It’s been three months since I visited Japan and I still think about it every day. It’s the little things that I remember - the conversations or the meals or the sensations that I don’t necessarily have preserved with photographs.

I remember our first morning in Japan, eating at a cafe that we noticed the night before while searching for the hostel, and how the sunlight poured through the windows and onto my waffles, surely making them taste better. The coffee was rich and strong, too.

I remember the night we stumbled into an Irish pub, exhausted after bicycling all over Kyoto, and laughing together over the inauthentic menu. It felt so relieving to sit and I could have fallen asleep in the dimly lit booth.

And I remember the ten short minutes that Eric and I spent in a small cafe in Osaka that reminded me of the Nighthawks painting by Edward Hopper and sincerely feeling like I belonged in Japan, proud of how well we had traveled together in a foreign country. I couldn’t believe how easy it was.

We walked a lot in Japan and I had blisters on my feet by the time we left, but I needed the exercise and after the first two days, I became accustomed to it.

I didn’t realize how little time I spend outside until I returned home from Japan. In Japan, we were outside most of the day, walking from one place to another. The fresh air and the warm sunlight made me feel alive and energetic. I realize how important that is to me now; I feel lazy and lethargic sitting in front of a computer in an air-conditioned office all day.

We also spent a lot of time on trains in Japan. There wasn’t much worth photographing on the trains, but I will always remember the way the electric lines would dip between each pole as we passed them, almost in rhythm with the repetitive sound of the wheels on the train rolling over the tracks.

I remember smiling to other Japanese tourists at a temple in Kyoto and responding with “Konnichiwa!” when they cheerily greeted me as we passed on the trail. I hope I return to Japan soon.

Growing up, I had lots of pets. There was Rosebud, the rabbit that I won in a coloring contest; Chexee, my first hamster named after my favorite cereal; Doobie Rodriguez, my second hamster that we found years later mummified in the chimney; Emily, the tortoise shell cat that didn’t have much personality; Alley, the cat that got in a fight with a turtle and lost half of her ear to prove it; and Sunshine, the cockatiel that I sold to a friend’s mom because it was too messy.

I didn’t have these pets all at the same time. There were petless gaps between pets when I would beg and cry for a new pet, but my parents refused. That’s what made it so thrilling when I brought home a kitten while living at home during my last year at college without telling my parents. I was counting on the kitten being too cute for my mom to be mad. It worked.

Saba was pure crazy as a kitten. He would burrow under the covers with me and attack my legs and he would chase plastic grapes from my mom’s wine rack all over the house. He has calmed down a lot in the past three years, probably because I got a new kitten last year that is even more full of crazy than he is and she wears him out. He has also become noticeably more lovable and will greet me at the door every evening when I arrive at home.

He will contentedly sit in my lap when I watch movies, rest his head on my arm when I’m playing video games, and lay on my chest when I’m reading in bed. He gets in the way, but I love it.

When I became ill at math camp and missed the field trip to Ocean City, you promised that you would take me there next summer. A year later, you graduated from college and moved to Australia. I never saw you again, but I still believe that your offer was sincere.

When our seventh grade science teacher was choosing one student to attend a weekend camp at the Chesapeake Bay, I won the coin toss. I felt guilty that I was chosen when you wanted to be a marine biologist, but you hid your disappointment well and we were still friends.

I am a participant in x365.

My dad drove our family to DelFest in his motorhome on the Memorial Day weekend. We were on the road for five hours. My sister and I played with Photo Booth on my MacBook for at least half of the journey.

I didn’t know many of the bands performing at this bluegrass festival and the few I had heard of - Sam Bush, David Grisman, Chris Thile - I’d seen at other festivals a dozen times. I went to DelFest not necessarily for the music, but for a weekend in the mountains with my family.

The festival was held at the Allegany County Fairgrounds in Cumberland, Maryland. It was on the Potomac River.

I love bluegrass festivals. I love the colors and the sounds and the people.

We camped next to a man who owned an old school bus that had been “renovated” into an RV. Its license plate was accurately “FUBAR”.

He hung hammocks inside for extra sleeping space.

For the first annual DelFest, I was impressed with the number of attendees.

My mom snuck backstage twice and met some of the performers. This is my mom with Sam Bush. Sam Bush was my favorite performer at this festival.

But my favorite part of the festival - more than listening to the live music - was exploring the fairgrounds with Eric, the faint sound of bluegrass music in the background and the backdrop of mountains in the foreground.

My DelFest 2008 Flickr set is here.