Ok, remember my love for the Indian Cuisine. Well, I think it’s fair to say that if I can have it once a week, I will be perfectly content. There is a little place right next to the Hirosaki station and it’s real, Indian curry (as opposed to the Japanese curry dishes). It tasted much more authentic and just fabulous.

So, rewinding just a lil’ bit heeeeeere. Alesha, Rach, and I had a little slumber party on Saturday night and crashed at Rach’s after the Thanksgiving FEAST and club action. For the record, I’m not a “clubber” and I don’t dance….but I will admit, it was good sober fun.

Sunday was a little murky weather-wise, but still a good day. Filled my body with breakfast oats + naner + pumpkin (from the can)- thanks to Kasey for raiding the Airforce Base for me.

After loungin’ for a bit, us ladies made our way up to Appeliese shopping center, the station, dollar store, and Ito Yokado Mall. Nothing for me, the bank of Molly is temp. closed. I need to save $$$. We did however, hit up curry for lunch. It was FAB.

Their nan is HUGE:

However, this time I opted for the yellow rice, because it’s more filling for less! Nothing short of amazing though.

I had GREAT intentions of hitting up Holiday Sports Gym at 4p.m. with Aya, but we got all the way there for them to tell us the night membership doesn’t include Sundays. How.Lame.

Well, it was a great effort none-the-less, but instead, I hopped on the train, made it back to Owani by 5:30p.m. and made it out for a night run. Yay! It was roughly 2-3 miles and then my intentions for a little online exercise vid action- did.not.happen. Bummer. I did however, rearrange my livingroom. Pic’s soon!

Early to bed in anticipation for my first day back on the job!

Night. Night.

Molly

Welcome, Christmas. Lovely to have you here.

Yes, man, woman & child! Christmas is near. Christmas is near!

We got extra excited about Christmas this year. We had decorated our home with Christmas decor even before Thanksgiving. In fact, our house was predominantly decorated more with Christmas stuff than Thanksgiving stuff. The only Thanksgiving-y decor was the turkey and the pumpkin. Everything else was already red, green and white. Oh, Christmas. How I adore you…

And yesterday, we started a Christmas tradition: we went to the Christmas Tree Farm and picked ourselves a Christmas tree. A Scotch Pine tree to be exact. We walked around the farm for close to an hour exclaiming “What about this one?” to each other. In the end, we went searching for the first tree that captured us only to find another family cutting it down. So we settled for our second choice, which also turned out to be an eight footer of a tree.

It’s humongous. A little too large for our house even with our 10 foot ceiling!

Nevertheless, it’s splendid and our whole house smells like Christmas tree

When Joey took this picture, he thought he was just getting a good shot of the girls playing dress-up. You’ll notice, however, Coral is giving him the stare of death with her laser beam eyes. This proves that not only is she my nemesis, she is also a secret assassin.

Thanksgiving 2009 came and went. And by Friday afternoon, I had experienced Sweet Potato Casserole overload. To the point that if I had another spoonful, I would have barfed it all up. I got nauseous from even just looking at it. Which is sad. Very, very sad, since I absolutely love(d) SPC. I’d be content not to see/eat SPC until Thanksgiving 2010.

But, Thanksgiving 2009 was very abundant with food – for which we are thankful for. And, it was fun. It was a delight to cook the food, to decorate, to watch the Macy’s Thankgiving Parade and just to simply relax. And eat pie.

Here’s some pictures from the day:

Our 12lb turkey, which Zach prepared.

He buttered that turkey up!

And then he carved it.

And then we ate it with a whole lot of other stuff!

In Moldova the family connection is strong. If it were not for so many people living abroad to find better wages, I think the divorce rate would be quite low.

When we are out with the kids, we have learned to have them bundled up. It is not yet cold here by Michigan standards. With an average of 55 F (14 C), this November feels more like sweater weather rather than bundling in gloves, hats, scarves, long-johns and coats. Try telling that to every woman we meet over 40 years old. Even though we are strangers to one another, these women feel a sense of concern like that of doting grandmothers. I have been chastised several times for not having the kids in warm enough hats or in the super warm tights in odd color combinations sold here. Yes, tights on the boys too. Alexander has on a red pair of tights with mushrooms and bees. Never thought I’d say that.

By looking at these photos, one would think it is a cold day. I am not wearing a coat and worry if the kids are too warm. Too warm is not a concern here. There is superstition of drafts bringing sickness so the ears must be covered!

I can’t help but wonder if this sense of communal concern for each other is reminiscent of the Communist era. The Collective Us supporting one another versus the Royal They. Littering is an issue here now. In communist days littering was not allowed and people would be forced to take turns dealing with the garbage. Now there is no forcing so I think it may be a sort of rebellion and statement of will.

“Eat lots of garlic and onions and drink fresh juice” we are told by several women we know. “Bring the kids here (to the park) everyday for fresh air.”  There are three different parks we frequent and the regulars all love the kids, especially Sasha. Sasha is the nickname for Alexander here. Upon arrival they check for Alexander’s tights giving him adoring goo goos and gah gahs and say ‘hello’ to Chloe offering her toys to play with. The women at the park all babysit (or are guardians for) their grandchildren.

It is nice to feel a part of this Moldovan community. We are obviously outsiders with our accents, small dictionaries and lack of words but we are cared for. Being cared for is unexpected and even without a coat, feels warm enough for me.

A comment I’ve left there.

My first time here, and I’ve only read two posts. One of them was automatically linked to one of mine. I’m a career counselor. Finding out who you want to be is a journey. It doesn’t have to have a turning point. It’s built day by day. Not everyone is that type of someone who’ll be just one thing for the rest of life, so it’s difficult to make a decision, “the” decision. Think of where you want to be next year or in the next couple of years. What kind of place, with which kind of people. What kind of tasks really please you, what kind of problems you like to solve, which ones you solve well. What do you expect from work in terms of reward. How much you’d like to offer. Perhaps going further, how you’d like to help the world. Take some time to describe it. Picture this image, this movie, as vividly as you can, and then try to find out positions and occupations that would suit it. It’s not a receipt and it’s not magical, but it’s a start and it may help. Cheers

We make choices everyday. Choices shouldn’t be a prison. Life is a journey. We’re here to learn. We don’t need to know everything in advance. We don’t always have to be right. In fact, we learn a lot more from our mistakes, and that’s part of our growth, too.

Landade nyss, kl är nu runt 06.30 och såklart kan jag inte checka in förrens vid 14:00 -Soft. Kunde i alla fall lämna väskorna där och på köpet fick jag använda deras tvrum. Tog mig dock ner till Mcdonalds för att äta lite frukost samt internetta gratis! Känns mycket mer hemma här än i Perth. Fick se en väldans fin soluppgång MEN givetvis låste jag in kameran på “gilligan´s”.

Anyway här ska det stannas ett tag så hoppas ekonomin tar sig. Ikväll blir det antaligen att ta en riktig partyomgång -släppa allt för att sen återgå till allvaret. Weiho.

Hej sålänge!

i <3 them

[Part of  a Series. See For Movement]

No matter how horrible you have been told you are, don’t believe it. No matter how bad you think you are, have courage. No matter what is going on around you, stand your ground. No matter what happened in your relationships, take hold of yourself. No matter what you get in return for the love you give, know that you are protected. Divinely protected. – Iyanla Vanzant

Jag känner mig som en nyvaken days off our life-skådis, det är glamour på hög nivå idag. Söta Josefina har fixat både hår och make – galet nice.

Är fortfarande inte kry harrys igår var riktigt jobbigt, men jag körde all-in och tömde all energi jag hade så jag verkade nog hyffasat pigg ändå.
Och som vanligt var det massa folk som tydligen kände mig som inte jag känner – varenda jobbpass är det folk som gapar “annaaaaa” och beter sig som att vi är bästisar – dont get me wrong, jag har absolut inget emot det men det känns lite wierd. Men trevligt och kul

The following dream is responsible for my only having had six hours of sleep last night. It was worth it.

It’s marathon morning and we’re on the starting line. I wish Jonathan a good race and he heads up to the front while I hang back a few rows.

For some reason, we’re running the race in a third world country that I can’t identify. It’s vaguely Middle Eastern and the entire city seems to be under construction. There is scaffolding and concrete road dividers everywhere, and we can barely hear anything over the constant din of saws, nailguns and jackhammers.

The weather is most notable for its complete absence. Earplugs block hearing. Stuffed sinuses block taste. The weather here has been blocked somehow. It’s simply not there.

The race is about to start. I look down and see that I’m wearing…flipflops. I’ve managed to leave my running shoes and socks upstairs in the room. Well, this won’t do. The race starts and I head back to the lobby of our hotel, a massive tower a few blocks from the start. There’s bank of eight elevators, seven of which are out of order. So I wait for the single working elevator’s arrival. It takes a long time.

Everyone piles in and we make at least 18 stops on the way to our floor. I get my shoes, grab my laptop, and head back to the starting line. Needless to say, no one’s there, although I’m grateful that the start is still apparently open.

My shoes are on and I’m ready to go. Wait a minute. What’s my laptop doing here? Why did I bring this with me? Should I just leave it here? I’m 45 minutes behind schedule. But I paid $400 for this thing. I’m not going to guarantee that it gets stolen when I can reduce the chances of that by at least 50% by bringing it back up to the room.

So up I go again, although this time I take the stairs because I know it will be faster than waiting for a broken elevator. I’ll just treat it as my warmup. In the room, I do a final check in front of the mirror to make sure I have everything I need and nothing I don’t. Check. I head back down the stairs.

I return to the starting line to discover that it’s been moved. So now I wander the streets, looking for race volunteers. I find one who gives me vague instructions: “Left for 100 yards, then catty corner right to the construction lot, look for the portapotties…”

Miraculously, I find it. I look at my watch. The race started exactly two hours ago. Should I even run it? Fuck it. I hit the Start button and go. No matter how well I do the official results will be an embarrassment, as there are no timing mats. But at least I’ll know what I ran.

In the first mile I pass two people: men in head-to-toe dresses, moving at a crawl. Even here in Buttfuckistan, or wherever this is, there are fitness walkers! I realize I’m the only woman I see anywhere, on the course or on the street. I’m wearing my split shorts which, under the right conditions, may as well be a g-string. It occurs to me that this might be one of those countries where women get beaten by strangers and family alike for so much as revealing a bare wrist. But everyone seems cool with my scantily clad self.

I’m running comfortably, passing the odd guy in a dress, when I realize that for the first time ever I’m able to hit all the tangents. I also notice that the organizers have been thoughtful enough to paint a steady line along the course. This is a relief, since, given that the course snakes through a giant construction site, I was figuring it was only a matter of time before I got lost. The line is a soothing green with some blue in it, and it’s rendered brighter against the dull backdrop of steel, concrete and battleship grey of the day’s weatherless skies.

I see the male leader on his way in. Then, about 15 minutes later I spot Jonathan, his form unmistakable: silver haired, floating, fat free. He looks tense and I realize that he’s probably concerned at not having seen me on the course. I’m pained to think that he’s spent most of his race worrying about me.

He spots me just as I pass the 3 mile marker and gives me an OhGodWhatTheHellHappenedToYouThisTime?! look. I smile and give an enthusiastic thumbs up, which manages to make him look even more baffled. Then I start laughing my ass off.

Noch ein paar Impressionen von unserer Samstags-Weihnachtsbäckerei C=

Riktigt vardagsfixad idag -inte illa! Skönt att inte känna sig som sunken nrumero uno hela tiden. Snart ska det åkas buss mot flygplatsen för att där hoppa på plant mot Cairns. Känns riktigt bra faktiskt, trots att det är en liten stad.

Bokat in mig på värsta partyhostelet -håll undan!

Sen är det dax för allvar och jobbletande. I stort behov av ett jobb så hoppas det löser sig fortare än fort.

Bilder från beachen;

Ciao, ciao!