The Dust Settles

At that age I never dreamt of a career other than that of an Olympic swimmer. I wanted to be the next Jenny Thompson in the 100 fly. Medaling was less my aspiration; being a part of the Olympic Games was the ultimate goal. But as the years progressed it became quite clear that that vision of success was not to be mine. In the eight years since I stopped swimming competitively I’ve often wondered if my illusions of aquatic grandeur were doomed from the beginning and I was just damn good at fooling myself of my rather average capabilities. I’ve found that it’s pretty f*ing hard being honest with one self about mediocrity, especially when I pursued swimming as a single-minded pursuit all those years.

So there I was today on the Shinkasen bullet train, traveling from Hiroshima to Shimoda, reading Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers: The Story of Success, when a long overdue reality check hit me. Gladwell – in case you’re not familiar with the book – argues that if you want to understand why very successful people got to where they are today, we should spend less tim focusing on their intelligence and ambition and more at “looking around them – at such things such as their family, their birthplace, or even their birthdate.” These elements shape a person’s potential for success in life, and often times more so than their innate gifts.

My point?

Gladwell points out that many of our most talented humans, including Bill Gates and Mozart, were surely gifted intellectually, but what set them apart was practice.

Thus, I began to reflect on my commitment to the pool. Six days, 14 hours/week, 50 weeks/year on average from the age of 12 – 19. That seems like a lot, right? But compare that to some of the other club swimmers I was up against. They were swimming as much as 10 times/week, 25 hours/week. That makes a HUGE difference in a kid’s muscle development and much, much more.

I can’t say how my performances would have faired with nine more hours per week but I’m fairly certain that I would have been better than I was. Practice, in other words, makes perfect – as they say – but the best of the best practice THAT MUCH MORE than the rest of us. And THAT is what makes the difference.

(Image via Swimming World)

We stepped into Shibuya station yesterday afternoon and witnessed the myth and then the reality of the world’s busiest train station. Nearly three million passengers walk through Shibuya’s stalls every day. And by “walk” I really mean jog. Imagine a sea of half-jogging people making there way in a thousand different directions with you at the center of them. You think New York is crowded and crazy – think again because it’s absolutely nothing compared to Shibuya.

I wouldn’t recommend walking into this station without much idea of where you’re going. It’s complete (managed) chaos. Everyone except us knew what they were doing and where they were headed.

Tom’s standing there looking up at the station signage, spinning in a circle wondering which line we should take, while hundreds of Japanese push past him, politely shoving his body out of their way while he’s shouting at me, “Which way should we go??”

“AHH! Let’s just go this way!” I exclaimed. And off we went.

Wow. And people do this every day? Amazing.

A whirlwind.

14 hours of flying, 1.5 hour train ride from the airport to Tokyo and 1 hour spent aimlessly wandering around Shimbashi trying to locate our hotel. Very few of the street signs are bilingual so good luck trying to find your way around the city, especially if you’re without a map.

We made it to the Park Hotel Tokyo but not without a trip up 16 floors of a neighboring hotel to ask where in God’s name we were. You know how it is when you’re lost – later you find out that you were 200 yards from exactly where you needed to be but of course, you took the longest, most complicated route to get there. Yep, that was us. I will say that those whom we’ve had to stop for directions or ask for advice have been nothing but generous with their time and appreciative of the opportunity to tell us a bit more about Tokyo.

The Park Hotel is certainly one of the cooler places I’ve ever stayed. Very minimalistic. Excellent service. We didn’t have much of a chance to take a breather, however, after throwing our bags down on the bed because we broke one of my travel rules – we didn’t take out any Yen at Dulles before departing. Starving and thirsty, we headed back out into the Tokyo night to find an ATM so that we could have a hearty meal before turning in for the evening. Found one we did, but cash, we did not. Both of our cards were labeled “invalid” by three different banks! You should have seen my panic rising…..”Oh man….we’re halfway around the world and have no cash…what are we going to do??”

Befuddled by our predicament, my fiance and I settled for dinner at our hotel (since it goes on our room tab) and a restless night’s sleep wondering what the hell was wrong with our debit cards. I will say that “settled” is totally the wrong word for what turned out to be one of those shockingly amazing meals. Tuna and tempura that certainly tasted fresher and looked better than anything I’ve ever laid eyes on in the states.

Turns out – and yes, this is totally embarrassing – that both of us screwed up the currency conversion and instead of trying to take out what we thought was $300, we were asking for $3,000 – far above our daily withdrawal amounts.

Today’s a new day and I have cash on hand (my fiance still does not….long story) and we’ve had an amazing trek across this bustling, frenetic city. More on that another day, but I’ll leave with saying that Tsukiji Fish Market – the largest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world – was without a doubt, one of the coolest travel experiences of my life. If you come to Japan, you MUST go there.

(Image via LA Times)

How about the 20×16 version of this against the brick wall in our dining room?

Roni, Sara and I watched Father of the Bride last night, curled up on the couch as yet another June rainstorm beat against the window. 

With such a momentous life change around the corner, I’ve taken to not sleeping and staying up, thinking…..and analyzing….and worrying….and relishing memories – all at once.

Who watches this show anymore? I mean, seriously. If anything makes me feel old and dated it’s MTV’s The Real World. And true to form, as much as I love this city, we’re often the last to the party when it comes to what’s cool with respect to entertainment. 17 years later, we’ve finally been “blessed” with our own version of what obnoxious, celebrity-hungry ‘real people’ are like in our nation’s capital. 

Sara and I headed over to Dupont’s FarmFresh Market on Sunday morning to buy some goodies for a hearty Sunday lunch with family. We snagged some delicious Italian sausages, lovely greens (the ones with colorful flowers!) and fresh strawberries.

We were so surprised to spot Jose Andres, the famous chef and propreitor of Cafe Atlantico and Jaleo, standing over an enormous wok making paella for the hungry crowd! 

Yes, MTV’s The Real World is (unfortunately) coming to Dupont Circle, but the “real” Real World DC appears to be NBC’s Inside the White House series. I’ve watched two segments and I’ll admit, I enjoyed them. It was total fluff – Obama at Five Guys, Michelle walking the dog, Rahm Emanuel exclaiming “Don’t bullshit me. I hate you all.” but hey, for a political junkie, I still stayed up until midnight watching those segments online and I had a damn good time doing so.

That doesn’t mean that I haven’t totally enjoyed Jon Stewart’s hilarious take on this reality show-type series. Watch the video.