I Think I'm Turning Japanese
I have met a new friend and he is awesome. I hope he doesn’t mind that I talk about him. His name is Andy, and not only is he American, he is an American chef. Which means that his love for food and things that taste amazing indubitably surpasses mine. I felt like I was on my own mini version of Eat Pray Love when we went to go find some Indian Food in Sannomiya last night. Andy had gotten lost a previous week and found this amazing little alley filled with smells of deliciousness wafting through the doors of the tiniest restaurants and cafes hidden underground. We went to this Indian place whose name I wish I wrote down. It is still surreal to see non-Japanese, non-English speakers speaking Japanese. The staff of two were Indian, which was promising for our palettes that were craving buttery naan and lemony tandoori chicken. We definitely weren’t disappointed. Save for the amazingly, indescribably delicious feast I had at Dosa on Fillmore with Dan (my mouth is watering just remembering it all), this was the best Indian food I ever had. The curry was not too curry-y, if that makes sense, and the tandoori chicken is something I think I will crave fortnightly, as though Colonel Sanders himself added his addictive chemical. Definitely worth it, and if you come visit me in Kobe, I promise to bring you there!

After that, we went the Kobe/Hyogo welcome party on top of the SOGO building. This place is amazing (if you got a table, which they wouldn’t let us have because we were the obnoxious gaijin group). The view was pretty awesome, with the mountains in the background and lights strung up. It was a good time, becoming a Bullmoose and talking to a few new JETs I hadn’t met yet. They were playing some Gatsby-type music that made me feel like I needed my long cigarette holder and my super cool hat.

However… my downfall was the chu-hi. Oh dear. Let’s just say that there was already booze in what was dispensed from the machine (which is not what I was inititally told), so my adding 2 ladlefuls of sochu was completely unncessessary. I will spare you the details, but my night ended with Latoyaa handing me an emergency barf bag, me flopping over on a lady’s lap on the train, and bedtime tears. Not pretty.

The crazy thing about Japan? You don’t get hangovers here! Not sure what it is they put in their alcohol, but somehow I manage to wake up almost as fresh as a daisy. Maybe as fresh as a dandelion, at worst.

I love Japan.
8/24/2010 03:04:20 pm

If you don't get hangovers in Japan then sign me up!

8/26/2010 04:37:46 pm

Gina, magical places where hangovers don't occur don't apply to you.

Erica: I always thought the SIMAAM quote was "that makes you crave for it nightly." No?


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