Whitey in America...errrrrrrrrrr, I mean, Japan....

So, the office manager from our office in Zama comes to Yokosuka to "pick me up". I'm thinking she's driving over to get me. Well, she isn't. She takes the train. Ok, fine. I can ride the train. Another 30 minutes with my gigantic bag. Nope. 30 on one train, get off, hike up about 6 flights of stairs, take another for about 30 minutes, and then change trains again and go for another 15 minutes. Not a huge deal, but it's 85 degrees or so with 90%-ish humidity. And, no elevators and no escalators. I'm agitated.

We get to Zama...or the area, anyway...get off the train and I"m into my hotel. What will I find? Luckily, it's a modern hotel. Small room, but at least I'm back to a heated toilet seat! My room in Yokosuka didn't have that. What are these people, apes?

Again, not to get off on a rant, but the heated toilet seat is da shiznit. It is in-friggin'-credible. For those of you who can, imagine being in a Vegas hotel room that has the AC as low as it will go. It's about 45 degrees in that room. You're sleeping and the urge hits. You get up, head for the john, and sit down. Now, instead of, "FUCK ME!" it's "whoa....fuck....me...that's nice..." The heated toilet seat is the first thing that I've found outside of the US for which I can't find a reason for not having caught on in the US. It is one awesome device.

Rant...continued...
The heated toilet seat in this place is like an F15. Seriously, the toilet seat is like a cockpit...no pun intended. There is a giant control panel protruding from the side of the seat. It has a throttle and all kinds of stuff. There's even a hidden control pad to enable the heated seat…hidden, for safety. I love this stuff. Too bad the cheapest model at the department store here is about $250.

Ok, so it's off to dinner. I walk outside and it's raining. Nice. But, outside the hotel is a shopping plaza. I'm protected from the rain pretty well and there are blocks and blocks of shops. I can't find anything interesting so it's the old standby, sushi. But, I don't see a place. I wander into a multi-shop building but there is no sushi place inside. There is, however, a girl studying and enjoying a Starbuck's coffee. She has to speak English, right? Well, no. I think this is a theme. So, I keep wandering. The rain is pissing me off so I go into the next place whose sign even vaguely resembles sushi. The place does have some sushi, so I order. Chu-toro sashimi, tekka maki, giant gyoza, and 3 skewers of chicken (aka, Yakitori). These skewers deserve some airtime. Two of these are no big deal, just chunks of chicken grilled with teriyaki sauce. But, the third, is the infamous (only infamous to me as I've seen it and never ordered it) minced chicken. What is it? I don't know. Minced? Hmmm... Could be similar to those skewers I saw in the jungles of Thailand labeled “meat”. Well, it's good. Appears to be ground up chicken, I don't know what part, mixed with chives, carrots, and other stuff. Very good, I have to say. So, if you are ever in Japan, screw the chicken meat Yakitori...go straight for the minced chicken Yakitori. I have to mention here that one of the other yakitori choices is port tongue. I didn’t eat that.

Well, I've eaten a ton and had a couple of big bottles of beer and I need to use the toilet. Where is it, I wonder? So, I ask the waitress. Surprisingly, no English. But, she points and I understand. But, the door says "toro" and something else. I don't get it. So, I say...multiple times..."is toro me?" I don't recall the exact discussion but it was basically her explaining something...who knows what at that point...and me not getting it. So, after 5 minutes of “discussion” I walk to "toro". Well, I have no idea what “toro” means but it appears to be a uni-sex bathroom. Chalk one up for the American.

Oh, yes, one last thing....tekka maki. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically a layer of seaweed, then rice, then tuna smeared with wasabi all rolled up. When I sat down, I ordered "tekka maki". She nodded, repeated it, and I nodded and repeated it. I got a tekka maki handroll. LIke an ice cream cone...seaweed on the outside like a cone stuffed with tuna, rice, and, in this case, a mint leaf. It sucked. After eating the skewers and stuff, I decided I was still hungry and wanted real tekka maki. So, I ordered it again. This time, using the picture in the menu. Since the second waitress said, “Here you go” when se delivered my food, I figured this she got it and I was all set. Clearly, she speaks English...she's got slang terms down pat.

Well, there is a dish that is 6 tekka maki, and 6 each of the same thing but with eel and egg instead of tuna. I explain to them that I want only the tekka maki, not the rolls with eel or egg. Again, the one waitress seems to understand. They walk off and, as I'm sipping my beer, I realize what I've done. She didn’t understand me at all and I'm getting 18 tekka maki. The six that come with the meal and 6 for each of the other roll varieties that I clearly didn’t want. No shock, that's exactly what arrives.

So, 5 days into the trip you should see the pattern...NO ENGLISH. More to come...