Next month I return to Japan after a long absence, to see once again the gardens of Kyoto. I have been doing much thinking about Japan as I prepare for this visit, and remembered this morning a friend's [true] story about his first flight to Japan, traveling on JAL.
He had the Japanese menu and the Japanese businessman sitting next to him, a complete stranger, had the European menu. Craig was trying to get into the spirit of the occasion and I guess the Japanese thought to himself, "What the hell, I can't return to Japan without having given gaijin food at least one try."
So they ate their respective meals. The Japanese ordered a steak and salad, which he ate with apparent pleasure, but he seemed very puzzled by the large container of vinaigrette on his tray. He smelled it. He swirled the liquid around in the container. He looked deeply into it, as if the answer had to be in there somewhere. Finally, and before Craig could stop him, he drank it off at a gulp. Apparently he had decided that it was some English species of miso shiru.
Craig said that he will always remember the look of pain and surprise which passed across the man's face before he returned, possibly forever, to inscrutability. It seems unlikely that he every tried Western food again...
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