America-jin desu in Toyko for Study Abroad

January 13, 2008

Meaning, I am American. I have to admit that, while being immersed in another culture is exhilarating, having some kind of cultural refuge is helpful.

After signing the lease for my apartment in Gotanda yesterday, I was starving and cold from a day walking in the rain. Thank goodness John and I bought umbrellas in the morning. The weather had been pretty perfect since I arrived, but Saturday was dreary, wet, and cold.

This probably sounds obvious to everyone reading this, but the lesson I learned yesterday - probably best to stay away from eating establishments that are located under a dingy el train. This may not always necessarily be true, but yesterday it would have been a good starting point for me. I sought a warm bowl of noodles, which I know exists in Japan, but is somehow so elusive thusfar. Just a simple bowl of ramen, but this is proven hard for me to find because of the language barrier. I'm glad Beginner Japanese starts this week.

So, I bravely approached a noodle house under the el that had a ticket vending machine. Unlike the ones I'd seen before, however, this did not have photos of the food on the buttons. I did my best to match the symbols on the outside menu to the ones on the buttons, but this - of course - was a flawed plan.

Upon paying my JPY 950 and getting a ticket from the machine, I entered the tiny place, sat at a stool, and handed the guy my ticket. The only other patrons were middle-aged men, slurping hefty mouthfuls of noodles very quickly, without even looking up - just tearing through their meals. The chef prepared a great-looking bowl of noodles - ramen, meat, eggs, some greens. When he served it to another person, I hoped that was the same ticket that I bought. It was not.

My meal was served tsukemen-style. There bowl was a bowl of thick egg noodles with no soup. The broth was served in a separate bowl, and smelled like dried fish. On the top of the broth, dark flakes made a thin layer. I hoped it was nori (seaweed like the kind they wrap sushi in), but it was dried fish. I stirred it up to see what else I had ordered - there was half a medium-boiled egg, a slice of fatty pork, and lots of seaweed and red cabbage. I got through about half of the meal, dipping noodles into the broth, until I accepted the fact that I did not like the food.

It was even more disappointing when a drunk man who could hardly stand or keep is eyes open (at about 1:30PM), stumbled in, sat beside me, and very deliberately stared at me while I ate, as he waited for his food to be served (and it looked awesome, too).

So, maybe those ticket stops are only for guys,
or maybe I should just avoid noodle stops in nooks and crannies of the elevated train tracks. Either way, I was elated to eat a chicken fajita salad at El Torito for dinner, from an English menu. And, today, I am at home in my Excelsior Caffe set-up with internet, school books, a bagel for breakfast with cream cheese and jelly, darjeeling tea, and a camembert and pastrami panini for lunch. Back to studying... .