Wednesday: Two Conversations

Today I took part in a conversation at a normal pace and volume in competent (if not pretty) Japanese. It went like this:

JR Expressway Bus clerk: Welcome. Can I help you?
me: Yes, thank you. I need to go to Osaka this Friday.
JR man: This Friday. What time?
me: Is there a bus leaving around 9am?
JR man: Let's see... there's a 9:15 to Osaka.
me: Yes, that's perfect.
JR man: Is this a one-way ticket?
me: No, I need a return ticket, too.
JR man: Ok. What time would you like to return?
me: Is there a 5 o'clock bus?
JR man: There is a 5:50.
me: 5:50?
JR man: Yes.
me: Um, that's a little late. 4 o'clock?
JR man: There's a 4:10 out of Osaka.
me: Ok. I'd like the 4:10, please.
JR man: Is this the same day?
me: Yes, please.
JR man: Ok. That will be 4600 yen.
me: Can I use a credit card?
JR man: No, cash only.
me: Ok. [pays]
JR man: 400 yen is your change. Thank you very much.

Riveting stuff, I know - but this is one of my favorite things about traveling and living abroad: that the simplest of competencies become my greatest triumphs. Of course, like the cool customer I am, I danced a ridiculous little shuffle-dance of victory just outside the ticket office, as the pre-rush-hour crowds pushed past me, through the biggest train station in the world.

The second conversation was a result of the habit we've gotten into of eating out on Wednesday nights, since Imao-san has an art class and a golf lesson, and I generally go to the gym after classes end. That conversation went like this:

her: What would you like to eat for dinner?
me: I'm game for anything.
her: Hmm, let's see. We've done sushi, ramen, pork cutlets... what else? Eel on rice? You up for eel?
me: [hopeful grin]

Fresh-water eel in Japan (unagi) is basted over and over with a sweet sauce while grilling, and was the very first thing my host family in Hokkaido ever served me for dinner. I will never forget the look Tomo had on her face as I asked, politely, what kind of fish I was eating (as I assured her it was delicious), and she replid innocently, "unagi! Do you know that word?" She knew perfectly well that I couldn't possibly know unagi - at that point, I struggled with the words for "lightswitch" and "shoe" - and the mischief in her eyes said she also knew that I had no idea what I was happily swallowing. When we had finished eating and cleared the dishes, she brought me a dictionary and opened it to unagi, at which point I think I might have gagged a bit at the thought of an eel in my stomach and then admitted that it had tasted wonderful.

Tonight we went to an eel restaurant, (restaurants in Japan are incredibly specialized,) and while the delicate line drawings of eel on the menu were more than a little disconcerting, the final product was light and sweet and just a hint crunchy.

I like these conversations of mine. I should have them more often.