Ascending FujiSan

I joined the climbers from Msia at Shinjuku train station, the west exit. Aini, my host, was kind enough to be with me. We met and exchanged greetings and names. Most of the people in the group are in their 20ish, a fistful in their 30ish and a couple in their 40ish. I, without saying, am the oldest of the group.
I introduced myself as Kak lela and one of the ladies questioned me to the title Kak on me. She felt she is entitled for the Kak calling in the group, I told her my age, straight up and she was like open-mouthed staring at me.
We left the inn and took the bus up to the 5th station. There we bought post-cards, climbing sticks for yen 1000 and took lots of snaps. Its like a carnival over there, lots of sight-seers, climbers, picnikers or just strollers.
The air was at 23c, gust of strong winds and foggy. Some of the Msian climbers were already feeling the chills and started to add on some layers of clothings.
We made our safety doa and I adding some of my personal doa as I start to walk on the path.
The ground was gradually sloping, with lots of flowers and small plants in between the volcanic rocks. We started our slow walks at 11.35am from the 5th station (2305m) and the estimation time to reach the 6th station(2390m) is 45 min, but we made it at 50 mins...considering good for me.

We took 10 mins rest at the 6th station and started our slow walk at 12.35pm for the 7th station(2700m). The estimation time was 60 mins but we took 1.25 mins to reach the 7th station. The vegetation between 6th to 7th station was lesser and the trails was mostly loose volcanic, black sand. The slope was still manageable but I have to stop every 10 steps to take some deep breath. My heart was bumping like doing the aerobic steps.

We reached the 7th station (2700m) at 2pm and rest for 30 mins. I have to make myself go to the toilet. I felt my urinary bladder so full and heavy but I cannot let it out. The toilet cost yen 100 per entry and there is no water to wash. I have to take with me wet tissue paper for the cleaning. Then, every toilet is uni-sex. The males do their thing in front and we ladies have to pass them by to enter our cubicle. Some Msian men cannot do it in public and they used the cubicle for privacy.
The toilet stank beyond description, the smell would stay on your clothes for quiet sometime.
For stamina drinks or pet-bottle water of 500ml, it cost 5 times more. On ground level, it normally cost yen 100 but here on Fujisan the higher you go, the higher the water cost, which comes at yen 500 per 500ml pet-bottle.
There were 6 resting huts at every interval from the 7th station. These huts provide drinks or hot instant soup and toilets facilities.
From halfway through the 7th station, I felt I need to use the portable oxygen. My breathing was swallow and short. Every steps I took was breathless. I had to stop for breathing every 10 steps. There was this guy, Muzzafar who helped me with counting my steps and telling me to breath every now and then. I tend to get away with long steps and forgetting to stop for my regular big air.
The approximate time from 6th to 7th station is 100 min but we took 180 mins. Extra 80 mins because we stopped many times for breathing rest by the side walk. The trail was getting narrower as we go higher. At some points, only one person can passed through and we had to wait in queue. It is recorded that between July and August of the year, about 3000 people climb Fujisan daily. So imagine the bottle-neck at some rocks.

We reached the 8th station (3020m) at 5.10pm. The leader of JALPAK, sdr Azhar had booked bunker rest at Taishi-kan Hut. All of us are given a single space of 1m by 2m side by side for 15 people. We cannot stand, the bunkers are only for sleeping.
Again no water for washing, for toilet we have to queue outside with the rest of the crowd and pay for every entry at yen 200.

We rest for 6 hours at these sleeping bunkers from 5.10 pm to mid-night. I can hear the winds howling outside. The temperature was below 0c. We we given a sleeping-bag and a square bean bag for pillow, thats all. We were not allowed to eat at the bunker but I bit slowly on energy bars, stamina liquid and a ball of white rice that I brough with me. Just before getting ready to walk again, I went outside to the toilet, I saw some people standing and shivering in the cold gusty winds. Lots of space and empty bunkers and they don't booked to stay inside. The hut is a private enterprise and the management closed the doors to people who don't pay for the warmth inside. I really symphatized those people standing in the cold strong winds and felt strong ache to how those people managing the hut have hearts enough to let people stays outside in the cold.

Anyway, after the sleep and rest for 6 hours, we started our walk again at mid-night 12.15am in the dark. We were well-clothed, thick winter clothing, gloves, caps and head-light or touchlight. It is dark and the trail is for one person only. So, you can see the lights moving on the mountain as people moved along the trails. There is no public light to light up the trails. Here, no matter what happened, you have to go up. Not down because they is no way down. At some point, human jam would cause the queue to wait for some 5 mins. There is no more loose sand from 8th station. Only rocks and big stones. There is no proper stepping stones...you have to find a good space to put your tired feet to walk on in the dark. One of the girls who joined our group from Las Vegas, she is a Hawaiian dancer and she cried from the 8th station. She was cold and very tired. There is no medic here as well. If you throw up, you just sit on the side and rest. Then walk up not down. The things is, nothing goes down at this point...everything points up and up.
I looked up and serched for the sight of the peak, can't see anything in the fog. I just moved, carried my legs, counting 10 steps.

What in my head, in my head...zombie...I was walking like a breathless zombie. I can't speak, too tired. Have to preserve all energy for the steps upwards. The air was getting thinner. I have to breath the portable oxygen a few times.
My urine bladder felt so heavy, like its coming out of my body but weird thing is, there is no urine!
My heart was beating 10 times faster than normal. Wow, people with high blood pressure, never ever think of climbing any mountains.

The sunrise was at 5 am. At this time, we were still climbing in the fog. Still can't see ahead. Visibility was like 5m. Of course, we can't see the sunrise at all. The winds was so strong, it was like a small typhoon. We couldn't stand straight, else the winds will blow us towards the edge of the one-line stone path. I was now crawling on my two hands, grabbing for something strong to step on.
The at 5.25am, I heard some people in the crowd ahead of us shouting "banzai, banzai"

are we there yet? are we at the summit already?

I reached a level ground and saw the only person sitting there calling my name...
"kak lela", Norhayati called me.
She was alone...waiting for the rest to reach.
She is the first person to reach the summit and I am the second to come.

Kak lela kita dah sampai, she said...
Oh ye ke? me, breathless...

We have reached the peak of FujiSan at 3776m at 5.25am on August 24, 2007.

I looked around, everybody was smiling, excruciatingly feeling on top of the world. Some people went in the shops to have warm breakfast, some went it to stamp their walking sticks, it was like a big fun-fair there.
I collected stamps on my walking stick at every station, each stamp cost yen200. We waited for the rest of the group climbers to reach and they spread MYJICA and Jalur Gemilang for the success climb.

I will write another entry for the descending journey...

Hibernation

Mommy,

They say when the muscle ache comes 2 days later, then you are considered as old.

young people's muscle ache will come on the next day.

you should ask tomo to massage your leg when you go home.

anyway, please go home and have a big rest.

This is the e-mail I received from my elders daughter in Singapore.

My answer is...

My dear girl,
Yes, I am old.
I am old but I am proud to tell you that I've climbed the highest mountain in Japan. The muscles ache comes immediately I reached the summit and double again once I reached ground level.
Does this comes in the young people age-group? Or the going to die-soon group?

Tonight will be my third night at the foot of Mt. Fuji. The first night, I just walked across the road and booked in a shared room. I took dinner and a hot bath and slept unconscious. Then, the 2nd day, I booked in a business hotel for 2 nights.
I slept for 48 hours on the go, only to get up for toilets and a drink of water. I don't have much feeling to eat anything.
For the past two evenings, I soaked my screaming muscles in the hot bath, a burning sauna and a painful massage on the massage bed.
Then, before sleeping, I applied some muscles pain-killer all over.

I will make my way to Shinjuku by the express bus and then to Shibuya tomorrow morning. Then fly off home in the evening, insyaAllah.

First thing I do will be to upload the photos of my success climb once I reach home, insyaAllah, but I can't promise yet as I might hibernate again for sometime at home.

My advise to people who have intentions to climb this beautiful mountain is...
Reduce the body cellulite to less than 40% before climb,
No gout,
No irregular heart-beat,
No high blood pressure,
No weak angkle and knees,
No lung-related sickness,
Most important of all is to prepare mentally for the gruesome tortoure.

Fuji Climb

We did it, we did it. With pride I declare that I successfully climb the summit of Mt. Fuji at 3776m.
I am the oldest among the group, the rest are like 40 ish and 30 ish, 8 men and 8 women.
I will describe the ascend later on when I get back to Okinawa with photo uploads. After all the experience, the climbing up is easier than the descend. I was the second to reach the top but the last to come down. The climb was very, very tough to the legs, angles, thigh and muscles behind the femur bone and not forgeting the knees.

I thought coming down was double easy that climbing, I was absolutely wrong. What makes the climb down gruelling was the loose black sand and rolling stones and boulders.
My legs went angle deep in the sand every steps and I fall and went buttock-skiing a couple of times. I couldn't make my way down and after having my buttock scratch a few times, I had to hang on the arms of two guys on each side for support.

We started our descend at 8.35 in the morning today and I ended up finishing at 3.30 pm alone, the rest of the group left me to go and pick their lugguge at the Japanese Inn.

An hour ago, they left me here by myself at Kawaguchiko Station at the bottom of Mt. Fuji to make their way to Shinjuku by train.
I checked in a room near the station with a commom Ofuro, alone. The reason is because I cannot walk at all!
I am limping and every muscles on both legs are pinning my sensory so much. I cannot move my body at all.
I just had dinner round the corner restaurant and after writing this entry, I will soak my aching muscle in the hot ofuro.
Hopefully, I can move normally tomorrow and might go back to Aini's house in Shibuya but my body cannot tell me just yet.
I will update on the ascending report of Mt. Fuji, once I have the chance to do it at home.

Salam Kawaguchiko, Mt. Fuji.

Back from Niigata

I'm in Tokyo again now, back from Niigata yesterday afternoon. I cannot reply to all the comments in the previous entries yet.
Today, Aini, my host family, and I plan to go Shinjuku station to find out the exact location of Keio Bus line. This is the express bus that we are taking to Kawaguchiko Trails for the Fuji Climb Expedition. Then, I need to get some supplies for the climb, things like light food to munch and stamina drinks.
The climb will be tomorrow Aug. 22, 2007.
How am I feeling about it?
Not so confident, to be frank. Even my spirit is quavering. I keep on thinking of my feet. I remember having the pain at the sole of my feet while doing my hajj. This time I've prepared two pairs of padding for my feet for this climb, one for arch support and one for the sole. Also, knee support and ankle support. After this, I don't know what else to do but make lots of doa to reach the peak.
The members of the group that I am with are mostly from JICA Msia, I don't know anyone of them yet.

While we were in Niigata for 4 days from Thursday to Monday, we went to a summer sky resort. There they had this sleigh ride called Bob-sleight, I can't upload my photo yet on this pc. I have one ride here after seeing Aini who is 4 months pregnant having a go at it. I remind myself, I am climbing Mt. Fuji at 3996m and what is 20 m high bob sleigh ride. I took the cable to the top.
NOPE!
I had some nervous strike looking down. My phobia for height is too strong.

Yesterday, I saw on tv news about China Airlines bursting into flames after landing at Naha Airport, on Okinawa main island. Alhamdulillah, no human live is affected.
Now, my fear for flying comes back. But I still have to fly back to my home in Okinawa.

I have lots of stories on my trip to Niigata, most of the things I did there are first-timer like grape-picking, Ayu-fishing and tasting and bob-sleighing.
All these stories will have to wait for me to update when I get back to Okinawa, insyaAllah.

I am booking my trip back to Okinawa after this entry, so I still don't know my return date yet.
To all members of Forum BashoHut and PondokBasho, please make doa for my safe journey back, insyaAllah.

Sampai Tokyo

My flight was in the deep of the night between 3 to 5.30 in the morning. I couldn'd sleep a wink *sigh* as usual. By 4 am the sky was suddenly ablase with fiery yellow strip and by 10 minutes later, it was daylight. Most of the passengers on flight were young Japanese youth on holidays. I think this is the cheapest flight I've taken in my life, even a cup of juice is charged for 100 yen.
Landing arrival was smooth and I was the last to pick my luggage. Saw Hani waving at the waiting floor. It was about 6am, when we left the airport parking lot and drove to Yokohama. While we talked, my eyes were looking around everywhere, trying to find something familiar. Just a little spot here and there but not much as most of the byways and highways were not there 20 years ago.
Anyway, when we reached Hani's house, the first thing I was showed here small garden porch where she grew almost anything that she can get her hands on. She has this olive tree growing about 3 metres with lots of little green olive fruits. Actually, this is the first time I saw olive trees, then she have kacang panjang, 3 pots of beautiful kesum plant, 2 bushful of healthy serai, mulburry plant and lots more other plants that I've seen before.
For breakfast, we had nasi lemak and towards lunchtime, we made our way to AiniZakri's house in Naka-Meguro. Going from Yokohama towards Tokyo, we had to pass through Tamagawa river and then, I saw the area that I occupied 25 years back.
I screamed at the same time pointing to Hani the area and make her promised to take me there again to have a closer inspection and hopefully manage to see my previous apartment owner.
We reached AiniZakri's house in the depth of Tokyo. I don't recognised anything at all on the road there at all. None at all. Most things have changed.
Before seeing Aini's apartment, I had the impression that her apartment is going to be the typical Japanese 3-rooms 6 tatami design, but I was in for a shock. Real shock. But, unfortunately, I cannot tell you this shocking feeling as it might revealed some confidential privacy on my kind host. So, let us stop here.
We girls chatted all through the day and still going strong towards late evening. In fact, our friend Hani was quite taken away with the time until she really, really had to rush home in the night.
Aini's hubby came home and we had dinner together and chatted away till very late into the night. Eventhough I still haven't had a wink for more than 24 hours.
He is a very acceptable kind of guy, easy to adapt and talk to. There is not an air of showishness in him. I've met some guys with his character, the kind that you couldn't get mad at, in whatever situation!
Yesterday, the second days at Aini's house, we prepared ourselves to leave the house after a late breakfast. Imagine me not sleeping for more than 24 hours and that morning on the rock I slept through till 9.30 am.
Just as I planned, after breakfast we made our way to Akihabara. We went from nooks to nooks, corners to corners, alleys to alleys. Aini had some hard time trying to keep up to me. She is into her 4 month pregnancy, all she complained was the heat of summer but she never say a word about tiredness.
Anyway, I found out that they do sell laptop Windows Vista in English here for about US1000. What made us went about every nooks and corners were comparing some desktops and laptops for Aini. I knew the exact specification and we were trying to get the best for somewhat at minimum cost. We went for Laox to Laox, from small tiny shops to big famous names. I was searching for a desktop with 300 gigabytes, HDD more that 1.8 with speed of 1 gigabyte and of course engilish Vista.
It either we have that spec but Japanese vista or the right spec with eng. vista but at some extro cost.
Anyway, we made some dealings and negotiations and had to make our way to Azra Haida'house. We took the Ginza line to Asakusa masjid and then took the local bus.
She leaves almost on the roof of that masjid and we had to climb some 5 story flight of steps.

After the intro and get-to-know sessions, we were served asam pedas with goreng sayur and a dish of ikan terubuk masin. With Haida's husband, the imam of the masjid, we chatted for almost 3 hours topic ranging from politic to Islam, but mostly islamic.
I thought maybe today, the 3rd day in Aini's house, I take the 3 children to the public library here and read them some Japanese children story. Then, we might go for some light groceries to prepare for our trip to Niigata tomorrow.
Niigata is the hometown of Hani's in-law and the place where Aini's hubby study before. Well, I haven't been to Niigata before and going there would serve the 3 of us some good purpose.

New kits-bunnies

Most people call baby rabbits as bunnies, that's what written in the dictionary but to be exact baby rabbits are called kits at birth, then before they are a year old, its changed to leveret. This is what I found out from some language expert but who would be bothered to change from kits to leveret. I take the easy way out, lets call them bunnies, internationally-understood.

Around March this year, we bought a buck and a doe, that's what you called a male and female rabbit. I mean, only if you turn the rabbit under and check for the reproductive instrument but would anyone bother with this? So, most people would just go for rabbits, not because they don't know what to call them but because they don't know the genitals.

Anyway, its 10 days today (see photo below) and the kits are growing beautiful, soft fur on their skin. At birth, their skin are mixture of dark or white, then came the fur which will follow the colour of their skin.

Anyway, the mother rabbit gave birth in an opened box with nothing at all. Otto was the first to see those kits. He was excited and warned everybody not to touch those kits for fear that with human smell on them, the mother might reject them and not be willing to feed them.
Most of the feedings are done in the night as I often go up the balcony to do my house laundry and haven't yet seen her feed the kits during the day.
Just for information, mother rabbits breast-feed their kits, just like humans females do.

Yesterday, the winds brought in some typhoon breeze that travelled to Taiwan bypassing this island. Eventhough the winds are not so strong, but still frequent with some little strength. It was bright and clear with that little strong breeze in the morning and Otto found out the rabbit box and kits was covered with shredded newspapers that we stocked on the balcony to collect their poos.
Otto questioned all of us about the newspapers and we all denied having done anything to do with it.
Then, in the afternoon the typhoon winds brought in some torrential downpours. Only after this downpours do we all realized that it was the mother rabbit that was doing the covering. The thing was, the mother rabbits knew the winds would bring in the torrential downpours. We, as humans with 5 senses, did not feel the downpours coming at all.
Some would call it animal instinct but I don't see it that way. I called is The Mercy and Rahmah of Allah SWT that give all animals the way to protect their youngs.

.: kits at 10 days old

Lahap

Some people said, "O Allah's Apostle! Meat is brought to us by some people and we are not sure whether the name of Allah has been mentioned on it or not (at the time of slaughtering the animals)." Allah's Apostle said (to them), "Mention the name of Allah and eat it."

Semalam saya menerima emel ini dari salah seorang saudara baru yang berkerja dalam pengkalan tentara Amerika. Emel ini bukan untuk saya sahaja tapi untuk semua yang telah dan sedang berkerja dalam pengkalan. Saya kira ada dalam 35 nama dalam senarai emel itu.

Sudah 4 tahun saya mengelakkan diri dari bermakan-makan di rumah kawan-kawan Islam yang tinggal dalam pengkalan. Tak suka makan bersama mereka sebab ada 2 garisan. Satu untuk saya dan orang-orang melayu lain dan satu lagi garisan untuk orang-orang dia.

Garisan itu dipandukan oleh hadis di atas.

Saya bukan pandai sangat berbahas mendalam tentang ugama. Saya juga pernah membaca hadis di atas itu, tapi tidaklah saya terus terjun dan makan daging orang kasi atau dijual di kedai-kedai merata.
Ada banyak lagi ayat-ayat dalam Qur'an yang menguatkan supaya kita makan daging bersembelih cara Islam tapi mereka dalam pengkalan mengambil hadis ini sebagai garis panduan untuk melantak tulang rusuk lembu macam harimau lahap.

Mereka bukan orang cacat mental atau banggang fikiran. Dan berdebat apa saja pun dengan mereka, mereka pasti menang.
Mereka orang pandai, pandai dari segi membaca dan menulis.

Jadi kalau mereka ingin membuat hadis ini sebagai garis-pandu makanan harian mereka, siapa boleh larang?
Lantaklah engkau...sebut aje nama Allah dan makanlah daging steak yang tebal berkilo-kilo, gong-gong rusuk lembu panggang berketul-ketul, stew ekor lembu berjela-jela.

Tapi tak perlu jemput saya sama...thanks but no thanks.

MDM

Lembar (5)
Aku tangkap sayap angin
dan melayang ke hujung langit
lalu lebur berguguran di ubun-ubun bukit.

Tanka ini saya dedikasikan khas untuk penulis karya di atas, seorang sasterawan terkenal di Msia sejak zaman 80an.

Menebar sayap
melayang hujung langit
nun ubun bukit
surat lapuk terselit
mengharap kamu datang.

Made in India

Suhu pulau ini mencengkah ke 33c. Pagi selepas suruk panas dah menaik hingga ke 29c.
Lebih berbahang dan panas dari Msia sekarang. Kalau di Msia pagi masih dingin lagi, suhu antara 23c atau 24c tapi sini kena pasang 2 kipas di ruang tamu. Saya dengar berita di Eropah sekarang yang suhunya naik ke 44c, seramai 27 orang sudah menjadi mangsa kepanasan ini. Semalam saya masuk bilik mandi sauna, ternampak seorang puan dalam umur 30's, badannya berbelang-belang hitam putih. Nampak dia gosok-gosok badannya macam perit sakit semacam. Rasa kau, nak sangat kulit hitam, kan dah nahas jadinya!

Doktor kata jangan pakai air-con selalu sangat, waktu nak tidur pasang sejam dan siang kalau boleh tutup air-con untuk memaintainkan (BM+BI) immuniti penahan sakit badan.
Macamana jalannya air-con boleh jatuhkan immuniti penahan sakit badan, itu saya tak tahu...dia kan doktor pepandai dialah nak kata apa...kita cuma ikut aje arahannya.

Dalam berpeluh-peluh masak petang semalam, saya terdengar lagu kat atas itu.
Eh, mana datang keluar lagu bollywood tengah-tengah kampung ulu Jepun ini? Takkanlah jiran tua-tua sebelah minat bollywood tiba-tiba?

Cari punya cari punca lagu...rupanya anak sulung itu tengah muat-turunkan lagu ini ke komputer ribanya. Pertama sekali, saya tulis anak sulung kat sini sebab kalau tulis nama dia, dia tahu saya ngumpat story dia. Kedua, apasal mereka namakan laptop...padahal bukannya letak kat riba pun bila digunakan?

Bila terdengar lagu bollywood ini, macam terasa kat kampung Radin Mas dulu, masa tu umur saya baru 4-5 thn. Orang sebelah, bukan sebelah saja...tapi rasanya semua rumah buka siaran lagu pemintaan bollywood setiap petang pukul 4 sampai 5.
Macam ada pesta, kalau setiap rumah mengeluarkan lagu yang sama.

Tapi yang pelik, macamana si sulung ini boleh melekat dengan lagu bollywood tiba-tiba? Kalau dah sampai Spore dan sudah terdengar lagu ini, lalu dia jadi minat...saya fahamlah juga. Ini belum pun pergi sana, dia dah sibuk download lagu bollywood...apahal? Mungkin ada kaitan dengan entri ini...

Itu pun satu soalan saya tak tahu jawapannya...*sigh*

Anyway, sementelah saya sibuk mengumpat lagu ini, baiklah saya buat dedikasi.

Saya dedikasikan lagi ini pada kak yan, kawan lama yang telah hilang di dunia siber ini tapi dengan jejak kasih dari AiniZakri "terjumpa" semula.

Kak yan...sila nikmati lagu ini dan masa mendengar itu, kenangkanlah juga kisah-kisah romantik waktu muda dulu dengan "hero tamil" yang kak yan sangat sayang itu.

Post typhoon malaise

I put it in a pot, filled it up with earth and add some fertilizers. Water it lovingly and placed the pot in a nice shade, away from the strong summer sun.

Then, the typhoon came and blew the whole pot away and there goes everything that I planted in the pot.

Hey, that was my brains in the pot...

Post typhoon report

A truck that has been flipped over by strong winds is seen in Naha, on Japan's southern island of Okinawa, July 13, 2007. A powerful typhoon stuck the southern Japanese islands of Okinawa on Friday, pounding them with torrential rains and high winds before it heads north towards the nation's main islands. The plate number has been altered by the source. (Kyodo - JAPAN/Reuters)

In Okinawa, men trying to clear the damage clung to trees to withstand the violent wind and rain, which was so forceful it uprooted trees and knocked over large fences, television footage showed.

"This is one of the biggest typhoons we've experienced in Okinawa," a local hotel employee said by telephone.

"We islanders are very nervous. It's fairly dangerous to go out or even drive a car as trash and broken trees are flying in the air," he said.

Seventeen people have been injured in Okinawa since the typhoon approached Thursday and at least one is in a serious condition, according to the prefectural government.

Latest figure of injuries after this report is 23 people with one still unconscious.

The "extremely strong" by the meteorological agency, is packing wind gusts of up to 252 kilometres an hour (156 miles an hour) and moving north at 30 kilometres (18.6 miles) an hour.

My doa for the safety of friends and their families all over mainland Japan.
Please stock your food supplies and make sure you have candles and torchlight with battery.

Retarded Defence Minister

On Aug. 6, 1945, the U.S. dropped a bomb nicknamed "Little Boy" on Hiroshima, killing at least 140,000 people in the world's first atomic bomb attack. Three days later it dropped another atomic bomb, "Fat Man," on Nagasaki where about 74,000 are estimated to have been killed.

But Defence Minister Fumio Kyuma said...

"I understand that the bombing ended the war, and I think that it couldn't be helped," and he said he did not resent the U.S. because the bombs prevented the Soviet Union from entering the war with Japan, according to Kyodo News agency.

In other words, the defence minister is saying, its alright for the US to bomb the two cities, afterall Japan would lose the war one way or another.

In yet another words, who cares about 140,000 + 74,000 lives that were killed as long as it prevented the Russian from attacking Japan.

In yet, yet another words, the Japanese ministers are chosen from one of the World's Best Academy of Mentally Retarded!

Koubo extract detoured

I am giving the answer for the entry below.
The thing is, all the trash in Japan that you dump at the designated point-of-collection belongs to the government. Nobody (not even the public dumpman) and they mean it, Nobody has the right to claim that trash. So, the answer to the question is obvious here.

Aluminium and steel prices is high right now. There are many public things made of steel being stolen right under people's nose. Huge steel bells in front of shinto shrine, village emergency steel alarm-bell to warn villages of houses on fire, drainage covers, manhole cover and even unused railway tracks are now victimised. The thieves sell the stolen steel to be melted down and the payment is quite worth the trouble.
Every Thursday of the week, is the collection day for aluminium cans and such. There is this old man who make sure to come by before the public dumpman come to claim the treasure. This old man with an open air truck would go around the neihbourhood pincing those aluminium cans.
But you must remember same as the money found earlier, these aluminium cans are government property. The government recycle and sell them to the aluminium can manufacturer. The sale money collected would add some income into their budget for future upgrade on machinery and equipment.
So, what I am trying to say is the old man is stealing government property by pincing all the aluminium cans.
I just remember as I write this, years ago when I was about 6 years old. We didn't go to any kindergarten or the likes because there were none around. We kids used to be left on our own in the daytime and we just go around in groups doing nothing. Those time there were no phobia on rapist or child molester.
But, there was this boy who had a brilliant idea. He suggested we go around collecting bottle caps, those aluminium type, like the ones on beer bottle now.
So, we went to the river banks and all over doing our collection. We had no container to put all the caps and my dress ended up as a bowl to carry our priceless collections.
We collected for about a week and had like 5 rice bags of bottle caps, then we all went to the karung guni shop. The karung guni apek looked at it and said, "ah, ini tak tak guna punya balang, tak boleh juan lor."
See how silly we were, first thing we should check for the value of the caps. We were really disppointed because I had already planned to treat myself a big air batu kacang with the sale money.
You see, I was willing to wade in the dirty and muddy river with mouse carcass and the lot to get the caps. I smelled terrible at the end of the day and my legs was bloated with pekung buta, yellow with pus from the river infection. I still have bisul marks on my legs till now and am looking at it while writing this, hahahaha!

Actually, I wanted to write on koubo extract, something happened to me with koubo extract and I detoured. I promise you beautiful readers, I will do that koubo extract next round. Ok kan?

Dump money

Things are not going pretty well with me lately. The weather is slowing my life down and I am chasing crickets away from my garden as the hot air is covering our atmosphere now.

You may think coming from me, this is weird but I hate the sounds of things coming from my front and back garden. I don't really like the chirping sound of birds too loud or too near the house. I get quite distracted. I don't mind them so much when I'm in one of my light and easy mood but nowadays that sort of mood is hard to come by.

Here is the gist of the entry for the day.

A gangster group or some crazy, rich, dying person threw some lumpsome of money in the dumpster.
The dumpman who who works for the government, collects the money and claims it to be his after the claimable period of 6-months. In Japan, whatever you find on the street and report it to the nearest authority, if not claim, will be yours after six-months.

The money is big to Malaysian standard, a little over a million ringgit.
The sad thing is the dumpster man who found it cannot claim the money even after the 6-month waiting period is over.

Well, you think hard and reason it out. He found it, he reported it and he waited for 6 months but still he cannot claim it.

Why?

War season

It's the time again in Japan and especially in Okinawa. The TV is broadcasting it almost daily, the schools are having invited speakers to remind small minds of Okinawa, the survivors are relating their histories over and over and banners are everywhere about it.

It's the war, The Second World War season.

Around this time 62 years ago, 200,000 people died when the Americans and the Japanese Imperial Army made the peaceful soil of Okinawa their battleground, the only state in Japan with the real battleground. Do you know that only Okinawa people suffered the real battle of the war?
If you think Hiroshima and Nagazaki were another battleground, you are wrong. Those two places were bombed with atomic power without actual battleground. Within that 3 months period alone, 1 out of 4 local people died in Okinawa. The rest injured, homeless, tortured or barely surviving in some underground caves.

My haiku friend, Mrs. Higa is 75. She is the last remaining few of the atomic bomb survivors in Hiroshima. She was about 8 years old in Hiroshima when she survived the mushroom cloud. She is the spoke-lady for the group involved in the War Prevention-awareness.
A few days ago, she invited me to attend this group and hear her speech there. I went and found myself not belonging to the younger group nor the older group.
The older people were mostly survivors of war, most of them experienced in Okinawa whereas the younger people are those backing the War-awareness movement.
Everyone has their say as we took our turns talking. The older people have lots to say recounting their sad and fading war experience. The younger few would talk of their plans in future of convincing projects. As I hear their stories, there were something odd that I need to tell them.

Their project on Peace Movement is mostly on getting the young generation to understand the meaning of war and its prevention. But I know this is very difficult to implement simply because the young people below 30 years old are not interested in politics, let alone try to understand war.
All they know about war is: it is global, it is large-scale, it is between religious fanatics and important of all, it will not happen in Japan!
Go ahead, ask any Japanese high school boys what they know about war and any one of these will be their answers.

Come my turn to speak and I spoke in Japanese unprepared, without notes and without data to back on. I speak from my heart and that was just my pure opinion.
Briefly, I recounted my late grandfather stories on his experience of war in Melacca. (Al-fatihah for him, he died at the ripe age of 90, 40 years after the war ended!) How the Japanese Imperial Army would forcefully take food from the villages, raped the women and killed anybody easily just because they wouldn't do the Japanese bow-greetings.
My grandfather, in his early 30's, were captured and sent in cargo-loads of rails and roads with other POW to Thailand to work on the Death Railway.
He survived the war with half-deaf ear because he was often beaten with the handle of the bayonet. He was thin to the bone and came home almost crawling.

They were listening to me so deeply even with my lowly, unpolished Japanese talent, mind you I was not prepared to make any speech. If I would have known earlier, for sure, I would have refused that speech.

Then come the point that I want to tell them so much. LIFE.
Before they talked so bombastically about war, about killing, about bomb. They have to instill the value of Life. The love for Life, the love for another human life. If everybody value Life, their own and others...FOR SURE, I said FOR SURE, there will be no war.
They have to teach the children in school today, the value of human life.
Their own and others.

Last year and for the past years, 32,000 Japanese killed themselves and if they can end their own lives so easily, I would think it is not difficult for them to end another human lives.
When they don't put values on human lives, I am very confident that, when and if Japan is involved in another war, they would become active and aggressive easy enough.
Actually, the way I put it across, its like saying "hey, change your style, your tactics is wrong". I think this message was understood well among them and during the Q & A session, one personal question that I dread came up.

"So, were there opposition from your parents when you married a Japanese?" (in Japanese of cours, don't hope for anybody with English language ability).

I told them my mother was too young to know about war that time. They kept her and other women folks well away in the jungle and she hardly had any bad war experiences other than being hungry all the time. Also, most young people in Msia below the age of 50 hardly know about war as it has ended when or after they were borned. So, its only with some older people now that they still feel bitter and hatred for the Japanese.
So, my marriage was approved.

I ended my speech with the reminder that they have to instill the value of Life to the younger generation to avoid war in the future.

Then I looked at Mrs. Higa next to me. She was busy snoring with her head almost under the table. Have to excuse her, what do you expect from a 75 year old granny?
When its time for her own Q & A, she would sometimes stop in a middle of explaination and asked what topic she was on *sigh*

I pat my own shoulder and felt quite proud of myself for being able to make an impromptu speech like that and most important of all, had made them understood my message.

ps: About the video on top, I heard the song on TV commercials as I was typing this entry and felt all nostalgic again of yesteryears. I doubt young readers below the 35 age-limit would know this tune at all.

Driver's license in Japan

The green Nissan March is mine.
Kancil, my first flaming-red love was only 6 mths with me. I had to sell it for cash because it was just a week before transferring to Japan that I made the selling transaction. It depreciated RM6, 000 for 6 mths that meant I used it at value of RM1,000 monthly. Which was not bad considering the running rate for renting Kancil by the day was RM60.00 that time.
I prepared Malaysian International license before going to Japan with validation for a year. We were sent to the northern part of Japan, Iwaki City, Fukushima state.
The test center was far inland into the mountains that took us 2 hours traveling on state highway. Hubby took the day off work to be with me.
Since I was just converting into Japanese license, it wasn't necessary to take the test on public road. I sat for the Highway Code test in English gladly enough. I passed this test and then went for the actual driving on the test-center compound.
Waited for my name to be called...aboduru lazaku bengte, more familiar to the bush-man of Africa!
I have driven on Malaysian roads for 6 months, I was more confident or so I thought.
Don't guess, I think you should know by now from the past phobic encounters of the road kind.

I failed!
Why? You may ask. Why am I so uncontrollable behind the wheels?
Hey, take me for what I am, like my hubby, he was shocked beyond jumping!
Anyway, I failed because I didn't make the proper safety procedure before starting the engine. You know how the Japanese are very particular about the starting and the finishing points.

Hubby made me go to a driving school and learnt the proper driving way according to the Japanese road laws. Hubby always felt the way they teach driving in Malaysia was inadequate. This time I should be taught the proper way, the Japanese way.
At that point of my life, I took anything that comes. I was willing to do anything but just give me that magical paper that said part of the road belonged to me.

I took five lessons and mind you the price I paid was most expensive compared to Wales and Malaysia. The teachings were good, very official and compact.
For the second round of test, I made my way alone this time by the express bus. Left the house very early in the morning after giving instructions to the old lady next door. Relieved that she was willing enough to take care of the children after school.
You would think I should pass this round, wrong!
As I said driving a car is not part of my system. Driving was like a virus that the anti-body system in my DNA rejected all the time.

Well, second round I failed again. This time on the road hump. I was told to stop 1 min on top of a road hump. I stopped and counted 1 min. and continued. Big mistake!
I didn't pull the handbrakes!

I wanted to cry on the spot if not for the tester still with me. I was sobbing all the way home on the express bus. The word dumb, dumb, dumb kept on running in my head like the updates of stock exchange price on my TV screen.
First thing hubby said when he saw my miserable face at home was he wondered how I ever passed the test in Malaysia, the old festered “menanah bisul” repeated. He told me to take the test again and again, even if it I had to go over the 100 landmark!

I went back to the same school and this time a more serious and senior instructor took over. He was the no-nonsense type and he repeated everything he said twice even 3 times just to let me remember strongly. He told me I was the type that needed to be reminded all the time.

The third test came on the last day of summer school vacation. The test-center was crowded with young people taking advantage of the summer vacation from work.
It was a humid, wet and steamy especially when all the winds were trapped in between mountains. I was shaking and nervous.　 I was having some kind of heavy head preparing to fail again.

I went and this time I was familiar with the roads and places there. All the reminders and all my failures were in my head. Should not do this, should not do that...
This time after the test-run, the instructor didn't tell me my failures. He just left the car and told me to wait at a certain counter.
Waiting for my name to be called seemed like ages, all the people waiting were silent. We just occupied ourselves with our own thoughts or looked blankly at the TV screen on the wall.
I got the result slip and looked at the figures and still couldn't read the result. Again, I was told to wait in line at another counter.
Then, after some anxious hour, they gave me a rectangle, laminated card with my photo and details on it. Just like this here.

Photo of driver's license is withdrawn due to security reasons

Hey, that was my license. I managed this time. I was feverish and wet with sweat. I slept all the way home on the express bus. Reached home, took some fever pills and was knocked flat for two days.
See how easy for me to be hurt. The stress and built-up to the third test was so unmanageable for me.

Now, as I write, I give praise to myself at the strength to keep up, the determination to success and the sheer hard work.

Anyway, that was 10 years ago. Last week I went to renew my Japanese license and was told that I had a clean record on the road for the past 10 years. This time they gave me a blue license to indicate that I am a safe driver. That was another certificate to prove the success of my life.

Counting the sun's repeated cycle, I am 51 today. I have done what I had to do and now its time for me to let go. This time it's my children turn to enter the cycle of Life. I can sit back and count all blessings with peace in my heart.

Happy birthday girl! I love you, I love you.

J-P-J affair

Towards the day nearing the big test, Cik Kassim gave me 2 runs on the test route. He pointed some of the spots that learners often made mistakes and reminded me to take extra care there.

That historical morning, I went to the test center and took my number. The test went in two sessions. The first session was done within the test compound. I did alright with the S-turn, U-Turn, parallel parking, 3-point parking and the rest went unexpectedly smooth.

The second session was the actual driving on public road. We were given a white Kancil. A young, late 20ish, slim Malay man sat next to me in his JPJ-official uniform. He was already in the car waiting for me to climb in. Before I started the engine, he confirmed my name and identification. I made the proper preparations when starting the engine, mirror, looked front, back and the whole gimmick. He had a report paper attached with a paper board and he kept putting marks without looking at me at all.
That man was stone-cold, his voice made me thought that I was made to flop. I felt like there was an unspoken message warning me, "one wrong move and you're a dead bird, lady!" from him.

I was shaking inside-out, not because of driving but because of the fear for this tester. The test-runs was about 5km if I remember. But, with the no-nonsense icy-cold man sitting beside me, it seemed endless. I was actually looking forward to ending it soon.
So, we came across a T-intersection traffic light. Two signal light side-by-side. Straight road, green light...I saw that. So, I went...afterall it was green.
Then, this booming voice screamed at me, my urinary tract almost letting go...
"Kenapa awak jalan, lampu tu kan merah!"
"Merah? Bukan merah, itu hijau", I said timidly, trying hard to control my bladder.
"Awak berhenti sekarang juga, tukar tempat, awak gagal!"
Whoa...on the spot, I failed, so I said my stand again.
"Saya jalan sebab itu lampu hijau!"
Then loud and fierce, he said, "nampak tak ada dua lampu, yang hijau tu untuk jalan lurus dan yang merah itu berhenti sebelum belok kanan, awak seharusnya tunggu lampu belok kanan itu jadi hijau baru boleh belok...

....AWAK BUTA KE?"

After changing seat, he drove all the way back to the test-center with me trying to keep my eyes dry. I was sobbing inside. I knew I failed, so I just jumped in a cab immediately and head for home.

Let me count now, altogether I had like 40-plus lessons, putting together the time I had with the famous Lesby and Peterson.
I went into mourning period for two months. In the meantime, I tried to avoid taking cab after that memorable incident at the golf range parking lot.
I often used the company driver after that. But company drivers were unrealiable lot. They were forever late and always had valid and official reasons for it.
Moving around in Johor Bahru was becoming very stressful for me. Also, being driven by company driver always put me in dilemma.
During lunch time, he would be waiting for me and forgoing his own lunch. Sometimes I had to buy for him lunch and occasionally, we took lunch together.
Us. Eating together and chatting like some old time pals. On some occasions, talking topics could reach personal level and I hated being too personal. I might not know, the very next day, my personal routine would spread like bush-fire on the factory floor!

Life was so stressful. I must get that paper even if I had to die for it. I went to see Cik Kassim again. This time, I took the pay-till-u-pass course. I told Cik Kassim, I didn't want to go on his car, I insisted on a better car. The driving school gave me a new instructor with newer model car.
This instructor targeted only 5 lessons for me and told me to get ready for the test again.
He wasn't teaching me driving so much because by then I was used to the wheels, after all latest count was like 50 hours of lesson altogether. We just went everywhere on the road with the intention of making me get used to the traffic. He would stop suddenly and instructed me to do the 3-point turn when he saw the road was clear, that was how it went with the 5 lessons.
So, I made my way to the test-center again and this time I made sure I emptied my bladder real good.
Same procedure as before but this time the examiner was a fatherly-figure, 40ish, cheery voice with a "5-month pregnant" tummy.
This time I was given a different test-round and I heaved a sigh of relieve to know that I would't have to go through that same T-intersection that flopped me before.
I went through the very end of the test-route and managed to finish up neatly. Of course, I had to wait this time for the result. Tougue-biting, nerve-wrecking and when I heard my name being called, I went to the counter and collected my report.
20 movements and 4 pangkah. That meant....

I PASSED!

Let me see...3 years in Wales with 35 hours lesson. Almost a year in Malaysia with 15 lessons, altogether 700 Br. pounds plus RM1,500 and 50 solid hours.

What did I feel when it set in that I passed?

I could only afford to smile. I was alone in the crowd. That place was so noisy, loud-speaker calling names and car numbers and I sat down to stare at the marking report for some timeless moment.

I can drive, I can drive now...that was the only noise I heard over and over in my head.

One week later, I went to a car-showroom and that time Kancil was just 3 months in the market. I saw this beautiful, blood-red, small bettle car and paid cash in two parts, that showed how desperate I was to drive. They delivered the car within 2 days.

Initially, I drove around the neighbourhood to get used to the car. Then, came an unexpected hassle from hubby. He didn't allow me to drive because he believed I bribed the tester, one way or another. He didn't believe I could pass the driving at all!

He took the Kancil key and told me to return it back to the shop.
Hubby never trust anything in Malaysia. However hard I convinced him that I earned the passing with strong determination and hardwork, he still never believed me.
The arguments were big and long.
Even though he took the Kancil key away, I still had a spare. I used the spare in the daytime to drive around and made sure by evening the car was in the front porch.
This went on for two weeks until one day he came home early to find the house empty. I brought the children to their swimming class and told him slowly that I had a spare key and had used the car.
Heavily and unwillingly, from that day on, he let me drive.

I did not forget the two person who pushed me so hard to success.
Sally, who had moved to New Zealand by then, gave her a thank-you card telling her of my passing and my appreciations.
Not forgeting Shida. I went to her house and gave her a Japanese tray. She was happily surprised with the gift without occasion to celebrate and happier still when I told her my appreciations for the push from her.

Well, I was with Kancil for only 6 months and again hubby got the order of transfer. This time, back to Japan.

In Japan, I needed a Japanese driving license and hear me out... another rounds of test again.
Continuing my love-hate driving episode in Japan.

Driver's license in Malaysia

If my counting head served me well, I must have spent about 700 pounds just on unsuccessfull lessons. After Peterson rejected me, if you can call that as rejection, I made up my mind to give up driving. I figured I wasn't made for driving, maybe I have some kind of driving handicap in my grey cells.
Anyway, hubby was given another transfer and this time to Malaysia.
We were given this 3-floor detached bangalow in front of The Tengku Mahkota Palace at Taman Pelangi, Johor Bahru. Sometimes on weekends, I can see him having polo with his riding buddies or just alone riding his horse.

During that era, taxi fare in Malaysia was RM1.20 for a start and I find it very convenient to just call a cab and hop in. The roads in Johor was too complicated for me to understand and here again came the benefit of cabs for me. But most times, I wouldn't get a cab in time or I would be put on waiting list. That I didn't mind so much but the trouble with taxi drivers in Malaysia was the feeling that I need to make some kind of conversations with them. I always felt like being interviewed. Normal questions would be what would I be doing in that big house because the house-owner was a timber rich-cinaman from Sabah. This question came when I leave my house. Then when I reach the front gate coming home, the question would be like is the rich timber-cinaman my friend sort.

I normally have a favourite taxi cab company to call on and on a few occasions this same driver came to answer my fare-calls. After 4 rides with him, he seemed neighbourly sort of friendly. Whenever I called for a cab rides, he would be there to take my round. He was young, around 30ish, neat long-sleeved shirt, clean-shaved and quite a good-looker.
It happened on a curtain-heavy dark wet day, I went for tea at a Japanese friend's house and as usual he came to take me. He said he would come to pick me after the tea and of course, I was thankful for the kind thought. Saved me the trouble of calling and booking for another cab.
I remember that day, dusk was setting in as I climbed in and I just said to go back home. He knew my house anyway!
Before reaching my house, he detoured at the golf putting range nearby (in front of Tengku's polo ground)and stopped the cab engine. He came out of the cab, opened the back seat door to sit next to me.
He made small talks like "malam nie kita pergi makan sea-food nak?"
I pointed with my finger to my house (I can see my house because it was over a slight slope), and said "situ".
I was sitting straight up, facing front and looking blank, not thinking of anything and he was sitting in the same position, straight and facing front. He took one hand and held it and went on making small talks. I saw other people walking passed the cab and strange thing was, I did not panic. I knew maybe he took to fancy me and want to be closer to me.
I knew I had to remain calm and controlled and I told him, without planning as well, the azan maghrib was so loud because the surau was nearby. He turned his face towards the sound of azan and let go my hand. It was like a finger had snapped in his face and he was awaken immediately. He opened the door, went on his seat, started the engine and drove me home without talking. Reaching my front gate, I gave him the fare but he declined and started the engine to move off. He left without a word and without a backward glance. That was the last time I saw him. Anyway, I remember his cab plate number and sometimes I saw him doing rounds on the roads.
But, I narrated this happening to Shida. Shida was an ex-SIA flight attendant, got married and became full-time wife to a Johor guy. Shida made me realized the more dangerous events that could happened if it was another rough cab driver.
And Shida, like my friend Sally in Wales, insisted I took up driving. In fact, Shida begged me to do it. She made me promised her as well.
I had to do it since I am the amanah-to-promises type of girl.
All I had to do was to call one driving school and the instructor would pick me up to the lesson spot. After getting the price quotations, I settled for a school and after Peterson, came Cik Kassim.
Cik Kassim was 50ish, homely, harmless-dirty jokes type of man. By now, I knew a bit about driving, after all the lessons I had with Peterson. Cik Kassim drove to a parking lot behind the stadium near pasar Larkin. That parking lot became his teaching ground. First thing I said when I touched the wheel was, "Cik Kassim, kereta ini kena buat alignment, semua sengget!"
His just laughed cheekily and said, "takpelah sengget sikit, nanti pandai-pandailah awak ajas (adjust)!"
His car was maybe the 1960 Nissan Datsun model. Longgar everywhere, I hated that car. I hated that car so much and I would have stopped the lesson if not for Cik Kassim tidak apa attitude during lesson. Parallel parking I would knock the corner post and he would say "tak ape", everything tak ape!
I took about 10 lessons and he set me up for the first test in Malaysia with JPJ Johor. I didn't need so much lessons, do I? After all I had 30 lessons done with Peterson. That was what I thought!

Wait for another narative and find out my first test result in Malaysia...jeng, jeng, jenngggg tayangan akan datang.

Driver's license

My love-hate relationship with driving started 30 years ago. That was some dinousaur years ago and many bloggers I know here were just speck of flagging tails in their fathers blood.
I took the highway code test in Singapore and I passed the first sitting. But from there on, I had to do the actual driving and those days, I was so pitifully poor. I had to pay for the lessons myself and that time I didn't really have a job that I can survive on. So I stopped and forget all about driving. Finished and I thought I would not drive at all.

Got married, got the children and hubby got transfered to Wales, UK.
I was a good friend to neighbour, Sally Llewellyn and the first year that I knew Sally, she couldn't drive at all. But once in a while, I saw Sally's husband giving Sally some instructions in the car and after sometimes, I heard Sally passed her driving and proudly showed off her driving license to other neighbours.
I envied her so much, I mean she passed without much effort and not even getting the proper teacher to give instructions on driving.
Sally advised me to take up driving and I did. Tomo was about 1 year plus and I had to pay Kathy, another neighbour's daughter to babysit on lesson days.
My first instructor was a lady, very jumpy and edgy. She always repeat the mistakes I made over and over and I was with her for about 4 lessons only. Not because of the boring way she taught but because she was a lesbian.
Of course, nothing like she touched or smoothened my skin. I knew because she was a famous lesbian in that area. People would asked me and the minute I mentioned her name, one brow went slightly up.
I knew too late about her and after a couple of lessons when she didn't turned up, I had to tell her the deal was off.
That was a one-time thing I had with a lesbian and I promised till now, no more lesbians crossed my pious path.
Actually, that incident turned me off from driving for a little while but Sally insisted again that I shouldn't give it up half way through.
Then, I took up with somebody called Peterson. Peterson was tall, heavy top and middle and the typical mid-age english man. I still remember very clearly, like the vivid water from the stonefall in my neighbour's garden, the first thing he did was to teach me how to fill the car at a self-service station. Peterson said all instructors teach how to drive but never a lesson on how to fill the car up. I knew that was just some lame excuse he made up since the car's gas was empty for the day's lesson.
On my first lesson and already I felt cheated and used.

Anyway, I continued with Peterson but I took his lesson as a get-away from home, like a breath away from house duties. Peterson lessons were more like looking the scenery, very distracting and not at all in seriousness.
After 10 lessons, he put me up for the first test.

I failed.
Failed to make the proper movements at the roundabouts. Little, little towns in Wales have roundabouts every couple of miles or so and you can never missed about 5 roundabouts when you go for the weekly shopping less than 3 km away. To the Walshes (I forgot what you called Wales people...Whales or Walshes), roundbouts are like the aorta of their hearts, don't ever make mistakes at roundabouts over there.

I tooked another 10 more lessons and this time again, I was still distracted but improved a little by showing some attention to my driving. This second round, Peterson was more personal. He talked on more personal subjects like his first marriage, his second, he first wife and his second wife, his first house and his second house. This is what I mean by distracted and still showing attention to him.

After the 10 lessons done. Took the test and....FAILED again!
Couldn't do the parallel parking on a steep slope. I parked alright but forgot to pull the handbrake and the car slide gingerly, ever so gracefully, down the steep slope.
Did I give up...oh no. I signed up for another 10 lessons. But trouble was, I still couldn't keep my eyes on the road. I was always looking at some yellow leaves maple tree, squirrels jumping between branches, wild raspberries heavy with red fruits or granny smith apples hanging down some front yards.

At the end of that 10 lessons, I took the third test and you guessed it...I FAILED again!
Peterson didn't want to take me back. He said his teaching time was fully-booked but I knew Peterson gave up on me.

Too much narative in one day here, I will continue my driving lessons in Malaysia and Japan the next entry.

Black bean bun

Sometimes the entries here bring unexpected laughter to readers without me trying to make it into a humour slot. Truth is, its not my intention to make people laugh on purpose. On top of that I don't think I have a flair to write so effectively that could make people laugh.
I give this dash of humour to the life that is surrounding me. I mean, if I make an effort to peep around the other side, I can see the humour part but sometimes I can't see it and only after the entries are published do I see readers laughing.

The event of this entry happened yesterday at the public bath-house. I went alone yesterday without my usual hang-out friends. Normally when I am on my own, I would usually make light chats with those around me. So, after wrapping my body with a full-length bath-towel, I went in the sauna room.
The temperature as usual at 83c and I saw about 8 ladies sitting around.
Gingerly, I walked and found myself a spot in between two women. On my left a granny about 75 years old and on my right a mother roughly my age-group.
After a while sweating it out, the women around my age told me to better turban my head, that way it would keep my hair intact and to avoid hairs from dropping all over the floors.
Hearing her said this, I just do as advised, turbaned my head and continue thinking empty thoughts. But the granny next to me wasn't very happy with the remarks from the other women and gave a sharp reply to that.

The granny accused the other women of picking on people and making her own rules and to this the other women told the granny that what she said was written as the in-house rules of the bath-house. She continued saying that the rules has to be followed as the bath-house is a public property and everybody else is using the same facility.

They were still arguing over this rule thing and I quietly walked out of the room, trying very much to make myself invisible.

I went out to the open-air pouch, of course the porch is covered with high walls on all sides. I spread myself on the lazy, reclining deck-chair and must have slightly knocked off when I felt someone touched my shoulder.
With my face facing sideway, I opened my eyes only to see a big, belly-button in my face. The belly button moved slightly away and I saw the women who made the remarks earlier in the sauna standing there. There was not a string of clothes on her.

She pulled a picnic chair and sat absolutely naked, crossed leg and started to munch on her bean bun.
I let her munched on the bun and not attempting to make any conversation. She started to talk about the granny who opposed her earlier.
I was sleepy, I need to knock off a bit. If only I can tell her to leave me alone but no, she was chatting away while munching on the bean bun.
Imagine a totally naked women sitting cross-leg in front of you munching bun and chatting something about another women.

I didn't want to look at her nor listen to her chanting...please go away...
Then, halfway through the bun, she put it across my face and told me to finish the other half.
I looked at her, carefully examining the brown teeth that are not straight anymore and looked again at the bun.
Eeeeewwwww...

She uncrossed her leg. She moved just because she was insisting that I should finish up the bun.
How do you tell a grossly-naked women the word NO.
I told her all the reasons for not accepting that bun but she still insisted that I should take it.

In the end, with finality and no-nonsense tone, I told her I hate black-bean bun especially the ones thats half-eaten by a brown, crooked teeth, stalked-naked women sitting open-legged across me.

Finally, she accepted my explanation and answered "ah, so desu ka"

Hopefully, she understood, I said it in english anyway!
I am, honestly, a true-blue coward.