Strangers in a Strange Land

Tim told me that I needed to blog tonight and that he did not care for the little tidbit posts. Humph. So here I sit, trying to manufacture some coherence out of a brain that is still hovering somewhere around Alaska.

We are here. Boggling, my mind is. Yoda, channeling I am. Because the name Yoda sounds like it could be Japanese.That's funny to me right now, which gives you a clue to my enfeebled mental state. God, jet lag sucks. More about THAT later.

First, Japan. Introductions are in order.

According to Wikipedia, Japan is an island nation and a nation of islands, composed of over 6,852 islands in total, though I think the actual number is subject to debate and climate change.

We are on the largest island of them all, called Honshu, seen in that fetching shade of mauve below.

And on Honshu, we are located in Tokyo prefecture, in a small town called Fussa, highlighted here. We are about 1.5 hours from central Tokyo, heading generally northwest, but we are still considered to be in Tokyo, because it's huge. That's a bit confusing to me, and it feels as though North Carolina suddenly decided that the entire middle portion of the state was just "Raleigh". But hey, this is the world's largest city, so I guess they can make their own rules.



About a third of Fussa is taken up by Yokota Air Base, which is where we are living.

 As you can see, everything centers around the airfield. I have already gotten used to feeling the hum of jet engines deep in my bones and to seeing large aircraft flying around at low altitudes. This is basically THE hub for all Pacific operations, as I understand it. There is apparently a typhoon heading into the area this week, so aircraft from Okinawa have been coming in to ride out the storm in the safety of the enormous hangars here.

We picked out our house this week and we will be living in the East Housing area, which is the area closest to the hospital. There are parks everywhere, two elementary schools, swimming pools, a library, and even a Chili's, among other American restaurants.Right now we are living in the TLF*, or temporary living facilities, which is basically a three bedroom apartment.

*So far I have gathered that if the military can create an acronym for something, it's going to do it, even if it would be easier to just say the words. Example: We live in the TLF and shop in the BX at the YCC which is located beside the AFRC where people might ask you "Did you just PCS? What's your MOS?" among other things. 

We haven't set foot off the base yet, mostly because there has been so much in-processing to do and it seems like everything has to be done in triplicate. The strange land I'm referring to in my title is not Japan at all. Technically, I haven't even touched Japanese soil yet. That's fine because we have the minor culture shock of military life to adjust to first.

Things are different here. Uniforms are more common than civilian clothes. Everyone needs military I.D. to do anything, even buy groceries. Tire shredders, vehicle barriers, and heavy machinery are much in evidence. It's all quite intimidating and vaguely menacing to my civilian eyes.

This is to say nothing of the many rituals and customs of the military that we barely comprehend. I don't know a sergeant from a colonel or what to do when music comes over the loudspeakers. Every day has us furiously Googling something to figure it all out. And poor Tim is of course coming in as a Captain and is nominally "commanding" people that have served their entire lives. In reality, of course, they are showing him the ropes, at least until they scrub in the OR, which won't happen for another week or so.

Fortunately, the people are enormously kind. Tim's fellow orthopedic staff met us at the airport here at Yokota by waving a model of a hand in the air, which was a great foreshadowing of the role they've played in our lives. They have lent us their hands, and vehicles, and time to help us settle in. They've cheerfully ferried us around to buy groceries, look at cars, and attend classes.

We've tried not to drive them TOO crazy and we do try to catch the free shuttle that runs around base. We're not always successful at that, as I noted in an earlier post. Sadly, that wasn't the only time we missed the shuttle, but it led to us meeting a great woman named Marla  who took us home from the grocery store in her van. All five of us, and our bags. And then she babysat my kids during my driver's education class, for five hours, and refused to let us pay her. These are the kind of neighbors we've inherited and I'm already incredibly grateful. We know from our time in Rochester than having a family-away-from-family changes everything for the better.

There is SO much to write about, but my brain feels like goo right about now. It's only been a week since we got here, which makes my mind/goo slosh around alarmingly. I think this has been one of the longest weeks of my life, despite actually being the shortest, due to losing a day to time travel  the odd effect of traveling westward.

As you have probably gathered, jet lag is real and it is not kind. Tim is perfectly fine and thinks his years of torture training as a resident have enabled him to fall asleep on command, anywhere, and at any time. He is only slightly smug about this, the lucky bass...et hound.

Adelaide is approaching fine, waking up at 6 or 630 AM. Graydon wakes up at 530 AM, and Emilia is waking at 430. Poor Emilia is like a baby in a cruel science experiment right now. "Hey, I know, let's see what happens when we take a baby and move her every few days for the entirety of here life!" Well, after much testing, I can confirm that what happens is that Baby gets her security from being with Mom, preferably with a breast in her mouth at all times, the better to ensure that Mom doesn't slip away in the night. I can't blame that little punkin a bit, although I am very much looking forward to some stability, for her sake.

For now, we are here, we are adjusting, and we are happy if slightly confused at all times. Kind of like puppies tumbling out of their kennel for the first time, but with better control of our bladders*.

*Well, most of us anyway. Graydon did announce his presence at 5:30 this morning by climbing into bed with me and saying "Hey, Mom, I need  you to change my diaper." Good morning, son. Good morning.