Little things, big realizations

Last week Mr. Second Year and I talked about Gyoza over lunch. For those of you who don't know, Gyoza is a really good Japanese/Chinese food... But the Japanese version is rather to die for... or at least I think so. I could describe it, but... well.

Anyway, I rather like Gyoza and when we have it in school lunch I always do a little happy dance (Okay, maybe not, but I'd like to think I'd be capable of doing a happy dance) after all, when we have Gyoza that means we are not having Eel, octopus, squid, seaweed, rotten soybeans or jellyfish (And I have had all of the above in my school lunch... and I have eaten it... I don't think I'll ever complain about the greasy pizza ever again...).

After such a happy dance/discussion, Mr Second Year tells me that if I want real Gyoza there is a greasy spoon... rather greasy chopstick just down the way from the school and maybe Monday evening after school we can both head on over and have some real Gyoza.

First of all, I should give you the image of this Greasy Chopstick: It was spotless, bright, small, and was run by a father and his daughter. A lovely place, with two booths, a bar with about 5 stools, and four tables... on the floor (Rather on tatami mats on the floor, with little pillows for your butt).

Mr. Second Year and I walk in and sit down at one of the booths (Thank you Mr. Second Year... I can't sit in Seiza (Japanese kneeling position) for more than a few seconds still). We order two orders of Gyoza, he orders a Soba (Buckwheat noodles) dish, and I go for the Miso Ramen (With extra garlic... the vampires will be staying really clear of my place tonight...) The ramen was incredible and the Gyoza... well, if I hadn't already sold my soul to the Gyoza God I would have done so just then... it was seriously the best Gyoza I have had so far.

Mr. Second Year also instructed me on how to proportion the Vineger/Soy sauce/Hot oil that you dip your Gyoza in.

That was a lot of fun, and so then it comes time to go our seperate ways. We get in our seperate cars (We did that on purpose so we could go back seperately), and then I get on the road.

It was just about then that I realized I had no clue where I was.

But here's the trick: I wasn't worried. I just kept toodling along heading South (I knew I was north of my town), knowing that if I crossed the BigRiver then I've gone too far (The BigRiver seperates MyPrefecture from MyNeighboringPrefecture). I do just that and after a while I drop into NextTown and then I'm okay.

Nothing really strange about this.

Except that suddenly it occurs to me; All of the signs are in Japanese in this part of MyPrefecture (I'm really out in the boonies), I am in a foreign country, on foreign roads that have no names whatsoever (Japan names it's intersections, not the streets... it makes for interesting direction giving)...

And I wasn't worried.

Not in the least.

Needless to say, since my spirit isn't posting this post; I made it home, and got to explore some pretty Japanese countryside while I was at it.

But I wasn't worried...

Strange, eh?

---Not really lost in translation anymore.