During my weekend in Kyoto, I had no shortage of "Gaijin moments." Gaijin, which means foreigner, is a slightly derogatory term used here in Japan. So, those moments are ones where visitors do something totally stupid because of cultural differences. I am not immune to those moments. In fact, I am particularly prone to them.
One particular incident that stands out like a preppy girl at a goth convention (do they actually have conventions? How strange would that be?) occurred at a sushi train restaurants. For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with these places, they feature little plates of sushi going around on a conveyor belt in front of diners who can reach out and take what they like. Each plate costs about $1, which is pretty awesome. It kind of makes me feel like this:
So, almost immediately plopping down on a stool, my eager eyes caught sight of what looked to me like tuna and some fish I didn't recognize topped with a dollop of something that looked like horseradish. The little card featuring the name of the sushi had a lengthy title beginning with the word "horse" so I assumed that my thinking was correct.
A look of terror quickly befell my friend's face and he asked me why on Earth I just took that plate. I didn't understand the problem and just stared at him blankly. Then, my face adopted the same expression of shock and terror as he informed me what my "horseradish fish" really was. Not horseradish. Raw horse meat.
My first instinct was to immediately return the plate to the conveyor belt, but of course, since I touched it, such an action was unthinkable. My heart began to race and I was awash with complete panic at the revelation that there was RAW HORSE MEAT in front of me. So many horrific thoughts began to swim in my mind. First, that it went against every ethical bone in my body to have to PAY for that plate. Second, the fact that they were serving horse at a sushi restaurant. If it were a seahorse, MAYBE I'd understand.
I began to calm myself down when it hit me that there was really nothing I could do. The horse was dead and on little blobs of rice on three plates going around and around on a sushi conveyor belt. Nothing I could do could change that. But the horse continued to haunt me like a ghost, slowly passing me by about every two minutes, because no one else was a terrible monster like me and picked up the horse plate. After about an hour, only one plate in addition to the one on the counter way too close to me was taken by someone else. That person is far worse than I am, however, considering they actually ATE the graceful, majestic creature.
The situation felt very reminiscent of the horse head in the bed in The Godfather. I couldn't even escape the haunting of the horse meat in the picture of me in the restaurant. If you look right to the right of my hand, you can see the little plates of equine "sushi."
WOW, I really can't escape my mistake! I am listening to Pandora, and a song by a band called "Horse Feathers" just came on, no joke. I am scarred enough by knowing what horse meat looks like. Visions of raw horse meat will dance around in my nightmares like sugarplums dance in the visions of sleeping children waiting for Santa. Except I bet that sugarplums dance in a jolly, cheerful and magical way whereas slabs of dead horse dance in a demonic, terrifying way. Strange analogy, sorry...
I will never live this down...I am sorry to horses everywhere! At least I didn't actually EAT one of you! Please consider this my public apology.
One particular incident that stands out like a preppy girl at a goth convention (do they actually have conventions? How strange would that be?) occurred at a sushi train restaurants. For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with these places, they feature little plates of sushi going around on a conveyor belt in front of diners who can reach out and take what they like. Each plate costs about $1, which is pretty awesome. It kind of makes me feel like this:
So, almost immediately plopping down on a stool, my eager eyes caught sight of what looked to me like tuna and some fish I didn't recognize topped with a dollop of something that looked like horseradish. The little card featuring the name of the sushi had a lengthy title beginning with the word "horse" so I assumed that my thinking was correct.
A look of terror quickly befell my friend's face and he asked me why on Earth I just took that plate. I didn't understand the problem and just stared at him blankly. Then, my face adopted the same expression of shock and terror as he informed me what my "horseradish fish" really was. Not horseradish. Raw horse meat.
My first instinct was to immediately return the plate to the conveyor belt, but of course, since I touched it, such an action was unthinkable. My heart began to race and I was awash with complete panic at the revelation that there was RAW HORSE MEAT in front of me. So many horrific thoughts began to swim in my mind. First, that it went against every ethical bone in my body to have to PAY for that plate. Second, the fact that they were serving horse at a sushi restaurant. If it were a seahorse, MAYBE I'd understand.
I began to calm myself down when it hit me that there was really nothing I could do. The horse was dead and on little blobs of rice on three plates going around and around on a sushi conveyor belt. Nothing I could do could change that. But the horse continued to haunt me like a ghost, slowly passing me by about every two minutes, because no one else was a terrible monster like me and picked up the horse plate. After about an hour, only one plate in addition to the one on the counter way too close to me was taken by someone else. That person is far worse than I am, however, considering they actually ATE the graceful, majestic creature.
The situation felt very reminiscent of the horse head in the bed in The Godfather. I couldn't even escape the haunting of the horse meat in the picture of me in the restaurant. If you look right to the right of my hand, you can see the little plates of equine "sushi."
WOW, I really can't escape my mistake! I am listening to Pandora, and a song by a band called "Horse Feathers" just came on, no joke. I am scarred enough by knowing what horse meat looks like. Visions of raw horse meat will dance around in my nightmares like sugarplums dance in the visions of sleeping children waiting for Santa. Except I bet that sugarplums dance in a jolly, cheerful and magical way whereas slabs of dead horse dance in a demonic, terrifying way. Strange analogy, sorry...
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| I'd prefer this any day |
I will never live this down...I am sorry to horses everywhere! At least I didn't actually EAT one of you! Please consider this my public apology.
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