Nothing makes me feel more like an adult than making coffee. It reminds me of my mom, she used to make it every morning. I used to tease her about her addiction. I just made a bitter pot. I accidentally put in too many beans and then I sprinkled hot chocolate mix in. Wasnt as good as Id imagine.
Last night I went to karaoke with Yuka and Kirsty. It was actually a lot of fun. Ive discovered my karaoke song is definitely Bjork's "It's Oh So Quiet." We were there for three hours and got nomihodi. I drank way too many Salty Dogs.
Afterwards we went to Antonio's yatai. It was freezing. I started talking to these guys that were sitting there, making Yuka translate everything. It was ridiculous. Me screaming, "YUKA! ASK HIM WHAT HIS JOB IS!" "YUKA! TELL HIM I HAVE A TATTOO, TOO!" And random nonsense like that. At one point the man called "The Samurai" squeezed my nose and banged my head against his. Some sort of ancient Japanese mating ritual? Perhaps. They paid for our drinks, so mission accomplished. Then, they tried to give us a ride home, but luckily Kirsty had been drinking iced-hot-chocolates all night and she suggested we find other transportation.
Why am I writing all this here? It's the prelude and maybe explanation to my story about the pizza.
When I got home from the yatai I went to make some delicious store-bought pizza. While I was preparing it for the toaster oven I cut open the Italian Spices packet. I sprinkled them all over the pizza. But, they were black. And not pepper-black, but charcoal, ashy black. I thought maybe they were just burnt or something, and I considered continuing with the preparation, when I gave the packet another look. I had just cut open the "Do Not Eat" moisture absorber and poured it all over my pizza!
It took me a few minutes to decide not to eat the pizza.
Then I called Lauren on Skype and bitched/cried/talked-about-myself until the internet connection died and I fell asleep on my carpet. One contact lens mysteriously missing.
Now Im headed to the Shunan Art Museum to see an oil painting exhibition. If I can get there before they close.
Showing posts with label italian japanese food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label italian japanese food. Show all posts
Monday, February 18, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
I Give Up
I made some pasta tonight, with the same jar of tomato garlic I usually buy. But tonight there was this strange taste to it. It was fishy. I looked at the jar and the picture was the same as always, a tomato and a some garlic. I even figured out the katakana on the label (トマト&ガーリック) and it said tomato and garlic. There was a website printed on the back (http://www.kagome.co.jp/annamamma), so I went there to see if I could find some English ingredients. There werent any, but I looked up the kanji for fish (魚) and saw it was printed all over the place. Then I found a translation website (http://nihongo.j-talk.com/parser/) and saw that the sauce I've been eating for months doesnt just have fish but chicken meat (鶏肉) too!
Why?
This goes in my I hate Japan column.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Emo Sumo Children
I cant believe I.F.N. is on Blogger's "Blogs of Note!" That is so cool! I only wish I had something up there this week, go figure.
My bags came last night, so that was super exciting. I got my iPod and iHome setup, blasting slow Canadian emo music throughout the apartment. It is really hard not having any furniture. All my stuff is on the floor. And when it is super hot it makes it even harder to clean up. I kept collapsing on my "bed" (aka mat) between folding each shirt.
I went to The Mall today to buy some more towels, a key chain, and garbage pails (I wrote these three things on a list because I get so distracted), and I saw some pretty cheap shelving and little tables and desks in a department store. But I had no idea how to buy them! I stood around, hoping someone who worked there would come by and see me, but no one did. It was basically like a Target, there was a item on display with a price tag and a number attached, but I couldnt find where the boxes were. I didnt want to go find someone because I wouldnt know what to say to them. Id have to hold their hand and lead them over to the furniture. I dont know how the Japanese feel about hand holding.
Im watching a Japanese food show. So gross. They are eating bugs or fish or fish bugs or something.
Last night Roomie and I went out to dinner at the local Italian restaurant. She apologized for not bringing me somewhere Japanese, but I dont mind at all. There will be plenty of time for rice and seaweed in the next 362 days. I ordered pasta in a garlic sauce, with vegetables. The waiter came by and asked if Japanese vegetables were OK. I thought that was so cute. Imagine if I said "no, gross." What then? The vegetables were pretty universal, anyway. Mushrooms, zucchini, and something else, I dont remember (im a terrible travel-blogger, eh?). But there was these little bits of pink stuff that I swore was fish. I mean, maybe. It may have been tomato. They were really tiny bits. It didnt taste like fish, anyway. I picked most of it out, but you know, if it was fish I am still alive and well. The fish isnt, of course. That meal, without any drink, was ¥1,000.
This morning I woke up a little later than yesterday, but far earlier than I ever have in the US. I read comics in bed for a bit and then got that deep down itch to do some drawing. I went out front and sat on the steps drawing the house across the street. The neighbors downstairs were leaving the house. I think it is a couple with three kids, a boy (maybe 6 years old), a younger girl, and a baby. They were all so cute and running around playing. Then the father came outside and was racing with his son on the street, showing him the proper way to bend his knees and stand to start the race. They didnt know I was watching them. And they probably dont know Im blogging about them, either.
I have to pack tonight, because I leave for Hiroshima tomorrow. I have three days of training. I am excited to see the city, but not to lug a suitcase around the train station again. Once I get back I start work immediately.
Little kids are sumo wrestling on TV! They are so fat!
I am very confident that I will finish a comic book while Im here. There is not much around to distract me. I dont know if I will be as productive as say, someone who moved from Boston to Kentucky, but I'll draw lots of junk.
The sumo wrestler teacher keeps smacking the little kid's ass and he's crying. He has shamed his father.
My bags came last night, so that was super exciting. I got my iPod and iHome setup, blasting slow Canadian emo music throughout the apartment. It is really hard not having any furniture. All my stuff is on the floor. And when it is super hot it makes it even harder to clean up. I kept collapsing on my "bed" (aka mat) between folding each shirt.
I went to The Mall today to buy some more towels, a key chain, and garbage pails (I wrote these three things on a list because I get so distracted), and I saw some pretty cheap shelving and little tables and desks in a department store. But I had no idea how to buy them! I stood around, hoping someone who worked there would come by and see me, but no one did. It was basically like a Target, there was a item on display with a price tag and a number attached, but I couldnt find where the boxes were. I didnt want to go find someone because I wouldnt know what to say to them. Id have to hold their hand and lead them over to the furniture. I dont know how the Japanese feel about hand holding.
Im watching a Japanese food show. So gross. They are eating bugs or fish or fish bugs or something.
Last night Roomie and I went out to dinner at the local Italian restaurant. She apologized for not bringing me somewhere Japanese, but I dont mind at all. There will be plenty of time for rice and seaweed in the next 362 days. I ordered pasta in a garlic sauce, with vegetables. The waiter came by and asked if Japanese vegetables were OK. I thought that was so cute. Imagine if I said "no, gross." What then? The vegetables were pretty universal, anyway. Mushrooms, zucchini, and something else, I dont remember (im a terrible travel-blogger, eh?). But there was these little bits of pink stuff that I swore was fish. I mean, maybe. It may have been tomato. They were really tiny bits. It didnt taste like fish, anyway. I picked most of it out, but you know, if it was fish I am still alive and well. The fish isnt, of course. That meal, without any drink, was ¥1,000.
This morning I woke up a little later than yesterday, but far earlier than I ever have in the US. I read comics in bed for a bit and then got that deep down itch to do some drawing. I went out front and sat on the steps drawing the house across the street. The neighbors downstairs were leaving the house. I think it is a couple with three kids, a boy (maybe 6 years old), a younger girl, and a baby. They were all so cute and running around playing. Then the father came outside and was racing with his son on the street, showing him the proper way to bend his knees and stand to start the race. They didnt know I was watching them. And they probably dont know Im blogging about them, either.
I have to pack tonight, because I leave for Hiroshima tomorrow. I have three days of training. I am excited to see the city, but not to lug a suitcase around the train station again. Once I get back I start work immediately.
Little kids are sumo wrestling on TV! They are so fat!
I am very confident that I will finish a comic book while Im here. There is not much around to distract me. I dont know if I will be as productive as say, someone who moved from Boston to Kentucky, but I'll draw lots of junk.
The sumo wrestler teacher keeps smacking the little kid's ass and he's crying. He has shamed his father.
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