another day, another adventure...

this story starts on a wednesday night. got a call from these two dialysis equipment salesmen. no, really. i met them a while back while i was dining on yakitori solo. they call me up every now and then when they are in town. they’d finished dinner by the time i got off work, as i teach night classes on wednesdays, so we headed out for some karaoke, followed by food, followed by darts. it was quite a late evening but no worries because the following day was a national holiday, culture day. [it’s really nice to have holidays for reasons other than religious observances.] it’s the season of culture festivals, with many schools organizing special events, so we met up at one of liz’s schools for a dose of culture. it was a lot of fun; silly games like bowling and ping pong with kitchen utensils as paddles. we ate cheap food, reveled with the students, watched some bands. after liz’s concert performance, we headed back into town for some yaki niku at our favorite spot conveniently located opposite my apartment. we then bought beers and hopped a train into arai, a neighboring town about 20 minutes away where liz and carrie teach. we had vaguely heard about some sort of festival going on near main street, so we made our way, following the people, noise and smell of fried food. we were slightly disappointed when we found out it was a children’s festival, with few adults and even fewer beer vendors [0 to be exact]. liz’s and carrie’s students were out in force though and it’s always interesting to meet and interact with the kids they have to teach everyday.

what's up with my 24 chins in that picture?
the rows of food kiosks [fried chicken, yaki soba, crepes, baked potatoes] lead to a temple. we cautiously climbed the oversized stairs to peer in. a couple of old men were warming up by a hibachi inside and they urged us to take a closer look. we knelt in front of the main room where a statue was surrounded by gaudy gold and red decorations, candles, sweets, fruits and other random, garish things. we discussed the merits of some points of buddhism before agreeing it was time for a beer. as we were exiting the temple, one of the grandpas spoke to us, a timid statement meant to test the limits of our japanese ability, as he slid a tray across the tatami mat to us. it held three cups and the makings for coffee. we graciously accepted as we kneeled in the seza position and bowed deeply. they were really interested in talking about america, the temple, our boyfriends, or lack thereof… it didn’t take long to for us to start liking them. in japan, religion doesn’t limit your life in the way it does in many western countries. we learned the men were warming nihon shu, sake, in a kettle on the hibachi in the temple.

it’s worth noting that monks in japan are allowed many liberties others around the world are not, like marriage, sex, meat and alcohol, depending on the sect to which they belong. we chatted over two cups of joe before taking pictures with them and excusing ourselves.

the streets were nearly deserted by then and we decided to hit a local sushi bar for beers before catching the train home. it’s a family run establishment, with the hot son [married with children unfortunately] running the bar, the mother and father cooking furiously and an aunt loitering, possibly waiting tables. we told them we were full post-yaki-niku but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, plying us with rounds of treats. a martini glass with plump ikura fish eggs topped with roasted garlic slices. i attempted a few bites before using my fullness as an excuse for not finishing the delicacy. it’s one of the few japanese foods that elicits a gag reflex in me. next was a Japanese mikan, like an orange.

then a beautifully presented plate; a chunk of seasoned, grilled salmon topped with a slice of fig, perhaps grilled or pan fried. resting on that was a skewer of ginko nuts and a quail egg. the whole stack was in a puddle of delicate pumpkin sauce, slightly sweet with a nutmeg-y hint, decorated with thin slices of cucumber and tomato. in trying to discern what the fruit on the fish actually was, the chef also gave me a fig. then out came father with vanilla popsicles. i was sad to see the clock near 11 pm, which meant time to head to the train station. they refused to let us walk, and the dad pulled up at the front door to chauffeur us. what a fabulous day full of bizarrely wonderful sights, sounds and tastes. it seems carrie, liz and i always seem to have a really great time together, whether we have an action-packed evening or are simply relaxing and chatting. i’m lucky to have friends that are into the same kind of excitement and trouble as me.