I need to eat something. I've been in this cafe now for two and a half hours and have so far had three cups of coffee on a nearly empty stomach. Like I said, I need to eat something.
Thankfully, this cafe offers a menu with some English. Usually I'm not this lucky. Usually I'm forced to order in a rather haphazard manner.
I begin my dining experience in the same fashion every time. I bring my hands together, palms up, pinkies touching and repeatedly open and close them. To accompany this I helplessly add a "menu juseyo." It gets the point across.
Once I have my menu in hand, I scroll my finger up and down and up and down until...STOP. This will be my meal. Similar to planning one's travel destinations by consulting a spinning globe, this technique has yet to work out in my favor. Just as I inevitably stop the globe in the Pacific Ocean or some war-ridden territory, I always end up with the least appealing meal for myself. It's often raw and served with a mysterious soup undoubtedly containing a fish too large for the bowl so that it's caudal fin hangs out one side while on the other side it's eyes stare into my own.
My family would most likely describe me as a picky eater. This was once true. For me there was nothing like pizza stripped of all it ingredients save for the sauce-soaked bread sans crust with a side of buttered noodles. Now though I seem to be on the fast-track to recovery. I'll eat virtually anything set in front of me. I have little choice. My only real concern lies with accidentally ordering dog (rather unlikely), live octopus (rather likely) or pig rectum (far too likely for comfort). "No pig ass, juseyo," I could say, though I'm not sure they would understand.
As for now, I'm content to have my buttered bagel with strawberry jam. Hopefully the carbohydrate content can soak up some of the coffee in my now over-caffeinated state.
