JAPAN

HOKKAIDO CRAB AND GREENERY DAY

Last night I went to dinner at Ebi-kani Gassen. It is a miracle that I found Ebi-kani Gassen. My Lonely Planet Guide writes this about it: “Ebi-kani Gassen (with an all you can eat menu) is among Sapporo’s many crab places. Its two locations are busy, informal and fun.” Then there is a general X type mark on an inexact map of the city. Okay, not a lot to go on, but I’ve seen worse.

I set out for what I think would be the right block and I find many eating places, none of them having any western alphabet sign in front. I ask. There is an art to this: you have to pick someone who looks like they would know about an obscure eating spot in this area. Bingo! It’s rare that I strike gold on the first try but there you have it: a Japanese man scratches his chin (literally) and his face lights up. He leads me to an office building with a sign that has the listing of all offices on its 14 floors. Then he points to some characters next to the 12th floor designation and says jubilantly: “Ebi-kani Gassen!” I thank him and head for the elevators.

I get in the elevator, push “12,” the door closes, nothing happens. I remember from my hotel elevator that the buttons at the top refer to "door open" and "door close" and so through trial and error, I finally get the doors to open. I am, of course, on the ground floor. A group of people join me and I am excited because maybe they will demonstrate what button to push to make the damn box MOVE. They press “4” and we move to 4. They get out. I have pressed “12” but I see that I am going back down to “1.” Lord, is “12” out of business? Is it special access only? Is it not Ebi-kani Gassen??

New people come into the elevator. I ask them in my fluent Japanese: “Ebi-kani Gassen?” They discuss this among themsleves with gusto and fianlly point to 12. We’re in business! But I show them that when I press 12, no light goes on (in my Japanese: press, shrug, press shrug). Ahhhh: they drag me out of the elevator and point me to another. Apparently this first one does not go up to twelve. The other does. Lonely Planet, do better! How is ANYONE supposed to figure all this out on their own?

At Ebi-kani Gassen I am given a sheet of paper and miraculously it has an English line scribbled on it: “all you can eat: king crab legs, snow crab legs, shrimp tempura, shrimp sushi, crab sushi, tempura shrimp sushi, egg custard.”

I am not a good “all you can eat” candidate. In the hotel, breakfast is included in my daily rate. There is an elaborate buffet, with egg dishes, Japanese dishes, meats, breads, rolls, you name it. I take a bowl of cereal and some fruit and drink my coffee and walk away satisfied. But this is a very specific to Sapporo “all you can eat” type of place. You are given a set amount of food that includes all the listed dishes. And you are given 90 minutes. If you finish what’s in front of you, you can request a repeat of all the crab legs. If you finish that, you can ask for another portion. Oh, and you are given all the beer you can drink in that 90 minute period as well.

This would not work in Wisconsin. Big people would come with big appetites and even greater thirst and drive these restaurants out of business. But around me, I see the usual lean Japanese people and they are eating rapidly, but sanely. I, too, work through my allotment and then wonder if I should ask for more. The Polish nagging little guy within me says “eat more! It’s free! And besides, it is the famous Hokkaido crab, the best in the world!” And so I order another round.

I come back to the hotel and collapse, with crab crawling out of my every pore. I don’t care if I never see another crab leg in my life! Had I spoken Japanese, I would have asked for a half portion, but can you imagine me taking that one on? Instead, I chose to gorge.

But that was yesterday. Today is April 29 – a national holiday: “Greenery Day.” It marks the beginning of Golden Week, where all of Japan takes off for vacation. Because there are three national holidays close together (Greenerey Day, Constitution Day and Children’s Day), most businesses are closed for the entire period – from April 29 until May 5.




For me, it is time to leave Sapporo. I am headed south to see one of the three natural wonders of Japan. When next I write, it will be from Matsushima. More on that later. In the mean time, I am including photo reminders that Sapporo isn’t all modern buildings and neon signs (photo 2), that space is always at a premium, thus the Japanese devise innovative strategies to not use too much of it (photo 3) and that since greenery can’t readily be found here on April 29 (too early), it CAN be found at the market (photo 1).

JAPAN

TEMPTATION




If Blogger hadn’t given me the gift of direct photo posting, I would not have spent the first hours of the night-morning today learning the easy steps of uploading pictures from my camera.

Therefore I would have eaten breakfast before heading off to do a two hour presentation at the University. And I would have not had to run in the rain to make it on time. And afterwards, I perhaps would have also gone to the basement food halls of the department store (Japan ostensibly has three acclaimed “wonders,” one which I will actually see tomorrow, but I would add a fourth: the department store food halls—they are amazing!), but I would not have lusted hungrily after all that was being offered and I would not have searched out the free samples [I don’t like to eat my way through these when I have no intention of buying, though I would have loved to pick up a bag of the pickled eggplant (see photo below), but as I explained to the clerk (and I am sure she understood not a word), I was at a hotel where the minibar wouldn’t have held a kilo of pickled anything].

I remember when I first visited a food hall in Japan. There, and actually anywhere that something was being sold, clerks called out a friendly greeting, with big grins on their faces: “Irrashaimase!” You hear this everywhere and after a while you long to reciprocate. After some days had passed and I thought I had the pronunciation down pat, I would return the favor. “Irrashaimase to you too!” I would say.

It wasn’t until much later that I learned that what they were saying was “welcome!” (as in: come over and buy from us). Blunder along, that’s me alright.


Not to get carried away with visuals, but I can’t resist a few from this morning’s visit to the halls of culinary delight.

JAPAN

IMPATIENCE…


[image of Sapporo late last evening]

I’ve taken to running in Sapporo. I can’t help it –it’s because of the lights. If I walk at a brisk pace down the street, the green crossing lights are completely out of sync with me and so at almost every corner I am forced to stop and wait. And wait. Any red light here is like Madison’s worst nightmare intersection in terms of stopping time: each turning lane has it’s own green light and so you, the pedestrian, need to wait until all permutations have been exhausted. Thus, when I am walking along and I see up ahead that there is a green crossing light, I run to make it. This is yet another one of those transgressions that make me appear odd and foreign, but I can’t seem to help myself. Green light ahead? Run!

…AND GREED

Last night (that would be Tuesday for me) I sought out a place for dinner that I had noted earlier while leafing through the Lonely Planet guide to Japan. It was a simple place, with counter service and a few tables, but what had especially caught my eye was the reference to the use of fresh Hokkaido ingredients. Anyone who knows me would smile in patient (I hope) amusement: it has long been true that if the food is described as fresh and local, I’ll want to try it!

I had a hard time finding this place. The book referred to it as “Uoya Itcho,” but clearly the authors read and speak Japanese because nowhere on the outside, nor inside, is there a single letter of the western alphabet. And no one speaks any English – or they do a good job of feigning ignorance when asked. But I did finally corner a few random people to inquire if this was “Uoya Itcho” and though people here always appear to be agreeing with you even if you are dead wrong, something in the vigor of the “hai’s” and the nodding of the heads convinced me that this was indeed the place.


It was crowded, but I was given a comfortable spot at the counter and a menu to make my selections. Thank God for those photos on the menu!


As this was my first authentic Japanese meal (the others had elements of Japanese food, true, but this had the potential to fulfill my cravings for such things as sushi and sashimi) I went overboard with the finger pointing. What I had forgotten is that you have to sort of ease into raw fish eating if you’ve been away from it for a while. Getting a plate loaded down with five slices of every conceivable ocean critter can initially dazzle and eventually overwhelm. I had one of those momentary longings to have a dog under the table – anything to decrease the number of pieces still ahead.

The waiters, amused I’m sure, by this solo foreigner (the place was filled with men pausing to eat in the course of their evening of work, with random pairs of women thrown in, probably just for decoration), kept hovering and asking questions which I assume had the goal of assessing the degree of my satisfaction (or, they could have been asking about my age, wealth, or country of origin, how would I know...). Of course I had to finish THE WHOLE THING. Even a tall beer didn’t ease the pain of overindulgence. Oh yes, healthy, it’s all so healthy, but my God, did I eat a lot of raw fish!

It’s interesting how quickly you then forget the pain and look forward to a repeat performance.

JAPAN

WORK HABITS AND KIND BODY GUARDS

Well, the blog was to be built around photos and the photos disappear from the blog just moments after I post them, so technology and I are not friends at the moment. And the Internet is breaking down regularly. And Eudora will receive but not send. I can’t believe that I am using ten million high tech gadgets, all of them made right here in this country and none of them are capable of producing a good day’s worth of work.
UPDATE: Blogger and I are the best of friends! Oh, what that nice blogger rep did for me! Thank you so very much.

…As opposed to the people here, who have absolutely lost all perspective on the subject of work. How can you schedule a meeting with me from 7:00 pm, be done with it at 10:30 pm and then return to your office to continue with the work that you interrupted for my benefit?

But this morning I beat them to it! I was looking for a cup of coffee at 5 am and was deeply disappointed that the hotel was not about to recognize my cravings at what seemed to me to be a decent time to start a fresh day. The night clerk was, however, very polite about it and expressed great disappointment at not being able to oblige.

Sometimes I think that the people here should just blow their cool at the likes of me. It seems they should be saying things like “and who are you to come here and expect every one of us to speak your confusing language and to understand your weird gestures and requests when you yourself have memorized only five Japanese words and continue to violate virtually every social ritual known to us?” But no one says this. Instead, I am allowed to blunder along, and I am greeted everywhere with a desire to make my walk through this country an easy one.

In my work, I go from one meeting to another with my “guards.” These are the kind people who have agreed to translate for me – from foreign grad students to deans and professors, they all humbly undertake this, with no compensation, nothing at all from me except a thank you and a dumb little gift from Wisconsin (you can just imagine how creative those are—though to my credit, I have yet to hand over anything with a picture of a red badger on it, thinking perhaps that you would have had to at least pass through WI to work up any enthusiasm for our local mascot).

But I view them also as guards of sorts, as they protect me from my own ineptness, always apologizing, I am sure, for my ignorance. I know this to be true because I am beginning to pick up little signs here and there: like this afternoon when my ‘translator' swooped down to take my shoes and move them to a spot where I should have placed them; or earlier, when another handed me a fresh hankie as I made my way to the Japanese washroom without thinking to bring one; or this evening when I was too busy writing down answers to questions to reach for the proffered Hokkaido treat and found my “guard” gently placing one on my pad so that all could then begin to enjoy theirs.

WALKING THE WESTERN HILLS OF SAPPORO

“The sun so bright, I froze to death,” aptly describes this day: trees here are a month behind Madison (as opposed to the area around Tokyo where they are a month ahead; so where on Japan’s map is Madison??) and there is still an occasional patch of snow in the hills, but that not withstanding, it was a bright, bright day, one that needed a walk. The early morning was a perfect time for it.

Nothing is as uplifting as watching schoolchildren sail off to their elementary schoolhouses – in packs, on bikes, alone, with a parental hand clutching theirs. In France it may be all navy and white for the left bank private l’ecole set, but here, the colors of kid clothes are bright and mixed in interesting ways, so that the pink ‘little kitty’ sweatshirt will be on top of yellow ‘Tony tiger’ pair of pants, with perhaps a fluorescent pink ‘Astro man’ backpack to really set things right. Children appear to like cartoon characters generously sprinkled across every surface that lends itself to this sort of thing.



Eventually I reached the hills on the outskirts of the city. Not surprisingly, a bright red shrine stood halfway up the steep incline. Outside, a wooden stand had hanging garlands of beautiful origami cranes and a thick leather book, resting partly open, with a pen stuck inside, obviously inviting … who knows what. Is it one of those books where you’re expected to write something like “Hi! I am from Wisconsin! Glad to be here! Hey, how about that, I see someone from Pennsylvania visited last month! Go Pirates!” or maybe comment on the natural beauty of the setting (“you have one great shrine here and the view is like wow, like terrific!”), or is it maybe something that I am not getting, like a sinners book, so that if you sign in you are admitting to having killed your neighbor and lied to your own mother? I left it alone.

Sapporo is not a wealthy town. In fact, Hokkaido is a not a wealthy island. The already small Japanese houses are even smaller here. ‘Modest’ is a good operative word as you pass through residential neighborhoods. I paused in front of one mansion (that would have comfortably fit into the average Madison kitchen) to take a photo of the city below (note missing photo here as well) and I played “no, you go first” with the gentleman who lived here and was taking out the garbage and almost walked in front of the camera. After many gestures and words of protest, he won. I had to go first.

LUNCH AT THE FAC CLUB

I had my first official meal on of the trip – with the various faculty who are helping with my work here. We went to the faculty club – a beautiful modern building that looks exclusive and swank, though I was assured that it was open to anyone, including tourists if they chose to visit the campus of Hokkaido University. They said it was a disappointment because none ever came – too far off the beaten path.

And now the chopstick game begins. I am offered western eating utensils and I politely refuse. Big smiles all around for that one. I am adept enough at the chopstick thing that I can, as I’m sure most Americans can, transport food from plate to mouth without losing half of it, no matter how slippery or small – a feat that never ceases to bring forth great exclamations of praise and wonder. (Japanese people must think us to be such indelicate eaters!) But the game isn’t over. I then have to decline having any such skill. And so we go back and forth on this and end the exchange with a mutual bow of acquiescence, each acknowledging that the other is right, followed by a minute’s silence to contemplate the miraculous wonder of this. The chopstick game happens quite frequently. I am happy, because at least I think I know how to participate in this one.