Manners for All You Can Eat hr679

 

The Japanese Government rolled out a travel benefit to help the travel industry that had suffered after the big earthquake. Hotel plans in the applied areas were all half off by using the benefit. As I found an extremely saving plan that included a gorgeous all-you-can-eat dinner, I stayed at that hotel with my partner to shake off my everyday stress.

In order to make the most of it by eating as much as I could, I stepped in the restaurant at the opening time with my excruciatingly empty stomach. Although I had learned on the website that its all-you-can-eat buffet would be the most lavish one I had ever seen, the real one easily exceeded the information. Added to the buffet, a main dish was served at the table where a small individual rice-cooking pot was set on a solid fuel cube, which meant I was able to eat Japanese beef steak along with freshly boiled brand-name rice. Incidentally, both Japanese beef and brand-name rice cost three times more compared to imported ones.

Already dazzled by luxury, I walked into the spacious buffet area. There were three long counters that offered over thirty kinds of expensive delicacies. I was seeing beef stew, carpaccio of a variety of fresh fish, lasagna, smoked salmon, sushi, and tempura that a chef fried right in front of my eyes, not to mention salads and elaborate desserts. The thought that I could eat them as much as possible almost made me faint with excitement. With my pounding heart, I rushed to take them on a plate though I knew I didn’t have to hurry, and took desserts as well for fear of stock-out though I knew it was unlikely to happen. Three large plates with mountains of luxurious foods and one with Japanese beef spread over my table. I felt ashamed a little because it seemed to accurately represent the degree of my greed.

Though I hardly have beef because of the high price, I was able to tell that this Japanese beef was completely different from the beef I know. It had a thick, deep taste and was tender enough to disappear quickly in my mouth. Shrimp tempura also had a clear difference from the one I usually get at the supermarket so that it felt like I was eating some novel dish not tempura. I had always had negative views for brand-name rice that its name made the price high, not its quality. I had been skeptical about the effect of freshly boiling it at the table, too. But it turned out to be a special treat by itself, which was not rice I had been familiar with at all.

While I was devouring, a conversation of a young couple at the next table came into my ears. “I saw a man taking every kind from the buffet. Can you believe it?,” a woman asked. “I can’t believe there’s a person like that.” a man replied, and they laughed. It surprised me. I had thought it was a norm to take every kind at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Of course I did so there, but was it bad manners or something embarrassing? That sort of thought had never crossed my mind. If not, I had believed that I should or must take every single kind on the buffet, which was a concept of ‘all you can eat’. I glanced at their table that held few plates with a small amount of food. They stayed for only about ninety minutes and left saying “I have had enough.” My partner and I were panting, suffering from fullness, but kept eating until the restaurant closed. The time like a dream came to an end and I left feeling myself pulled by the hair from behind. I earnestly wished for one more stomach.

The next day, I had a pricking pain in my stomach, which aggravated into a piercing pain by the day after next. Eating and drinking provoked more pain. Tossing and turning did the same so that I couldn’t sleep. In the morning, I even had a slight fever. I looked up on the internet that suggested sinister possibilities such as appendicitis, or cancer. I was utterly dreadful. Is this any kind of serious disease? Should I go to see the doctor, that I loathe to do and haven’t done for decades? Do I need to go through an operation? How can I pay for that since I don’t have my savings? Will I borrow money from somewhere and be in debt? Besides, is this curable? Am I dying?? Fear inflicted sleepless nights on me more than pain. I bitterly regretted and blamed myself for having eaten so much to the point of risking my life at the buffet restaurant. A horrifying week later however, pain subsided and was almost completely gone in the following two weeks to my great relief.

My body may be intolerant of high-class foods. Or excessive overeating simply caused the ailment. It’s extremely difficult for me to control my greed, which is always the case.

A Train Ride in Japan hr585

My main means of transportation is the train. As manners and common sense vary in countries, I introduce here what a train ride in Japan is like. In the Tokyo metropolitan area, it’s just atrocious especially during the rush hours. I had had a lot of trouble when I lived in the area. It’s almost impossible to get a ride since both the train and the platform are packed with people. The train is full, which means in Japan’s case that you can’t move as you’re pressed firmly against other passengers’ bodies around you. Because I’m short and feel claustrophobia only in a few minutes, I have to pass several trains to wait for a less crowded one. That results in a long, inefficient travel although the trains run every ten minutes or less. As the night deepens, the smell of alcohol fills the train car that has more drunken businessmen, some of whom are befuddled. It used to be common that men openly spread and read porn magazines and tabloids in the car, but thankfully they are replaced by smartphones now. There are women-only cars that men aren’t allowed to get in during the rush hours. Too many cases of being groped or molested in a crowded train car made railroad companies invent this crazy sexism solution. I myself can’t count how many times I was touched or saw a man expose himself in the train. When I once squeezed myself into a packed car on my way to school, I barely got my body inside the car but my bag couldn’t. The door closed on the handles of my bag and left the bag outside. I rode for three minutes with my bag dangling outside the train, swinging violently. In daytime, the murderous congestion subsides. Instead, enters a group of housewives with large strollers that block aisles. They ignore their children who are crying and shrieking. Some passengers eat snacks, rice balls or sandwiches in the train. Some eat cup noodles or lunch in a box called bento. Even drinking alcoholic beverages is okay. But, people dart an angry look at someone who is putting on makeup. One of major complains to railroad companies is making up in the train. I don’t have the slightest idea what that means. It’s acceptable no matter how drunken or how loud you are inside the train, but not that you’re putting up makeup. I heard on the radio show that an elderly woman complained about a young lady who was putting on mascara in the train. Her point was she couldn’t allow a woman to turn up the whites of her eyes in public. It doesn’t make sense and to me, it sounds clear sexism. I almost always put on makeup on the train for time efficiency and wage a quiet battle against other passengers’ angry glances. With good or bad manners aside, trains in Japan are generally safe and a murder or a robbery hardly happens. A pickpocket steals a wallet from a drunken passenger who has fallen asleep, or a drunk beats a conductor, that’s the maximum. If you have carelessly left your belongings in the train, they’re found and delivered to a station in most cases. It may be too extravagant to complain of Japan’s trains that are well maintained, so clean, and graffiti-free. While it’s sometimes uncomfortable to share a ride with people whose likes and dislikes are pretty different from mine, it’d be better to relish the difference and be surprised by it. That may help me grow leniency. Besides, there’s no such thing as the world going round solely by my own rules after all…