Before I complain too much about school lunch in Japan, let me say that it is at least far more sophisticated and nutritious than school lunch in the USA. Of course, this isn’t really saying much. I’m pretty sure that school lunches are part of the child obesity problem in America. Canned peaches, canned green beans, and lumpy boiled hot dogs. It’s all sugar, salt, and grease.

But now that I’ve added that obligatory stipulation, let the whining begin. I’m a pescatarian. That means I’m vegetarian except that I eat fish. I used to be a strict vegetarian but I started eating fish so that I could attend the occasional social function where food was served in Japan. Even if I thought I weren’t eating chunks of fish, I would probably be eating something fish based.

A nice thing about being mostly vegetarian is that it gives me an excuse to pack my own lunches and pass up school lunch. Even so, my Japanese colleagues at my junior high school (especially that sweet, awkward school secretary) are always trying to be generous and feed me portions of the school lunch that they think don’t have meat in them. I don’t mind the droopy salads or the canned (or sometimes fresh!) fruit so much. But they’re also trying to feed me the soups and noodles with tiny bits of meat, and really horrible dried out fish. I thought I had seen and smelled it all until today when I encountered the vilest of the vile.

As I sat down where I usually sit, at the end of the table next to the sweet, awkward school secretary, I looked down into the bowl at the middle of the table. To my horror, it was filled with fish. Whole fish. Scales, tails, wide eyes, gaping mouths, everything. Fried until the bones get soft and the flesh gets fibrous. My colleagues tend to interpret eye contact or glances at what people are eating as a desire for more food, so I determinedly stared down at my own packed lunch of cold pasta. But the sweet, awkward lady urged me to get some fish anyway. I could just imagine my teeth pushing through the brains, bones, and guts and felt my throat spasm. Ok. I can probably get this over in two bites. Better start with the most repulsive part, the face. Bite. Chew, chew, swallow! No tongue contact!

I made the mistake of looking into my half fish. Apparently it was a female fish filled with tiny yellow eggs. Oh no. Bite, chew, chew… gu… gu… chewchewchewchew… gu.. gulp! The eggs were dry and gummy, sticking to all parts of my mouth including my poor defenseless tongue. The eggs wouldn’t go down without a fight. They had never made it to life, and dammit, they were going to take me down with them.

The only good thing is that they give me a carton of milk, which I can use to flush whatever nauseating bit of flesh they try to make me eat.