A Gruesome Tail

At the request of my dear old mum I'm writing today to bring you another glorious culinary episode. I was reluctant to write about this one, simply because of the analogies I will have to use. I know that my grandfather sometimes logs on to read my blog you see. However my mum has reassured me that my grandfather is 'a man of the world' and therefore won't be offended by anything I have to say - but apologies in advance anyway, grandad!

Last week the ALTs and some JTEs from my prefecture spent two days on a business trip in Kobe at the Board of Education. On the first day I ate lunch with two Japanese teachers and my ALT friend from the US. On the second day I went for lunch with the two friends I usually hang out with on my days off - the aforementioned American friend (who is crazy about Korean food) and the Kiwi (he just likes food.) We went in search of a place that serves vegetarian friendly food and chanced upon a tiny Korean place not far from the Board of Education. After reassurances that they could accommodate my perculiar tastes we settled down for lunch. So far, so good.

I may have mentioned this before, but my American friend speaks excellent Japanese, so she put the waitress straight when she said the chef would prepare me a squid omelette (because a squid 'isn't really meat'). My food was a sort of potato omelette with chili peppers on top, not too bad! In the meantime, the other two were glancing over the lunch menu, aided primarily by pictures. Whilst Team America opted for Miso Chicken (a fairly safe bet, I thought), Team New Zealand pointed at a picture for the waitress. Underneath, I noticed as she was making a note, it said テイル (te-i-ru)... I sounded out the letters in my head before venturing 'you're ordering oxtail soup?' A quick check with the waitress confirmed this. She scurried off to the kitchen before he could change his mind. Worry seemed to spread over his face, despite reassurances from our friend that oxtail soup is delicious and he had nothing to worry about. The true friend that I am, I too reassured him that all the gruffnuts are thoroughly brushed out of the fur before the tail is added to food. I like to do my bit.

By the way, I regret that I didn't take any pictures. In the words of our ten-foot tall kiwi pal, there 'wasn't enough room to swing a cat' in the place (there was seating for about fifteen people in total I would say), and I get the feeling that we were the only foreigners that had been there in a long time. 'Conspicuous', therefore, doesn't begin to cover it.

When the food arrived after a long time ('probably because they're still cleaning up the tail for you', I suggested), the presentation was fabulous. Each of my friends had a bowl of soup, a bowl of rice, and a selection of smaller dishes with pieces of fish and pickled vegetables. The Miso Chicken was tucked into straight away, with expert precision and culinary appreciation, whilst the Oxtail was met with a degree of hesitation (as I sniggered maturely in the background.) He picked up a chopstick and reluctantly dipped it into the murky liquid of the soup, and when he brought it back up again, something slimey and greyish was attached. 'Is that a..?' I began. He looked up, apparently in confirmation.

It looked like a large bogey.

A piece of skin or fat, no doubt, but it had a terrible aspect of something one would find inside a winter tissue. Bleugh. Back in went the chopstick.

So he picked up the other chopstick and plunged them together into the soup, hoping to find something a bit more edible looking. This time the chopsticks emerged with something much bigger and solid. Something long and cylindrical, greyish in colour, erect and wrinkly on the outside. It took every ounce of self control I had not to either laugh hysterically or vomit onto my own food (I settled for barely-controlled chuckling.) What he had just pulled out was an entire oxtail (which, so you know, looked NOTHING like anything I had ever seen in the Heinz oxtail soup my dad eats). It did not look edible. It looked like an old and diseased penis, one which had been miraculously preserved throughout the stewing process in its erect state.

I will never forget the look on our friend's face as he realised what he now had to eat. He went a shade of grey not dissimilar to the long object he was holding up with his chopsticks. His lips contorted as he struggled not to retch into the bowl. I continued to laugh silently until the tears were rolling down my face.

Unfortunately it doesn't end there. When the waitress / owner / resident mother saw our friend struggling to eat this piece of meat (gnawing at it tentatively as he gripped it with the chopsticks), she came running over to seize the utensils from him. Then, not content to simply show him what to do, she stood over him and used the chopsticks and a spoon in unison to scrape every last piece of meat from the tail into the soup (inside there was a bone, who knew?!) before tipping the rice in with it. Only when she was satisfied that he could manage without her did she walk away.. and stop right in front of me to see me laughing so hard that I couldn't even pick my omelette pieces up with my chopsticks. I was offered a fork, which I politely declined (much to her confusion.)

To his credit, he ate the whole thing and was very brave about it. Despite my unwelcome observations on the appearance of the oxtail and the use of the word 'tail' in contemporary English, he choked down every scrap and did not vomit over himself or us. Kudos to you, my friend.

As we ate our lunch, I laughed until I cried. When I got home, I wrote an email about it to someone and laughed until I cried. Then I went to bed, and on recalling his face drop at the sight of the chopstick bogey, I again laughed until I cried. I've forgotten now how much the oxtail soup even cost, but going on my enjoyment alone I would say it was worth every penny.

Moral of the story? Play it vegetarian. It's the only way.

The Kit Kat Challenge II

After a break (geddit?) I have begun sampling kit-kats again, albeit with some reluctance. For some reason I just can't find any new ones to try. The only ones available are normal, dark chocolate, and salt and caramel kit-kats. A few days ago I was at the train station and happened to chance upon these.


Yes, that's right. Cheese flavoured kit-kats. I tried to tell myself they would be 'cheese cake' flavoured kit-kats, but no. Look at that big lump of European cheese on the front. That, my friends, is exactly what the kit-kat tasted like. Luckily it was a pack of mini ones.


For that reason I didn't feel so guilty about throwing it away after one bite. I was on skype at the time being egged on by someone to try it, not realising that it would have me retching in an hour. For the record, the cheese kit-kat smells like feet.

You have been warned.

Something I said?

Today I gave a lesson to two classes on Bonfire Night, complete with the story of Guy Fawkes. One teacher was prepared for it and had even given the students and information sheet on Guy Fawkes earlier in the week, so the lesson was a complete success. The second class was with a teacher who hadn't really done more than glance over the story I had given him (which was fair enough as I hadn't asked him to.)

When it came to the part of the story where Guy Fawkes was hung, drawn and quartered however, I was in need of a translation. I was describing the process of drawing the victim when I heard a strange sound. I turned around to find the JTE dry-heaving in the corner of the classroom.

Another successful day, then.

A Crap Streamer?

Today is a public holiday in Japan - Culture Day. I did ask my students yesterday what that entailed but neither they nor my JTE could explain it to me. I had a 'special days' lesson with a different class last week where I assigned groups of students a special day to make a small presentation on, but unfortunately none of them did Culture Day. Having said that, though, I'm not sure how accurate their information would have been. The students in charge of Children's Day drew a carp streamer on the board and, with the aide of an electronic dictionary, wrote 'a crap streamer' above it. I had to bite my cheeks really hard as they were doing their presentation.

There are people milling around outside and there seem to be events going on at the university across from where I live, but I've not really been out today apart from walking my friend to the bus stop. You see, last night I met up with two friends for okonomiyaki in Nishinomiya, and afterwards we went for drinks at a small bar that reminded me of a 1950s black and white flick. It was small and clean and there were not many tables for people to sit at; mostly the customers were sat at the bar and talked a lot to the barmen. The seating charge was 300 yen. I'm not used to paying seating charges, but it's fairly standard in Japan and 300 yen is nothing compared to some of the seating charges in Kobe! I had a really good time, as I always do when I go out with these particular friends, because we always laugh a lot. I also like the fact that our meals / drinks together sound like the start of a bad joke - 'a Brit, a Kiwi and a Yank walk into a bar..'

It's true that we're supposed to be sampling the culture out here and seizing as many opportunities as possible, but sometimes you really need gaijin company. Only another gaijin will truly understand what you mean when you say 'I feel homesick', or realise immediately that you have just delivered the punchline to a joke, or give you a straight yes or no answer when you ask a question. And, depending of course on their character (I obviously can't lump all gaijin into the same category), they tend not to judge you when you drink more than you should on a Tuesday. Generally.

So after downing five beers last night I am, understandably, feeling a little green around the gills today and didn't make it to Ikea where I hoped to buy a new bed. Darn it. It was worth it though. Despite my firm resolution to make the most of my public holidays and go somewhere everytime one appeared on the calendar, I have spent the whole of today in my apartment eating junk food (mmm.. instant noodles..) and listening to music. Wrapped in my duvet for the most part. I would add that I do not regret this arrangement one bit.

It's pretty cold in Japan now, though obviously it's a lot colder back home, so I have invested in these:


Hand warmers! They're really good; when you take them out of the plastic, the chemicals inside the teabag-like warmers react with the air and start to give off heat. They last a long time too, about twelve hours, so I have taken to setting one going five minutes before my first lesson and taking it into the classroom with me (no heating in the classrooms) and warming my fingers on it in between writing on the board. In the evening it's still going strong so I cozy up with it in front of the laptop or as I get stuck in with my Japanese lessons. So Japan fails on one count for not having decent heating or insulation in its buildings, but wins on the accessories front.

I don't really have any news as such. The past week or so has been a hard slog of overtime at work, helping students to practise for the speech contest and preparing special lessons that have had mixed reactions (as ever) from all my classes. I've started adding ginger to my soups to keep me warm, wearing extra layers to work, and allowing myself to get excited about Christmas and New Year. In a couple of weeks (when the new bed is ordered, paid for and assembled) I'm going to go out and spend some money on winter clothes, yey! A coat, elbow-length gloves, heat-tech tops, as well as other wintery accessories. I'll keep taking pictures of Japanese things for you all, I hope it's not too cold where you all are. I was lucky enough to receive a parcel recently of chai tea and custard cream biscuits (thank you!), so every time I stop for a tea break I think of all my Frenchies :) Missing you all.