By Mark
Hi folks, it's Mark again. You'd think I'd be running out of odd things that happened to me while I was in Japan, but so far the well is still flowing.
As I stated in previous essays, I was staying at a fairly swanky hotel in Tokyo called the Hotel Okura. It is outrageously expensive, and have fittingly expensive food to match.
After paying over a hundred bucks for one meal, I decided 'You know, most Japanese could not afford to eat like this every night. Let's see how they do it.'
I promptly got myself lost in the streets surrounding the hotel, so I decided to keep walking and let things fall where they may. At this time, I had not yet begun to study kanji, so my sign reading skills were limited to hiragana and katakana.
I spied a sign with a word I knew...'Ramen'. I thought to myself, 'Hey, I've had ramen! You know, the little cups of dried noodles from Maru-chan'. Figuring it was a safe bet, I popped in.
The store was full, and everyone turned to stare at me. I was the only gaijin in the place, and I stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of business men. On the right was a long counter with stools, and on the left was a vending machine of some kind.
The proprietor recovered from his shock, and called out 'Irasshai mase'. The other workers echoed this. Once the rest of the customers figured out I was not going to rob the place, they relaxed and ignored me.
I saw a customer put a token up on the counter, and it was quickly collected by the cook. I surmised correctly that the token must have come from the vending machine. Unfortunately it only took coins, so I had to break a bill. When I asked the cook for change in Japanese, his eyebrows almost flew off his forehead.
Now that I had proper change, I looked at the vending machine. I saw a button that said 'ramen' so I fed the proper amount, and got my token (it was blue if I remember correctly). I also saw a button which said 'Sapporo', so I bought myself a beer too. Feeling rather cocky, I sat down at the counter and slapped my token down on the top. The cook collected it without a word.
A few minutes later, the cook came back and mumbled a few words. One problem with speaking a language to a native speaker is, they usually assume you know more than you do. In this case, I had no idea what he had just said, and made it clear that I was in the dark.
He searched his memory for the proper word, then said 'Topping' in English and pointed to a sign above his head. He wanted to know what I wanted on top of my ramen. I looked up. Oh hell! Kanji! I hemmed and hawed, stuttered trying to think of the right thing to say, and finally shrugged and said in English 'Surprise me'.
The cook shrugged and went back to work. I was left to wonder what the hell he would put on ramen to surprise me. He came back with THE BIGGEST BOWL of food I had seen in my entire life. It was at least 12 inches across and about 8 inches deep. It was boiling hot, and smelled wonderful. It was full of noodles, honest to God noodles, not the dehydrated kind I was used to, and on the top were slices of pork. There was a spoon hanging on the side of the bowl.
I dove right in, and promptly burned my mouth. Combine this with the fact the cook had put some togarashi (if I recall the name correctly) on the top, and you had the formula for a weeping, snotty nosed Mark.
For those of you who don't know, togarashi (I really hope I'm getting this right) is a red powdery condiment that is prevalent throughout Japan. It is a spice of some kind, the origins of which I don't know, and it has a good set of teeth on it.
Now, you know how you eat ramen, don't you? You slurp it up....loudly. And when the end of the noodle comes up to your mouth, it snaps around like a whip. So there I am, sucking like a Hoover on a 220 volt circuit, eyes red and watery, nose running in flash flood mode, and spraying myself and my neighbors with ramen juice like a bull terrier shaking a hose.
Needless to say, I was a pretty dubious-looking person. The cook comes up to me and says 'Ano....oishii desu ka?' with his eyebrows working like Mr. Spock. (That means 'Ummmm...is it good?'). I lean back in my chair and give him a huge noodle-filled grin, and proclaim 'Hai, oishii desu yo!'. At this, the cook and all the rest of the customers break into roaring laughter, and one of the other business men buys me another beer. I was the evening entertainment.
I'm sure there is a moral in this story somewhere, but I'll be damned if I can find it. The closest I can come is 'Let your ramen cool before you eat it.'
Email any thoughts to gleep@lvcm.com
