Long Hair I Do Care

It's no surprise to those who know me that my hair is a very big deal. Growing up, I've had both short and long hair, and I've even donated my hair to Locks of Love. In 11th grade, I grew my hair long, and it's been that way ever since. After high school, I began to dye my hair starting with simple highlights and going extreme with half blonde/half black hair (not ombre). Afterwards, I settled for the brunette look and after I got tired with that, I tried ombre. I have a very serious love/LOVE relationship with my hair, and I put complete faith in my hairstylist who has been doing my hair since 6th grade. Since 6th grade, people! My hairstylist, Margarita, knows my hair and knows how to dye it. If I show her a picture of a hair color or style, she will give me that exact same color and style. She never disappoints! Every time I've gone dark to light or visa versa, she makes it into a process so that the color is rich. In Miami, I've had hairstylist friends of friends who try to solicit their services, and I always tell them that I'm happy with my hairstylist and changing would be like cheating on her. Sorry, but NOT sorry.

Before I left to Japan, she dyed my hair once again, but this time changed the color subtly so that when it grows out, it would match with my natural hair color, which sits between a ashy and dirty blonde.  My hair grows like bamboo so after a few months, I needed to get my hair done again. This is an issue in Japan since most hairstylists here are not familiar with foreign hair. I don't mean to be a jerk; Asian hair, black hair, caucasian hair differ in color and texture. There is one girl here who wanted her light brown hair dyed darker. Her hairstylist BLEACHED her hair blonde, and then dyed it dark. They didn't know how to do work with hair that is not black. Therefore, with reluctance, I asked a close teacher/friend where I could get my hair done. She made an appointment for me at her salon in Chatan, which is known for having a a stronger foreign/military presence. 

We drove together to Chatan and I showed a picture of what I wanted. Essentially, I wanted a ombre with more contrast. In Okinawa, my sun lightened my hair and my roots came in, so I wanted to be a little "milk chocolate" on the top and have it fade to my golden blonde at the bottom. So with my broken Japanese, and my friend translating as well, the hairstylist set to work. Two gorgeous Japanese men worked on my hair and they brushed the dye into my hair. They told me that they were experts in gratiation (Japanese for ombre) and I relaxed a little. After they finished the top, they changed dyes and proceeded with the bottom portion of my hair. 

After the dye set, they moved me to wash it out. At first, handsome guy #2 (who I think was the assistant, or hairstylist in training) washed my hair, but he switched with another lady because they were so busy. I was kind of bummed, because it felt like I was getting a massage. The lady wasn't so great and for a while she washed the ends. Actually, I think she washed the ends, I couldn't tell what the hell she was doing back there because I couldn't feel it. When I sat back down at the station with wet hair, I began to panic because my hair looked extremely dark. 

Another women came to blow dry my hair. This is when my stress levels rose because she finger dried my hair. I looked around and noticed that it was the standard procedure. However, my hair is wavy/curly so as she dried it, it turned into a puffy mess. I was also upset, because everyone complimented my hair saying that I had a natural perm and how pretty it looked. I wanted to ring their necks. I looked like Hagrid and I refuse to walk out looking like that. As I sat in my Hagrid hair, I noticed that the blond portion of my hair looked like an ashy blonde, almost white or grey. I wanted the Earth to swallow me. Gorgeous guys came back an styled my hair. They reassured me that it would lighten. I knew that, but it was absolutely nothing like the color I wanted. Luckily, it was not expensive and I left for home with the intent to wash my hair 3 or 10 times to lighten it.

I'm not leaving here looking like this!

After I used the all of the shampoo I had, I successfully lightened my hair, and I even got the grey blonde to revert back to the golden blonde. I am happy with it now, because it's great winter hair, but I wish I hadn't gone through all of that stress. 

My hair before
(Red eye reduction -___-)

Assessing the damage
(Nice styling though!)

After 3 or 10 washes
(My own curls)

Dance like everyone is watching

A few months ago I received a call from my Board of Education asking if I would like to take traditional Okinawan dance classes with international students from Peru, Argentina and Brazil. I figured that it would be like a once-a-week type of deal so I joined. Instead, dance practice was conducted everyday for two hours in preparation for a performance in front of all the members of the Board of Education. Yikes! For this performance, I learned the Kagiyadefu (woman's part), a very slow but graceful Okinawan dance.

The Kagiyadefu is not a difficult dance when compared to my time as a ballet dancer. However, the pace is slow and sometimes the dance does not follow the rhythm of the music. Moreover, instead of teaching the basic 8 count, I had to listen to the lyrics for cues. Because the dance is a traditional Okinawan dance, the lyrics are also in a traditional Okinawan language, called Unchinaguchi. A lot of those studying Japanese will say "RyūKyū-ben" or RyūKyū dialect, but this is incorrect and you will be firmly corrected in Okinawa because it's considered a completely separate language from Japanese. After several weeks of practice, I perfected the Kagiyadefu. 

I had to make sure I didn't step on the outter kimono while dancing

My dance life in Okinawa has continue Udui Kuwadisa, at my towns cultural festival. Unless it's for a performance, practice is held Wednesday and Thursday at a performance center in Ginoza. What I love about this is the sense of community from the other dancers who I consider my Japanese aunts (although they are old enough to be my grandmothers). On practice days, I usually skip dinner because they always feed me. I've even been surprised a few times with snacks, such as cakes, secretly stuffed into my purse. Most of the women's names end with a "ko," and since I'm become part of their dance horde they affectionately call me "Gabiko" and, when I'm in costume, I'll introduce myself as 「うちなんちゅう我美子」"Unichinanchū Gabiko" (Okinawan person, Gabiko).  

Auntie attempting to contain the mane, while I'm acting silly with this crazy makeup!

Dancers with Sensei

Taiwan: The Heart of Asia

After experiencing the Okinawan island life for some time, I felt an itch to leave and start my international travels. Taking advantage of a three-day weekend, and requesting a day off of work, two fellow OkiJETs and I set out sights to Taiwan, Okinawa's closest country.

The night before my departure, I picked up Tka in Okinawa City and we spent the night at Alley's in Nishihara. The next morning, we headed out ridiculously early to beat the traffic to Naha Airport. The traffic was horrendous and, what's worse, Google Maps decided to guide us to a frickin' golf course (Thanks Obama)! We had to call out to a pedestrian and ask for directions but fortunately we were not far off.

We made it to the airport just in time to check in and pass the security checkpoint. No one had breakfast that morning and we were expecting to get food at the terminal but since Peach Airlines does not taxi at a terminal, the terminal only sold boxed souvenir food. We met up with some other OkiJETs, who were also headed to Taiwan, and they gave us an apple to split between the three of us. Best apple of my life! We also met with Wendy a Singaporean OkiJET who was off to visit family in Taiwan. She marked our subway map for the best hot spots in Taipei and offered to guide us to Taipei's main subway station since we were all headed there anyway.

The flight was ridiculously short, but I spent the entire hour yawning and attempting to pop my ears since scuba diving temporarily damaged my inner ear. Once we reached Taipei, our main priority was to eat. We walked about a block or two until we found a small cafe that had an menu in English and food that would satisfy everyone, especially me with my food particularities. Afterwards, we headed to our hotel.

Lovely Travel Ladies

A hour passed and we still had not found our hotel. The map that Tka brought was not detailed enough but we  knew the street and were headed in the right direction. I used every bit of Mandarin Chinese that I knew to ask about location of our hotel. Every question was met with people pointing for us to go further down. We even stopped at a convenience store to ask for directions. At one point, we were so frustrated because one person would tell us to go further down and another person would tell us to come back the way we came. Finally, we walked into what we thought was our hotel. It wasn't, but the women working the front desk personally walked us to our hotel. We were so grateful!

As I was moving my suitcase to my corner of the room, I hear Alley laughing and telling us to check out the bed. When I sat on the bed, it felt as though I sat on concrete. This was the hardest bed on God's green Earth! I picked up the pillow assuming that would be just as terrible but, to my relief, it was fairly soft. I looked to Alley who was still laughing now on her hand and knees saying "It's like basement sex!" That's when I lost it, because I could imagine that on a terribly hard and uneven floor. The joy surged through me as I realized I would be spending a few days on the concrete bed (sarcasm). After we settled, we headed out into Taipei.

Taipei at night reminded me a little of New York with its crazy traffic and slightly dirty atmosphere. The only difference was the abundance of scooters. Aside from my ear problems, I also had a terrible cough and the exhaust fumes from the hundreds of thousands of scooters forced me to purchase cough drops at a convenience store. 

The night markets in Taipei were like Jesus, in that they were perfect. Japanese clothes are cute, but sometimes they can get pretty funky with their prints, "Engrish," frills, and fabrics. The clothes at the night markets were surprisingly of good quality, ridiculously cheap, and stuff that I'd actually wear. More importantly, at every corner there were people selling yummy fruits and pastries, along with the nauseating Stinky Tofu. I got the most use of my Chinese while shopping because I could ask for the prince and bargain by saying it was too pricy. 

Taiwan: The Land of Scooters

The next couple of days involved some sightseeing at Longshan Temple, Taipei 101, and trips to more night markets.

Longshan Temple is a reconstructed Buddhist/Taoist temple in the Wuhua district of Taipei. Although situated on a busy street, Longshan Temple created a peaceful atmosphere with a gorgeous waterfall and a large dragon statue at the enterence. Once inside the temple, there were hundreds of people praying and giving food and flower offerings. 

Taipei 101 is the second largest building in the world with the world's elevator (my ears did not appreciate this). The first two floors consisted of a high-end mall with recognizable brands that I could never afford. At the top, we had an spectacular view of the city as well as a view of the damper ball, which balances the building during storms or earthquakes.

Leaving Taipei, we had a some trouble finding the bus terminals, and we also ran into some trouble or shall I say caught some attitude with the airline personal regarding the weight of our carry-on bags during our check-in. 

I definitely want to go back to Taiwan for a longer weekend and continue shopping sightseeing.

Dying of laughter at Longshan Temple

Hospitals in Japan: Closed for your Inconvenience

If you get sick in Japan and need to see a doctor, you must do so between Monday through Friday from 8am – 5pm. Closed on weekends and during national holidays. Also closed on days and times that are most convenient for you. This is not an over exaggeration! Hospitals in Japan close on evening and weekends. So if you break your arm while trying to twerk on the doorframe of some sacred Buddhist temple, you’ll have to suck it up until Monday or the next morning. I knew about the ridiculousness of Japanese hospitals prior to my arrival, but I didn’t realize the inconvenience until I needed to see a doctor. About a month after my arrival to Japan, I became ill and needed a specific antibiotic, I decided to hold off until my half-day, Thursday, to see a doctor because my mother I packed medicines from home and refused to take a personal day. 

Put a Pokemon Bandaid on it and wait until Monday

Thursday came, I left work and headed to the hospital. As I walked into the hospital, I immediately felt something was amiss. There were no receptionists at the front desk and the lights were turned off, so I walked around musing at the similarities between my life and a horror video game. I assumed that I was on the wrong floor and proceeded up the elevator only to reach a floor with hospitalized patients. I quickly backtracked and returned for the first floor to find someone that could help me. As I was snooping around, I found sign with the opening hours for the hospital. Using my very limited Japanese, I found the name of my specific clinic within the hospital and realized that the clinic closes after noon on Thursdays. Thursday was their half-day too! Eventually, an old woman, who I wasn’t sure worked there, approached me and told me to come during lunch break or to take a personal day. I thanked her and returned home feeling defeated. 

(You may remember that I mentioned this next part from a previous post, see here)

It has been joked about that I could smile and excuse myself out the door whenever I wanted in the Japanese workplace. Since I refused to take any personal time, I decided to test that theory on Tuesday and do just that. I excused myself from work about an hour and a half early. Half way to my car, the principal stopped me to say that I was leaving early. I walked back to tell her about my situation, but she continued the conversation saying that she missed the opportunity the previous day (because of a typhoon) to give me a huge bag of okra and sweet potatoes. Turns out, I mistranslated what she said. She said that I was leaving quickly ("fast" and "early" are the same word in Japanese). Either way, I felt bad and told her what was going on anyway. She couldn't care less that I was leaving early, as long as I used the veggies she gave me. 

At the hospital, which was now open, I checked in with the receptionist and filled out various forms. I was escorted to the waiting area, where they called me in to take my blood pressure and measure my weight and height. I met with a doctor, who surprising spoke English, and he asked me about my symptoms and prescribed me the Japanese equivalent to my usual American medicines. SUCCESS! 

Case closed!