Japan (finally!)

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I know, I know, we’ve been back from Japan for over a month now and I have yet to post photos, or really much at all. What can I say, there’s a lot going on these days.

So we spent 5 days in Japan over the September long weekend. J. has family there, so we mainly stayed in Kobe (and mainly on Rokko Island, possibly the most child-friendly place on earth), but also spent some time in Kyoto. And of course we loved it: fresh air, polite people, high speed and efficient trains, and of course lots and lots of sushi.

Charlotte cooling off in the Rokko Island canals, contemplating ordering Kobe beef for lunch

Rokko Island, Kobe

The view of Kobe from the Rokko Mountain gondola

Kyoto

Spotted in Kyoto: a real, live geisha!

Charlotte has developed a knack for sleeping through the best sites

Kyoto

Kyoto

Sign in the subway station: huh? Why would you use two bicycles? And how would that get other people into trouble?


Travel sans Mama

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Last night over dinner, J. proposed a crazy idea: he wants to take Charlotte on a 7-day cruise next week. Just the two of them.

J. has been talking about travelling just him and Charlotte for a long time. They both have the time to do it, while I’m stuck dutifully at work. Charlotte’s poor lungs need a break from the nasty Beijing pollution. And it gives the two of them some good quality time together.

I was totally supportive of this idea, when it was just an idea. But now that an actual trip is on the table… we’ll I’m kind of freaked out.

Seven days is a long time to be away. I’m not concerned about missing J., and Charlotte would have such a blast on a cruise ship (she loves boats) that she probably wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there. No, what worries me is me: I don’t know if I can handle seven days away from my baby girl. I’ve never spent so much time away from her- there was the five-day trip I took in the spring, but I was distracted by my awesomely beautiful surroundings. Seven days is a really long time.

I’ve also been worried about J., can he really handle single-parenting, outside of the normal routine, for an entire week?

Last night, I grilled him:

“What do you need to bring with you when you go out and about?”

“What do you do when Charlotte needs to pee and there’s not a toilet in sight?”

“Under what circumstances is it acceptable to not bring the stroller?”

And, for the final exam: “What if Charlotte gets sea-sick the first night on the boat, and you both wake up in a pool of her chunky vomit?”

I guess I need to give J. more credit, because he passed my little test with flying colours.

Relieved in knowing that the two of them would probably survive a week without me, I started thinking about what I would do with seven days to myself. At first, the idea of so much alone time made me panicky, but then ideas started to flow: a visit to the mall, finally finish my book, try the gym again, perhaps a visit to the spa, maybe even a daytrip to the Great Wall or a cooking class… And I suddenly found myself wondering how I would fit it all in to just seven days.

I still feel really uncomfortable with the idea of going so long without Charlotte, but I know her and J. will have a great time, and I will probably also enjoy myself. So I think I may grant permission…

What do you think? Can Dads survive travel without mom? Can Moms survive seven days away from their offspring? Should I give J. the go-ahead, and if so are you prepared to deal with “I miss my baby” blog whining?

Reason #347 Why I Don’t Go to the Gym

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Last weekend, I went to the gym.

I am not a gym person. I prefer to get my exercise in the form of regular daily-life things. We walk everywhere, I’m constantly chasing Charlotte around the house, we swim all the time, etc.

But since moving to Beijing, I’ve noticed that my opportunities for this kind of exercise have  really dwindled. Charlotte is older, and no longer want to be carried everywhere. Since I live on the same compound where I work, my daily walk to work takes all of 30 seconds. Everything we need is within a few kilometre radius. As a result, let’s just say that my clothes are fitting too well these days.

Something clearly needed to change, and I was really looking forward to J. arriving so that (amongst a gazillion other reasons) I would finally have time to get some exercise, which would inevitably have to involve getting my lazy butt to the gym.

On Saturday, I finally managed to do so.

On the way out, J. called to me “Have a good workout! Go hard!”

To tell you the truth, I was planning on a leisurely stroll on the treadmill while catching up on America’s Next Top Model reruns.

But then I got to the gym, and there were all these people there, ‘going hard.’ They were all sweaty and serious, and toned and buff. And I felt kind of like an idiot at my turtle pace on the treadmill. And, I may have a teeny-tiny competitive streak. So I decided to take J’s advice.

I cranked the volume on my mp3 player, and jacked up the treadmill speed to a not all that comfortable running pace. And I ran my butt off. When my legs turned to jelly, I slowed down the pace, revved up the incline, and had a brisk uphill hike. Then I did some weights. I came home sweaty, and utterly exhausted. But I felt great, determined to hit the gym again the next day.

The next day arrived, and I could not move. Every muscle in my legs had seized up. My arms and shoulders felt like lead. My feet hurt. Hell, even my elbows were achy. And I was still utterly exhausted.

It took a full three days before I could walk properly again.

I just don’t think I’m cut out for this whole gym thing…

What I think I look like at the gym

What I actually look like at the gym (note: not an actual photo of me)