Taming Tongue-Torturing Tentacles (and the stuff inside) I keep wondering…was there a way out that I didn’t perceive? Could I have avoided such a traumatic experience? Could the foulness have been evaded, prevented, at least reduced? But there was no other way. I had to suck it up, and, as the popular athletic apparel motto goes, “Just do it”…and then endure with dignity the unpleasant repercussions. Tuesday was a good day for the most part. I had the opportunity to teach three classes, which on cold days (we just turned the heat on today for the first time) is a marvelous blessing—I can move around as opposed to thinking about how frostbitten my toes are probably getting in the teachers’ room. Nevertheless, as always, I was excited for lunch, and being, as usual, ravenous by 12:30, I devoured my lunch with eager delight. In fact, I consumed it so quickly, I wasn’t quite feeling full when the last bight of banana went down, and I secretly wished that I had either packed more, or that one of the teachers would pass around a post-lunchtime snack, as they sometimes do. I’ve heard it said, “Be careful what you wish for”… I returned to the teachers room still savoring the sweet banana-y aftertaste on my tongue only to find a surprise—no, actually, TWO surprises, waiting for me on my desk. I use the word “waiting” purposefully, for these surprises looked rather, well, alive-ish—or like they had been alive in the very, very recent past. Two mini cuttlefish lay on a napkin, a “kind” offering by a fellow teacher wanting to share her afternoon munchies. There they sat, two deep-bruise-purple mini light bulbs with tentacles portentously jutting from the socket ends. I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t hide my terror. I stood in front of my desk, eyes fixed on the menacing sea creatures before me…unable to move. Or speak. Or maybe even breathe. “Dozo! Please eat!” cried the teacher whose desk sits directly in front of mine. “Pu-re-se-n-to desu!” I kept staring. “Ika desu. Do-rah-eed Su-kuwi-d!” I attempted a smile, but I’m certain it was more of a grimace. I feigned confusion. “Squid desu! Like octopus. Do-rah-eed. Please eat!” I tried to feign confusion again, but my fear began to seep through my fading smile. “Kowakunai yo! (Trust me, it’s not scary.)” “Not scary, my foot!” I thought, but kept on grin-grimacing, face contorting more and more the longer I gazed on the hardened tentacles. I stalled. “Nan de tabemasu ka? (How do you eat it?)” I asked with slightly quivering voice. The Kyoto sensei (vice principle) grinned mischievously and replied, “Zen bun de (AKA stuff the whole thing in your mouth.)” The present-giving teacher, wanting to be taken seriously, blurted out a scolding, “eeeeeeeeh!” toward his direction, and answered me sincerely, “Hambun. (Eat half first).” By this point, all attempts at appearing pleased about my fishy delicacies had completely vanished, and the secretary across the room began to catch on…quite verbally. “She thinks it’s scary!” I heard her say in Japanese, “And she doesn’t want to eat it!” Her cheerful face-filling smile rang out a jolly chuckle, which evolved into a chorus of laughter…soon joined by other teachers. Soon the whole room was focused on me and how desperately I did NOT want to eat my dried cuttlefish. I had no choice. Slowly I picked one up, raised it to my lips, and bit smack into the middle of the light bulb… I find it difficult to express the torture I experienced in the next few moments. My teeth had to grind through the beef-jerky textured bruise-purple outside before they reached the stale-pumpkin-pie texture of the diarrhea-green innards. I’ve never tried eating a fish that has been sitting out in the sun for three days on a filth-infested pier, but that’s all I could think of as several tentacles lodged themselves between my teeth and the pungent mushy ooze of cuttlefish guts assailed every taste bud on my tongue. The nice thing about raw fish is that after about two bites, whatever you’re eating can slide right down—which is the method I had employed the previous two times I had been presented with cuttlefish. Unfortunately, dried sea creatures allow for no such luxury. In fact, not only can the chewing not end quickly, but it must continue into what feels like an eternity—on and on, until you feel that the plastic-like substance of the tentacles will never admit defeat and finally break down. And…when you finally DO reach the point where you feel the tentacles are macerated enough to not cause significant damage to your esophagus, try as you might, it’s nearly impossible to work up the courage to swallow. I did ok with the first two bites, “hambun” turned out to not require as much chewing as I thought, and after counting (to myself) to 5, I psyched myself into letting the stuff go down, but after finishing the first squid, I couldn’t get myself to extend the experience to two more bites, and decided the “zenbun” method might be worth a try for the second one. Bad idea. The abominable taste, first of all, was twice as strong, and secondly, the need for chewing, it seemed, was multiplied times 10. I tried holding my breath, but I had to move my teeth up and down so many times, I ran out of air. I’m glad that by the second guy, the teachers had found other things to occupy their attention, because halfway through, my eyes began watering, and my gag reflex kicked in. I prayed furiously that I wouldn’t involuntarily eject my recently consumed meal, and even more furiously that I would be able to force the contents of my mouth into my stomach where I couldn’t taste it anymore. I tried my tried-and-true count-to-five method. Nothing happened. I couldn’t do it. I tried again. Again, it stuck there. So I counted to ten….Nope. It wouldn’t go down. I panicked. Three minutes after I popped the second squid into my mouth, I was still chewing. Finally, on a last-ditch effort, I told myself, “it’s either this, or you’re gonna end up throwing up!” Once again, I counted to five and…with all the strength I had in me, I forced the mush down, wiping tears from my eyes, and wondering how long would be polite and “normal” to wait to go brush my teeth (or, more accurately, my entire mouth for an extended period of time). I’d like to say that after the hunk of foul fishiness went down, it was all over. But I was not so lucky. I had a stomach ache for the rest of the day, and every time the thought of my after-lunch snack crossed my mind, I got queasy. Which is why I waited until today to write the post. Even with 72 hours in between, I’m still slightly nauseated now. Just a word of advise—if you’re ever offered anything bruise-colored with tentacles, I say forget the giver’s feelings. Just say no! Save your tastebuds! Save your stomachs! Long live cuttlefish-free digestive systems!

Weekend in Nikko Inspired by a quilt that my mother and I saw, oh, fourish years ago at a national quilt show, I have had the dream to go to Nikko, Japan for quite some time. Never thought this dream would come true, of course. God gives us some crazy stuff, though, and this weekend was one of those crazy "stuffs". Here's a strobe-light version of Tammy's, Adriane's, Carrie's, Cristy's, and my weekend: 4 1/2 hours of train rides to the youth hostel Getting "turned around," asking for directions, then following the kindly gentleman who pointed us in the right direction, for about 10 minutes...quite silently The smell of cat pee as we entered our hostel... The best Indian food (and the most) known to man Sleeping on a veritable "shelf" with little more than grass as padding The windiest bus ride I've ever taken...up a mountain An isolated hike...and an isolated stop...the purpose of which only those who were there will ever know ; ) Discovering a random bathing suit on our isolated hike (seriously in the middle of nowhere) Discovering the joys (and the non-joys for Carrie = ) of yuba ramen, udon, and soba...mmmmm Re-discovering the joys of hot chocolate A 2-hour wait in the frigid mountain air for the bus ride back...then having to let a bunch of people in front of us due to the fact that the bus came during the 10 MINUTES a couple of our group went on a food run. Cruelly ironic. The windiest bus ride I've ever taken...down a mountain...during a thunderstorm Playing MASH on the cold tile floor of our room Meeting Anna, a Swedish girl who now works in Tokyo with a London law firm...and giving her my shoes 'cause hers were soaked Watching Anna casually point to the hostel's cat, and observing (with great amusement) the ensuing screeches of "Otoo san!!!! Otoo san! Neko chan! Nezumi desu!" from the hostel's "house mom" and the "bang bang bang" of the handiest hard metal object she could find (translation--"Husband!" (literally "father") "Husband! Mr. Cat!!! It's a mouse!!!"...and then the banging... = ) The most beautiful, bright fall leaves I've ever beheld Lost of shopping Lots of eating A zonked-out ride home on the 3 1/2 journey Go here for photos!