I found myself thoroughly unenthused with the Bento today. The main course was a piece of sliced fish, which in itself is not a bad thing. What makes this fish so treacherous is the fact that it’s filled with razor sharp bones, and even the Japanese have a hard time using chopsticks with this devilish beast. There’s nothing like internal bleeding to go along with your bento.
I managed to crawl home to the dorm without starving to death, put some laundry in the washer, and decided to treat myself to a tasty quarter pounder, fry, and Coca-Cola. There’s nothing like a reminder of America’s weight problem to make me feel as if I’m home. Let me put something out there: ordering American fast food in any country is not difficult. If you ever find yourself at a loss for words and confused, simply point at the giant picture of the double cheeseburger and say “ugh.” It really is that simple. I decided on the quarter pounder with cheese, which is extremely hard to translate into Japanese (kuo-ta-paunda-chi-zu). The lady looked at me quizzically and asked me which one. I understood the Japanese, but didn’t understand her question.
What do you mean which one? I want the one that weighs a quarter of a pound (I don’t know what that is in kg) and has cheese on it. Sure, there is a dobaru kuo-ta-paunda-chi-zu (can you guess what that means?), but I didn’t say that did I? Was there some new fish flavored double quarter pounder that I didn’t know about? I wasn’t interested. I looked at her perplexed and repeated my self. She reached for the menu and preceded to do something that strikes fear into the hearts of all people trying to learn Japanese. I knew exactly what she was doing too, but there was nothing that I could do to stop her. She preceded to turn the Japanese menu with the giant pictures of cheeseburgers over in favor of a giant English menu with the same damned pictures of cheeseburgers!! Of course, at this point there was no point in trying anymore. I pointed at the burger and went “ugh.” I was disgusted by the situation. To make matters worse, she asked me again to make sure that that was what I really wanted, just in case my tall-American-butt had never seen a cheeseburger before.
While this is quite a small event in the grand scheme of things, it is representative of one of my only pet peeves about Japan. Sometimes the Japanese people are too nice. Earlier today, I went to buy a mousepad for the office, and the clerk asked me if I would like a bag. I said that I was ok, and assuming that I misunderstood and really wanted a bag, she gave one to me anyway. 95% of the time, Japanese store workers will assume that you don’t know Japanese. While this is not really a big deal, this mindset prevents them from understanding anything you say, even if it is presented in perfect Japanese. Believe me, I am by no means fluent, or even conversational, but give me some credit! In many cases Japanese speech is very soft, which makes it difficult for me to hear. If I ask them to repeat what they said, they always respond in English, or look confused! While I greatly appreciate the kindness and consideration, and I probably wouldn’t understand the Japanese even if I could hear it, it makes it very difficult to learn the language.
Needless to say, I wan’t Lovin’ It tonight. I almost went next door to KFC just to redeem myself… but I just couldn’t stomach any more fast food.