Japan – Japanese Breakfast, Irene Sumo Wrestling, Meiji Shrine, and Tokyo at night

Com’on readers…all three of you. If that headline about me sumo wrestling doesn’t pique your interest to read on, I don’t know what will.

But before I get into that, let me just say, today was an amazing day! First, we ate breakfast in the Japanese restaurant in the hotel. The cuisine offered many delicacies we have never tried before, and each dish we sampled was delicious! The textures, the flavors, and even the dishes in the “unknown” category (as we had no clue what they were), were stellar, and I went back for seconds.

After breakfast, Allan and I went for a quick walk around town. One can’t help but notice how immaculate the streets are…not a gum wrapper or coffee cup to be seen blowing around. The people are friendly, helpful, unassuming, polite, and kind. It’s a pleasure to embrace this beautiful country.

We got back in time to meet up with our group for an orientation meeting with our guide Hiro. (Every morning at these meetings, by the way, he will be taking our temperatures before we embark on the day’s activities.) This morning, Hiro explained what we have to look forward to for the rest of the adventure, went over some safety rules, and reviewed what the protocols will be for the various sites we are scheduled to visit. (There apparently is a “shoe etiquette” procedure that we will follow in order to be respectful when taking off our shoes before we enter someone’s home or before entering a shrine. See photo explanation below.)

After our orientation, we boarded a bus to visit an actual sumo wrestling ring, where wrestling bouts are held. The ring itself isn’t that large and with the size of the wrestlers, (over 300 lbs), it doesn’t give much room to fight. The goal is for each wrestler to use different techniques by either forcing his opponent to step out of the ring, or by making him touch the ground with any body part other than the soles of his feet.

The owner of the restaurant, along with a fellow wrestler, welcomed us when we arrived, and after we were seated, they both began demonstrating what sumo wrestling entails, beginning with the ritual of purification. Sumo has been popular in Japan for over 1,000 years. Young children can be recruited by scouts at the age of 12, but they must continue with their schooling until they are 15, before they can leave school and their familes to live in what is called a stable, a place where sumo wrestlers live and train. There are about 44 stables around Japan today, and each one is managed by a former wrestler who was in the top ranked division before his retirement. As of now, there are over 600 wrestlers living and training in these stables across the country.

The wrestlers explained what a typical day is like for them living in the stable: They wake up before 5 am, brush their teeth, wash their faces and then train from 5 am to 11 am, perfecting the techniques needed for the fight. Afterwards, they practice in the ring for another hour, employing the techniques they have just learned. After this rigorous workout, they cook breakfast together, and then they EACH put away about ten pounds (yes…10 POUNDS) of food, equating to over 10,000 calories. The meal consists of chicken, eggs, rice, tofu, vegetables, and carbohydrates, as they are trying to gain the immense weight needed for the sport. Sadly, this obesity can lead to diabetes, which actually is very prevalent among the wrestlers, as are severe injuries. The wrestlers see a doctor for health checkups four times a year. After eating their first meal of the day, they clean up the dishes and then take a bath together. The top ranked wrestlers go into the bath first to wash off the mud from the sumo wrestling ring, and the lower ranked wrestlers wash and scrub their backs. Then, the lower ranked are allowed to enter the baths, but by then, the bath water is pretty dirty.

After bathing, it’s nap time and then more workouts, and at night, they cook and eat their second and final meal of the day, (they only eat two meals each day) consuming another 10 lbs or more of food.

The majority of the wrestlers never make the top division, where they will be paid to fight in the ring with other top ranking wrestlers from other stables, so that people can pay to come and watch the matches. The ones that don’t make top ranking receive a stipend for spending money, which they receive every other month. While living in the stable, all the wrestlers room and board is included. Their life is training. No dating and no thoughts of marriage or children until they finally retire. The goal for the top rated wrestlers is to maintain their ranking in their division, while the lower ranked try hard every day to obtain it.

Sumo wrestling involves an intricate pushing of bodies and grabbing of each other’s loin cloths to knock the weaker wrestler out of the ring. There are many rules, and many different techniques are employed that have been laid out through the centuries. It really is fascinating.

We were invited to try our luck pushing one of the wrestlers over in a match. No one volunteered at first, so of course, I had to get up and try it. I pretended to start to push one of the wrestlers, but then I pointed over his shoulder and yelled, “Look!! What’s that!” and when he started to look, I immediately started to push. He was surprised and laughed, but guess what – this guy was like a tree and he did not move, even after my trickery to catch him off-guard. It was a lot of fun and soon, after my bravery, some others got up to try their luck, again to no avail.

After the demonstration, we sat down to Chanko, prepared especially for us by the wrestlers. It is a hot pot dish which traditionally is consumed by sumo wrestlers to maintain their competitive physique. This hearty soup typically features a chicken broth base, large quantities of protein, and vegetables such as daikon and bok choy. To increase the calorie intake, wrestlers typically pair this meal with large quantities of rice. The Chanko was delicious and I even had second helpings.

We bid farewell to the wrestlers and then the bus took us to the Meiji Shrine located within a beautiful forest. After walking through the lush greenery, we came upon the gateway to the shrine. We bowed before entering the portals to the shrine and then went over to the shrine itself. Our leader showed us how to climb the steps to the shrine, deeply bow two times, clap our hands twice, fold our hands in prayer, silently tell the deity our name (so the deity knows who we are) and then silently tell our petition. Deeply bow one more time before leaving, and quietly walk away. It was a very touching moment.

We drove back to the hotel as darkness descended upon the city, and went for a walk through the streets of Tokyo with our guide. Tokyo reminds me of midtown Manhattan, all the high-end stores like Prada and Versace with their neon lights illuminating the streets. We even stopped in a high-end fruit store that sells very expensive fruit for gift giving. A cantaloupe went for the equivalent of over $200. “Honey, I bought you a cantaloupe for your birthday this year.” “Oh, sweetheart. How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted? It ranks right up there with the vacuum you bought me last year!” 🤪.

All I’m saying…that cantaloupe better be quite tasty!

We walked to a restaurant for a beer and some snacks, compliments of our guide, and then we ordered another beer, and some skewers of pork and chicken, while we sat and enjoyed talking with the group.

It was a little chilly walking back to the hotel. Tomorrow we have a very busy day, so it’s right to bed.

Breakfast menu
I’m having my second helping of breakfast
Hey, look over there!
That was a tricky ploy you used on me
You’re with that trickster, aren’t you!
Bottoms up!
No more tricking us!!!
Tokyo at night
Expensive cantaloupes
Buddhist temple
Petitions written by people who visit the shrine. These wooden petitions will eventually be burned, and the ashes will waft up to the deity.
The delicious Chanko with rice that we were served for lunch. It is impolite to mix the rice into the soup. It should be consumed separately. Did you know that to praise the chef’s culinary prowess in soup making, loud slurping noises is encouraged?
Wrestling ring which is covered in dirt.
Shoe etiquette. We need to practice this for sure!

Japan- Tokyo

We boarded our flight to Tokyo, and before take off, the pilot told us it would be a bumpy ride and because of headwinds, our arrival would be delayed. We put our seatbelts on but on this United flight, we also had to strap in with shoulder straps, and they came around to make sure we were all safely secured. The plane started to taxi, and we just kept going, and going, and going, and going. I’m thinking if we don’t find the runway soon, we’re going to have to refuel! Finally, after taxiing for about a half hour, we were 3rd in line for takeoff!
It was a fabulous flight. The food on United was excellent, and they fed us often. (Although, disappointingly, they did not have ramen for a snack. They told me that they used to do that, but since covid, things have changed, but they are hoping to offer it again in the near future.) One of the crew was balancing a glass on his head in the galley for the amusement of his fellow crew members, and when he came to ask me what I’d like for dessert I told him I was impressed with his balancing act. He laughed saying, “Oh, you saw that?” I said, “Yes, very impressive during a bumpy ride!” And then he offered me two desserts! 😂

The headwinds added another hour and 17 minutes to the already 13 plus hour flight, and we arrived to what I will refer to as Haneda Airport Hell. It was bedlam, and we had to go through probably 15 queue lines weaving back and forth the length of the huge room, to finally arrive at customs. We were fingerprinted, had our photos taken, and then we finally picked up our luggage and met our driver. We rode to our hotel with two other ladies who are on the trip and we enjoyed sharing our travel stories with each other along the way.

We met our guide Hiro who hugged us warmly, helped us check in, and then gave a mini briefing. Everyday, he will give us a sheet with the day’s itinerary, the weather for the day, what to bring with us, etc. which will be very helpful. Our room is actually larger than I thought it would be and comes replete with tub, shower, and bidet.

Even though we slept fairly well on the plane, the aftermath of the airport fun really did us in. We asked Hiro for places to eat dinner and he told us Hooters was across the street. Say what now? Allan and I actually went to Hooters whenever we would visit South Carolina when we lived down south. That particular one has the best burgers… but other ones we tried, not so much. We really weren’t very hungry, so we just walked around and since I was still craving ramen, we stopped in one place and asked if they served it. The guy emphatically took umbrage and said “No!!!! This is…!!!!!!! (lost in translation), but he did take us outside and explained where we could get ramen, and so we found a small (very small…sat maybe 12 people) and ordered it. Everything was in Japanese and English on the menu along with pictures, so it was easy to find our choice. The ramen was delicious and very satisfying. We ate with chopsticks and soup spoons , savoring each bite.

We walked back to our hotel, Ginza Grand Hotel, and called it a night.
Tomorrow we have to get up early to be at breakfast before 7am as Hiro said the hotel is filled to capacity. There are two breakfast restaurants in the hotel: one for the Western guests and one for the Japanese guests, and Hiro said the western side fills quickly. No problem for me, because I’m looking forward to having congee with pickled veggies on the Japanese side. I’m in Japan…why would I eat a western breakfast that I can have any day of the week, when I can sample Japanese cuisine?

Ramen – our first meal in Japan

Japan

Saturday, we will be off on our long-awaited journey to Japan. The trip was cancelled many times because of Covid, so we are excited that we will finally be able to see this beautiful country. We’re hoping the cherry blossoms will still be in bloom, as they are blossoming a little earlier this year than usual. (Although, seeing the pink and white petals carpeting the lawns will still be a beautiful sight I’m sure.)

There will be 15 folks on this Overseas Adventure Tour, hailing from California, Florida, New Mexico, the state of Washington, and of course, we will be representing Pennsylvania. The itinerary looks amazing – lunching with sumo wrestlers, sushi making with Japanese ladies, learning how to play the taiko drums, visiting the Ashigara Village to learn the customs and traditions of the residents – and that’s just a sampling of what lies ahead.

The flight will be non-stop and take about 14 hours, and we will arrive in Tokyo the next day at about 1:30 in the afternoon. The plan is to go to our hotel, meet our guide Hiro and our fellow travelers, and then take a walk around the area before we find a place for our first Japanese dinner.

We have been in contact with Hiro – we zoomed with him yesterday for the first time – and it was a delightful encounter. He reminded us that we had to complete the questions on Japan Web, to facilitate our entry into the country. Japan Web is a web service that people entering Japan can use for Immigration and Customs procedures in order to enter/return to Japan. Hiro said that having this information available before our arrival will eliminate waiting in customs for over an hour or more. They require proof of at least three vaccinations for Covid that must be shown on photos of our Vax cards, that we uploaded to the site. They also require documentation as to where we would be staying, how long we plan on being in the country, passport info, as well as a myriad of other travel information. Hopefully we filled everything out correctly, so we can breeze through customs.

I’m hoping to post every day, as long as the internet cooperates. Hope you join us for our adventure!

さようなら 
(Sayōnara)

China, and torches, and cannibals…Oh my!

Allan and I will soon be leaving for Japan, and as we prepare for our adventure, it reminded me of another Asian trip we took years ago to China on a Wendy Wu tour, spending a month touring the country and seeing the sights. We had folks from the U.S. on the tour, as well as a few from England and Australia. Our guide, Candy, was excellent, and she spoke English fairly well.

During our orientation meeting after the welcome dinner, Candy laid out the itinerary and told us what we should expect weather-wise as we traversed from one side of China to the other, what the amazing sights we would be visiting were, what the food would be like, etc. She gave us the lowdown on the beds in the hotels (which were like sleeping on cement), and also on the “happy house”, (which were not too happy since they were merely a hole in the ground sans toilet paper).

Everyone was listening very carefully, and when Candy mentioned that some of the happy houses were a bit dark inside, one of the Brits on our tour exclaimed cheerfully, “Oh, no problem. We have our torches with us.”

Well, the look on Candy’s face was priceless. Her eyes opened wide in panic, and she began to shake her head rapidly. “No fire! No allowed! No safe!” she emphatically stated. We all started to laugh and then we reassured her that there’d be no blazing bonfires being started in the happy houses, since most of us knew the Brits were referring to their flashlights.

The next evening, we were chatting over glasses of beer with those same Brits, and one guy mentioned the pastas in their village. I said, “Oh, we love eating pastas. We try all different shapes and sizes. Allan favors the thin pastas, and I love the broad pastas. We eat them quite often!”

When we started talking about eating pastas, our English friends’ faces resembled Candy’s shocked expression when they had mentioned torches.

“What do you mean you eat pastas?” one Brit nervously queried while taking a step backward.

And then another Brit lowered his voice, also taking a step backward, and said in disbelief, “You eat the people who preside over the church services?”

And I swear, they all nonchalantly started looking for the exits.

It took me a minute to comprehend, and then I said, “You mean PASTORS?”

“What? No!” they emphatically said. “PASTAS!”

And then we all laughed.

But I’m sure for a nanosecond before the laughter, the Brits were surmising we might be cannibals. And in that same nanosecond, they were probably regretting the fact that their flashlights weren’t tiki torches, since those flames on a stick could have come in handy to fend us off had we started boiling water in a huge black cauldron and gotten out the salt and pepper.

Play Ball!


Did you ever notice how the catcher suggests to the pitcher what pitch he should throw and the pitcher stands on the mound and shakes his head ‘No’ for maybe three or four times until he finally agrees with the pitch the catcher suggests?

It reminds me of that Seinfeld scene when Kramer pretends to be the MoviePhone recording. Kramer finally out of sheer frustration finally says “Why don’t you just TELL me what movie you want to see!” since he has no idea what buttons the caller is pressing.

Mark my words. One of these days…a catcher is going to go ballistic, throw down his catcher’s mask, storm the mound and grab the bat out of the batter’s hand  shouting

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST TELL ME
WHAT FREAKIN’ PITCH YOU
WANT ME TO THROW!”

Hostess Cupcakes

When I was a kid in elementary school, once a week my grandma would give me a dime, and I would walk down to ‘Al’s’, the corner grocery store, to buy the twin package of Hostess cupcakes.  Al was a big burly guy with curly hair, who stood behind the counter and always said, “Guess you’re here for your cupcakes”, and I would shyly place my dime on the counter, and quickly leave with my treasure tucked safely in my hand.

Some kids when eating their cupcakes would peel the icing with the white squiggle off the top and eat that first, and then they would open the cupcake, scoop out the cream with their finger..and finish up by popping the chocolate cake into their mouths. I never did that. I preferred to take a bite of it all…icing, delicious rich cream center and soft moist cake…savoring each mouthful.

When I say I went to Al’s once a week…I mean EVERY week during the years that I went to P.S. 100.  By the time I entered the sixth grade, I was sure that one day Al would say to me, “You know what kid?  You’ve been buying these Hostess cupcakes for years now.  Today…they’re on me!”

I waited for that day to happen all through that sixth grade year of fractions, ancient Greece and book reports, before moving on to another school to attend junior high, but it never did.

Years later when I had children of my own, I bought a package of Hostess cupcakes to eat, (they were no longer a dime), filled with the anticipation of that little kid. Yikes!!! Hostess obviously changed the recipe, and took out all the wonderful ingredients that clogged arteries but tasted so good, because the cream was cloying, the cake was rubbery, and the icing tasted artificial.  I guess my palate was now a bit too sophisticated for long ago dime-store treats.  Yes, of course, I had aged.

Hostess…even though your cupcakes are probably more heart-healthy now, thanks for the memory of that delicious confection from years ago, enjoyed and anticipated each week by a little kid.

Skiing in Really Cute Outfits

I was in the doctor’s office the other day, reading Glamour Magazine and I came across an article entitled “Hey…It’s OK To Try A Sport Just For the Cute Gear!”

WOW! I totally agree…and I actually put it into practice many years ago when we would take the boys skiing at Big Boulder, a ski resort in Pennsylvania. We would go up for almost a week with the O’Connor clan and some of the families from Floral Park, and stay in a beautiful lodge and the kids would ski from morn till night.

The first year we went, we bought the boys and ourselves the required “ski paraphernalia” of which, trust me, there is quite an array. You need your ski pants, ski jacket, ski mask, ski hat, ski goggles, ski boots, ski gloves, and Chapstick. We took the family to a discount ski shop out on Long Island to procure everything. I wound up buying a lovely teal blue ski jacket with matching hat, earmuffs and gloves and finished the look with black ski pants. I really looked adorable!

Ski slopes are very slippery, as I quickly came to surmise, with skiers swooshing by every second. I needed an instructor…someone who could show me how to get my ski boots clamped to the skis and how to get down a summit without breaking a leg.

The mentor was very nice (although after working with me, I suspect he packed up his poles the next day, moved to Hawaii, and began teaching Surf Boarding 101!) After much struggling, my skis were finally on the bottom of my feet and I found my gloved fingers hanging on for dear life to a tow rope, which was dragging me to the top of this enormously large, treacherously slippery, dauntingly steep precipice, known as…The Bunny Slope. It isn’t easy holding on to a rope while you are carrying huge poles in either hand, your goggles are fogging up and your feet are taking on a life of their own as they vee out while you ascend to the top.

The instructor positioned me at the top of the slope, straightened my skis so they were both going in a downward direction and gave me a tiny push. I had ear muffs on, but still, I thought I heard him snicker “Rots of Ruck” as I started my descent, but I could be wrong.

Wow…look at me. I’m swooshing down the slope with everyone else. Okay, everyone else is yelling “Get out of the waaaaay” as they whoosh past me, but I’m still upright and doing rather well…when suddenly I start to accelerate…and now I’M screaming “Get out of the waaaaay” as I am now literally barreling down the slope. My instructor was there to greet me at the bottom. Okay, he had to leap out of the way as I whizzed past him, but still…

He strolls over to me, takes my ski poles away and says “Now I want you to go down without the poles”. WHAT??? This guy has got to be kidding and I’m beginning to suspect it’s not Evian water in that bottle he keeps slurping. I can barely stand with the skis on…no less actually ski with them. The poles are my lifeline…what I need to keep me in the upright position…what I find useful to plunge into the snow when I am accelerating at an alarmingly fast rate….what I fantasize I could use to skewer my instructor to a snow bank if he keeps making outlandish suggestions. But alas, take away my poles he did, and I found myself clinging to the tow rope once again. I’m back on the mountain, making my descent sans poles when…uh oh.. I realize that falling is imminent. I decide that I’m not going to make a fool of myself…sprawling like a beached whale with skis askew in midair and my head stuck in the snow…so I gently tumble backwards, sit on my tuckus, carefully unsnap my skis from my boots and proceed to sashay down the rest of the slope.

The instructor greets me once again at the bottom, grateful that he didn’t have to dive out of my way this time, and says “You need to go down once more before I can promote you to the big mountain.” I glanced over to that mountain in the distance as it stood proudly like Mt. Everest with a ski lift at its side that ferried happy skiers to and fro. Given my fear of height, discovering myself perched in a ski chair that hovered several hundred feet in mid air was probably not ever going to happen. My instructor broke my reverie and said “Meet me at seven pm, after dinner on the Bunny Slope for the last run. ” I said “Absolutely. I’ll be there. This is so much fun. You can count on me. See you then. Can’t wait!!”  I walked off, handed my skis and poles to Allan and said “My skiing days are over. Turn in everything…stick the fork in…I’m done!!!

And so for the rest of that vacation (and subsequent ones after that), I passed the time sauntering around the ski lodge, lounging in front of the roaring fire and sipping hot cocoa in my really cute teal blue ski outfit. According to Glamour magazine, I was on the cutting edge even way back then.

The Voices in My Head

Every woman has her skinny jeans. We pull them from the recesses of our closets, suck in our tummies to tug them on and then, if Jupiter has aligned with Mars, we punch our fists in the air and scream “Yes, they still fit!”

I made a ton of desserts around the holidays, and except for the ones I served to family and friends, I consumed a vast number.  Will my skinny jeans be relegated back to the recesses of my closet?

I still have some of the cookies frozen, and every time I open the freezer drawer, a little voice in my head I like to call “Thinner” would caution me “Don’t pop that rum ball into your mouth. You’ll be wearing it on your thighs for the next 5 months”. But “Winner” her nemesis would rationally say “You only make these at Christmas.  Enjoy!! ” Suffice it to say, “Winner” always won.  I mean seriously, they’re rum balls!!!!

I’ve been exercising as of late with wonderful classes given by a resident of our community via Zoom.  “Thinner” is ecstatic. “You won’t be having to closet your skinny jeans after all,” she chirped.

I attended Tuesday’s class, but unfortunately “Winner” triumphed on Thursday. The day dawned cloudy and chilly and she murmured in my ear “So many things to do. Pour yourself another cup of coffee and do the crossword puzzle instead.” And I did. And I surrendered to her the next few mornings the class was offered as well.

Some would say hoping to continue to wear my skinny jeans is the least of my problems. Hearing voices in my head probably should take precedent. Fortunately, I’m told, straight jackets come in One Size Fits All.

Antarctica ~ Home Again

Please scroll down to find the beginning of the trip.

We left our beautiful cruise ship early in the morning, and boarded a bus to take us to the airport for our flight to Buenos Aires. Our carry-on luggage was stowed in the lower part of the bus, we found our seats, buckled up, and relaxed. And then…we all had to get off. They inadvertently put us on the wrong bus. So we got our luggage back and walked over to another bus. Our carry-on luggage was stowed in the lower part of the new bus, we found our seats, buckled up, and relaxed. Until…the agent called Allan’s and my names, along with another lady’s, and said that we were again on the wrong bus.

We boarded a third bus, our carry-on luggage was stowed in the lower part of the bus, we found our seats, buckled up, and tentatively relaxed, and finally…no more playing musical buses; we arrived at the Ushuaia airport. However, once there, we were told that because many flights were delayed coming into Buenos Aires, our flight going from Buenos Aires to Santiago, might not happen, since there might not be enough planes. Yikes…if that happened, we’d miss all our connecting flights.

Buenos Aires was featuring 90+ degree weather, and we had to walk outside in the blazing heat, dragging our luggage, from one terminal to the next. We staggered into the departure terminal, sweat running down our necks, and were assigned a Viking agent to help us find a flight that we could take, since our original flight was no longer available. The agent was on the phone with Viking for quite some time, and we were melting from the heat. The airport wasn’t air conditioned very well.

Suddenly…the agent got excited and said, “I found a flight leaving actually NOW! Take the stairs, go through security, and make that flight!” We flew up two flights of stairs, dragging our carry-on and knapsacks, only to be asked by the security agent after she checked our passports…”Where are your boarding passes?” We said we don’t have them. Even though we are quite cute and often engage in scintillating conversation, she of course would not let us through…but suddenly, another agent who had hiked up the stairs after us, waved our boarding passes in the air and passed them over to us. They had printed boarding passes immediately for us when they knew we’d make the flight.

We ran to the plane, because they were holding it for us, but the folks who had already boarded, were not happy campers waiting for us to arrive. It was terribly hot on the tarmac, and they just wanted to get in the air. They didn’t think we were cute, and they weren’t in the mood for scintillating conversation.

We arrived in Santiago and then had to find our flight to Atlanta. All was going well, until we went again through security. We had to put our thumb on the pad for the fingerprint recognition. I think the agent thought I was affiliated with the mafia and had my fingerprints removed at some point, because my fingerprint would not process. She held my thumb down, she rubbed alcohol on it, she tried another finger, she tried my other hand, and it just didn’t work. I tried some scintillating conversation, but she didn’t buy it. (Note: Most security agents are NOT in the mood for frivolity.) She sent us to another agent and that agent had the same trouble, but finally…my thumbprint showed up and we were allowed on the plane.

The rest of the journey went well, and we are now back home safe and sound.

I know you all have been waiting for the answers to the questions I posed before we embarked on our journey, so here they are:

  1. The Drake Passage was not the lake, but it wasn’t the shake either.
  2. My seasickness patch worked great!
  3. We saw the green buttons in the submarine, but the pilot neglected to mention anything about them. Fortunately, he did not lose consciousness during the dive.
  4. I never lost my phone or camera in the water, so I don’t know if they would have kept afloat.
  5. From the smell and from everything we saw on the ground, I’d say penguins poop probably every minute. LOL!
  6. Capilene long johns keep you toasty warm.
  7. No one mentioned any vineyards, and we didn’t see any, but we had enough wine on the ship to make up for not visiting an Antarctic winery.
  8. The Drake was about the same going as coming back.
  9. The rocks at one shore were extremely slippery, but my orthopedist will not have to perform any heroic measures on me, as I made it to shore without breaking my hip.
  10. The answer to “is wombat poop really square” will have to be answered on a voyage to a different continent.

I hope you all enjoyed my journey. Please keep checking into the blog, as I will be posting in Pookie’s Posts…With a Touch of Humor as often as I can, and I will be posting in late March in Irene and Allan’s Travel Adventures when we journey to Japan.

See ya!

Ushuaia
Our Voyage