Different Language, Same World

If ever you find yourself mired in the tangles of navigating a foreign country, I highly recommend visiting an elementary school. To be honest, the past few days have been a little tricky. I have been bogged down with work and an annoyingly persistent stomach flu (which I thankfully managed to quash with copious amounts of raw ginger, spicy dried squid, and kimchi). Sickness abroad is undoubtedly one of the worst parts of study abroad-- if you want to feel lonely, contract a stomach flu on the night your friends finally decide to go the ramen bar infamous for porn on the walls, Christmas lights, and free drinks for Americans. Yes, I've been feeling a little sorry for myself. However, a trip to a local elementary school changed my mood pretty quickly.

Stepping into a gym full of Japanese children, I finally started to feel at ease again. (I'm in a constant state of ease-to-unease here-- restaurants kill my confidence, while train stations do it justice). Even though the third grade students were chattering (quickly!) in a language I can't claim to understand, I felt very much at home. Perhaps this is because, despite the musical zigzags of third-grade Japanese, I had an instantaneous connection with the students of the elementary school.

Let me explain. In Japan, I am very much a child. Everything is new. Everything is exciting. Everything is strange. Everything is much, much, much more complicated than it should be. I think the students recognized this. As soon as I stepped into the gym, which was packed with a hundred students, a group of children snatched my hand and began to carefully detail the days activities. When I seemed confused, they would pat me on the arm and, with the earnestness of tiny obaasans and ojiisans, reiterate the day's goals. Moreover, the students realized that everything, even tiny details, were new to me. Unlike many adults in this country, the children explained the minutia of life (like the classroom goldfish and the importance of totoro stamps on well-done homework). Finally, they were absolutely obsessed with my nose piercing and long, curly hair. (I took out all of my earrings to show them the "body holes" the piercings had made. They were satisfied, if a little repulsed.) Needless to say, we got along very well. Children are children, regardless of geography, creed, race, culture etc. etc. etc. The are innocently objective-- questioning and appraising life with a sincerity many adults lack. In the future, I hope to tap into this objectivity more frequently.
Also-- at the end of the day, I was handed a large bag filled with origami made by the students. Very special.

On the subject of childishness... I have become very appreciative of the Jizo statues that dot the countryside and streetways. Jizo protects children-- especially those who have died before their parents (miscarriages, abortions, and early deaths). Living in a foreign country, away from my family and loved ones, I sometimes can't help but feel a little like a lost child wandering aimlessly. In many ways, Japan has helped me grow incredibly independent. However, it has also helped me rediscover the childish wonder I had perhaps abandoned in my college-student cynicism. I wobble through this place, amazed by everything and confused by even more. I can't help but feel that the deity's benevolence extends to me in my tottering and clumsy exploration of this magnificent country.

Pictures...

Yakizakana

Perhaps unsurprisingly, since coming to Japan, my passion for cooking and food has blossomed into an obsession. It is so easy to cook delicious food here. Unlike many of my dorm mates, who smartly frequent the local noodle shops (cheap, quick, and a good way to speedily practice Japanese), I tend to take the long way around. This involves farmer's markets, specialty shops on castle road, and, if time is really pressing, a sojourn the the local grocery store. I've learned how to make a few simple things easily. These include really good rice bowls, pickles, miso soup, dressed spinach, oden stew, kabocha dumplings, and all manners of things to do with natto. However, out of all of my food staples, my favorite it easily yakizakana.

Yakizakana is daunting. It is oily, bony, and more than a little smelly. Also, many Americans really prefer it when their dinner isn't looking up at them. However, the price of fish in Japan has lead me to my new love. Yakizakana: whole fish grilled in a teriyaki sauce. The whole meal costs me about $5-- $10 if I want to get really fancy with vegetables and sides. Here is my quick recipe and some pictures. Seriously, if you have access to whole fish and a grill, you cannot miss this dish. Fish skin is my new favorite animal part. Crunchy, oily, salty, and sweet. What more could you ask for in a food item? I've determined there simply is no more need for bacon.

One word of caution: Don't invite people into your room when you're eating it. I haven't yet mastered how to properly eat a whole fish, so I'm still a little clumsy with removing the spine and ribcage.

Yakizakana
I recommend trying to find whole sanma, though I'm not sure if they're available in the US.

1 Gut and clean your fish (if this hasn't been done already.) Rinse the fish in cod running water and then dab it dry with a paper towel. If in a lemony mood, carefully place thinly cut lemon slices in the belly cavity. I generally think this is unnecessary if the fish is good and fresh.
2 Grate ginger and reserve the juice. (I use a quarter cup, but I love ginger.)
3 Mix the ginger juice, some soy sauce, and mirin in a bowl. You need enough to lightly brugh each side of the fish with sauce.
4 Brush the fish with sauce and then sprinkle each side with 1/4 t of salt. Lay the salt on a little thicker on the tail, eyes, and fins.
5 Grill your fish! I use an inside, stove-top grill (see pictures), but I suppose an outside grill would work well too. Just be careful of burning, as smaller, leaner fish dry out quickly. You want the skin to be golden brown on both sides, which is about 5 minutes per side in my oven. (Personally... I like them a little charred, so I go longer...)
6 Serve with grated daikon, ginger, mountain yam, and carrot. Can be served with things like steamed rice, boiled spinach, or miso soup.

Enjoy!


As you can tell, I like my fish a little on the charred side... mmmm carcinogens.

Nekochan!

In this region of Japan, cats are almost as ubiquitous as tanuki. (Almost, but not quite. I don't think anything is as ubiquitous as tanuki. Due to all the well-endowed raccoon-dog statues, I now really, really want to watch Ponpoko.) Since Hikone seems to have different restaurant standards than Maine, it is not uncommon to see a kitty or three lounging around a bar. Books shops and pawn shops seem incomplete without some sort of feline slinking around the register. Indeed, my favorite part of the numerous omiyage stores are the cat clerks that will brush up against you as you browse through pickles. There are even temples that hordes of cats call home.

More interestingly, the cats I have encountered are amazingly relaxed. Nothing seems to rile them. As an example, as I was riding home from a farmer's market, I almost hit an animal that was lazing in the middle of a well-traveled sidewalk. I screamed "Nekochan!!!" (out of habit-- that's just how people seem to address them here) and (noisily) screeched my community bike to a halt. Fearing I may have shocked the sleeping creature, I peered down. I was a little worried it may have already been dead (cat lover that I am, this would, of course, have been traumatic). No, the little bastard was just insufferably lazy. I cleared my throat, hoping my feline roadblock would stir. The cat, a fat tabby, slowly blinked at me. It then gazed at the bike inches from its belly. Deciding I wasn't really threatening enough to garner any attention, the cat went back to sleep. Feeling a little like Mohammad and the tabby cat, I carefully inched my bike onto the busy street and road with traffic for a few minutes. As soon as I re-entered the next sidewalk, the same thing happened. Different cat, same reaction.

As strange as this sounds, I really love that the cats are indifferent to me. In Japan, especially in Hikone, I am very much an Outsider with a capital 'O.' I look, act, and think differently. Moreover, in a country that celebrates the written word, I have the literacy of a middle school student. Consequently, I am often the target of "jirojiro"-- an onomatopoeia for "scrutinizing stares." (Jirojiromiru is the verb, for those interested.) Cats, as in any country, are totally indifferent, if tolerant, of my existence. This probably sounds absolutely bizarre, but you latch on to strange things in strange lands.

Anyways, some cats from the Kansai region. More to come when I visit the infamous cat temple...

Nishiki Market

I have seen the face of God. He is a hungry God, and he is a happy God. In other words, I have been to Kyoto's Nishiki Market. Nishiki Market is about a 1/2 mile stretch (my measurements could be off) of stalls selling traditional Japanese foods. Moreover, most of the foods are Kyoto specialities.
Nishiki market feels like a cross between a farmer's market and a festival. As you stroll down the narrow path (all housed in the Terumachi shopping district), you submerge yourself in the scents, sights, and sounds of food. The mellow acidity of really good miso. The crackle of new takoyaki. The jewel-tone shimmer of layers and layers of fresh caught fish. The splash of an eel, wrested expertly from his tub by the unagi salesman. Baskets of konpeito. The ubiquitous call of "Irasshaimase!" Most amazingly, while Nishiki market was crammed with people and wriggling with the bustle of food, I never felt rushed nor badgered. Shopmakers proudly explained their products, even when they busily were scrambling to help another customer. Everyone, artisans and customer alike, seemed content to appreciate food for food's sake.

Of course, as with any really good market, samples are usually within an arm's reach. The samples are not just for the uninitiated. On several occasions I witnessed elderly women, clutching 70 lb bags stuffed with produce, arguing about the alleged quality of an item. Needless to say, I sampled well. I was especially taken by the pickle stands.

Japan is of course home to beautiful food. However, I tend to think people focus too much of wagashi (sweets) and seafood items. The real beauty is in the humble pickle. Vinegar, seasoning, and a pickling method are really all that are needed to go into pickle making. However, the Japanese have perfected this procedure without over-complicating it. Thus, you get walls and walls of cruncy, chewy, soft, pungent, fragrant, delicate, and hearty pickles. Daikon, cabbage, eggplant, melon, cucumber, mung bean-- you name it, they've pickled it.

At the end of the day, I ended up buying some manju and two types of pickles. The manju was delicious, as is to be expected. Stuffed gently with red bean paste, it was gooey, buttery, and satisfying. However, it was not quite as masterful as the pickles. The first pickles I purchased were radish pickles-- they're light and crispy, with just a little bitter spiciness. I'm almost through the bag, as they're really delicious served alongside congee. After purchasing these pickles, I walked away from the store, ready to head home. However, i ended up returning in order to purchase the pickled cucumber. This is not a regular pickled cucumber. Instead, it is pickled in homemade miso paste and homebrewed sake. The result is a rich and complicated product that begs to be devoured (not too quickly though-- the sake is potent.

Enjoy the pictures. I will sorely miss Japanese markets when I return to the US.

To Tokoroten or not to Tokoroten...

'Tokoroten' is a snack that consists of thin jelly strips. It is eaten cold with a watery vinegar dressing. I'm not really sure how I feel about it yet... it's pretty healthy and, in this heat, a refreshing snack (and appetite suppressor, I think). However, the vinegar is a little off-putting, but it's super fun to eat. Hmm... I'm totally undecided on this one. (Which is a bad thing, because I bought six packs of tokoroten because it's really cheap and a good alternative to the fried snacks that always seem to be lingering outsider me doorway.)

Tokoroten...



It looks a little like worms...


And the vinegar tastes a little grassy...


But it's so fun to eat!


Hmmm... undecided, especially given my stomach ache from slurping it too fast.

Impromptu Discoveries

Travel is all about spontaneous sojourns that allow you to move yourself outside of your comfort zone. So, after my last class of the day, I mounted my bike, armed only with my camera, some cash, and a hastily drawn map of the surrounding area. I decided I wanted to go adventuring-- by myself-- outside of the small loop we've been doing for the last few days. I'm very glad I glad I did.

Japanese Sea Glass:
Being from Maine, I tend to both idolize and take for granted the strange trash-to-treasure jewel that is sea glass. I've grown up with it, so it doesn't bother me that broken beer bottles, worn smooth by the waters, litter the beaches. Instead, I tend to think of sea glass as the discarded shell of some sort of sea creature. (Honestly, I grew up with horseshoes, razor clams, and the pearly interiors of mussels-- it never struck me as odd that a citizen of the deep could possess a beer-bottle exoskeleton). However, unlike many landlocked folk, I also think the stuff is absolutely beautiful; environmental conscientiousness aside, I would be quite sad if people stopped dumping their broken glass into the ocean. This is admittedly selfish, but sea glass is one of man's mishaps that has created something beautiful.
Anyways, While on my bike ride, I decided to walk down the beach of Biwako. I came across many chips of dulled sea glass (technically lake glass)-- however, I came across many more pieces of sea ceramics: chips of dishes adorned with pretty designs, family crests, and domestic poems. Honestly, I was moved-- growing up in Maine, I'm used to the Anglo influence. Yankee seaglass is green, brown, white, and, very, occasionally blue. The source is generally a beer bottle or a medicine bottle. In Japan, sea glass is often rosy pink, aqua, and, in many cases, hand-painted ceramic bits of discarded dishes. It was both comforting and unsettling to chance upon the sea glass. Water-smoothed glass is a similarity Brunswick and Hikone share. However, in this similarity there are touchingly beautiful differences.


That bird, which you can barely see, is an eagle, eating a fish it had just caught. I didn't want to get too close because it was bigger than me when it stretched its wings.


A rock opposite a shrine. Possibly one of the most aesthetically pleasing things I've seen in a long time.


Lakeside view.

The Bamboo Grove:
I know bamboo grows like a weed, but it has always held a special appeal for me. Needless to say, when, on my bike ride, I happened upon my first bamboo grove, I was very excited. The roots grew as thick as my thighs, and reached the highest trees. Now, if only there were pandas frolicking around Japan...








I have no idea what this is, other than it is some sort of shrine. I have a hunch it's very sad, or very strange. If someone well-versed in Japanese shrines could tell me, I'd be delighted.

Rice Paddies:
Obviously, these are not that special in Japan. However, like any Mainer, I can appreciate the beauty of a dutifully kept agricultural landscape. Moreover, white cranes (which are annoyingly hard to photograph) tend to pick through the rice paddies. They're really charming birds: they just kind of stroll through the paddies, eating up whatever floats around in the rice fields.









The Shrine:
The best part of my bike ride was my discovery of a hilltop shrine. It was really accidental-- I was looking at the previously posted rock and wondered if there was a nearby shrine. I turned around and was met by a very ordinary looking clump of old buildings. When I peered a little more closely, I realized it was indeed a shinsha (yay for finally memorizing that kanji). When I stepped inside I discovered a really beautiful, and totally deserted, space.


Where you can purify your hands and mouth.


Altar and main building.


Another view of the stonework.


Gates to the altar-- there were butterflies everywhere when I walked through.


The three altars on the top part of the complex.

The Matsubara Beach Road

I'm not sure if that's the real name of this road (in translation), but that's what everyone keeps calling it. The road is a small neighborhood that runs along Biwa-ko. It's a little seedy, but, between the surf shop, the Bar Dream Heart, and the free-roaming pets, it's a really wonderful little pocket of the world. In the back of Shiruman (a noodle place), I had my first authentic Japanese conversation. I talked with the owner about his (obese) dog, Nina. I suppose, for that reason, this place will always hold a special place in my heart.

The Matsubara Beach Road: