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 When Once I Walked the Earth --- Chapter 2
by Patrick Clapp
 Alfred in the summer is a lazy paradise – Brigadoon – where the days slow to a crawl and the nights stretch to the horizon. The valley becomes an island of peace and lassitude as the population drops by seventy percent. The pull of that wonder was insufficient to hold me in place. My wanderlust had come strong upon me, either that or I had become fixated on my goal of the island country. My best friend Luke once confessed to me a small bit of envy. “Trick,” he said. “You decide you are going to do something, and then you do it.” Japan was one of these things.
My tale of edamame, that refreshing irresistible treat, has been used by me as an ice breaker and as a mainstay of my anecdotal conversation style ever since it happened. It is one of those rare moments, funny both to those who know their way around Japanese cuisine, and those who never venture past a choice between pasta or steak. My hosts always found it amusing, my current understanding of the Japanese aside, I am sure they were not just being polite.
The event does highlight a phase of my life well, however. My friends have looked to me for years as a source of several pools of knowledge: my culinary art, my understanding of Japanese culture, and my ability to make the human body become bendy in places where it should not bend. At this point in the story, I have little skill in any of those areas. No crepe maker, no cheese potatoes, no repertoire of anecdotes comparing Eat to West, and only a green belt in Karate (which would cause much trouble later).
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Why am I not the least bit startled by $1 cokes? And why do I feel that 500 yen coins would work beautifully in arcades back home. Mind you that’s an expensive run at Tekken 2 or Pinball just to buck the system. It was an interesting and kindly slow day. June 6th, 1997 time 7:30 pm. I have yet to experience any odd feelings ascribed to jet lag, perhaps due to my lengthy period of wakefulness.
Today I visited Lake Biwa (Biwako). Misoume means lake. And Biwa is Japan’s largest. NEG is close to it (in fact so is the dorm). Had my first embarrassing encounter I suppose. Kato-san and his wife, whose name I can’t recall, took me on this small escapade. The museum there is filled with archaeological and sedimentary exhibits. (Like huge! mammoths) Many live fish in tanks, some bordering the building from the outside. Walked through a glass tunnel surrounded by water and fish. It gave me the creeps, which is hand in hand with my fear of deep water and large fish.
The funny bit occurred when we stopped for a drink halfway through. Kato-san bought me a beer (he had on too) and with it came chilled beans still in their stalks. Quite tasty, as I bit off the end of the stalk to get at the bean inside. Only then did I think to ask how to eat them. They got quite a kick from seeing the half eaten stalk. Apparently squeezing the stalk will in fact pop the bean into your ready mouth. A good combo, however, beans and beer, as odd as it looks was just fine. Dinner was excellent. However, I need to look up some things because the two cooks don’t speak a word of English. I think I ate my fish cold (not knowing how to ask if I should eat it cold) but it was quite good. Tomorrow I’ll remember to mention beer.
Later, Patrick
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