Brandon and I have been very active since our arrival in Japan. Walking everywhere we go, miles a day. The exercise is great for both of us. I'm thankful for the extra activity, it will help with the rest of my pregnancy. We have discovered the outdoor adventure center on base and are excited to go on the excursions they have set up. You pay a small price for a big amount of fun so they say. Brandon went on a hike the other day with the group. Climbing Mt. Eboshi on a trail to the top. He said it was fantastic, the view was amazing, he claimed he felt great afterward. He also said that there is no way that I would have made it to the top. I'm still not sure what to make of this.
When he came back to our hotel after his hike, he casually mentioned a fishing trip that was coming up this weekend. A nice lake, they provide all of the gear that you need, and it's only 12 dollars a person. How wonderful. What fun we would have. I was raised fishing in every body of water on the Pacific Coast. I consider myself quite knowledgeable in the sport, as my father, and most of my family are avid fisherman.
And so it began, the story of our day-o-fishing! We arrive at the adventure center. And what an adventure it was. We sign a slip, that I barely read by the way, thinking smugly to myself that I could survive like Rambo in the woods killing off the smaller people in the group and living off of them for days if I had to. I'm assuming that it said something along the lines of "we wont hold anyone else responsible for our death or injury should it occur". We load into the van with the new friends that we have just made. A nice married couple that enjoy seeing the country as much as we do. The group consists of Brandon and I, our new friends Jeremy and Alicia, and 5 single sailors that are under age 27, and an American tour guide and his Japanese friend. We begin the long drive to Lake Arita. The entire way there I listened to young men tell their drinking stories from the night before. To some this may seem entertaining, however to a pregnant married woman like myself, it was mildly irritating. I say mildly because it was mild compared to the irritation that I would experience throughout my day.
We weave through the city of Arita. An old pottery town to the north of Sasebo. Surrounded by mountainous terrain, the lake is tucked behind the city. People of Japan would once take the red clay from the shores of the lake and smooth it into pottery, baking it in the kilns that they would carve into the side of the mountain. The pottery was considered to be some of the best in the country and it was given to the Emperor to be used as his fine china.
We cross a bridge over the edge of the lake. The van comes to a halt. The tour guide explains that he will be dropping us off here, and that he and the other men will be driving up the road to go on a hike up the mountain that is towering over us. I was thinking to myself, have fun with that, I'm going to park myself on the beach by the lake. I ask where the beach is, the tour guide laughs and tells me that it is in Hawaii. Hmmm...He must be kidding, I think. We get out of the van. Everyone does. To stretch and to take pictures of the beautiful lake. What a splendid day I thought. Bright sun, beautiful water, the great lunch I had packed for us. The tour guide hands Brandon 4 fishing poles and a small tackle box. He points to the entrance to a trail, as if that would be the way we would be jaunting down the path to heaven on earth. He tells Brandon that he will be back at 2 in the afternoon. It is now 10am. Everyone loads back into the van and shuts the door, waving to us. It is now just us, standing on the side of the road, alone. The tour guide as he is pulling away from us yells out the window, "watch out for the snakes, be careful". Snakes? What Snakes? I think profanity might have slipped from my mouth. Seriously? The man dropped us off with the snakes?
I walk to the entrance of the trail, and to my horror I see a cliff. It would be amazing to me to see someone else even make it alive down that trail, forget me trying to do it. Brandon and Jeremy set off down the trail like pioneers forging the way through chartered territory. Alicia shrugs and begins her descent. I am standing at the top paralyzed with fear. I hate heights. I slowly, very slowly, much like a prissy sissy la la girl that I can't stand, make my way down the ledge of death. I am cursing at myself under my breath for not being the first one down, along with the men. This is not me. I was a Reynolds at one time in my life, and I could not for the life of me get back to what I once was. I am a trooper. "The" trooper in fact, as Brandon would tell you. However there I was pregnant and sniveling almost in tears in the wilderness, no one else in sight, In a country where I could not read the little signs along the trail. Who knows what they said. They could have been warning me about jagged rocks and falling to my death. This was the first time that I truly did not enjoy my pregnancy. I kept my eyes open for snakes and reptiles that could in fact kill me. Daydreaming about what it would feel like to die in the woods from a snake bite. I trooped on best as I could. When I reached the bottom of what I thought was the end of the trail, the trail went straight up into the woods. I hiked, huffing and puffing, up the cliff in the now blazing heat. Stopping every few feet to puke into the bushes. Brandon stopped ahead of me waiting for me to continue on. I'm sure he was wondering what had happened to his once adventuresome wife.
Finally I made it. I was looking forward while on my hike to arriving at a public area with a picnic table or bench. There was no such thing. There was however a clay shore covered with ants building their nest. I spread Brandon's sweatshirt on the ground and sat on the ground. The men opened up the tackle box to find a pack of hot dogs as bait. Hot dogs? Really?? I think that they were just excited to fish, because they baited up those hot dogs and casted their poles. They had a great time. Wading out into the water with their shorts rolled up casting to their hearts content. Nothing was caught. But they didn't care. I'm glad that the hike was worth it for them. How could they possibly be smiling? But there I sat dreading the hike back to the van. Swatting off ants, poking sticks in the clay, baking in the sun. I stood every once in awhile and waded into the water, but then sat back on my makeshift seat. Hating that I was fighting so hard to make the best of it. I couldn't, I was knee deep in my pity party, becoming angrier as the minutes passed.
It then came. 2 o'clock. I could hardly wait to make it back to the van. We began the hike back. My belly began to contract, causing me to breathe harder. I hobbled along. Sore from the hike in and sunburned from the sun beating down on me. I made it to the top. I made it into the van. I also made it into 7-11 on the way back to the base for a Popsicle. And I eventually made it back to my air conditioned hotel room. The point is I made it. I didn't die. I didn't get hurt. I was all in one piece. Why did I have such a miserable time? Because that was my choice. I chose to become irritable and have a bad time. Everyone else seemed to have a fine time. They went through the same hardships that I did, minus the pregnant part of course, but chose to look past it and enjoyed themselves anyways. They chose to make the best of it if you will. I look back now and see the humor of the day. Wishing that I could have thought it humorous then. I am now more aware than ever that choices affect every aspect of your life. Even the little things. Next time I am going to make a different choice when it comes to our adventures. I learn something new everyday. Something different. I try to apply it in any way that I can to my daily life. This was my life lesson for the weekend.
When he came back to our hotel after his hike, he casually mentioned a fishing trip that was coming up this weekend. A nice lake, they provide all of the gear that you need, and it's only 12 dollars a person. How wonderful. What fun we would have. I was raised fishing in every body of water on the Pacific Coast. I consider myself quite knowledgeable in the sport, as my father, and most of my family are avid fisherman.
And so it began, the story of our day-o-fishing! We arrive at the adventure center. And what an adventure it was. We sign a slip, that I barely read by the way, thinking smugly to myself that I could survive like Rambo in the woods killing off the smaller people in the group and living off of them for days if I had to. I'm assuming that it said something along the lines of "we wont hold anyone else responsible for our death or injury should it occur". We load into the van with the new friends that we have just made. A nice married couple that enjoy seeing the country as much as we do. The group consists of Brandon and I, our new friends Jeremy and Alicia, and 5 single sailors that are under age 27, and an American tour guide and his Japanese friend. We begin the long drive to Lake Arita. The entire way there I listened to young men tell their drinking stories from the night before. To some this may seem entertaining, however to a pregnant married woman like myself, it was mildly irritating. I say mildly because it was mild compared to the irritation that I would experience throughout my day.
We weave through the city of Arita. An old pottery town to the north of Sasebo. Surrounded by mountainous terrain, the lake is tucked behind the city. People of Japan would once take the red clay from the shores of the lake and smooth it into pottery, baking it in the kilns that they would carve into the side of the mountain. The pottery was considered to be some of the best in the country and it was given to the Emperor to be used as his fine china.
We cross a bridge over the edge of the lake. The van comes to a halt. The tour guide explains that he will be dropping us off here, and that he and the other men will be driving up the road to go on a hike up the mountain that is towering over us. I was thinking to myself, have fun with that, I'm going to park myself on the beach by the lake. I ask where the beach is, the tour guide laughs and tells me that it is in Hawaii. Hmmm...He must be kidding, I think. We get out of the van. Everyone does. To stretch and to take pictures of the beautiful lake. What a splendid day I thought. Bright sun, beautiful water, the great lunch I had packed for us. The tour guide hands Brandon 4 fishing poles and a small tackle box. He points to the entrance to a trail, as if that would be the way we would be jaunting down the path to heaven on earth. He tells Brandon that he will be back at 2 in the afternoon. It is now 10am. Everyone loads back into the van and shuts the door, waving to us. It is now just us, standing on the side of the road, alone. The tour guide as he is pulling away from us yells out the window, "watch out for the snakes, be careful". Snakes? What Snakes? I think profanity might have slipped from my mouth. Seriously? The man dropped us off with the snakes?
I walk to the entrance of the trail, and to my horror I see a cliff. It would be amazing to me to see someone else even make it alive down that trail, forget me trying to do it. Brandon and Jeremy set off down the trail like pioneers forging the way through chartered territory. Alicia shrugs and begins her descent. I am standing at the top paralyzed with fear. I hate heights. I slowly, very slowly, much like a prissy sissy la la girl that I can't stand, make my way down the ledge of death. I am cursing at myself under my breath for not being the first one down, along with the men. This is not me. I was a Reynolds at one time in my life, and I could not for the life of me get back to what I once was. I am a trooper. "The" trooper in fact, as Brandon would tell you. However there I was pregnant and sniveling almost in tears in the wilderness, no one else in sight, In a country where I could not read the little signs along the trail. Who knows what they said. They could have been warning me about jagged rocks and falling to my death. This was the first time that I truly did not enjoy my pregnancy. I kept my eyes open for snakes and reptiles that could in fact kill me. Daydreaming about what it would feel like to die in the woods from a snake bite. I trooped on best as I could. When I reached the bottom of what I thought was the end of the trail, the trail went straight up into the woods. I hiked, huffing and puffing, up the cliff in the now blazing heat. Stopping every few feet to puke into the bushes. Brandon stopped ahead of me waiting for me to continue on. I'm sure he was wondering what had happened to his once adventuresome wife.
Finally I made it. I was looking forward while on my hike to arriving at a public area with a picnic table or bench. There was no such thing. There was however a clay shore covered with ants building their nest. I spread Brandon's sweatshirt on the ground and sat on the ground. The men opened up the tackle box to find a pack of hot dogs as bait. Hot dogs? Really?? I think that they were just excited to fish, because they baited up those hot dogs and casted their poles. They had a great time. Wading out into the water with their shorts rolled up casting to their hearts content. Nothing was caught. But they didn't care. I'm glad that the hike was worth it for them. How could they possibly be smiling? But there I sat dreading the hike back to the van. Swatting off ants, poking sticks in the clay, baking in the sun. I stood every once in awhile and waded into the water, but then sat back on my makeshift seat. Hating that I was fighting so hard to make the best of it. I couldn't, I was knee deep in my pity party, becoming angrier as the minutes passed.
It then came. 2 o'clock. I could hardly wait to make it back to the van. We began the hike back. My belly began to contract, causing me to breathe harder. I hobbled along. Sore from the hike in and sunburned from the sun beating down on me. I made it to the top. I made it into the van. I also made it into 7-11 on the way back to the base for a Popsicle. And I eventually made it back to my air conditioned hotel room. The point is I made it. I didn't die. I didn't get hurt. I was all in one piece. Why did I have such a miserable time? Because that was my choice. I chose to become irritable and have a bad time. Everyone else seemed to have a fine time. They went through the same hardships that I did, minus the pregnant part of course, but chose to look past it and enjoyed themselves anyways. They chose to make the best of it if you will. I look back now and see the humor of the day. Wishing that I could have thought it humorous then. I am now more aware than ever that choices affect every aspect of your life. Even the little things. Next time I am going to make a different choice when it comes to our adventures. I learn something new everyday. Something different. I try to apply it in any way that I can to my daily life. This was my life lesson for the weekend.
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