You know the kind of guy whose head sticks up above the crowd and then wonders why no one sits by him on the train. You know; the kind of guy who points at the pictures on the menu rather than using the words. That was me. Every time something fun happened to me, something boring was always waiting around the corner. Excitement. That’s when I realized I had to change. So, I made a list of everything fun I’ve ever wanted to do in Japan and one by one I’m gonna cross them off my list. I’m just trying to have a funner life. My name is Kebin.
Number 163: eat steak in Kobe.
About ten years ago an earthquake devastated the city of Kobe. The event scarred and transformed the city. The city holds an annual remembrance in memorial of all those who lost their lives. The downtown area is transformed into a festival of lights. Last year we missed the illumination.
This year we decided to visit the city and view the lights. We also wanted to cross eat steak in Kobe off our list of things to do in Japan. We want to do as much as we can here in Japan before we head back to the states and one item on the list is eating world famous Kobe beef. Here was an opportunity to use one stone and kill two birds.
We left after I got off of work on a Friday afternoon. I rode straight from school to the train station, making the fifteen-minute bike ride in about seven. The trip to Kobe should have taken about two hours and would have if it had not been for the over powering smell of cologne man. We were riding the rails around rush hour and when we boarded in Omihachiman the train was already crowded and after a few stops we managed to get a seat to rest our body on. The stretch between Kyoto and Osaka is usually a tranquil area with few passengers and fewer stops. It was not true on this day and the train was relatively full. We were unfortunate enough to have a gentleman sit down near us who must have fallen into a vat of Old Spice. He reeked of cologne. There was little we could do. There were no seats available to move to. Our choice was to remain in our seat or get up and stand. It was a difficult choice because even if we moved there was no guarantee that we would be able to move far enough from the man to avoid the smell. We chose to remain in our seat. The smell grew stronger and stronger gradually overpowering everything else. Jenny made a comment about how she was beginning to get nauseas from the smell. I guess that Logan must have been feeling the same way because a few moments later his face turned green and he lost his lunch all over the front of Jenny’s coat. Well at least he would be hungry for dinner now.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Fighting the Forces of Evil with Soy pt. 2
With the forces of evil vanquished from our home and good luck welcomed in it was time to head off to Kyoto. Last year we had the awesome opportunity of watching geisha perform their traditional dances. As much as we wanted to return and witness this rare spectacle again we knew we must view something new. After the cultural experience at the international center we headed off to find Rozan-ji, a small shrine near the former imperial palace. We decided to visit as an afterthought. Sort of a, “Well we better just max out the day. We are going to Kyoto anyway. Once in a lifetime opportunity after all.” rationalization. We worried that we might be too late because we overshot the shrine and had walked too far. We took a shortcut through a temple complex. Here we were three strangers in a strange temple sneaking through the alleys and paths of this place in search of a specific shrine. I must admit I was nervous that someone would come out of a building and discover us. Then I imagined we would be escorted back to where we entered and given the old heave-ho. We came out of the entrance to the temple and lo and behold to our left we could see the crowd that signaled our destination. Much like when looking for pirate treasure X marks the spot; in Japan X-tremely large gatherings of people marks the spot.
We strolled up to the gate leading into the shrine and mashed our way into the crowd. Last year we got to the shrine we visited nice and early. We found a wonderful spot to view the dancing geishas. This year we found ourselves at the back of the crowd on the outside of an open doorway. We could barely see into the shrine. We feared we might be unable to see the show. We had read that this would be a particularly entertaining event. There would be men dressed in giant oni costumes dancing on a stage. We would be seeing three demons dance while carrying weapons in their hands. The Black demon wielding a sword represented greed. The green devil brandishing an ax is the personification of anger. And the red oni with hammer and a flaming torch symbolized discontent.
It turned out that we were just in time. Soon after we arrived the crowd began to push its way farther into the interior of the shrine. I prepared the camera and Jenny popped Logan up onto her back so he could see over the crowd. We then heard the drums begin to beat and the music began to play. It was not long before the first of the giant oni came out to perform their dance. It looked like a giant stuffed toy. It was a cross between a toy and a poorly made theater fat suit. Hardly the horrid, frightening image I had in my mind. Still it was fun. When the oni had completed their dance then it was once again time for the beans to be thrown. About six or so people came out and began to throw beans.
I count myself lucky that we were not seriously injured. The projectiles launched at us were not the same as the beans Logan and I threw this morning. Now here were the magic missiles that I had been expecting. Every one that bounced off my coat or my unprotected head stung. These beans were covered in a thick sugar coating and colored pink and white. We tried to catch them as doing so is considered lucky, but every one that we caught slipped through the fingers of our gloves onto the wet ground.
We ended up purchasing a full bag of them. When we did have an opportunity to try them they were not what I expected. Judging by their size I was expecting something similar to an almond M&M. It had more in common, however, with a gobstopper. The sugar coating was hard as a rock and thick as… well let’s just figure it was all rock hard sugar candy. I am a bit worried about the luck we ushered into our lives. Once the oni did take the stage the batteries on my camera died and I had to scramble to replace them before it was all over. We finished with a walk through the imperial palace garden park on our way back to the subway. Then it was back to Kyoto Station were we grabbed a few of the only variety of beer we can not find here in Omihachiman, root beer, before we headed home.
We strolled up to the gate leading into the shrine and mashed our way into the crowd. Last year we got to the shrine we visited nice and early. We found a wonderful spot to view the dancing geishas. This year we found ourselves at the back of the crowd on the outside of an open doorway. We could barely see into the shrine. We feared we might be unable to see the show. We had read that this would be a particularly entertaining event. There would be men dressed in giant oni costumes dancing on a stage. We would be seeing three demons dance while carrying weapons in their hands. The Black demon wielding a sword represented greed. The green devil brandishing an ax is the personification of anger. And the red oni with hammer and a flaming torch symbolized discontent.
It turned out that we were just in time. Soon after we arrived the crowd began to push its way farther into the interior of the shrine. I prepared the camera and Jenny popped Logan up onto her back so he could see over the crowd. We then heard the drums begin to beat and the music began to play. It was not long before the first of the giant oni came out to perform their dance. It looked like a giant stuffed toy. It was a cross between a toy and a poorly made theater fat suit. Hardly the horrid, frightening image I had in my mind. Still it was fun. When the oni had completed their dance then it was once again time for the beans to be thrown. About six or so people came out and began to throw beans.
I count myself lucky that we were not seriously injured. The projectiles launched at us were not the same as the beans Logan and I threw this morning. Now here were the magic missiles that I had been expecting. Every one that bounced off my coat or my unprotected head stung. These beans were covered in a thick sugar coating and colored pink and white. We tried to catch them as doing so is considered lucky, but every one that we caught slipped through the fingers of our gloves onto the wet ground.
We ended up purchasing a full bag of them. When we did have an opportunity to try them they were not what I expected. Judging by their size I was expecting something similar to an almond M&M. It had more in common, however, with a gobstopper. The sugar coating was hard as a rock and thick as… well let’s just figure it was all rock hard sugar candy. I am a bit worried about the luck we ushered into our lives. Once the oni did take the stage the batteries on my camera died and I had to scramble to replace them before it was all over. We finished with a walk through the imperial palace garden park on our way back to the subway. Then it was back to Kyoto Station were we grabbed a few of the only variety of beer we can not find here in Omihachiman, root beer, before we headed home.
Fighting the Forces of Evil with Soy pt. 1
Who knew having a three year old pelt you with roasted soy beans while screaming, “Demons out. Good Luck in” could be so much fun. We celebrated the holiday of setsubun with a flair that can only be described as Kevin style. We also enjoyed it in the true Japanese style, but more about that later.
Setsubun marks the traditional first day of spring. The focus of the day is driving out of evil spirits called oni. If the oni are driven out of the home it allows good luck to enter. Now with all my experience watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and playing video games I would have thought a big crucifix and a sharp sword would be the weapons of choice, failing that maybe a sawed off shotgun and a vial of holy water. Imagine my consternation when the weapon I was handed was a small packet of roasted soybeans. I scrutinized the package. “Are they magic beans?” I asked. “No, they are made in a factory,” was the reply. So I am to fight the forces of evil with soy nuts. I couldn’t help but wonder if Flamin’ Hot BBQ flavor might not be a better choice. I imagined the demons bursting into flames from the spicy hot flavor. Then again maybe cool ranch might be more effective against the fiery hoards of Hell. Okay maybe I am getting too imaginative with my description. Setsubun is less about fighting evil and more about filling your home with good luck.
In the morning, just like last year I played the part of the oni. Logan was to be armed with the magic soy nuts. First we had to locate the holy beans. As it always seems to happen when faced with apocalyptic evil the special weapon was nowhere to be found. After searching the cupboard by dragging everything out onto the table we did what anyone else would do. We dredged the depths of the freezer. The beans were nowhere to be found. I should have thought to look under the packet of dried seaweed on the top shelf of the cupboard because the beans were strategically hidden underneath it. I had thought to look with the other holy snack food armaments but not under the seaweed on the top shelf.
Logan insisted on wearing the oni mask he made at school. So we ended up with a demon vs. demon grudge match. Logan threw beans wearing his paper oni mask with eyelashes. I wore the plastic mask with no eyelashes that we bought last year. Apparently it was very important to Logan that his oni have eyelashes. We threw beans at each other chanting, “Oni wa soto. Fuku wa uchi.”
Beans bounced around the room. When the cup was empty it was time to eat. We each had to eat beans equal to our age plus one for good luck. I ate my thirty-four, Jenny ate her twenty-six, and Logan must have eaten two hundred one. Well he started with four and kept eating and eating.
to be continued...
Setsubun marks the traditional first day of spring. The focus of the day is driving out of evil spirits called oni. If the oni are driven out of the home it allows good luck to enter. Now with all my experience watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and playing video games I would have thought a big crucifix and a sharp sword would be the weapons of choice, failing that maybe a sawed off shotgun and a vial of holy water. Imagine my consternation when the weapon I was handed was a small packet of roasted soybeans. I scrutinized the package. “Are they magic beans?” I asked. “No, they are made in a factory,” was the reply. So I am to fight the forces of evil with soy nuts. I couldn’t help but wonder if Flamin’ Hot BBQ flavor might not be a better choice. I imagined the demons bursting into flames from the spicy hot flavor. Then again maybe cool ranch might be more effective against the fiery hoards of Hell. Okay maybe I am getting too imaginative with my description. Setsubun is less about fighting evil and more about filling your home with good luck.
In the morning, just like last year I played the part of the oni. Logan was to be armed with the magic soy nuts. First we had to locate the holy beans. As it always seems to happen when faced with apocalyptic evil the special weapon was nowhere to be found. After searching the cupboard by dragging everything out onto the table we did what anyone else would do. We dredged the depths of the freezer. The beans were nowhere to be found. I should have thought to look under the packet of dried seaweed on the top shelf of the cupboard because the beans were strategically hidden underneath it. I had thought to look with the other holy snack food armaments but not under the seaweed on the top shelf.
Logan insisted on wearing the oni mask he made at school. So we ended up with a demon vs. demon grudge match. Logan threw beans wearing his paper oni mask with eyelashes. I wore the plastic mask with no eyelashes that we bought last year. Apparently it was very important to Logan that his oni have eyelashes. We threw beans at each other chanting, “Oni wa soto. Fuku wa uchi.”
Beans bounced around the room. When the cup was empty it was time to eat. We each had to eat beans equal to our age plus one for good luck. I ate my thirty-four, Jenny ate her twenty-six, and Logan must have eaten two hundred one. Well he started with four and kept eating and eating.
to be continued...
Monday, February 4, 2008
I Hate Monday but Sunday was Kinda Fun
Well another Monday is over. Tuesday here we come. We had a fun weekend. It was setsubun yesterday and we had an exciting full day yesterday. We had two adventures yesterday and I will take a moment to tell about one of them. Yesterday the Kyoto International Center hosted a Japanese cultural fair. We headed off to take advantage of the opportunity to learn more about the country in which we live. We were able to try our hand at writing kanji with a brush and various other things. I was unsuccessful at guessing the correct incense smell in the incense game. I though that Jenny would do better at it but she talked me into doing it. Jenny also almost tried on a kimono but the line was quite long and she figured that if she wanted she could wear hers around the house. Our favorite activity that we tried was the tea ceremony. It was fun mixing the matcha tea with the little bamboo whisk. Logan had a great time helping me. Most of the people were surprised to discover that Logan loves the taste of the strongest of the green teas. From the very beginning of our time here Logan has been a big fan of the flavor of matcha tea. Any time we get ice cream he always wants green tea flavor. Yesterday he and I worked together to mix and drink the tea. I took a little sip after giving the tea bowl the requisite quarter turn in a clockwise direction. Then Logan took a large quaff of tea. The hosts of the area were very shocked to see him enjoy the frothy thick tea. When he exclaimed in a very loud voice, "Oishiiiii!!" (delicious) they began to laugh with excitement. We finished the tea and Logan tried to drain the last few drops from the bowls. He came close to trying to lick the bottom of the bowl. I laughed because the hosts were afraid that the tea would be too bitter for him. It was only a small part of our day but it was fun. I will tell more about it later.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Hiking
Today was the day of my elementary school visit. I enjoy my weekly visits to the little schools and their pint sized inhabitants. I am still a K-6 teacher at heart, and while I enjoy teaching the middle school students Monday through Thursday, it is Friday that I look forward to. I am given the opportunity to play games and really be myself. After the fun commute last week I was expecting another morning of rotten weather. I was pleasantly surprised when I looked outside to see peaceful and soft snowflakes drifting down towards the ground.
I could tell that it was plenty cold outside so I began to bundle up. I suppose that one nice thing about not having central heating or insulation in the walls is that it is plenty easy to tell how cold it is outside. When I finally did fire up the ol' kerosene heater this morning the thermostat read a chilly eight degrees and if the temperature inside was eight after a night of having the heat turned off, the temperature outside would be even lower. I pulled on an extra sweater and headed off for Shima Elementary School.
Last week I had to travel about twenty minutes to get to the school I was visiting. Today the school I was heading to is the farthest I am willing to travel by myself. I figure that a half hour bike ride is about the limit of my willingness to commute by bicycle. I hopped on my bike and began to ride. It is a pleasant ride through the briskly cold morning, and I was glad that I wore the extra layer. Thirty minutes later I was approaching the school. I noticed a softness to the rear tire as I was nearing the entrance. The security guard met me at the gate and helped me find a place to park my bike. I confirmed that the tire was low as I parked my bike under the eaves of the school. I hoped for the best and headed off to teach the morning away.
I had fun teaching the third grade though sixth. The fifth and sixth graders were working on the months of the year. We made a month mini-book and identified our birthdays. In third and fourth grades we practiced colors and I read the book "Green Eggs and Ham." I ate lunch with the third grade students in their classroom. We had soup, rice, salad and fried fish. I thought that the fish was so-so, but many of the students told me that they did not like it. We also had a small packet of roasted soy beans in celebration of setsubun.
My heart sank when I left for the afternoon. When I went into school in the morning I noticed that the rear tire of my bike was low, but now it was completely flat. Here I was clear out by the lake and I would have to walk home. I began to hike. I figure that it must have been close to four or five miles home. The silver lining is that not only did I bundle up this morning but now it turned out to be fairly nice for a cold winter day.
I started walking and about an hour later I found myself at home. A pleasant day of teaching and a nice long walk all on the same day. The only thing that would have made my walk better is if I did not have to drag my old granny bike (mama-chari) along with me.
As I am sure that you have noticed I have figured out how to embed links in the post. A few people have mentioned that they were curious about my infatuation with the character of tanuki. I have included a link to an article here.. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
I could tell that it was plenty cold outside so I began to bundle up. I suppose that one nice thing about not having central heating or insulation in the walls is that it is plenty easy to tell how cold it is outside. When I finally did fire up the ol' kerosene heater this morning the thermostat read a chilly eight degrees and if the temperature inside was eight after a night of having the heat turned off, the temperature outside would be even lower. I pulled on an extra sweater and headed off for Shima Elementary School.
Last week I had to travel about twenty minutes to get to the school I was visiting. Today the school I was heading to is the farthest I am willing to travel by myself. I figure that a half hour bike ride is about the limit of my willingness to commute by bicycle. I hopped on my bike and began to ride. It is a pleasant ride through the briskly cold morning, and I was glad that I wore the extra layer. Thirty minutes later I was approaching the school. I noticed a softness to the rear tire as I was nearing the entrance. The security guard met me at the gate and helped me find a place to park my bike. I confirmed that the tire was low as I parked my bike under the eaves of the school. I hoped for the best and headed off to teach the morning away.
I had fun teaching the third grade though sixth. The fifth and sixth graders were working on the months of the year. We made a month mini-book and identified our birthdays. In third and fourth grades we practiced colors and I read the book "Green Eggs and Ham." I ate lunch with the third grade students in their classroom. We had soup, rice, salad and fried fish. I thought that the fish was so-so, but many of the students told me that they did not like it. We also had a small packet of roasted soy beans in celebration of setsubun.
My heart sank when I left for the afternoon. When I went into school in the morning I noticed that the rear tire of my bike was low, but now it was completely flat. Here I was clear out by the lake and I would have to walk home. I began to hike. I figure that it must have been close to four or five miles home. The silver lining is that not only did I bundle up this morning but now it turned out to be fairly nice for a cold winter day.
I started walking and about an hour later I found myself at home. A pleasant day of teaching and a nice long walk all on the same day. The only thing that would have made my walk better is if I did not have to drag my old granny bike (mama-chari) along with me.
As I am sure that you have noticed I have figured out how to embed links in the post. A few people have mentioned that they were curious about my infatuation with the character of tanuki. I have included a link to an article here.. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Noise
I sit here waiting to hear a song. I want to hear it, but at the same time I don't want to. I know that once I hear the sounds of that catchy refrain through the still night air I won't be able to get it out of my head. I don't know the words. There are a few that I can recognize, but as a whole I can not make any sense of it. I just know that tomorrow I will be whistling it as I walk through the halls, and the children will laugh at me. I don't care. Hearing this song will warm my heart and solve a few of my problems. I want to hear the kerosene truck and its song.
Loud music used to be a bane in our old life in Michigan. For a time we had a neighbor who would sit in his blazer for hours on end with the stereo turned up to eleven. The bass was loud enough that it would shake the pictures on our walls and give me a jarring, rattling headache. Then a couple of years later we had a few neighbors who would sit on their porch till the wee hours of the morning talking, arguing, and drinking. On a hot summer night it is a hard decision to have to decide; do I want to be kept awake by the loud neighbors, or do I close the window and be kept awake by the suffocating heat. Now loud music is the cue to which we live our lives. If we listen close we can time our daily existence by what is played over the town loudspeaker. It must be close to dinner time if we hear the pleasing theme to Greensleeves. It is played every evening at five O'clock. I hope to have Logan asleep by the time we hear Auld Lang Syne drifting trough the night. The song that I had associated with New Years Eve, here is played for the whole town every night at nine. I am awoken every morning by our neighborhood temple. Seven thirty-five on the nose the drums begin to bang, and the voices begin to chant sutras. I know that I have to hurry if I am not out of bed when the chanting starts. We time our lives in accordance to the noise in our environment.
So now I sit and wait to hear the sound of the truck that will come around and fill our big blue can with kerosene that we will use to heat our home for the next week or two. I try and distinguish the sound of the kerosene song from the various other sounds that crash through the air. Is that it? No, that is the hot potato truck. Yeah you read correctly. There is a truck that drives around the neighborhood selling baked Japanese Sweet Potatoes. That song could be it, but it's the guy who drives around collecting unwanted electronics and scrap metal. And don't get me started on election season here. I thought negative ads on TV were horrible, but at least you can change the channel or turn the television off. Here the candidates drive around town in a car with a giant megaphone strapped to the roof giving their campaign speeches at full volume. Over and over, starting at about seven in the morning. Imagine being woken on a Saturday morning by, "Hi I'm Fred Thompson. Let's work together. Please vote for me!" It gets even worse when the Hillary car and the Gulliani car drive into your neighborhood too. They all duel it our to see who can be the loudest. They smile and wave their white gloved hands at you while they deafen you with their rock concert volume campaign promises.
I still have not hear the sound I am listening for. I hope he comes soon because I am really cold and the kerosene can is empty and I would like some heat. I sure hope he gets here before Auld Lang Syne.
Loud music used to be a bane in our old life in Michigan. For a time we had a neighbor who would sit in his blazer for hours on end with the stereo turned up to eleven. The bass was loud enough that it would shake the pictures on our walls and give me a jarring, rattling headache. Then a couple of years later we had a few neighbors who would sit on their porch till the wee hours of the morning talking, arguing, and drinking. On a hot summer night it is a hard decision to have to decide; do I want to be kept awake by the loud neighbors, or do I close the window and be kept awake by the suffocating heat. Now loud music is the cue to which we live our lives. If we listen close we can time our daily existence by what is played over the town loudspeaker. It must be close to dinner time if we hear the pleasing theme to Greensleeves. It is played every evening at five O'clock. I hope to have Logan asleep by the time we hear Auld Lang Syne drifting trough the night. The song that I had associated with New Years Eve, here is played for the whole town every night at nine. I am awoken every morning by our neighborhood temple. Seven thirty-five on the nose the drums begin to bang, and the voices begin to chant sutras. I know that I have to hurry if I am not out of bed when the chanting starts. We time our lives in accordance to the noise in our environment.
So now I sit and wait to hear the sound of the truck that will come around and fill our big blue can with kerosene that we will use to heat our home for the next week or two. I try and distinguish the sound of the kerosene song from the various other sounds that crash through the air. Is that it? No, that is the hot potato truck. Yeah you read correctly. There is a truck that drives around the neighborhood selling baked Japanese Sweet Potatoes. That song could be it, but it's the guy who drives around collecting unwanted electronics and scrap metal. And don't get me started on election season here. I thought negative ads on TV were horrible, but at least you can change the channel or turn the television off. Here the candidates drive around town in a car with a giant megaphone strapped to the roof giving their campaign speeches at full volume. Over and over, starting at about seven in the morning. Imagine being woken on a Saturday morning by, "Hi I'm Fred Thompson. Let's work together. Please vote for me!" It gets even worse when the Hillary car and the Gulliani car drive into your neighborhood too. They all duel it our to see who can be the loudest. They smile and wave their white gloved hands at you while they deafen you with their rock concert volume campaign promises.
I still have not hear the sound I am listening for. I hope he comes soon because I am really cold and the kerosene can is empty and I would like some heat. I sure hope he gets here before Auld Lang Syne.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Ramen Meguri (pilgrimage)
The good book states that the wages of sin are death. I found out that the wages of eating sinfully rich food might be even worse than death. I hesitate before I answer the question, “Was it worth it?” with a resounding, “Yeah, I think so.” When it comes to good Japanese ramen no price is too high.
Ramen here is a thing of beauty. Forget what you know about the block of dried noodles that poor college students eat to survive. That’s not really ramen. Ramen is so much more. Fresh ramen that you order from a restaurant is one of the greatest foods to be made from the combination of noodles and soup. Jenny knows the answer before she can ask the question if she queries, “Do you want to go and get some ramen for dinner?” The answer is always a resounding, “Yes!” I can almost smell it now as I type, thin noodles immersed in a thick rich soup, slices of pork, crispy vegetables. All of the ingredients grasped with a pair of chopsticks and brought to my lips where they are pulled into my mouth with a resounding SLUUURP.
One Friday I found myself done with work very early and I was able to come home at noon. I walked through the door and asked if Logan and Jenny had eaten lunch. They replied that they had not. I suggested that we head off to Kyoto and cross one of the things on our to do list off. I have wanted to go and eat ramen for lunch and dinner. We rushed off to the station and were on our way. While we were on the train we studied the guidebook and the map to plan our pilgrimage route. We decided on two restaurants from the book that were within walking distance of each other.
We got to Kyoto and boarded the subway hungry for delicious soup and noodles. We walked through neighborhoods and along busy streets before we found the first shop on our list. We found much to our dismay that they were closed. This shop had hours that left them with a siesta time in the middle of the day, and we had just missed the lunch period. We decided that it would be best to save this restaurant for dinner. We began to retrace our steps so we could hike over to the other restaurant and begin from there.
We walked to Santoka Ramen. It was a very nice looking restaurant in a little strip mall near a subway station. This was the shop that I had been itching to visit. I desired to eat the Tokusen Toroniku Ramen. Our book recommended this bowl as being one of the more decadent choices available. The toroniku is pork cheek and if I understand correctly only 200 grams are available from one animal. Now two hundred grams is about half a pound, so I take it that pork cheek is a real delicacy. And at about eleven bucks a bowl my hopes were high for having the most delicious bowl of soup.
I ordered the Tokusen Toriniku and Jenny and Logan decided to share a bowl of miso ramen. Our food came shortly and we began to eat. The food really was delicious. The noodles were perfect. I slurped them with gusto. The pork cheeks were so tender that they quite literally melted in my mouth. In retrospect now I wonder if the melting in my mouth was more due to the high fat content and the heat of the soup turning the fat to oil. I will still attest to the fact that it was one of the most appetizing bowls of soup I have ever indulged in.
We figured a good way to kill some time between lunch and dinner would be to stroll on over to the shopping area a few blocks away and do some window shopping as we passed the time. It was as we were perusing the stacks of books in our favorite bookstore that we got the first clue that this experience was not going to end well. Logan had the look of someone who needed to use the toilet in a hurry, but before we could make it there it was too late. So we abandoned the search for good reading material and began to hunt for some new clothes for the little guy to wear. We managed to find a cheap little sweat suit in a department store.
Never ones to let a little bit, or a lot in this case, of crap stand in our way of a good time we decided to proceed with our plan. After all, Logan was saying that he actually felt fine and was not sick. So on we trudged convinced that Logan’s little accident was just that, an accident. I should have recognized foreshadowing when I saw it.
With all the time spent dealing with getting a change of clothes for Logan it was now time to begin the walk to the other restaurant for dinner. We wandered back through the city streets of Kyoto, Japan. We were able to walk parts of the city that were new to us. We walked through alleyways and streets lined with traditional houses and businesses. The sun was beginning to set and the streets were beginning to light up. Neon signs and lighted lanterns beckoned to us, welcoming us to enter and enjoy the hospitality found within. We truly were pilgrims wandering through a valley of temptation. We resisted and soon found ourselves at the second of our two destinations. Our quasi-spiritual journey was almost at an end.
Where the Santoka Ramen building was a marvelously modern chapel in the church of ramen, Karako Ramen was more of a storefront ministry. We arrived and found a bench at the counter. We had to sit at the counter, not because all the tables were occupied by other worshipers, because that was all there was. The restaurant was very narrow with seating for about fifteen along the counter. We perched ourselves on the stools near the end of the bar and ordered two bowls of kotteri ramen which is the house specialty. The soup was very thick and quite tasty. The most wonderful part of the experience was the friendliness of the proprietors who had laid out small bowls of various pickles, salads and even something that was like a curried tofu. The cook even went into the back storeroom and got a banana for Logan to enjoy with his dinner. We ate the delicious meal with relish.
After dinner it was time to head back to Omihachiman. We walked back to the subway station and started to trip home. We made it home in short order and soon enough found our selves in bed, or in futon as it were. It was in the middle of the night that I had the first premonition that something was amiss. Throughout the night and into the morning my stomach felt queasy, but I chalked it up to rich food and thought little more of it.
It was in the middle of Saturday afternoon that I really began to get sick. Suffice it to say that I had a difficult time and could not leave the house for much of the next three days. I even had to call in sick to work on Monday. It was probably the worst I have felt in a few years. It harkens me back to the days of yore when in college I drank too much peppermint schnapps and found it difficult to brush my teeth for a few weeks because the taste of the mint made me relive the whole experience. While we took our ramen meguri on the last day of November I am writing about it here at the end of January because the wounds are still fresh.
I have begun to eat ramen again, but I still have not eaten at a restaurant since the “episode”. When I do I will be sure to do so in moderation. Maybe that is the best way to deal with any vice. Lesson learned. All things are best in Moderation. And never let a bit of crap spoil a good time.
Ramen here is a thing of beauty. Forget what you know about the block of dried noodles that poor college students eat to survive. That’s not really ramen. Ramen is so much more. Fresh ramen that you order from a restaurant is one of the greatest foods to be made from the combination of noodles and soup. Jenny knows the answer before she can ask the question if she queries, “Do you want to go and get some ramen for dinner?” The answer is always a resounding, “Yes!” I can almost smell it now as I type, thin noodles immersed in a thick rich soup, slices of pork, crispy vegetables. All of the ingredients grasped with a pair of chopsticks and brought to my lips where they are pulled into my mouth with a resounding SLUUURP.
One Friday I found myself done with work very early and I was able to come home at noon. I walked through the door and asked if Logan and Jenny had eaten lunch. They replied that they had not. I suggested that we head off to Kyoto and cross one of the things on our to do list off. I have wanted to go and eat ramen for lunch and dinner. We rushed off to the station and were on our way. While we were on the train we studied the guidebook and the map to plan our pilgrimage route. We decided on two restaurants from the book that were within walking distance of each other.
We got to Kyoto and boarded the subway hungry for delicious soup and noodles. We walked through neighborhoods and along busy streets before we found the first shop on our list. We found much to our dismay that they were closed. This shop had hours that left them with a siesta time in the middle of the day, and we had just missed the lunch period. We decided that it would be best to save this restaurant for dinner. We began to retrace our steps so we could hike over to the other restaurant and begin from there.
We walked to Santoka Ramen. It was a very nice looking restaurant in a little strip mall near a subway station. This was the shop that I had been itching to visit. I desired to eat the Tokusen Toroniku Ramen. Our book recommended this bowl as being one of the more decadent choices available. The toroniku is pork cheek and if I understand correctly only 200 grams are available from one animal. Now two hundred grams is about half a pound, so I take it that pork cheek is a real delicacy. And at about eleven bucks a bowl my hopes were high for having the most delicious bowl of soup.
I ordered the Tokusen Toriniku and Jenny and Logan decided to share a bowl of miso ramen. Our food came shortly and we began to eat. The food really was delicious. The noodles were perfect. I slurped them with gusto. The pork cheeks were so tender that they quite literally melted in my mouth. In retrospect now I wonder if the melting in my mouth was more due to the high fat content and the heat of the soup turning the fat to oil. I will still attest to the fact that it was one of the most appetizing bowls of soup I have ever indulged in.
We figured a good way to kill some time between lunch and dinner would be to stroll on over to the shopping area a few blocks away and do some window shopping as we passed the time. It was as we were perusing the stacks of books in our favorite bookstore that we got the first clue that this experience was not going to end well. Logan had the look of someone who needed to use the toilet in a hurry, but before we could make it there it was too late. So we abandoned the search for good reading material and began to hunt for some new clothes for the little guy to wear. We managed to find a cheap little sweat suit in a department store.
Never ones to let a little bit, or a lot in this case, of crap stand in our way of a good time we decided to proceed with our plan. After all, Logan was saying that he actually felt fine and was not sick. So on we trudged convinced that Logan’s little accident was just that, an accident. I should have recognized foreshadowing when I saw it.
With all the time spent dealing with getting a change of clothes for Logan it was now time to begin the walk to the other restaurant for dinner. We wandered back through the city streets of Kyoto, Japan. We were able to walk parts of the city that were new to us. We walked through alleyways and streets lined with traditional houses and businesses. The sun was beginning to set and the streets were beginning to light up. Neon signs and lighted lanterns beckoned to us, welcoming us to enter and enjoy the hospitality found within. We truly were pilgrims wandering through a valley of temptation. We resisted and soon found ourselves at the second of our two destinations. Our quasi-spiritual journey was almost at an end.
Where the Santoka Ramen building was a marvelously modern chapel in the church of ramen, Karako Ramen was more of a storefront ministry. We arrived and found a bench at the counter. We had to sit at the counter, not because all the tables were occupied by other worshipers, because that was all there was. The restaurant was very narrow with seating for about fifteen along the counter. We perched ourselves on the stools near the end of the bar and ordered two bowls of kotteri ramen which is the house specialty. The soup was very thick and quite tasty. The most wonderful part of the experience was the friendliness of the proprietors who had laid out small bowls of various pickles, salads and even something that was like a curried tofu. The cook even went into the back storeroom and got a banana for Logan to enjoy with his dinner. We ate the delicious meal with relish.
After dinner it was time to head back to Omihachiman. We walked back to the subway station and started to trip home. We made it home in short order and soon enough found our selves in bed, or in futon as it were. It was in the middle of the night that I had the first premonition that something was amiss. Throughout the night and into the morning my stomach felt queasy, but I chalked it up to rich food and thought little more of it.
It was in the middle of Saturday afternoon that I really began to get sick. Suffice it to say that I had a difficult time and could not leave the house for much of the next three days. I even had to call in sick to work on Monday. It was probably the worst I have felt in a few years. It harkens me back to the days of yore when in college I drank too much peppermint schnapps and found it difficult to brush my teeth for a few weeks because the taste of the mint made me relive the whole experience. While we took our ramen meguri on the last day of November I am writing about it here at the end of January because the wounds are still fresh.
I have begun to eat ramen again, but I still have not eaten at a restaurant since the “episode”. When I do I will be sure to do so in moderation. Maybe that is the best way to deal with any vice. Lesson learned. All things are best in Moderation. And never let a bit of crap spoil a good time.
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