Feasting on Foreign Fare What does the term “foreign” really mean? Does it mean you weren’t born in the country in which you now reside? Does it mean something or someone that seems strange to you? Does it mean something with which you are not familiar, but you are willing to associate with, immerse yourself in, bring into your group anyway (or entirely exclude)? What does it mean to be labeled a “foreigner” (or in my case, “gaijin”?) Does it mean you come from a different country? If that’s the case, do you ever cease to be a foreigner? What if you were born in a country, but your parents are from a different country; does that still make you a foreigner?…such as being born in Japan to Caucasian parents…and possessing a full head of bleach blonde hair. Would you ever be considered Japanese? I feel for those living in a country not their own – especially when choice played little or no part in their current circumstances. To be a refugee, to long for home and yet not be able to return, to not fit in anywhere. Aaa, the heartache some people must experience. I’ve heard it said that once one lives in a country other than “his own” for more than one year, he will never feel truly “at home” again. Truly this world is not our permanent dwelling place, anyway. I guess sometimes we’re more aware of it than others. That brings me to my topic of this week, albeit slightly less philosophical than my intro: Foreign Food. As I look back on the last nine months of my life, I realize I have dined on many things I never thought possible while maintaining a relatively peaceful smile (what was going on in my head – such as frantic prayer – is another thing). Just a few are: octopus (raw and cooked), squid (raw and cooked), fish eggs, many varieties of raw fish, whole fish – including eyeballs and brains, raw egg…and those are just the “normal” things! This past Saturday though (as in May 27th), I had the opportunity to learn to cook some of this “foreign” food with some women in my new adult English conversation class. Some of the ingredients that were used: miso (a paste made from fermented soybeans), salmon and pumpkin…together, tofu, seaweed, pickled plums, “mountain vegetables” (I still don’t know what these actually were), humungous radishes, and, of course, rice. I guess I reflect on it now because the funny thing is, well, it didn’t seem all that “foreign” to me anymore. Did I like all of it? No. But, everything we made seemed normal. A snack food here, a popular lunch over there, and the treat that everyone loves to munch on sitting in front of me. We made onigiri (rice balls filled with pickled plums or other tasty treats and wrapped in seaweed), tempura (fried vegetables…mmmm….), miso soup (yeah, this was no more appealing this week than in ever was to me….), fried tofu with miso paste baked in, Japanese potato salad (which totally leaves the American stuff in the dust), and other tasty treats. It was a lot of fun to cook alongside my “students” (they’re all older than me, so it’s weird to call them “students.”), and let me tell you, those women are deft with a knife. Sheesh, they were like the Swedish chef from the Muppets! (though what they were chopping actually landed in the correct bowl). What I find interesting is that I actually enjoyed most of the cuisine that entered my mouth. I can’t say salmon and pumpkin will ever reach my list of favorite foods, but I’m actually starting to not mind seaweed wrapped around rice balls filled with pickled plums. What has become of me?! So, that leads me to the other “foreign food”…the American stuff. Colored eggs to be exact. On Sunday the ALTs and members of the church put together an Easter program for people in the community. Hours of arduous labor and prayers from all corners of the world came together in God blessing us with a huge success. We sang several Easterish songs (parts of which were translated to Japanese in the program bulletin), performed a play (The Ragman – narration in Japanese), gave testimonies about what Easter means to us, and had an egg dying extravaganza at the end. Everything went well, and believe it or not, none of the dye-filled paper cups were even slightly spilled. Some of the creations, too, were ingenious. Among my favorites were two eggs painted and crayoned to look like Japanese cartoon characters. That’s definitely a first in my egg-dying career. So, anyway, Monday I decided a good food to bring for my lunch would be…you guessed it…boiled eggs. Colored boiled eggs. Apparently a very “foreign” food in the eyes of Japanese people. I showed them to my 2 nen sei class (8th grade) – they ooed an aaahed, then I showed them to my 1 nen sei class – they were a bit frightened, slightly curious, but the best reaction was from my 3 nen sei class. They were all gathered in the kitchen, making yet another “foreign food” (hot cakes with carrots, sweet potatoes, and other various ingredients I thought somewhat peculiar) when I came in with my show and tell. Most of the kids looked at me strangely and leaked out a noise something like “EH?!” Hiroaki was a little different. When I came to his station, he didn’t make a noise. He just stared at the egg. And made a face I only wish I had a camera for – a video camera. His eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of his head, then his mouth contorted into a sort of shocked-looking line – slightly open, slightly frowned, slightly stifling a gag – and then the expression morphed…and morphed…and morphed…for thirty seconds his face declared, in various, ever-changing forms, “Did THAT come out of a CHICKEN?!!!” I just kept holding my turquoise, sticker-clad egg, relishing the reactions to what I’ve always thought a normal holiday food. Apparently not. Apparently “foreign” is in the eye - and mouth – of the beholder.