My Day Off

Today was some kind of holiday and, as such, was pretty slow. I spent the first half of the day sitting around in my apartment, finally deciding sometime around one o’ clock that I probably ought to go out and get some things done. Lunch, for instance, sounded like a good idea. Strangely enough, since I’ve gotten to Japan, I’ve eaten most of my meals at a Chinese restaurant. Osaka Osho shouldn’t be confused with your average American Chinese restaurant, however. No sir, you’ll not find beef & broccoli, teriyaki chicken, or duck sauce there. Neither General Tsao nor his delectable chicken has found a home at the Osho.

Instead, the menu is filled with what I assume must be far more authentic Chinese cuisine; as authentic as Chinese food from a chain of Japanese restaurants can be, anyway. I like to think that someday I’ll travel to China and experience its foods in their purest form. Upon arriving, I would not be all that surprised to find that they eat Grilled Stuft Burritos™ almost exclusively. In any case, I ordered my usual torinegi (chicken and onion) ramen (ramen) and a small plate of gyouza (psh, I don’t know). It’s a filling meal and a great value, you know, just in case you’re ever in Masuda.

After that, I decided to get a haircut, which I never did because all of the barbershops were closed today. I guess barbershops have enough in common with schools that they take the same holidays. My last resort was a barbershop that I always pass on the way to the grocery store. I knew it was a barbershop because there’s a man on the sign holding a pair of scissors. I love this sign, not because of the scissors, but because the man holding them is sporting a wicked awesome afro. It’s a shame that apparently no one in Masuda ever actually asks for that hairstyle. I think it would make walking around town a lot more interesting if they did.

For dinner, Jacob and I went to a new sushi place that just opened up outside the station. I personally don’t care all that much for sushi; in fact, I find it nearly inedible without the liberal application of soy sauce. However, Jacob had told me that this sushi place was pretty incredible, and I was willing to try it at least once. Apparently, some sushi places actually put the food on conveyor belts that pass directly in front of the customers, who can then pick up whatever looks good as it passes them. This presented a problem for me because nothing looked good to me; even those things that looked edible didn’t necessarily look appetizing. I ended up just ordering most of my food like a normal person, although I did pick up some soy beans and a piece of chocolate cake off of the conveyor belt. These were probably the most delicious things I ate this evening.

Jacob tells me it’s his goal to get me to like sushi by the time I leave this place. It seems like a strange goal to me; like trying to convince someone that getting stung by bees is fun, or that sticking their face into boiling water is an invigorating experience. I doubt he’ll succeed, and I’ve said as much, but I suppose I’ve changed my mind before. And if I can bring myself to drink disgusting Japanese tea and Pocari Sweat, who knows what horrors I can stomach? Already, I can feel my taste buds spiraling slowly into madness.