eating out

Eating in Japan means eating pork or fish. Despite what we all might imagine about vegetable sushi or soy based foods, these are only available in the extreme periphery of this culture. Noodle bowls, which are excellent, are without exception pork based, and delicious. We haven’t been pointed and laughed at since our first night here, when I tried in vain to avoid pork by ordering Vegetable Gyoza (minced pork and garlic), but ordering has not become any easier. A waiter will often greet us with a big wave and “Hi, how you doing?” but can go no further. One restaurant even had prices written in Japanese, undecipherably to us. Asking for two of something almost never works, even when using what I imagine is one of the words for a pair, futatsu. This must not be the right thing to say. Perhaps we are asking for a duet, or ensemble, or team of drinks.

Near the train station across the street is a line of noodle-mostly restaurants that are sort of down a few steps from street level and on some sort of boardwalk. We’ve found a favorite one of these that has Miso Ramen noodles (pork included), semi-spicy or super-spicy noodles. There are about 30 other variations of these that I’m not at all interested in. These cost 800, 900 or 1000 yen, which is deposited in a machine outside the door in exchange for a ticket that you hand to a counter attendant.

The retail experience in general remains a mystery. There are a familiar group of syllables I hear when approaching a counter, which must amount to hello. These seldom vary based on time of day, gender or size of party. I think they address everyone individually as sir, and I haven’t heard what people say in response.