkin' Donuts in site, we learned that Camp Foster was split in two by a highway. All the good stuff - the furniture store, the PX and and yes the Dunkin' Donuts, was on the other, exciting, side. We were in residential Camp Foster. But it was pretty. Unexpectedly lush and hilly. And it was nice to see the young families waking up and packing their kids in the car for weekend excursions. I got nostalgic for my military brat days.
By the way, before you think I'm a putz for not going out to see "the real Japan", I don't have my ID card yet, so I can't get on and off base unless I'm in a car with a sticker. Luckily, this happened later in the day. Karen and Pete picked us up to take us to the other part of Camp Foster and out for ice cream and Mongolian BBQ.
I've gotta say, Pete and Karen are some bad ass sponsors. For those of you not in the military know, when a soldier or a family get stationed at a new base they are assigned a sponsor. The sponsors job is to basically help you get adjusted to your new post, show you where things are, help you get an ID, a car, a house, etc. Some sponsors suck. Maybe they just pick you up at the airport and hand you a phone list and you're on your own. Others rock. For example, they might stock your hotel refrigerator with groceries, bake you cookies, invite you to spend Christmas with them and offer to teach you to sew...like Karen and Pete. (Well, he didn't offer to teach me to sew...but whatever.)
Anyway, we went to the PX (Post Exchange) and the furniture mart and the little bookstore. They were all mediocre in that special AAFES kind of way. (AAFES is the American Armed Forces Exchange Service. It manages the retail outfits on a military base like the PX. The PX is the main place to shop on a post. It's like a very eclectic department store selling everything from Coach bags, to Wal-mart quality items. Near the entrance of just about any PX in the world there is an area devoted to native crafts. Here it's Asian furniture, swords, lots of kitschy items, some really nice pottery and these weird wooden dolls. What was unique about this particular PX, was that there was an auction room! $15 for a Buddha belly sculpture. I'm in!
In any event, we did finally make it off post. The roads twisted and turned and the buildings were tightly packed. There were little groceries, restaurants from all over the world, a SPAR, lots of places that I couldn't identify 'cause I can't understand the writing, a Benetton (!), pubs, pachinko joints, a gigantic ferris wheel, little apartments with clothes hanging out on the line, surf shops. Loads and loads of vending machines. I found myself reading every sign aloud. We stopped at the sea wall and watched the surfers for a while but it was cold (yes, cold) so we finally headed to the BBQ joint.
We met another couple there from Joe's work. The food was good. I got an Orion beer and good Mongolian BBQ which doesn't actually have anything to do with Mongolian food at all. I felt weird not speaking in Japanese. The place was very popular with American. I did say "arigato" once, shy and quietly. I hate not speaking the language of wherever I'm at. It's like there's this wall there between me and the culture. At the ice cream joint though, I got a little more courageous. The staff spoke a little English and I asked them how to say some things. After I sampled the purple, potato flavored ice cream (which tasted oddly like caramel) I learned how to say good, "oshoi" (I think) which I said to the staff loudly and with a dorky thumbs up gesture. They smiled and giggled at me.
Anyway, that's that. Hope all is well for y'all. Miss you! Besos,
Kelly
Yesterday I woke up at about 2 am too and kept trying to get back to sleep. Finally at 4am, I just couldn't do it anymore. I rolled over and looked at Joe and he was wide awake. He looked at me. "I'm all sleeped out," he said. So we got up.
After puttering around for a few hours, we went for an exploratory jog around the base. I was very proud of myself, I must say, for jogging at like 7am on a marine base when I had jet lag. I could just imagine marines watching me jiggle by like, "Damn that woman's slow!" But I wanted to see stuff! Unfortunately, after seeing many an identical family home, and not one Dunkin' Donuts in site, we learned that Camp Foster was split in two by a highway. All the good stuff - the furniture store, the PX and and yes the Dunkin' Donuts, was on the other, exciting, side. We were in residential Camp Foster. But it was pretty. Unexpectedly lush and hilly. And it was nice to see the young families waking up and packing their kids in the car for weekend excursions. I got nostalgic for my military brat days.
By the way, before you think I'm a putz for not going out to see "the real Japan", I don't have my ID card yet, so I can't get on and off base unless I'm in a car with a sticker. Luckily, this happened later in the day. Karen and Pete picked us up to take us to the other part of Camp Foster and out for ice cream and Mongolian BBQ.
I've gotta say, Pete and Karen are some bad ass sponsors. For those of you not in the military know, when a soldier or a family get stationed at a new base they are assigned a sponsor. The sponsors job is to basically help you get adjusted to your new post, show you where things are, help you get an ID, a car, a house, etc. Some sponsors suck. Maybe they just pick you up at the airport and hand you a phone list and you're on your own. Others rock. For example, they might stock your hotel refrigerator with groceries, bake you cookies, invite you to spend Christmas with them and offer to teach you to sew...like Karen and Pete. (Well, he didn't offer to teach me to sew...but whatever.)
Anyway, we went to the PX (Post Exchange) and the furniture mart and the little bookstore. They were all mediocre in that special AAFES kind of way. (AAFES is the American Armed Forces Exchange Service. It manages the retail outfits on a military base like the PX. The PX is the main place to shop on a post. It's like a very eclectic department store selling everything from Coach bags, to Wal-mart quality items. Near the entrance of just about any PX in the world there is an area devoted to native crafts. Here it's Asian furniture, swords, lots of kitschy items, some really nice pottery and these weird wooden dolls. What was unique about this particular PX, was that there was an auction room! $15 for a Buddha belly sculpture. I'm in!
In any event, we did finally make it off post. The roads twisted and turned and the buildings were tightly packed. There were little groceries, restaurants from all over the world, a SPAR, lots of places that I couldn't identify 'cause I can't understand the writing, a Benetton (!), pubs, pachinko joints, a gigantic ferris wheel, little apartments with clothes hanging out on the line, surf shops. Loads and loads of vending machines. I found myself reading every sign aloud. We stopped at the sea wall and watched the surfers for a while but it was cold (yes, cold) so we finally headed to the BBQ joint.
We met another couple there from Joe's work. The food was good. I got an Orion beer and good Mongolian BBQ which doesn't actually have anything to do with Mongolian food at all. I felt weird not speaking in Japanese. The place was very popular with American. I did say "arigato" once, shy and quietly. I hate not speaking the language of wherever I'm at. It's like there's this wall there between me and the culture. At the ice cream joint though, I got a little more courageous. The staff spoke a little English and I asked them how to say some things. After I sampled the purple, potato flavored ice cream (which tasted oddly like caramel) I learned how to say good, "oshoi" (I think) which I said to the staff loudly and with a dorky thumbs up gesture. They smiled and giggled at me.
Anyway, that's that. Hope all is well for y'all. Miss you! Besos,
Kelly
