In the belly of a whale

Sometime after the new year I sent the e-mail (see below) to a gaggle of Hiroshima friends, a former professor and myself:

Last year Disney promoted a campagin: "The Year of 1,000,000 Dreams". They offered up 1,000,000 incentives, at the cost of the company, to Disney guests. In the end this merely amounted to 900,000 free plastic cups for additional consumption of over-priced soda water, but I can't shake their intent. Accomplishments. Many of them. To be completed in a designated time. I can do that.

This is my new years resolution.

This is the point of the writing.

Here's what I propose: Hula's year of 52 adventures.

The idea is simple. There are 52 weeks in a year. I'm to complete 52 adventures in 2008. And I'd like your help in this effort.

Now I realize that many of my ideas hold steadfast and fade out (see: adventure mondays), but I've never fallen back on a resolution, and I write to make this work. Let this document lock testimony.

I'd like you to sign on, as well. What good are adventures if they can't be shared? So here's what I'm thinking:

We adventure like we'd never adventured before. Considering my poor financial state the adventures can be as simple and as frugal as jumping off a large stone structure in Kumano, and as elaborate as getting a tattoo. These are the things we often keep ourselves from doing. I've already completed two this year. One in Houston and the other on a San Antonio Ranch. I shot some guns. I hadn't realized my fear until I held the monster in my hands. So now, my Japan loves, what's next?

This weekend I'm up for adventure. Any and all of it. I'll start a spreadsheet to document my progress.

Adventures haven't been as timely as I initially called for, but can an adventure really be scheduled? That said, I have a few under my belt and many, most and a myriad to come. They are, as follows:

1. Crazy business in the Diamond City super mall near my apartment. Think big mall. Huge. Stadium style shops for days. It's actually something of a filthy eye-sore that I try to avoid as I don't need to accumulate anything more out here save intangible awesome fear factors that I can dutifully relay to you, my faithful blogdience. That said, I can not, in good conscience explain my actions. Know they were legal (I'm not a lifter) and perhaps the best way to start off the campaign.

2. Oyster consumption. Kaki, the word used when ordering here. Alex ordered me a lunch set of fried oyster and I squirmed and reconsidered too many times before taking one in, contemplating my palette and finally offering up an emphatic thumbs up. I ate them all. In turn, I also greedily devoured a raw one. That I could take or leave but I'm still oyster-full and ready to overcome my next great obstacle: sushi. CELEBRATE!

3. Japanese OBGYN. Now to most this is something less than an adventure and more of a questionable call to all things new. But that's a counter-argument only privy to those who haven't experienced the thrilling Sweeny-Todd type automated chair mechanism they mount you in. The doctor keep calling behind a veiled curtain, "Ittai, Ittai?" Translation: Does it hurt? Does it hurt? I had been both laughing and crying. As is the case with most fun-house rides.

4. Cue the tattoo. This is a difficult post in that my mother (hi mom) is one of few to diligently attend to my blog. She's gone so far as to call to remind me that my blog is a bore and I need to update more frequently. She's also an endearing creature, and, in being just that, doesn't want her children to deface their bodies for fear of infection and regret. Luckily my pal Dan scouted out the best artist for the job. Together we hit up "Wild Monkey Tattoo" where after an initial session being canceled (our artist sick) I had a full week to further freak out over the potential pain of being poked endlessly with needle. Our plan was for me to go first as I'd surely back out after seeing Dan writhe through the pain of his more complicated tatt. After surveying the scene (the palor clean, reputable and our artist sweet and thug-friendly) I did something more than freak out. I lost my sh&*. I paced and pouted and Dan, at the ready, offered to go first. I watched him sit stoically through the endeavor and was sure I'd bow out come my turn. Alex aided in humoring me as I kept excusing myself to make convenee store runs (chocolate for days) and writing scathing journal entries to convince myself I was a badass woman worthy of a tattoo. In the end my conviction won out as I reclined on the artists chair, after 20 minutes of deciding upon a fantastic font, extended my leg, bit my lip and waited for the world's worst pain to attack me. It hurt, but in ways I hadn't experienced. Things have hurt much more and as he inked and wiped I knew it wasn't so much the pain as it was resounding sounds- the friends in arms trying to calm me by delivering tasteless jokes, the buzz of the hand-held device, something like a lady razor- that kept me white-faced and ready to faint. I burrowed my face in Alex's green sweater. Dan and Alex acted as a dynamic duo of spoilt comedy and within ten quick minutes I was tattoo'ed. It was really that easy. So now I've an impressive "26.2" insignia on my right ankle. It's something to see everything I run. It's a nod to a comment made to me by someone I'd like to memorialize. And I'm without infection. Without blood and scab and fear. In having legs that kill I plan to unleash this beaut to the wild this summer, and all the summers that follow.

All this. Such adventure! And surely more to come. Mountains to hike. Oceans to wade in. Horses to ride. Cheese to make. I am at the whim of all things wonderful.

There is no love, where there is no bramble.

And so we celebrate a Japanese Valentine's Day that is the inverse of all I know. Women are expected to give gifts, coated in chocolate, professionally wrapped. This is good news for the choir as I love to gift, and unconventionally so. With this great news I commissioned my pal Dan (an artist and Mass Effect guru) to draw a portrait of Alex and I. Being a patron is really all it's made out to be. I could command Dan to white wash my acne scars and tint my hair to match the fashion of the day. Thankfully my hair is always in fashion, but Dan did masterful work and the portrait, framed and gleaming, went off without a hitch.

Oh wait, there was that darling hitch I worked in. I wrapped the frame in the world's most concerning newsprint. It was a faux paper that detailed how one lady might make efforts to find her 'prince' and 'keep him'. These loosely translated articles detailed how one princess should dress, how she can find happy with her love-time soul mate if she's to keep quiet, and how said princess should turn to her friends to understand the royalty that she possesses. The later giving the paper too much credit but it's par for the course in philosophy. So I stacked on a bow and a lovely ornamental flower and stowed the gift away. Upon Alex's arrival this past weekend I presented him with the package on the pretense it was the obligatory chocolates lovers are expected to present to one another. He, anxious because it seemed to be the worlds biggest piece of chocolate, tore in. Ha, ho. Oh, we all rolled around with that one because my gift was not edible, but awesome. And, in the end, I had some freakish 3-D Ultraman and creepy alien cohort chocolate thing to present him with.

The weekend also included a ryokan stay in Miyajima. Miyajima, being on the top three illustrious list of most scenic places in Japan, was also hosting an oyster festival. CELEBRATE! Or not, as I'm terrified of fish. Oysters seem so at the ready. Bulbous. Decidedly pregnant. Ready to slide and flavor your trachea as soon as you let them in. Thus, I have never had an oyster. Any fish for that matter. And maybe it was the romance of the week. Maybe I was still reeling from the events of last night (see: Dan Fan's surprise birthday party- posts to come), but I was adamant on eating an oyster. So I ate 5. Bloody 5 oysters, of all varieties. I ate fried oyster. But that was a freebie as all fried things are delicious. Then, after much hesitation and a rowdy gaggle of friends pounding fists on a table shouting, "Hula- Oyster" in a quiet subdued restaurant, I went for the jugular and ate a slimy, just cracked, flithy-eye sore of a raw thing. Oh doctor...... it was okay! I'm getting a little crazy in my old age. Quarter life is a culinary beast.

Ryokan was perfect. Dinner was served in full Japanese fashion with all the prepared food groups present and accounted for. Breakfast even more lovely. Our view overlooked as much of the Seto Inland Sea as I've been privy to see. (That's a lot of sea, and a lot of sea/see for one sentence). As night fell, all the tourists (and hordes of them as Kaki filled as we) rushed out to make the last ferry and we pretty much had the run of the island. It was lovely to walk its ways with no one in sight and absorb all the top three ranked beauty that is this island. I'd go back every weekend if I could.

And to end, it is Valentine's Day. Students may make me cards and give me chocolates but I urge any and all reading this post to also consider others reasons we see red:

Feb 14 is also V-Day. V-Day was born in 1998 as an outgrowth of Eve Ensler's Obie-Award winning play, "The Vagina Monologues." As Eve performed the piece in small towns and large cities all around the world, she saw and heard first hand the destructive personal, social, political and economic consequences violence against women has for many nations.

From this experience V-Day was born.

V-Day is a global movement to stop violence against women and girls.
V-Day is an organized response against violence toward women.
V-Day is a vision: We see a world where women live safely and freely.
V-Day is a demand: Rape, incest, battery, genital mutilation and sexual slavery must end now.
V-Day is a spirit: We believe women should spend their lives creating and thriving rather than surviving or recovering from terrible atrocities.
V-Day is a catalyst: By raising money and consciousness, it will unify and strengthen existing anti-violence efforts. Triggering far-reaching awareness, it will lay the groundwork for new educational, protective, and legislative endeavors throughout the world.
V-Day is a process: We will work as long as it takes. We will not stop until the violence stops.
V-Day is a day. We proclaim Valentine's Day as V-Day, to celebrate women and end the violence.

So, wear Red tomorrow, and every Feb 14, to stop violence against women and girls, especially if you, or a woman you know, has been a victim of violence. When someone comments that you are wearing red for Valentines day, correct them—tell them the real reason you wear red.

Please forward this message along. For more info visit: http://www.vday.org/contents/vday/aboutvday/mission