I was invited to a Rotary barbecue, Japanese style. I have to say, it was pretty awesome even though it was hosted outside... Stupid mosquitoes and freakin heat that just doesn't quit! (took two baths today mind you)
The food was good if a little spicy, for those of you who do not know me personally... I'm a weenie when it comes to hot foods. Even mildly spicy, just a tingle on the back of the tongue, is almost too much for me to handle.
The grill was a barrel like.. thing.. not sure what it really was, but it held the coals and charcoal and that's all that really mattered! There was a metal screen and then a metal tray put on each end. Food was then placed on either side depending on what it was. Meat goes on the screen and fried noodles go on the tray. Oh lord was it good!
The people of my host Rotary here in Kashima have kind of made it a game out of what I will and won't eat. I don't usually turn down much, but a fish that stares at me while it is being cooked is a bit much for me to stomach. I enjoyed the pumpkin though, something I don't normally eat in America. I also enjoyed the rather rare meat. Tongue, gut, and beef. What a delightful trio!
But seriously, tongue is nearly impossible to chew!
This little get together had around four families there, and a bunch of kids.
I have found that I connect well with children here in Japan. Maybe it's the fact that laughter is universal, and everyone wants to hear the foreigner stumbled over words that are commonplace. My little friends here at my Host House parrot me, and I them. It's a fun way to learn the language. I gain a few more words each day, understand a sentence a little more each day, and get that kids are little monsters each day.
These kids, they were fun.
We lit little sparklers together and waved them around. I love how the little sparks fly high before twinkling out close to the ground. There is a Japanese firework that we don't have in America that I absolutely love. It's a long piece of paper with a slight bulge on one end. You light the end that had a hump and crouch close to the ground. The little firework sparks and sputters before seemingly going out before a small orange ball of what looks like lava forms on one end. You wait and see how long this fiery little orb will last while each one of your pulses make it jump a little. Mine didn't last long, but that was okay.
I had gotten a snowball fight in the middle of a Japanese August. I couldn't have asked for anything more!
How it happened, we were all eating shaved ice. Delicious. God I'm going to gain so much weight with all the food being given to me at every turn of my chopsticks. Besides the point. I was enjoying my melon flavored ice when one of the little boys tears past me with a fist full of shavings. Like any boy, he formed it into a ball, threw it into the air, and cheered when it exploded on contact with the ground.
Never have I moved faster.
I leapt over crates and pallets.
The party was at a Rotarians loading dock, I got to go into the big freezer and see the huge tuna and other fish as they sat in basic cyro sleep. I loved the cold of the freezer, running around and chasing kids while the adults shivered and watched in amazement as I was completely at home in the cold in a tank top and loose pants. In America I lived in an ice cooler of a basement. I love the cold.
I leapt over the crates scattered around, rounded the grill, and tore towards the machine. I hunkered down and gathered a fist sized amount and packed it down to a slightly smaller size, adding more shaved ice leftovers as I went.
The Japanese watched me as I laughed, giggled, and smiled like a mad woman. Never have I been happier to see snow. Fake snow. But still snow. It made me happy, really happy, ecstatic.
So after explaining what a snowball was, what ice fishing was, and what a blizzard is, I took my precious ball of snow and threw it as hard as I could as far as I could. This started a mini snowball fight between myself and the Rotarian who hosted the barbecue.
I ended up being soaked, ice down my back, ice in my hair, and my glasses fogged from the freezer. He ended up sweaty, super cold, and amazed that I have a strong arm that launched snowballs like a machine. (I love me a good snowball fight).
I appreciate that this Rotary here is doing everything in their power to make me happy and welcome. Throwing parties, hosting parties, inviting me out to sports, facebooking, and just joking around with me. It makes me feel like I belong a little more every time I make them laugh. It's hard, jokes all come down to physical actions. Sometimes I do it without meaning to, but it's totally worth it in the end. Sometimes it's the fact that I don't know what is entirely being said or what is going on that causes the funny bone in me to leap out and cause a laugh or two.
Between being soaked in ice water (totally at home with it too), being overly full of amazing food, laughing so hard it hurt, and enjoying the rising moon; I felt a bit more accepted and at peace with Japan.
It's a crazy place. The culture isn't much of a shock, but protocol is. Fireworks have rules. You light over a water bin, run around, and bring the stick back to the water bin before the cherry falls off and burns something or someone. In America, we really couldn't care what happens with the cherry as long as it doesn't land on someone or something valuable. Meeting people, I'm always confused when I meet someone.
The rules aren't straightforward like the firework rules.
Do I bow, what do I saw, who are they in relation to Rotary, what is their position in work, do they know English, do they expect a speech, do they know I don't understand most things said because it is said too fast, and do they understand that I don't really know what I'm doing when I meet a new face that doesn't know that I'm fresh in the country and not used to the strange space between shaking hands and jerky head bows on both sides.
At least with fireworks the rules make sense.
It's a challenge, but I'm starting to get that just about everyone is below me on the chart of importance. I'm somewhere just below a boss and above a manager. Assistants and servers bow to me and I should not to them. Rotarians are both above and below me at the same time, making meeting them the hardest of all.
There is no black and white like a firework being doused in a bucket.
I bow, they bow, I bow again. I say my name, stumble over the strange words and how they fit in my mouth. They stumble over the 'l's and r' in my name because they have no true sounds for these letters. I shake their hand, bow again, and explain that my Japanese sucks, and they have to speak slower. They nod and smile, before turning to my translator and rapid firing Japanese with words I didn't know I didn't know. Add a dash of tiredness, a cup of confusion, and a gallon of "Nani? (what?)", and let bake in the meeting over for two to four hours.
There you have it, the strangeness of meeting a Japanese Rotarian.
The party tonight, it was fun. Very fun. Worth every inch of being tired, sore, sweaty, and stinky afterward. The Japanese sure know how to throw a get together!
The venue for our little get together!
Fireworks, note the little blue bucket if water!
See You Soon
Mata chikaiuchini
また近いうちに
Mata chikaiuchini
また近いうちに
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