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Dateline 17 Feb 99 Life in the Big Udon 317 days till Ydo I Kare counting…
Work, work-work. Work. WORK WORK ORKwwwork. Lunch – ahh! The choices at the canteen! Shall it be the Hamburger Be Similar? or the Pita Taco? or the Spaghetti de Mare?
The Hamburger Be Similar (Burger BS, for short) is available every day. Bob Murphy swore it was a little bit of red meat (it looked light gray to me), with soy or something similar (there is that word again). But whatever it was, he clamed it tasted similar to a very breaded meatloaf. One more vindication for my vegetarianism.
The Pita Taco was a sealed half-moon of thin pastry with a 1/8” thick patty of mystery stuff hidden inside. It was mysterious in taste as well. I think that it contained other parts of the same Mare that was in the Burger BS and the spaghetti. No wonder they were called the mane courses. I caught myself pawing the dirt and counting several times when I went on the site.
In the afternoon, Greg, Fergus and I met with the Design Team from T2 [Terminator 2 – the Ride]. It’s like playing poker, except that you rarely play with more than one card at a time, and every card is as wild as you can make it. The only rule is civility while maneuvering concealed weapons. It can be quite a lot of fun – unless you have to show your cards. The face to face meetings do have the unique advantage, in that intent and purpose can be explained much more readily than through the austerity of written and drawn documents. Not even a :- ) , or a J or even a [ can help.
We were asked to join them for a party at 6:00. We were somewhat leery, as the party on Monday evening was a barbecue held outdoors, standing up while snow was blowing around. Hey, but were gluttons for punishment – especially since we heard that Ogikubo wanted to go Karaoke-ing. Yeah. That’s us. Sure. So, we show up at their trailer, for a “catered” affair in their canteen-muster room-meeting room-whatever. Chairs are along the four sides of the room, six tables (600x1200) as spaced in three rows of two in the middle, and three more tables are behind the chairs at the “front”. A plastic covered plastic platter sits on each table with a selection of canned beers. At two of the front tables are soft drinks, juices, sake, and whiskey. On the third front table are microphones and a dreaded karaoke device.
In attendance from USI was Ross, Greg and Myself. About 40 members of the Area 2 team round out the party. We lined up standing about the perimeter, while the head of the group made a welcoming “Kampai” to which we all hoisted our beers and “Kampai-ed” back in unison. (Personally, I think we should have had more dress rehearsals.) Then everybody dashed for the tables. I, sensitive little vegan soul that I am, leisurely enjoyed the sliced cucumberlet dipped in a soy powder with rice vinegar “mustard”, which, along with lemon slices, was the only thing I could eat.
Using vast amounts of persuasive diplomacy, they forced upon me numerous cups of sake, which I for the sake of good will disposed of – orally. Also, six pizzas arrived. The toppings were undecipherable since they were covered by a film of melted cheese. I had a piece. I suspect it had some leftover Hamburger Be Similar tucked somewhere inside. Then I was caught in a quandary when I was told that what I thought was coagulated sediment in the bottom of my paper cup of sake was really gold leaf. Should I think it a terrible waste of gold as fodder for my digestive tract, or should I think it an abuse of alcoholic beverages – which are perfectly fine without it?
Upon hearing the sliding door shut, and realizing that we were on the cold and wintry side of it, I realized that it was time to head back to our hotels. Needless to say, I was still hungry. I asked if others wanted to join me. Greg declined, so Ross and I went to the Suntory Restaurant & Bar in the Kita-Shinchi that I had scoped out earlier. Kita-Shinchi is an area about three blocks south of the Hilton, and is a smaller version of the Shinsaibashi area just north of Namba. And, boy, are both areas a lot like they sound! Most of the establishments are private clubs. Because this is where the money is, there are many interesting buildings as well. The buildings are slender and tall, much like the heels worn by the ladies here.
The Suntory is in the second basement of a small hotel. The atmosphere is spacious for a basement, with low lighting level. The bluish-white iridescence of about eight built-in aquariums provide half the light, while concealed downlights bouncing off of hanging sheets of white strings seems to provide the rest. Altogether the room has a reserved but elegant feel.
After waiting a few minutes, we were seated. The first five pages of the menu were bilingual – and listed beverages. The last page, which was the menu, was in Kanji only, except for one item near the bottom which said Haagan-Dasz. Fortunately, they had a waiter who spoke some English. As he went through the list (which was mostly seafood based) I asked for the tomato salad and the mushroom chips accompanied by a twelve year old Suntory. Ross had some chicken and something else with a gin and tonic.
Here is where I learned that surprise is proportional to one’s presumptions. The more two cultures differ, the greater number of presumptions that get exposed. Surprise becomes the rule rather than the exception. The matter then becomes whether to deal with the surprise with amusement or rage. My salad arrives. The tomato has been lightly cored, inverted on two small lettuce leaves, cut parallel into vertical slices, slathered generously with mayonnaise, with a fistful of fried jellyfish tentacles dropped on top. The mayonnaise guarantees that some of the tentacles adhere to each slice. So I was left with the mushroom chips. They were good.
Then there was the matter of the Suntory. It came in a tall glass with ice and water. In my book you just don’t do this to a twelve-year-old. We tried explaining that it should be just whisky – no ice. It came back in a smaller glass, mixed with water. NO – no, (don’t do this to me!) – just the facts ma’am, no water, no ice. Finally I got it, but enough of the ice had melted that it all tasted watered down. So, instead of paying for the returned drinks, they hit us with a twenty-dollar table cover charge.
Ah well, it was time to go back and count sushi jumping over the fence.
Comments:
Wednesday, May 30, 2007 4:07 PM Subject: Another "be similar"
Hahaha, that reminds me that one day, Tommy Garcia and I thought that we were getting 'beef stroganoff", because it looked like beef, and it sure looked like noodles. Turns out it was some kind of tongue stroganoff. I remember sitting with Tommy and when he took his first bite, it came right back out onto his plate.
I guess that you could call that stuff "stroganoff be similar"! Me? I went hungry after seeing that.
Dennis A. Murphy
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