Monsoon

The road to our village before the rain started

November footwear!

Our island

Girlpower

The man of the village

Chilling at the beach

Cafédoodle

The artist and her friend Ingrid

The ferry over to Koh Phangan was rescheduled the day we were going over from Koh Samui because of wind. Luckily I had no idea how bad it was before we got on. The boat finally arrived after another delay of 45 minutes. A catamaran, room for maybe 50. It was a 30 minute ride, joyful for some and painful for others. Amongst young partiers with their beer cans and the laughing crew, who acted as we were on a tivoli, we managed to drag our packs, stroller and our selves on the moving boat. Steffen took immediatly a seat alone and told us not to talk to him for the next half hour, wise from past experiences. I was in the front with the kids.

The waves were a lot bigger then what I feared. I was holding on to both kids and trying not to fall off the seat while manuvering small plastic bags for Teo who unfortunatly is like his dad on boats, while he screamed for his dad the whole trip. After thirthy very long minutes I was thrilled to get off the boat, fully covered in vomit and with legs that felt crippled, we were happy to meet Roman, our pickup and villa man.

Roman suggested to stock up and we managed somehow to pull our seasick and beaten bodies together and daised through the supermarket in Tong Sala with slaughtered pig parts spread out on ice. There where eyeballs, other balls, feet, noses and other delicious parts,  we just could not feel the temptation. Only the last stretch was left: Forty minutes on bumpy roads, or something that once were roads. We felt mildly beat up as we entered our new home for 9 weeks. Our very ‘simple’ back pack villa with our own pool, 4 bedrooms, maid, beautiful view of the ocean hugged in by tall palm trees, papaya and banana trees.

We later learned we arrived on a good day with mild winds and no rain, the next day monsoon really started! It is raining buckets of water. It sounds like torpedos. All traffic to the island is closed down, roads are cut off and have fallen into the rivers. The village shops are overflowing, power is toast and we are on level one on the extra power supply.

Today the rain stopped for a moment. We can hear the insects, they sound as they are batterydriven. A tiny lizzard sound like a beefeating mammal.

Tunes are flowing out from the awakening cafés and bars, the ceiling fans are on slow speed, 28 degrees, an island dog is streching under our table, the curry is hot, creamy and filled of wonders.

Lost in translation II, Stokke Eide in Japan.

October 18th 2010, ready to get married at the Norwegian Embassey

The family of four.

Steffen is having a wedding beer at the mobile liquor shop.

Robot totem pole in Roppongi.

Views over Tokyo.

Snow exhibit

Our wedding dinner and cake. Consumed quietly in the end of the bed not to wake Misha.

Tokyo Metro

Harajuku, where fashion statements are born

Natural and beautiful interior

A temple in harajuku, watching some fine people getting married.

At the metro

Getting advice at 7eleven

The logo of a facial cream company.

Pureness and simplicity.

Our balcony in Kyoto.

Everyone and thing in Japan is exquisite. Nothing is overlooked. They are all proper, neat and organized. They bow and show their gratefulness at all times and have a strict shoes off policy. Walking down the streets, you will not find one garbage can, but that does not mean there are any waste around, not even a piece of gum stuck on the ground. It is all spotless.

The taxi drivers wear black suits, tie and hats and they all have white, croched blankets made by their mums, on all seats, and hey, no cigarette holes, lipstick stains or other seedy buisness on those seats. They are too blenda-white and fresh smelling.

If you are lost in Japan and trust me that is not hard at all in the jungle of foreign characters, they are the most pleasant, polite people. They don’t just wave you in the right direction, they actually take the time to get of the metro with you and walk you  through elevators, snackshops under and over bridges until you are safely back where you started.

We decided the second day in Tokyo that we were ready for the metro in Tokyo. Should not be that big of a deal, after all we have been riding the T-bane in Oslo for years. We had a map and the name of the stations, and even which lines to follow. This should be a smooth ride. Ikeburo station was just a few meters away from our hotel and luckily at the moment we had no idea it was the busiest station in all of Tokyo. There are half a million people on and off this station every day. There are lines in all colours of the rainbow, with unique numbers, directions, transferes, express types with their again unique stops. When we then in addition to our Norwegian  ’baby snackpack’ also had a large stroller, one almost two year old that would rather hang from the handles in the ceilings then sit in his stroller and a four year old that usually always walks in the opposite direction then her brother it certainly got exciting down in the mystery halls of the Tokyo metro.

We felt like bees on mission for a secretly sweet flower. Which floor? Carrying the stroller up and down trying not to bump people and keep track of our little herd. Which direction? Where do we get the tickets, and what do we push to get them out, what do we pay, what type of coins or bills does the machine like and finally when we are safly on, how on earth do we get out the desired direction before the tickets expire. We spent some time down there during our stay and in the end of two weeks we felt pretty good at it.

Kyoto was a fantastic experience. It was a great contrast to Tokyo. One of the only cities not burned during the war it offered the true authentic feeling of what I had dreamt of. The narrow streets with the red lanterns, the bamboo gates, the verdant, dense framing forest, the temples, 17 of them in Kyoto all on UNESCO's list and the silently tripping geishas.

There are pages to be written about the beauty of this country and we got a small taste, enough to linger and bring us back at another time in our life.