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.

I came back from my third period class with the sanensei and found myself seated next to fish.

Did I take a wrong turn past the window, somehow go down the stairs and walk a few miles to the nearest supermarket? No, rather, the market had made its way to the teachers’ room. On the floor to the right of my desk were rows of fish shrink-wrapped in plastic and lying in gray plastic boxes. And in true Japanese fashion, the fish were complete with eyes and tails. It wasn’t just fish. There was some squid, and some nori, and some pinkish-yellowish stuff that might be kimchi. Some rounder stuff that might have been mushrooms in a sauce. There was a man standing next to the groceries, he had a table upon which he offered samples of squid and green gummy-looking seaweed on toothpicks.

According to the English teacher to my left, this man comes in a few times a year to sell fish to the teachers. It is not uncommon for businesses to solicit teachers while they are working. We often have men and women dressed in suits approach us at our desks and hand us promotional fliers and catalogs. The first time it happened, I wanted to jump up and shout, “What the fuck are you doing? This is a school! Do you have permission to be here? Get the fuck out of here! I’m working!” But all the other teachers accepted the handouts with a casual “Ah… domo.” So I settled down and tried not to glare at them when they came to my desk. Actually, most of them skip over my desk. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t want to bother with the gaijin or they can sense my anxious hostility.

The entire room has a bit of a fishy smell now.

Since I had pretty much decided I wouldn’t be sleeping that night, I woke up as late as I could, around 9:30. It couldn’t be any later than that because the hostel kicks people out of their rooms at 10.

Not sleeping would be better than completely missing the Osaka nightlife. I had been entirely too excited by the lights of Dotombori and Ebisu and thought it too much of a shame to shut my eyes on the electric city. My friend from Portland had seen an organic store in Osaka, called Crayon House, on the internet and gave me the details for it. I’d drop off my book bag in a locker at Shin Osaka, get brunch at the Crayon House, then head over to the Human Rights Museum. I had to be at the Bunraku Theater by 4, which meant I should leave the museum by 3, since it seemed to take an hour to get anywhere in Osaka (factoring in getting lost time). (more…)

The area around the Osaka Aquarium is called Tempozan, supposedly after the Japan’s smallest mountain. My companion had heard about it on the internet. Curious to see what a “smallest mountain” was, my friend and I searched the area carefully until we found a small park with a mound labeled “Tempozan” in Japanese. It was just a hill. I still can find no explanation for why anyone has ever justified calling this a “mountain” instead of a “hill.” It would have been more impressive if it had been much higher or much smaller. I was expecting something the size of a building or a cute little mound that came about waist high.

After the “mountain” the other girl decided to go home and shelter from the heat. I had to find something else to do. When I had arrived in Osaka the day before with few ideas, I went to the tourist office in Shin Osaka station first. I saw a flyer for unlimited subway and bus riding for either 1 (¥2,000/$17.22) or 2 (¥2,700/$23.25) days. The pass allowed free or discounted passes to many of Osaka’s finest attractions. Obviously, the 2-day pass is a better deal. But there were two major differences between the two passes. The 2-day pass did not cover all of the subway lines and it was only available to tourists, not residents like me. So I got the 1-day pass. Once I discovered that an all day subway ticket cost less than ¥900, I realized I had been ripped off. Especially since I didn’t intend to hit many of the tourist attractions listed. There was a discount coupon for the aquarium, which was nice, but I wasn’t interested in most of the places. There are only so many amazing high places (various Ferris wheels/tourist trap towers) that one can see and still be impressed. Both the Buddhist temple are almost completely reconstructions. There are very few Japanese castles remaining in their original composition. Japanese castles are very flammable. When it was built in 1598, the castle in Osaka had been touted as impregnable. Not too long later, an angry horde stormed and destroyed it. The Osaka castle was rebuilt. Lightning burned a large chunk of it in 1665. More aggressive hordes came by and destroyed it again in 1868. The main tower was rebuilt in 1928 and bombed in 1945. In 1995, the Japanese had decided that Osaka needed another tourist trap and recreated the entire castle. I had already been to one Japanese castle that was fitted with air conditioning, elevators, and cheesy reenactment films. I didn’t need to do that again. (more…)

I arrived in Osaka at 3pm today. I’m staying at the Osaka Shiritsu Nagai Youth Hostel near Shinosaka station. It’s a very well maintained and modern hostel, complete with wireless internet, which I’m using to tell you my stories.

I accepted a suggestion to go check out the HEP FIVE Ferris wheel. It’s a fancy Ferris wheel on top of a 9 story shopping complex. I say fancy because the cars are shiny, red, and air conditioned. Next to this massive commercial building are a couple other very similar buildings, but without the Ferris wheel on top. HEP is a serious shopping endeavor.

After I got to Osaka, I needed a few hours to eat, rehydrate, plan, and relax. I didn’t really get out and about until 6pm. To get to HEP, I took the subway to Umeda Station. I realized I was still hungry, thirsty, and I needed that other sort of drink as well. I went wandering around looking for an exciting bar nestled between the love hotels and hostess bars. I wanted a place that was stylish, intimate, not exorbitantly expensive, and looked like I might be able to get a pescatarian meal. After about an hour, I stumbled across a sign for do with cafe. It looked like it might be all of these and it didn’t have a table or cover charge. Table charges are my pet peeve. You have to pay a fee (about the price of one drink) just to patronize most bars in Japan. And most bars won’t tell you they have a table charge until you’re leaving and your bill is suddenly a lot more expensive than you expected. (more…)

In first grade we had a unit on Japan. We didn’t focus on the history of Japan or anything, but we dabbled in bits of culture.

They had us make shoji screens out of tissue paper and wax paper. They gave us flowers, butterflies, and star shapes cut of out colored tissue paper, which we arranged on pieces of wax paper. Then the teacher ironed two pieces of wax paper together and hung our shoji screens above our desk.

Then they taught us about haikus with the 5-7-5 syllable pattern. We dictated haikus to our teacher who wrote them down for us. When she came to me, I looked above my desk and said:

Pretty shoji screen
Flowers and butterflies, too
Small stars in the sky

I don’t know why I remember that.

They also taught us a song. I don’t remember all of it, but I’ll do my best:

Cherry trees something in the breeze
In the land across the sea.
Pretty goldfish swimming in the water
(I don’t remember this line)
Children laugh and play.
Bamboo gently sways.
“Ah so, konichiwa-
Good day!” in Japan.

Wow. I don’t know whether to be proud or depressed that I remember that much. This is just one little mite bit of the BS they taught me in elementary school.

At the end of the unit, our mothers sewed us “kimonos” out of old bed sheets. We wore them to school and our mothers brought in “traditional Japanese dishes” they had cooked for us to sample. I’m pretty sure most of the mothers just whipped up some good ole fried rice. Japanese. Chinese. Americanized Asian-ish crap. What’s the difference, really? Those people all look the same, after all.

I got home last night from a weeklong road trip with Corey through the surrounding prefectures in Japan. I want to put in a plug for the awesome place called Earth Embassy.

Earth Embassy boasts an organic farm with the tempting and delicious Solar Cafe. It’s located at the base of Mt. Fuji, with a wonderful view of the mountain available from the cabbage patch across the road. If you want a place to stay in the Mt. Fuji area, you can stay in the welcoming guest house. Or, you can pitch a tent in their back yard (they also have tents available for rent). Corey and I did the allnighter hike up Mt. Fuji from the 5th station and then came back to pass out in their yard during the day.

It’s going to take a while to get the dust of Mt. Fuji off my body. I’ve taken a shower already and it’s still coming out of my ears and eyes.

Tanabata, or the star festival, is held on the 7th day of the 7th month of the year. This is the day when two mythological star crossed lovers are permitted to meet each other. For the rest of the year they are separated by the Milky Way.

The festival in Maebashi is little more than some cute decorations made by elementary schoolers and a big excuse for vendors to come and line the streets selling octopus balls, donuts shaped like Anpanman and Doraemon, chocolate covered bananas, and Pokemon balloons. But it attracted a lot of people. Quiet little Maebashi was filled to the brim, elbow-to-elbow people jostling each other. (more…)

Now here’s something you don’t see every day.

Japanese people are much more comfortable with their food than Americans. They like things raw. Raw fish. Raw beef. Raw horse meat. They like things whole. If it has eyes? All the better to stare at you while you bite down on its head with. If it’s alive? Even better. Writhing squid? Yum! Little fish swimming around in your soup? Delicious! (more…)

Thats all?! But I’m still hungry!
You have Japanese class tonight. You don’t have time to cook anything.
Oh wait. Look! There’s Pocky! You don’t have to cook Pocky!
You CANNOT eat Pocky for dinner!
I can and I will! I’m an adult! I can eat whatever I want!

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH