The Day of Free Food

On Wednesday, I woke up late, even by my pathetic standards. I had barely enough time to pretend to look like a competent professional, much less prepare a nutritious and savory lunch. Soo I embarked on my day with no plans for lunch but starvation.

Luckily for yours truly, this was to be a day of culinary generosity unseen since my last trip to my Grandma's place.

As if she had pre-sensed my impending hunger, my surrogate step-mom in the office, Ms. Miyake, approached my desk first thing with a very decently-sized meal of home-made curry she had prepared. That would have taken care of lunch, right there. Heck, that's really nice, I thought.

Shortly afterwards I was off to one of the 3rd-year classes, to help them put together some skits in English. (They have split up the third-year classes into those who still have college entrance exams to take and those who have been accepted. The ones who are good to go can take it a little easier for the rest of the year, thus the skits.). At the end of the hour, I couldn't bear the prospect of sitting at my desk for 5 hours, so I decided to actively seek out cultural exchange. I asked them what their next class was. They said 'Cooking.' I thought: I can do that. So, much to their utter confusion, I just didn't leave, and tagged along to the home economics room with them. They seemed to like the idea that I would be spending the day with them, so I didn't feel like an intruder at all. It felt great, actually.

So the cooking room was impressive indeed. There were eight islands, each with a stove, sink, and tons of clean, shiny cooking materials. In the middle of the room were eight clusters of pretty choice-looking ingredients. The teacher graciously provided me with a sweet-looking white chef's coat and funky bandana to keep my beautiful blonde locks out of our rice. I chose a group of students to work with, and then the teacher went to work instructing us on how to make this classic Japanese dish. We made something called 'Oyakodonburi,' which is a confection of soy sauce, sugar, onions, chicken, and some green veggie sauteed together, with a beaten egg then added but only cooked about halfway. This soupy mixture is then poured over a bowl of hot rice, the heat of which finishes cooking the egg. The title means "Parent and Child," which is of course, the chicken and the egg. It was delicious, I must say. We also made a simple soup of fish stock with tofu and veggies. All in all, it was a great meal, and as I sat at the table feasting with my co-chefs, I couldn't help but marvel at my good fortune today.

After that, I headed back to the teachers' room where I was informed that the resident chefstress, the ever-cute Ms. Saito, had prepared a hot soup of sweet red beans, available for all. I headed over there and snatched up a bowl, which was exactly as it should be: hot, sweet, and satisfying.

After all that feasting, I didn't even have room for the original gift of curry, so I put it aside for another day when I was too lazy to provide food for myself. Needless to say, it was a great day, and I was very glad knowing that I had reached out. It seems that every time I reach out, I get something valuable in return. Now that I look back on four months here, I realize how much better I have gotten at just being open and friendly to total strangers, walking up to groups of students and asking if I can join their card game or asking them how their weekend was, etc. I would never do that stuff before. Heck, I had to go to an extra year of kindergarten because I would cry when my parents left me. Here, I was a little afraid that the children had sort of lost interest in me, too occupied with school and their own lives to reach out. A lot of the 3rd-year students I had made friends with when I first came here seemed uninterested or too busy to talk to me. But I have begun to see that almost everyone here wants to interact as much as I do; it just takes initiative. Since these high-schoolers are often a little shy, I consciously try to reach out to them wherever possible, and they almost always seem overjoyed to talk or to show me something. I'm always glad I did it, all it takes is the will to do so.

I hope to steal more of the childrens' food in the future in the name of intercultural exchange.