Adventures in Japan

Of Castles and Callouses

It never hits me that we’re in Japan until we leave our hotel every morning. The small, small room I wake up in doesn’t seem that odd. The bathroom, or water closet, isn’t all that off-putting. The strange Japanese television shows, man I watched those back at home. The Japanese people at the front desk - whatever. But when we step out the front door (mind the ramp) our senses are assaulted. Japanese lanterns with Japanese writing hanging in front of rows of Japanese restaurants as far as the eye can see. Neon lights. A Japanese cover of House of the Rising Sun blaring from somewhere. It’s a trip, man.
Also, Ichiro is everywhere. Everyday. All day. It seems Japan is pretty proud of the guy.
There are so many side streets and alleys around where we live, we never walk the same way twice, which helps in the finding of new places to eat. This morning we found a noodle shop. We could read “Udon” and “Soba”, two types of noodles, on the outside of the shop. We had been craving udon, so we looked a little closer. There were many different types of udon and soba to choose from. Carla chose tempura udon, cuz she likes tempura. I chose stamina udon (Soo-ta-me-na) because I had no idea what it meant. As it turns out, stamina means “add a raw egg”. Interesting. I do these things for you, my adoring public, so you don't have to. The noodles are served in very hot broth, so the egg cooked a little, so it wasn't that bad.
After noodles, it was back to Osaka-jo (castle). This time we actually went in. But before we went in, we had some takoyaki (like a yucky taco, but with more yaks).
Takoyaki is a local delicacy, a ball of batter, with a gooey, smooth, yet chunky chewy octopus centre. Also, very hot. They made Carla's eye's water. The castle itself doesn’t seem that much like a castle from the inside, more like any other museum you've ever been in. With half the plaques unreadable. Still, informative and such. And a nice view from the top.
After the castle, we went to a party, a Japanese English party. The working holiday office where we signed up, just yesterday, had a party tonight. It started out a little lame, with the Japanese on one side of the room and the non-Japanese on t'other. But the mingling started and we met all kinds of nice people, both Japanese and non. Lots of Australians. Of course, I forget most everybody's names. Cuz I suck. There were nummy Japanese snacks: chocolate filled mini cookies and tiny chocolate pastries. Very good. Plus some other snack that tasted like fish. Not so good. One of the girls I met was a jazz pianist, who has been on television here. She wants to go to Canada to study English and attend the Montreal Jazz Festival.
There was a French guy there. He seemed nice enough, but then he needed to get past me; he brushed past me, turned to me and said, “You should play more sports, non?” Stupid french.
We played a game, much like Rock, Paper, Scissors only more Japanese. Meaning faster and cuter. And in Japanese. After the “official” party at the working holiday offices, we all walked down the street and continued to party in a restaurant. There was a lot of drinking and eating and talking. We tried all sorts of new things. Like tako-wasabi (octopus wasabi), all the hotness of wasabi, but with way more chewing. I quite liked. We tried tsukemono, Japanese pickles. Not as good as moms. But mom? Try pickling radishes. Delicious! I forget the name of it, but we tried pickled seaweed soup. Not as bad as it sounds. Oh yeah: served cold. We also had sausages, with fries; exactly the same as sausages and fries. Plus gyoza and okonomiyaki, which we've had before. Very, very, very good. Plus we got to talk to people in a more casual setting. Ben, one of the Australians, offered to get us drunk. Because, you see, our money doesn't want to be taken out.
The urinals here are too short for me. I have to squat a little to get to the right height. A Japanese man who I had spoken to earlier was at the urinal next to me as I made this realization. He turned to me and said, “For me? Just right.” Then he laughed.
We went to a nearby park after the meal and drank even more. True to his word, Ben the Ozzie bought us some beers. Well, one beer, one reasonably hand-drawn beer facsimile. We sat and stood around until after the last train had left the station we were blocks away from. So we walked back to our hotel. My feet really, really hurt.