Restaurants 2: Portions 「レストラン２：量」

My father and I went to a Chinese restaurant the other day.  It was my first time at a sit-down restaurant in quite some time.  We took our seats, ordered our food, and then the meal came.

I stared at the plate in front of me.

"I only ordered a single portion," I said automatically.

"That's what I gave you," came the response from the waiter.

I couldn't believe my eyes.  The plate was heaped with food.  The pile of meat and vegetables was nearly invisible beneath the mountain of rice, which was topped off by several precariously-balanced pieces of crab rangoon.  It could easily have passed as a plate for three at a Japanese restaurant.  Did seven dollars really go so far?

Now, I am capable of eating quite a lot, and so I finished my plate, but I did not have of an appetite for the rest of that evening (or the following morning, for that matter).  I have heard a lot about the monstrous appetizers at some restaurants that give you 2,000 Calories before the main course even comes.  Reading about something and seeing it for yourself, however, are two different things.  I wonder if restaurants will let me order a single meal and split it with three people from now on?

I should add, by the way, that even the biggest meals in Japanese restaurants rarely top 1,000 Calories.  Where do Japanese restaurants fall down, then? Sodium.  Most menus in Japan now list Calories, fat, and sodium for each of their offerings.  I was horrified on more than one occasion to open up a menu and see offerings that were made with 4.5 grams of salt for a single serving.  It just goes to show you: you have to be careful of what you eat, no matter where you live.

Oh, and no, my insistent capitalization of the word "Calorie" is not an error: it's the teacher in me.  One Calorie, with a capital "C", equals 1,000 calories, with a lower-case "c".  If you were to live on a 2,000-calorie diet, you'd die of starvation rather quickly, because the energy in our food, as labeled in the nutrition information, is counted in Calories, not calories.
Japan avoids this confusion altogether by listing the energy in its foods in terms of "kcal", or kilocalories, which is a much less confusing way to count Calories; don't you agree?

What, Again? 「へ、また？」

Happy May Day!

Gaijin at Home has been running for one week, but people may have been wondering what my life was like before I left for Japan.
Well, there were all kinds of things going on in my life then.  Mostly, however, there were games.

And so, here is a second blog, one that has been a long time coming: My Life in Videoland.

But don't worry—I'm not abandoning Gaijin at Home or anything.  Expect the next restaurant post shortly!

Restaurants 1: Tobacco 「レストラン１：タバコ」

I must say, it is very nice to walk into a restaurant and not be asked the question, "Smoking or non?"  While it is now a given that one can walk into any restaurant or bar in Massachusetts and eat in a smoke-free environment, that is not the case at all in Japan.  There is a very slow trend toward smoke-free food, but most restaurants still offer only very small no-smoking sections, often with tables directly abutting the smoking sections.  On top of that, bars don't offer smoke-free seating at all!  It kills me to see little kids eating amid clouds of cigarette smoke.

Japan has started a nominal anti-smoking movement, but it is halfhearted at best, consisting primarily of stick figures and generalized captions about how smoking is inconvenient to other people.  No.  Talking in the library is inconvenient to other people.  Smoking is DANGEROUS to other people.  With all due respect to you smokers out there, moving to a state with strict tobacco laws is one bit of culture shock that I'll happily accept.

Rain 「雨」

What could be so different about rain in the United States to warrant culture shock, you ask?  Well, it's not the rain itself so much as it is people's reactions to it.  I went outside yesterday to find that it was raining steadily.  Not heavy rain, but enough to make splashy puddles and visible drops and all that.

So, what was so surprising about it?  The whole time that I was outside, I only saw one person carrying an umbrella.

That would not happen in Japan.  When rain falls, the umbrellas open.  It could be light rain, even the slightest sprinkle, and the umbrellas would open.

Umbrellas are so ubiquitous in Japan that just about any store has a massive umbrella stand out front.  Carrying a wet umbrella inside a store is extremely impolite, so people put their umbrellas in the umbrella rack when they go in, and pick them up when they go out.  Yes, umbrellas are occasionally stolen, but it is an extremely uncommon occurrence.  Nevertheless, some high-class hotels and some schools have special locking umbrella stands, where each umbrella can be locked in place with a key.

Umbrellas are everywhere.  People open them to walk from their cars to the storefronts.  They use them in showers and even in light drizzle.  People even use umbrellas in the snow, which is something that I simply could not get used to.  They keep people dry, yes, but try walking through the narrow streets of historic Kyoto when they are flooded with open umbrellas and you'll understand why I had trouble with them at first.

Now, because so many people ride bicycles, you may be wondering what people do in those situations.  Well, most people wear rain suits.  However, a number of people also carry umbrellas and ride one-handed.  Needless to say, cycling with an umbrella is not very safe, and yes, there is a law against it.  Unfortunately, that law is rarely enforced.

I rarely carried an umbrella before I moved to Japan, but when that small shower started yesterday, I found myself looking for one.  One thing that I left in Japan but wish I had taken with me is my giant umbrella.  It had a radius of 70cm, which is respectable in and of itself, but what made that umbrella so great was the fact that it was made of clear plastic: I could see through it when walking, and when I got home, a quick shake or two was all it took to get all the water right off of it.
I miss that umbrella.  I wonder how long it will take me to get used to long walks in the rain again.

(Thanks to my sister-in-law for reading my post and sending the picture!)

Welcome Home? 「お帰りなさい？」

Hi, and welcome to Gaijin at Home, a blog about reverse culture shock.  I returned home at the end of April, 2011 from nearly seven years of living in Japan—and I mean living in Japan.  For most of that time, I had little daily contact with people who were not Japanese citizens, and after a few years, Japan felt like home to me.  Now, I'm back in the United States, and I must say: it takes a bit of getting used to.  In this blog, I'll write about some of the day-to-day occurrences (and some not-so-day-to-day occurrences) that strike me as, well, foreign.

Note:
This site makes liberal use of Japanese characters.  If you cannot see the text below, you will need to adjust your browser before viewing this site.
このページ、日本語の字が使われています。画面に出てない場合はブラウザーの設定を直してください。