I saw this somewhere as a blog idea and thought it would be a GREAT idea, especially to show my friends back home what my day usually looks like.
To give you some background, I work at four different schools. That means every day looks VERRRY different for me. But this is what a typical Friday looks for me...
7:52 am, view from our balcony
8:20 am, arrive at school [Kaji Elementary School]
9:00 am, first (and favorite) sixth grade class of the day
Classes in Japan (at everysingleschool) starts and ends with the students standing. It's a sign of respect for the teacher... but as you may tell from the little angels faces, some classes will do it begrudgingly
10:25 am, second class. I DEFINITELY feel like making faces sometimes
11:00 am, Rock paper scissors is the answer to life here in Japan
12:32 pm, school lunch! I got jipped on the fish
1:21 pm, school cleaning time. Everybody pitches in to clean the school
2:00 pm, second graders!! Adorbs. We sing the "Hello Song" to warm up!
3:00 pm, first and second graders leave for the day.
** ^all the elementary school students wear those bright yellow hats (so drivers won't run them over). It's pretty much the cutest thing in the world.
4:15 pm, what my desk looks like- lesson planning time!
5:30 pm, everyone's home! Let the weekend begin!!
6:42 pm, computering in a slanket
7:52 pm, winding down with persimmons and Sex and the City
And that's it! That's how a typical Friday looks for me. A little while after this, I went down to take a nap from a headache. Apparently, a nap turned into a full blown deep sleep (I sleep like a rock) and my stalker decided to take this flattering photo of me. So BONUS photo!
Right on time, eh?
Finished right on the 30th, as I said I would.
We
managed to fit 4 weeks of souvenirs and memories into our backpacks, make our
way to the airport, score two ROWS of seats (so that we could each sleep
comfortably) on the 7 hour flight, and score another row of seats at Haneda
airport for our overnight crash. We woke groggily at 4:30 am to catch the first
train home and spent the rest of the ride in a zombie state of jet lag, relief,
and yearning for a proper bed.
It’s always a strange
feeling, when you return to a place that is not really your home. Upon seeing
the lights of Japan, I felt a huge weight lift. One that I hadn’t realized I
was carrying. A sense of relief washed over me, and it was the strangest
feeling. I can only imagine how it will feel to actually come home to America.
I do want to thank some
people, for which this trip and my sanity would not have been possible. I have
no idea if the people on this list will ever actually read their thank you
note, but here goes…
To my roommate, Robert,
who successfully freaked me out about EVERYTHING. Getting all that stress out
of the way made the actual trip more enjoyable, and I somehow “felt prepared”
when things went terribly wrong.
To my parents, for giving
me the opportunity to travel when I was young and instilling a sense of
independence. Never would have seen the places I’ve seen without it. And for
the most incredible hotel experience I will ever have. I’ve officially been
ruined for all other hotels.
To John, for all the
emails, spotty Skype conversations, waking up at 3 am just to see my face, for
making home feel so much closer, for putting up with all the “When Emma and I…”
stories (I’m sure they’re never ending) and for being ready to jump into a Taken-esque mission if needed. I always
knew that you had our backs.
To Emma’s parents, for
the ridiculously amazing meal we had on our last night. And for raising a most
awesome daughter who put up with me for 4 weeks.
To Emma. For the endless
FRIENDS questions, making me laugh constantly, standing up to rude cab drivers,
taking care of me the 8,943 times I got sick, and making the trips one of the
best memories of my life. I am forever grateful for our friendship and can’t
believe my luck that you actually agreed to travel with me.
Last official pic of the trip- 5 am train ride
Lastly, to everyone who
has been reading and commenting. Sorry this took so long and hopefully it wasn’t
TOO boring. I love every one of you.
The way
we looked at it, our “last day” would actually
be the second to last day. We would
spend the day doing tourist things around Kuala Lumpur, finishing off anything
on our list that we hadn’t gotten to. Our actual
last day we had allocated weeks before, when my parents gifted us with one
night’s stay in THE Ritz-Carlton,
Kuala Lumpur. Of course, the ENTIRE day was allotted to staying inside the
hotel walls- determined to experience every nook and cranny of the Ritz. So, we
referred to that as our “luxury day”.
So for our “last day”, we headed to the Petronus Towers. Our trusty
guidebook has said that if you arrive early enough, they actually give out 100
free tickets to the first visitors. However, the locals warned us that they don’t
actually do that anymore. The fee was $50 for a ride to the Petronus Towers
Bridge. Free tickets? Pfft, they
all scoffed at us. Not to take our chances, we woke early on the “last day” to
try and score some mystical “free” tickets.
Let me save you the hassle. Locals weren’t kidding; the ticket agents
looked at me like I was INSANE for asking for “free” tickets. Totally a Diane
Tango move, btw. Not wanting to drop some serious dough on tickets for a view
of a city we were (at BEST) lukewarm about, we headed for the shopping center
underneath the Petronus Towers. Hey, the guidebook recommended it!
We spent the day shopping (books for me! So cheap!), eating gluttonous
food (I ate like a 6 year old- cinnamon pretzels, red velvet cupcakes, jelly
beans, chocolate. Is anyone surprised that I felt sick to my stomach hours
later?), and seeing a final cheap movie (SERIOUSLY, for $3?!? Can anyone argue with that?). It was laid
back and perfect. We even finished the day with some shopping in Chinatown
(yayyy, finally got my silk robe) and Subway Sandwiches. Minus the outrageous
stomach ache, the “last day” could not have been more perfect.
The inspiration for Emma's future bakery
Anddd then, it was here. The LUXURY day. We had been counting down
ever since I got the “we booked you a
room…” email from my Mom. Emma spent the entire trip fantasizing about how
it would be, what it would look like, how amazing the service would be. We set
the alarms, took great care in ironing out the “ritziest” outfit we had, and
skipped excitedly to the taxis. When we arrived, everything changed. It was a
180 degree turn around from the Kuala Lumpur we had seen. Even the cab driver
(who could barely be bothered to open the trunk for our backpacks), opened our doors and
took great care in handing our bulging backpacks to the bellboy.
The staff was incredible. I’ve never felt more like royalty in my
life. They all acted as if Emma and I were actual
queens and they never had more important guests. It was surreal and, contrasted
with the way our ENTIRE experience in Kuala Lumpur had been, bewildering. I don’t
know if I’ve ever been treated that way in my life so to go from having your
boobs gawked at to have people clamoring to carry my bags for me was a bit
insane.
Someone literally escorted us to our room, opened the door for us, and
asked us if everything was ok with
our room. I’m telling you… surreal.
We went to the room for an outfit change and then went in search of
the pool. It was like an oasis. If I ever become disgustingly rich, I want a
pool exactly like the Ritz Carlton one. It was like swimming in a tropical
paradise. We hopped from tropical paradise to Jacuzzi to rooftop infinity pool
and finally the soak tub. It was incredible.
Then, we spent our time pampering ourselves in their spa and retreated
to get ready for dinner.
Emma’s parents had generously wired her enough money to splurge for our
“last meal” at the Ritz. We. Went. CRAZY. Salmon, wine, side of onion rings,
grilled vegetables, creamed spinach. It was a meal for queens. It was WITHOUT A
DOUBT the BEST meal we’d had on the
trip, and definitely one of the top 5 “Best meals of my life”.
We retreated to the room and I swear, the beds there are 40%bed,
40%cloud and 10%pure heaven. I felt like I was floating and I’ve NEVER been in
a more comfortable bed. I can now understand why crazy people stay at hotels
like this for days (even weeks) on end. It was addicting.
They left us extra chocolate!!! And FREE water
All too fast, it was morning. We had complimentary tea, coffee, and
juice delivered to our room. We did some final letter writing, made sure to
take the shampoos, toothbrushes, stationary, etc… and checked out. It was a
cruel slap back to reality, climbing into the peasant cab (they had to actually
go and search for a local cab since the Ritz only had limo/luxury cabs). That
smell was back and we had a brooding, gawking cab driver. But for 24 hours,
we were queens. We ate like queens, relaxed like queens, and were treated like
queens. It was unforgettable and the biggest possible BANG! we could have had
to end our trip.
A million thanks to BOTH our sets of parents, who managed to take care
of us from thousands of miles away. You guys ensured that our last night was
the best night EVER and it was. It was better than we could have ever imagined
and more than we ever expected. We are so lucky to have experienced the
greatest luxuries of Kuala Lumpur
Our hostel was in a prime
location, right over the bustling street in Chinatown.
It's usually busier, but this was at like 7 am
We had a short list of “must-do’s”
for Kuala Lumpur, as we spent our first time recovering from the red-eye flight/getting
our fill of the Olympics/ taking advantage of the outrageous movie prices (less
than $3 a ticket!!). One of them was to climb to the top of the Batu caves, a
mere 272 steps to a cave/Hindu temple.
To say that Kuala Lumpur
was my least favorite city would be an understatement. Emma, being the classy
and mature traveler that she is, took everything in stride (minus the cab
driver who tried to scam us). I, on the other hand, found just about everything
to complain about. The smell of putrid body odor, the pushy, sweaty people, and
of course the constant feeling of being on display. We were stared at everywhere. It was worse than the time
two men took a picture of Emma’s boobs. The stares were suffocating
and seemed to encroach on the tiny smidgen of personal bubble that remained.
So we headed on a mission
to climb the Batu Caves. Getting to the bus stop was an ordeal, buying a ticket
was another experience… but the bus. Oh man, the bus was something else. Every
city bus that I had been on (thus far) has been your general city bus: a bit
dirty, plastic chairs, yadah yadah. A gigantic tin can on wheels pulls up, the
driver slams on the breaks and a deafening screech alerted everyone that this
bus had NO brake pads. We boarded the “bus” to find that there was actual
carpet on the floor, mismatched chairs and benches that looked like they had
been nailed to the bus. I sat down on a bench and I swear, a puff of dirt came
up and made us both cough.
Now I thought the body
odor in an open air street market was bad, so you can only imagine what it was
like to have the body odor trapped in a tin can of hell for an hour bus ride,
and to have the “supplier” of said body odor push up against you. The feeling
of sweaty flesh on mine made me want to bathe in anti-bacterial gel. The bus
screamed to a stop in the middle of a random road, and all the locals all turned
to stare (even more) at us. It clearly was our signal to get off.
We got off and wandered
in a random direction until we saw the gates (and huge Hindu statue) for the
Batu caves. After a bit of shopping and picture taking, we started to ascend
the 272 stairs to the top. Monkeys were scampering around. Besides the
Singapore Zoo, this was the closest I had ever been to wild monkeys. In case
you’re wondering, they’re terrifying. The wild monkeys in Kuala Lumpur have
been known to steal electronics, food, wallets, anything really. The key is not
to be stupid enough to pull out something important/expensive. Or you can be a complete moron, like the fellow in
front of us who started to HAND feed the monkeys slices of bread. We kept our
distance from him.
At the top of the Batu Caves!
Mini- shrine people we found EVERYWHERE
We reached the top,
looked around, took some pics. It was huge and impressive and really did look
like a scene out of Indiana Jones.
Just as we were ready to descend the
stairs, it started to storm. This time though, we were prepared. We busted out
our ponchos (the very same ones that Emma had wanted to toss), we rarely went
anywhere without them after the Singapore Zoo incident. Now, descending 272
steps in dry/non-typhooning weather would have been a bit daunting. 272 steps
in a downpour? I envisioned entirely bad outcomes: one of us slipping, knee sockets
popping out, broken ankles, the general sorts of injuries that comes from going
down a million stairs in the rain. We slowly took one step at a time, ensuring
our footing before moving an inch. It felt like we were walking down a
waterfall. We were at least ankle deep in rainwater (me, calves deep), with
water rushing and swirling around us, threatening to take us down the most
gigantic waterslide.
Survived!!
It was one of the more
memorable moments of our trip. We miraculously made it down, with minor water damage
to our purses and MAJOR water damage to our clothes. After buying some souvenirs,
unsuccessfully trying to get something to eat, we set in search of a cab. We
hunted around until we found a man who would get us back to Petaling Street for
a semi-reasonable price. Then Emma’s “break”. Long story short: on the highway,
we paid the highway tolls, and yet the fare suddenly tripled in front of our
eyes. I (certain that all strangers are going to abduct me and beat me) would
have paid the outrageous price without question. Emma, however, was not one to
be taken advantage of. She brought out the claws and firmly told the driver we
would absolutely not be paying
his new fee. I looked over at her to give her a smile and nod of confidence,
only to see that Emma did not look as firm as her voice suggested. Her eyes
were a bit watery, and her hands visibly shaking. She loudly told me (so the
cab driver could hear us clearly) “I just hate when they try to take advantage
of us. Just because we’re tourists doesn’t mean we’re STUPID”.
It was not the first time
Emma had stood up for both of us. And it probably won’t be the last.
