Having arrived at the port, I waited in line to get off the ferry, when over the PA, a voice announced, "The somethingsomething exit is for people with cars. The rest should wait in the other line." I wasn't sure which line was which--so I just followed a bunch of people that left the line in which I was standing to go to another exit. I'm sure there were signs indicating which line was for car-less passengers like myself, but I was too tired and anxious to see my family to care.
Taking the escalator down to the main exit floor, I walked out a door into a parking lot, realizing that I had taken the wrong exit. I walked across to the side where the pedestrian exit was, and was instantly first in line to get off the boat. I almost felt guilty for skipping to the front of the line--for a split second. Leaving the boat, I set off for the train to Nanba station, where I'd be taking care of some banking.
My first goal was to search for Shinsei Bank, where I do my foreign wire transactions. There are no Shinsei Bank branches in all of Ehime, and the closest one requires a $100 round-trip train ticket just so that I can send money home. We had been waiting for a trip to Osaka to send some savings to our American account, and this trip fit the bill.
Wandering the desolate streets of Osaka at 7AM on a weekday is a surreal experience; there's not a whole lot to do in a city (and country) that opens at 10AM. I resolved to find the bank--which was sure to open a few hours later--and then go get some breakfast.
Each subway and train station has multiple exits, and it's often hard to know exactly where you are, especially when you're only armed with a printed google map that only provides landmark names and an address. Even more frustrating is the fact that streets in Japan go under, over, and through intersections, and don't necessarily head north-to-south or east-to-west. Having lived in Utah, where each city has street numbers based on how far away from the city center, I find the Japanese streets a bit more difficult to navigate. In Provo, for example, you know that the mountains are always on the east. Knowing that, if the mountains are on your right, you're facing north. If you're at 300 E 200 N and need to get to 450 E 400 N, you know that you need to go two blocks to the north and 1.5 blocks to the east. It's a simple system that I'm sure many towns and cities use.
Here's the google maps page for a section of South Provo, where I used to live:
This is the google maps page for the Osaka neighborhood that I haplessly tried to navigate:
I could tell by the position of the sun in the sky where north was, I just had no idea where I was on my unmarked map. All I knew was that there was a McDonald's right by an AM/PM convenience store, and that a street curved around somewhere near there. I showed the address to a AM/PM store attendant, and he timidly pointed me in the direction of another AM/PM (it turns out that there are about 8 AM/PMs within 2 city blocks), which might have someone on hand who would know better.
Unable to find the convenience store, I ducked my head into the chintzy Hotel Cordon Bleu, hoping that the hotel staff might have some knowledge of the surrounding area. There was no front desk to speak of (or if there was, it was curtained off), so I got some information from a cleaning lady, who pointed me in the direction of a McDonald's.
When I found the McDonald's, I saw an AM/PM right up the street, so I finally located my place on the map. I followed the curved road until I saw Shinsei Bank. The bank was connected to a Starbucks, sharing an exit. On the facade, a sign displayed the bank's operating hours--I had about an hour-and-a-half until the 9AM opening time.
I walked back to the McDonald's, hungry and in need of my cough/asthma medication, and itching to burn some time. Upon entering the store, I passed a large black man, who I think was African American (based on his attire). I tried to flash a smile (after which I planned to nod my head so as to say, "'Sup", but he kept his head down and avoided eye contact. I can't say I blame him. If he is an English-speaker, he's probably almost as sick of talking to English-speakers as I am. Sometimes you just want people to leave you alone. Back home in America, people don't come up to you and talk to you just because you might speak English. It gets tiring to have to always stand out and play the part of foreigner--even with people that share the role.
One of the best things about McDonald's in Japan (yes, there are actually good things about McDonald's here) is that some of the locations serve American breakfast sandwiches like the Sausage McMuffin with Egg. I ordered one of those and a cup of water, and sat down to pass some time and take my meds. When I got to my seat, I noticed that my water cup was basically a dixie cup filled to the brim with ice, with about a half an ounce of liquid water in the cup. I ate my sandwich, swallowed my pills with the little bit of water, and took my water thimble to the counter to ask for a refill so I could sit down and have something to drink while I pre-blogged on paper to pass the time.
The kid running the register responded that while there was no excuse for their rudeness--it was, in fact, impossible for me to get a refill on water. Aside from the absurd logic of impossibility (just say you won't refill my water, all right?), the unwillingness to provide such a basic service triggered the Irate Customer Switch in my brain, which I believe (based on extensive scientific research) is located within Broca's Area.
Lelong was another patient of Paul Pierre Broca. He also exhibited reduced productive speech. He could only say five words, 'yes,' 'no,' 'three,' 'always,' and 'lelo' (a mispronunciation of his own name). At autopsy, a lesion was also found in the same region of lateral frontal lobe as in Leborgne. These two cases led Paul Pierre Broca to believe that speech was localized to this particular area.
My Irate Customer Switch functions somewhat differently than it does in other people. Others may get angry and demand to speak to a manager. I, on the other hand, lose the ability to speak in coherent sentences. All I could muster was a flustered, "Seriously?" in Japanese.
Disgusted, I shook my head and separated my trash into the burnable and non-burnable trash cans, jettisoning the ice in my cup into the special liquid disposal bin. In retrospect, I should have put my ice in the burnables. Try burning wet garbage, suckers!
But I was more patient than that. At first. I mean, I didn't swear or anything. Seriously, though--how much does an ounce of water cost? A penny? If you round up? Never in my life have I been denied a refill on water--not at any restaurant, ever. I've been to cheap fast food places that charge ten cents for the cup, but I always get unlimited water.
On my way out the door, I stopped to ask a managerial-looking employee why his store didn't offer refills on water. He replied squeamishly that it was a store-by-store decision. I responded that I had never been to a store that didn't refill my water. His response: if they offered refills on water, people wouldn't buy a soda.
What I wanted to say:
"What about people that don't want soda? Or can't drink soda? It's in your best interest as a business to build loyalty by putting your customers first, especially with something as simple and inexpensive as water, which nearly every restaurant on the planet offers for free. By trying to force me to buy a soda, you've lost any future business from me. Not only will I not buy a drink, I will hereafter fulfill my periodic cravings for sausage, eggs, and english muffins through some other, less miserly establishment. Your insatiable desire to squeeze every last yen out of my wallet will actually deprive you of the filthy lucre which you so treasure."
What I actually said:
"Well... in all other McDonald's restaurants, it's free. You know, the customer... I mean... What the customer wants... It would be good for business... Ah, screw it. I'm never comin' here again."
What is it about being frustrated that makes me unable to speak properly? And it's not just the language barrier.
Here's an English scenario that might have actually happened to me on my recent trip to America:
Having arrived at a store at 8:55, knowing they close at 9, I pull on the door, but it won't open.
Shop clerk: Sorry dude, we close at 9. Me: But the clock right behind you says it's 8:55. Look. Shop clerk: The registers are closed. Sorry dude. Me: But that... The registers... It's not like... Ah, screw it. I'm never comin' here again.
It's not like I'm fuming--so angry that veins bulge out of my neck and forehead. I think I have some kind of anti-super power where I absorb the stupidity of a situation and it temporarily invades Broca's Area in my brain. No complete sentences. Just clipped words and bits of ideas that might make sense to me, but likely come across as garbled nonsense. Just thinking about such ridiculousness hurts my brain.
After over three weeks of being away from my family, I made the trek to Osaka to pick them up. I rode the Orange Ferry, a small cruise ship that travels from Toyo port (about a half-our from our apartment in Imabari) to southern Osaka.
At about 10PM, I grabbed my ticket, boarded the boat, and rode the escalator(!!) up to the main floor, which looked like the inside of a hotel. They had two lounge rooms, including one for smokers, with chairs and tables set up in pairs facing a giant wide screen TV. There was a full scale restaurant, as well as a coffee shop and snack kiosk. Each floor had hallways filled with rooms on both sides, just like a hotel.
The rooms range from wide open rooms where the floor is split up into thirty spots for futons, to luxurious private rooms with big beds. I originally chose to sleep in the room with thirty other people, until I realized that I could upgrade to an 8 person bunk bed-style room for only ten dollars more. When I got to my room, someone was in my bed. Each bed has curtains that shut to both block out the light from outside and keep in any light from the overhead reading light in each nook. I knocked on the bed wall and asked if perhaps he wasn't mistaken, and he responded that he hadn't really made sure. Looking at his ticket, he realized that he had entered the wrong room. His stuff was strewn all over, so I offered to just switch rooms with him.
I put my backpack on the bed and took my shoes off, seeing slippers at the foot of each bed. In Japan, people never wear shoes inside their own house, so any walking around inside (though not on tatami) is done while wearing slippers. It's the same in any public place where shoes aren't allowed. Everybody wore their complimentary slippers. Everybody. I slipped my feet in, the back 5 inches of each foot hanging off the back end, and waddled my way to the kiosk to get a drink.
I popped my head into the men's shower area, which unsurprisingly featured a whole lot of Japanese male nudity, without any sort of barrier to keep passersby from catching a glimpse while the door was open. Not in the mood to hang out with a bunch of naked boys, I went back to my room to try to sleep.
The boat departed at about 10:30, but I didn't even realize we had left the port until it was after 11:30. I slid the curtain shut, took my evening meds, and fell asleep right away.
At 5AM, I woke up, having drunk a bit too much water the night before. I tried to go back to bad after a quick trip to the restroom, but right as I started to doze off, the wake-up chime and announcement sounded:
"Thanks for riding the Orange Ferry. We'll be docking in about 45 minutes. Feel free to buy our repulsive, outrageously overpriced breakfast buffet, or just wait until we get to Osaka so you can search aimlessly for a McDonald's that will leave you with lots of blogging material. Have a pleasant day."
I slept pretty well on the Orange Ferry. I'd definitely be willing to do it again, though next time I think I'll go straight to my cubicle bed and fall asleep before the boat even leaves the port.
Ryan and Erin recently came to Japan for a week and a half. It's time for me to give an update on how all that went.
We all went to pick them up at Kansai International Airport in Osaka on September 29th. While we were waiting for them to come out with their luggage, a lady that looked Mediterranean walked by. I commented that I thought she might be from Italy. She walked by us and said something in English, and I asked her where she was from. From Lebanon, she married a man from Japan and came to live here. They communicate in English. We had a rather long conversation about how Christian values are eroding around the world, and she urged me to teach them in my lessons (that'd result in an instant firing, according to my contract).
Ryan had had knee surgery a few weeks before coming, and so we waited for him to crutch out with Erin, or possibly come out in a wheelchair. When they finally came out the doors, it was Erin that was riding in a wheelchair. She had a really rough flight, being motion sick for a good part of the trip. Ryan, who had been dreading the flight since he got sick on the flight back from Hawaii a few years ago, didn't get sick at all.
We took the luggage over to the delivery counter and shipped a couple bags so that we only had to carry one around with us. Then we got on a train bound for the part of town where our hotel was located, and went back there to rest for the night. Ryan and Erin had been awake for quite some time, so Stef suggested they go back and go to bed.
We were all hungry, so we first went to get some food at a little restaurant in Osaka. It wasn't the best food I've ever had, and it truthfully wasn't that much different from what we could have gotten at a convenience store. But it didn't matter, since it was so cool to be hanging out with Ryan and Erin again. Ryan and I wanted time to talk, so we went back to the hotel and soaked in the communal bath.
I knew that no matter what time they went to bed, they'd be waking up early in the morning. So I was fine with them going to sleep a bit early. I think they woke up at around 2AM and couldn't go back to sleep after that. At around 6:30 in the morning, we all went to a nearby convenience store to get some food for breakfast. We came back to the hotel and ate it in the hall. We were so excited to talk and hang out that we forgot that it was 7AM and that we might wake people up. A lady from Eastern Europe with pink hair and nothing but a long shirt to cover her unsightly body came out and gave us the death stare. When we realized that we had woken her up, we apologized for being loud, to which she replied, "Yeah, you were like, 'Blah, blah blah,'" in a thick, Russian-sounding accent. Yeah, it was pretty much awesome. We realized that we were loud and obnoxious, but getting to hear her comment was worth waking her up.
We had wanted to go to the Osaka castle that morning, but with so much traveling planned for the next few days, we decided to forgo the castle altogether and hop on a train to Hiroshima while it was still early. When we got to the Hiroshima train station, we bought some yummy little bean-filled hot griddle cakes and hopped on a tram to the A-bomb dome.
The dome consists of the skeletal remnants of the city office building that stood after the atomic bomb decimated the city. It was very sobering to think of the death and destruction that was caused by blast. They've kept the structure standing as a testament to the destruction, in hopes that it will deter any future use of such weapons elsewhere in the world.
After that, we walked to an okonomiyaki shop to eat lunch. They liked it, but I sensed that Ryan liked it more than Erin did. He washed his food down with an alcohol free beer, which was absolutely disgusting.
We then walked over to the Peace Memorial Park, an exhibit with all sorts of photographs, from bomb victims to the aftermath at ground zero. I was worried about things that Kelsey might see that could upset her, so I kept her close as we walked through the museum. I didn't want her to see graphic images of melted flesh, so I picked her up and whisked her past the disturbing sections. Young minds are so tender, and I would hate to see her react to that stuff.
One time, while at an electronics store, we let her watch the huge TVs while I helped another ALT get set up for internet service. Stef looked over and saw Kelsey sobbing, having just watched a grotesque cartoon preview where they showed a vampire devouring another person. Kelsey was inconsolable for a while. She wouldn't let Stef calm her down. I know you can't protect your children from everything forever, but I still think it's important as a parent to help kids retain their innocence.
After seeing the bomb exhibits in Hiroshima, we went back to the station and boarded a train bound for Mihara, where we planned to get on a boat en route to our next destination. We had to hurry, because we weren't sure if we'd make it in time to Ikina, where we planned to stay the night. In Mihara, we walked up to a taxi and asked the driver to take us to the harbor. He told us that it wasn't too far away, and that we should walk, not paying attention to the fact that we had two children, luggage, and a cripple on crutches. He shrugged his shoulders and drove us a whole three blocks to the harbor. We had just enough time to purchase tickets and make it onto the boat headed for Habu.
Ryan and I hung out in the very back of the boat with Kelsey while Erin and Stef chatted during the half-hour boat ride. We got to Habu with enough time to run to the ramen shop where we had hoped to eat. It was closed. We walked around the corner to a Chinese restaurant, where we had just enough time to shovel down some food before making a run for our next boat. I asked the lady at the Habu port if there was still a boat that headed to the south-most port on Ikina, and she said no, and that we'd have to go to the other port if we wanted to get to Ikina at all. She seemed very put off that I was even bothering to ask her a question. We hopped on the Ikina ferry and went across the straight--a two minute ride. When we got there, I saw the boat that we had wanted to take pull up to the port that we had just left. I was livid. The lady who had rudely disregarded me as a customer had given me bad information. That boat sped off to the port in front of Laura's house.
Ryan was on crutches, so there was no way we could make the walk to Laura's house. Without kids, it would take an adult walking at a brisk pace about 20 minutes to get there. With the kids and the crutches, it was just not doable. We called Laura and informed her of our misfortune, and she made a few phone calls. Her flower arranging teacher came to pick us up. While waiting for them to come, Kelsey, Stef, and Erin walked over to the source of some loud banging. Some kids were practicing with taiko drums for their Fall Festival. They let Kelsey play around with the drums.
We went back to Laura's house and hung out with her for a while, chatting in her living room. I set up her wireless internet for her so that Ryan and Erin could Skype with their daughter, Sadie. We all took turns bathing and then went to bed.
Laura made some corn bread for us the next morning, and we ate it with huckleberry jam. We got up in the morning and took a boat to Yuge to wait for the boat headed to Uoshima. We had some time to kill, so we grabbed some snacks at the convenience store on Yuge and sat around talking. It was raining, so we couldn't do much but wait for our boat. We tried to play a word game, but Ryan and Erin had differing opinions on how we should play, so Erin went inside the waiting room at the port and played with Stef. Ryan and I played our own version of the game until Kelsey decided that she'd had enough sitting. She got angry and started saying "No!" to everything we said to her, so we turned it into our own little word game.
Us: Place like home? Kelsey: NO place like home! Us: Bell prize? Kelsey: NO bell prize! Us: Where man? Kelsey: NO where man! Us: Torious? Kelsey: NO torius! ...
This went on for a while, until she was saying things that sounded suspiciously similar to things she probably shouldn't say.
So much for helping my children retain their innocence.
The Uoshima boat finally came, and we got on and headed out to Fish Island. Ryan and I went up top and enjoyed the air, positioning ourselves by an overhang so that the rain didn't hit us. When we got to the island, the Azumas were waiting for us with a sign that read, "Mr. Stout Family, Welcome to Uoshima!" The sign was intended for Ryan and Erin, but the Azumas didn't know that Ryan was Stef's brother, not my own.
We walked up to the Azumas' old Japanese home, on the side of a hill towards the top part of town. They had prepared a delicious feast for us made up of all sorts of wonderful sashimi and breaded fish. The italian-style octopus sashimi was surprisingly awesome.
That afternoon, we just hung out at the Azuma home while Mr. Azuma taught us how to play Hanafuda, a Japanese card game. He also showed us how to play Go, the game with white and black stones that's said to be a lot more complicated strategically than even Chess. That may have been the highlight of the whole trip. A former teacher, Mr. Azuma was very methodical in showing us how to play. He gave us opportunities to show our understanding. It was clear that he's a good teacher.
That night, we went up to the shrine for a karaoke festival, as well as the start of the Fall Festival in Uoshima. We watched my old band, Uoshima'X, as they played a couple new songs with their new singer, Amado. He's the new ALT on Uoshima. There were a few traditional Japanese dances, as well as the taiko drum-accompanied chants by the robed Shinto priests of Uoshima. I'm glad that Ryan and Erin got to see all that.
I was really tired that night, and a bit grumpy. People kept speaking to me in broken English, not knowing that I speak Japanese. I think they just assumed that I never learned, since I didn't really go out of my way to speak to them when I lived there. At one point, Amado, just trying to help (and likely unaware of my speaking abilities), acted as a translator, which really upset me. I didn't need a translator. They could've just spoken to me in Japanese, and I could've replied in perfectly natural Japanese. The fact that Amado has time to hang out with the band members and learn the Japanese songs made things worse. Having a family really changes everything. I just never had time for any of that stuff. I was a bit bitter that I didn't get to experience a lot of the things that I could have.
Of course, I wouldn't trade what I have for anything. I'm much happier than I would be if I were single. But I still wish I could somehow have some of the same opportunities without having to sacrifice time with the family. There's just not enough time in the day for everything, and I'm going to choose my family every time.
The next morning, Erin and Stef went up to watch the carrying of the portable mikoshi shrine, while Ryan and I chatted down by the docks. We walked up to our old house and waited for the portable shrine to come around. When they got there, we had some melon soda and some fried food on a stick. Someone randomly asked Erin to sing for everybody, and others started egging her on. Ryan and I suggested she sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider with hand motions, but she was too nervous. So we sang it together. When they asked for an encore, we sang Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree, complete with all the gestures. It was both surreal and awesome at the same time.
When we left the island later that day, the Azumas saw us off and stood at the dock waving until the boat was out of sight. I'm really glad that they got to see Uoshima. I really miss that place. Don't get me wrong--I love living in Imabari. I mean, there's a store in Imabari. But I still miss the people, the beauty, and the quiet of Uoshima.
For the rest of the trip, we relaxed. It was a bit difficult for Ryan to get around, since we couldn't use bikes. So we spent most of our time in the neighborhood near our home. And that was just fine by me. We went to a nearby park that has lots of koi and turtles, as well as some awesome roller-slides. They got to try tonkotsu ramen, a really tasty pig-based soup that's really popular, and also go to a kaiten-zushi, the conveyor belt-style sushi restaurant. We also dropped in to Hard Off, a recycle shop that sells all sorts off cool second-hand gadgets and gizmos. Ryan and Erin bought about 20 thingamabobs to take back to the 'States. I'm going to really miss Hard Off when we're back in America.
Hanging out with Ryan and Erin, eating noodles, riding trains, playing Peggle, gettin' nude with a dude--their visit is, so far, the highlight of our Japan experience (when it comes to things that are fun and not, say, terrifying). Finally, here are some pictures for all to enjoy.
When you have a baby abroad, you have to get a report of birth abroad from the consulate or embassy in the birth country. In addition to the birth report, you need to apply for a passport and social security number. The baby and both parents all need to be present in order to do this.
Mia was born so tiny and underdeveloped that we had to wait almost four months for her to be healthy enough to leave the hospital. Since she's now strong and healthy, we got to go to Osaka to do all her paperwork. I took a couple days off and we turned it into our first mini-vacation in Japan.
We had planned on taking the Orange Ferry, a huge vessel that leaves the Toyo (a city close to Imabari) port in the evening and arrives in Osaka the next morning. The Orange Ferry offers public quarters, where a bunch of people cram into a room and sleep on the ground next to each other with a little blanket and a buckwheat pillow. Little kids often have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places, so we decided to look at other modes of transportation, just for the heck of it. We were going to pay about 12000 yen (about $120) per adult (kids under 3 are free) for round trip ferry tickets, but when we saw the prices of the express train, we realized that there was really no reason for us not to take the train. The train takes about three hours and cost only 8000 yen ($80 or so) more (total) than the communal boat. Sure, they offer private rooms on the boat, but they're more expensive than the train. We got to sleep at home--where the girls could actually get some rest--and only travel for a few hours.
We charged the laptop and put some Disney movies on the hard drive to keep Kelsey occupied. After a two-hour ride on an express train from Imabari to Okayama, we transferred to a bullet train bound for Osaka. I thought the express trains were fast; the bullet train blows away everything not flying thousands of feet in the air. The seats were big and cozy, and there was more than enough legroom for even me.
The first day, we took care of the paperwork at the consulate, and then went to find our hotel. We stayed at an old business hotel, which offered a Japanese-style tatami room with three Japanese futons, an AC unit, a fridge, and a TV. We had our own bathroom, but no bath. The first floor of the hotel had a Japanese-style communal bath with the first few hours of the evening reserved for men and the last few hours for women. We used the hotel as a hub and took the subway to various parts of town during our trip. The hotel was close enough to the subway station that we could go back for Kelsey's nap each day. If we were picky, we could have found reasons to complain. For the price (2000 yen per person, per night), it was great.
In the afternoon of the first day, we decided to look for a Mexican restaurant that we had read about online at an outdoor mall called Dotonbori. I should have remembered my own story about the mythical restaurant. We walked around for about three and a half hours, with half of that time spent just trying to find Dotonbori. I asked for directions at the hotel, and the front desk attendant gave us a map of Osaka and highlighted Dotonbori.
We got off at the correct stop, and then got lost. This particular stop was connected to a huge underground shopping plaza. The directions we had received required that we go up to the surface level right when we got to our stop, but there were so many shops with things to look at that we wandered farther and farther away from the exit we needed to take. When we got up to the ground level, we tried to locate ourselves on the map so we could head to Dotonbori. Unfortunately, it was basically impossible to figure out where we were. Figuring we'd eventually recognize something from the map, we just started walking toward the place where we thought Dotonbori might be. After a good chunk of time walking and talking, we decided to ask somebody for directions. According to an old octopus-ball salesman with a karate-style headband, we had walked a considerable distance past Dotonbori. We needed to walk back in the direction from which we came and turn left.
We turned around and walked back the other way for a while, but still couldn't find Dotonbori. We turned left where we thought the old man had told us to, but it became clear that we weren't going to find it without asking another person for directions. I went inside the first building I saw and asked an office lady if she could point us in the right direction. She stepped outside and pointed to where we needed to go, then gushed over how cute Kelsey and Mia were. We thanked her and set out for Dotonbori, which we could finally see in the distance. We needed to keep going and then turn right, not left.
We walked over to the right place and started looking around for the Mexican restaurant, which was supposedly called Hermanos. None of the people we stopped to ask knew where this restaurant was. I was determined not to have another all-you-can-eat yakiniku experience. We were going to find this place. Up and down the street we walked, scanning the five and six story buildings' signs. It was starting to get late, we were starving, and I was starting to lose my mind.
I found an internet café and searched for the restaurant. I got an address, the name of the neighboring hotel, and a phone number, which I decided not to call. We asked the locals where the hotel was, or if they could point us in the direction of the hotel, and finally, we got a lead. Someone knew where the hotel was, but wasn't sure if there was a Mexican restaurant anywhere near. We darted (as well as a family with a kid in a stroller can dart) to the hotel, and then examined the surrounding buildings. Nothing.
Undeterred, I entered the hotel and asked the desk clerk if he knew where the Mexican restaurant was. Next came the verbal punch to the stomach—Hermanos had been gone for a while. Let's review what I wrote about the mythical "perfect restaurant":
1. The Holy Grail of Restaurants, no matter where you are, doesn't exist. Don't be stubborn. You will not find it. 2. Don't ask for directions in Japan. It doesn't matter how little Japanese people actually know about something: they'll go totally out of their way to help you, even if it actually ends up being more of a hindrance than a help. 3. Dang it, even in my nostalgic, partially-confabulated peak season, I was still a jerk. 4. You can never go wrong with okonomiyaki.
Number 1? Check. Except this time, I actually got confirmation that it doesn't exist. How could I have forgotten this lesson?
Number 2? Check. Though it was mostly our fault for not taking the first exit at the station, we were led astray by all but two of the seven or eight people we asked.
Number 3? Still a jerk. When we got confirmation that the place didn't exist, I murdered a koala started to lose my patience. I told Stef that I was willing to eat anything that wasn't okonomiyaki, since we always get that. We almost entered two or three restaurants, but Stef couldn't commit, and I just about lost it. I just wanted food. Now. Or, then, at least. Which brings us to:
Number 4: Yeah, we caved in and went to an okonomiyaki shop. As hunger vanquished my life force, I lost the will to fight the status quo and gave in to the delicious cliché that is the fried savory pancake. We ordered okonomiyaki, nigiyaki (like okonomiyaki, but with a bunch of green onions), and omusoba. The omusoba, an omelette filled with yakisoba (noodles cooked in a savory sauce), was the best thing we ate on the whole trip. Never forget rule number 4.
Sure, I hate that I didn't follow my own rules regarding the Holy Grail of Restaurants. But on the plus side, it only confirmed my previous theory. And it taught me rule number 5: always make sure the restaurant you're searching for exists (by phone, etc.), and get directions.
I learned another rule the next day, when we went to Americatown. You know how big cities have Chinatowns, Japantowns, Koreatowns and Little Italys (Italies?) in America? Here in Osaka, it's Americatown, or Amerika-mura. If you're not into drinking or buying overpriced clothing imported from America, there's not much to do in Ame-mura (the shortened Japanese version). Well, that's not entirely true. It's a great place to people watch. Some of the craziest, most outrageous clothing and hairstyles that we saw in Osaka were in Ame-mura.
Earlier that morning, we went to Kaiyukan, a huge aquarium in Osaka. The aquarium route begins after riding a huge escalator up five stories or so, and slowly winds down toward the bottom, the sloped spiral path surrounded on both sides by fish-filled tanks. At the top, there are penguins, sea lions and dolphins. At an above-water sea lion exhibit, Kelsey prostrated herself on the ground and looked through the five or six inches of glass that were under the water line, hoping to see what the sea lions were doing under the surface. As you descend to the ground level, you can actually see the same sea lions swimming around. At the same time, the fish you see come from deeper and deeper waters, becoming gradually more exotic as you work your way down. Children, however, gradually lose interest in the fish and, in the end, just want to run and yell.
Blue = Awesomeness of Fish Red = Child's Interest
We saw some manta rays (one as large as a small automobile), a couple of whale sharks, sea turtles, sun fish, arapaimas, giant crabs, jellyfish, eels, and countless other kinds of fish. It would have been nice if we could have really enjoyed the fish, but it was still fun to watch Kelsey squeal in delight as she ran to the glass to watch the dolphins zip around their tanks.
Toward the beginning of the aquarium, I saw one of the JETs from Imabari and said hi. I was surprised to see someone that I had met (albeit briefly) so far from Imabari, so I gave a big smile and said, "Hey, how's it going?" She clearly didn't remember me, so she averted her eyes as she passed and mumbled, "Good." I told Stef that she didn't seem friendly when I had met her before, and so she obviously didn't care enough to socialize. We ran into her later, and Stef, being the awesome woman that she is, decided to strike up a conversation instead of being bitter about the snub. She hadn't recognized me at all, but when we started talking, she was really friendly. I can see why she reacted the way she did, since I probably came across as The Creepy, Crazy, Overly-Friendly Guy Who Bugs You in Aquariums. You know, that guy. Anyway, she's been in Japan for five years and is going home in a couple weeks. Her sister is visiting in Japan before she heads back home.
Later that day, back in Ame-mura, Stef and I had been checking out some shops and scoping out potential restaurants for dinner. We saw a couple that appeared to serve things that we probably couldn't find in Imabari, and decided to eat at one of them after exploring the rest of Ame-mura. As we walked past a burger joint, we saw the Imabari JET with her sister, sitting and talking. We went over and sat down to chat a bit. We told her about our fruitless search for the Mexican restaurant, and how, other than the baby paperwork, all we really wanted to do in Osaka was eat Mexican food. We had been talking for a couple minutes, when suddenly I realized that Kelsey was grunting. Stef took her inside and helped her use the potty while I talked to the JET about a possible lead on a Mexican restaurant in the neighborhood. She drew us a crude map, explained how to get there. I knew that it was unlikely that we'd ever find it, so I thanked her and started thinking about where we were really going to eat.
Stef came out with Kelsey after a while, and we talked with the girls for a few more minutes. I told Stef about the restaurant, and she agreed to look for it for a few minutes—under the condition that if we didn't find it soon, we'd eat at one of the other places that we had already found. As we were wandering around, looking for the restaurant, a man named Rigby stopped and asked us if we needed help finding anything. I told him about the taco shop, and he told me that he not only knew where it was, but that he knew the owners and knew that it wouldn't be open for another 90 minutes or so. He gave us the owners' phone number and told us where to go. We had no trouble finding it.
We went to the lobby of a hotel to relax and pass the time while Stef fed Mia and Kelsey snacked on some pretzels. After a while, Kelsey got a little too restless, and we decided to go down and work our way back to the restaurant. We got there in time to meet one of the restaurant owners in the process of opening shop. We went up and sat down in what turned out to be a bar. Luckily, we got there before everybody showed up to drink. The bar served tacos, quesadillas, fajitas, and all sorts of other meals. The dimly lit bar was adorned with sombreros, ponchos, and other typical Mexican decorations, with salsa music booming in the background.
The owners didn't speak Spanish, but they sure knew how to cook Mexican food. We got some shredded chicken tacos, a shredded chicken quesadilla, some gourmet-style nachos, and a plate of eggs and chorizo with corn tortillas. We were forced to order one drink per adult (a sort of cover charge for the bar), so I got mango juice and Stef got some Jamaica drink. In all, the food cost over 5000 yen, but was worth every penny yen...ny (sorry). It was the perfect dinner for the perfect day with the fam. So, rule number 6, which I learned that day, is as follows: if you have followed rule number 1, and are okay with the idea of eating somewhere else (countering rule number 3, honoring the spirit of rule number 4), then you can implement rule number 5, provided that the person that you ask is not Japanese (rule number 2).
While it seems complicated, rule number 6 is quite simple: don't get your hopes up, make sure the place really exists, get directions from an English speaker, have a backup plan, and stay in a good mood, and you may just stumble across the Holy Grail of Restaurants.
We capped the night off with some ice cream, which we ate on the subway ride back to our hotel.
The third day, our only plans were to go to Costco and return to the hotel. We accomplished both goals. Costco was fantastic. After renewing my membership, we walked up and down the aisles, carefully making note of everything they were selling. We got two cases of Dad's Root Beer, some corn bread mix, a gigantic sack of tortilla chips, and a few other things. What we really wanted, though, was the food from the food court. Costco dogs. Pickle relish. Churros. Heaven.
Costco was packed—much more than any Costco I've ever seen in America. Stef saw some people complaining about the size of the shopping carts, which were the same size as the carts at Costco in America. They had no idea what to do with such a beast. In Japan, shopping carts are just a regular shopping basket that you put on a frame with wheels. One Costco shopping cart equals ten or twelve of the other shopping carts. This does not make it easy to navigate the store. Imagine the busiest subway station in Tokyo, with shoulder-to-shoulder foot traffic clogging the grounds. Now give each of those people their own hippopotamus-sized shopping cart and watch as nobody gets anywhere. At one point, my stomach dropped as I watched a family, only ten feet away, swoop in to grab the beef jerky samples, with me trapped in a sea of shopping carts. All I could do was slash their tires shake my fist and curse them. In my mind.
That evening, after a nice nap, we had no plans. We walked around a cool electronics district, where I bought some headphones. Well, one side of it was cool. The other side was littered with porn shops. The night before, I took Mia out for a walk, and explored a nearby restaurant district. I turned a corner and looked up, only to realize that I had stepped into the red light district. Humongous murals of naked women covered the facades of the buildings. I took my baby and promptly headed in the other direction. I can't believe the stuff that they show in public here. I guess there are places like that in most countries. I'm glad that they don't allow that in the U.S.
Back in the restaurant district, we looked for a place to eat. Employees from the myriad restaurants begged us to patronize their restaurants. When you walk through a restaurant district, you can, at any given time, have four or five different people shouting the praises of their restaurant at you. And it's not just the invasion of personal space that's annoying. Their voices are high-pitched, nasal bleats specifically designed to cripple your defenses. It's a verbal battle royale for your business.
"Please eat here, oh beloved guest! Please enjoy our delectable cornucopia of cuisine. It's really good, I promise!"
"No! Please, please, please come eat here! You'll love it! It's a veritable smorgasbord of cornucopias!"
"I won't cut myself with a samurai sword if you find it in your heart to give us the honor of enjoying your presence in our humble establishment!"
Stef and I really wanted to eat at one restaurant, but the street screamer was so annoying that we almost walked away just to spite him. I turned around to consult with Stef, and we vocalized that we were going to eat there because the food looked good, and not let the Gilbert Gottfried of Japanese restaurant employees stand in our way. I turned and walked away from the restaurant, signaling that we were heading in another direction. At the last second, I spun around and ducked inside the doors, after which the guy followed us in and shouted to the staff that they needed to prepare a table for four. It's okay. Let him think he convinced us. We were there for the food.
I saw something that looked like tacos, and I ordered it. They were curry-flavored tacos, and they weren't half bad. Stef, craving the omusoba that we ordered the first night, got some yakisoba. Kelsey had ginger for dinner (and some noodles). She eats pickled ginger plain. We have no idea how she does it, since it's such a strong flavor, and neither of us like it very much. That night, we watched Kelsey use chopsticks, successfully, for the first time. Her form needs some work, but it was still mighty impressive.
The next morning, we went to church at the Abeno Ward in Osaka. Finding the church proved to be quite the task. A few unanswered phone calls to missionaries and one useless taxi driver later, we found ourselves in the neighborhood of the church, with no idea which side of the city block it stood on. We found the church, but we had missed the Sacrament. The Abeno Ward was like a full-sized family ward in America. It was great to see so many people at church, including three sets of missionaries. Kelsey got a dolly from the nursery leader, who was excited to have someone to watch. Unfortunately, we had to leave. One family, the Kochis, gave us a ride to the station after Sacrament Meeting, saving us an hour or so in travel time. We took the trains and were home by about 4PM. Kelsey and Mia were great.
It was great to spend a few days in Osaka. We figured out how we like to do trips—it's best to plan about two things each day, and leave the rest of the time open for whatever else you want to do. You can relax or explore, and not feel like you have to run around to get a lot done. Riding the subway, while a bit expensive, is very convenient, and reminded me of our time in Matsuyama, where we rode the city trains all the time. We were also reminded how awesome it can be to be in a place with people and restaurants. Imabari's great, but there are so many more things to do in Osaka. It's nice to live in a laid-back place like Imabari, but it's important to experience city life every once in a while.
