Nasushiobara: A Report of the Nightlife.
Jul. 27th, 2008 01:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sechan19I had the chance to experience two very different types of Japanese nightlife on Saturday. In the early evening, I went with Paul and two of his cronies, Tasuki and Ogi, to the Oohira home for a family BBQ. Afterwards, I joined my friend Yoko for drinks at her favorite bar.
The Oohira family BBQ was an awesome experience. Unlike the standard American BBQ, which typically involves large slabs of meat that are cooked to perfection by a single “Barbeque Master” at a sequestered station, the Japanese BBQ is a group effort that involves a plethora thin sliced meats and veggies grilled at the center of the table, roving chopsticks, and a lot of laughter.
Oohira-san, the clan head, welcomed us in very respectable English, brought us the first round of drinks, and insisted we were to call us by his first name. His wife, Mrs. Oohira, bustled about with food and drinks and smiles. Periodically someone would teasingly ask her name, but she would only smile, claim it was a secret, and bring the inquirer another beer. Everyone admired her traditional sense of values and indulgently referred to her as Oohira. The children, ranging in ages from sixteen to early twenties, numbered four. The large Oohira connection even included one foster son, who as the youngest was shy, helpful, and as much of a beer drinker of any in the family.
The BBQ was being held for a cultural exchange student who had been staying with the Oohira family, and I talked with her quite a bit. She was from SoCal and spoke hardly a word of Japanese, but was involved in Lions International and had been sponsored by them to stay with a Japanese Lions family for a short while. I did a fair bit of translating for her, which caused the oldest Oohira daughter, Yoko, to exclaim that she had never been so surprised in her life as when I opened my mouth and began speaking passable Japanese!
As the night progressed we ate long and well, and Mrs. Oohira oversaw everything--flipping bits of meat to grilled perfection and constantly replenishing the beer. I swear I had two new cans before I had finished one! But the party wasn’t all about food, and mid-way through a group of us drove up into the hills to watch the fireflies. We also played a piñata-type game with the dessert watermelon. Each kid took a turn being blindfolded, spun about, handed a wooden sword, and directed to the watermelon, where they attempted to split it open. In the classic way of family, the youngest boy was given misinformation, much to everyone’s (his included) amusement. I myself came darn close, but the eldest Oohira daughter carried off the honors, and we sampled the juicy, honey-dappled remains.
My friend, Yoko, had joined us part way through the evening after she finished with work, and she and I left after the watermelon eating to have a quiet drink in her favorite bar. Both of us were in on the scheme to go to Nikko the following day, and we had plans to leave at six a. m. so neither of us felt like drinking heavily. I ordered an oolong tea, and Yoko had dry ginger ale. (You can also have sweet ginger ale, which I don’t think is very common in the US… at least, I’ve never seen it or didn’t know that I was seeing it.)
We chatted in Japanese and English about equally. Since we’re both learning, it’s the fairest way of doing it. We each get equal practice time, and when we can’t think of a way to say something in our foreign language there’s no shame or confusion in switching smoothly back into our native speech. We mainly talked about music, which we both love. I’ve been offering her suggestions on English-language artists, and she’s done the same for me regarding Japanese performers.
Kuroiso, Yoko’s home town, being a small slice of Japan, we ran into some friends of hers there, both English teachers at the local junior high--one from Australia and one from Iowa! We all chatted a bit together and before any of us knew it, it was after midnight. Yoko and I beat a hasty retreat, vowed valiantly to ganbarimasu (do our best) on the morrow, and separated for a few hours of sleep before our hiking trip.
The Oohira family BBQ was an awesome experience. Unlike the standard American BBQ, which typically involves large slabs of meat that are cooked to perfection by a single “Barbeque Master” at a sequestered station, the Japanese BBQ is a group effort that involves a plethora thin sliced meats and veggies grilled at the center of the table, roving chopsticks, and a lot of laughter.
Oohira-san, the clan head, welcomed us in very respectable English, brought us the first round of drinks, and insisted we were to call us by his first name. His wife, Mrs. Oohira, bustled about with food and drinks and smiles. Periodically someone would teasingly ask her name, but she would only smile, claim it was a secret, and bring the inquirer another beer. Everyone admired her traditional sense of values and indulgently referred to her as Oohira. The children, ranging in ages from sixteen to early twenties, numbered four. The large Oohira connection even included one foster son, who as the youngest was shy, helpful, and as much of a beer drinker of any in the family.
The BBQ was being held for a cultural exchange student who had been staying with the Oohira family, and I talked with her quite a bit. She was from SoCal and spoke hardly a word of Japanese, but was involved in Lions International and had been sponsored by them to stay with a Japanese Lions family for a short while. I did a fair bit of translating for her, which caused the oldest Oohira daughter, Yoko, to exclaim that she had never been so surprised in her life as when I opened my mouth and began speaking passable Japanese!
As the night progressed we ate long and well, and Mrs. Oohira oversaw everything--flipping bits of meat to grilled perfection and constantly replenishing the beer. I swear I had two new cans before I had finished one! But the party wasn’t all about food, and mid-way through a group of us drove up into the hills to watch the fireflies. We also played a piñata-type game with the dessert watermelon. Each kid took a turn being blindfolded, spun about, handed a wooden sword, and directed to the watermelon, where they attempted to split it open. In the classic way of family, the youngest boy was given misinformation, much to everyone’s (his included) amusement. I myself came darn close, but the eldest Oohira daughter carried off the honors, and we sampled the juicy, honey-dappled remains.
My friend, Yoko, had joined us part way through the evening after she finished with work, and she and I left after the watermelon eating to have a quiet drink in her favorite bar. Both of us were in on the scheme to go to Nikko the following day, and we had plans to leave at six a. m. so neither of us felt like drinking heavily. I ordered an oolong tea, and Yoko had dry ginger ale. (You can also have sweet ginger ale, which I don’t think is very common in the US… at least, I’ve never seen it or didn’t know that I was seeing it.)
We chatted in Japanese and English about equally. Since we’re both learning, it’s the fairest way of doing it. We each get equal practice time, and when we can’t think of a way to say something in our foreign language there’s no shame or confusion in switching smoothly back into our native speech. We mainly talked about music, which we both love. I’ve been offering her suggestions on English-language artists, and she’s done the same for me regarding Japanese performers.
Kuroiso, Yoko’s home town, being a small slice of Japan, we ran into some friends of hers there, both English teachers at the local junior high--one from Australia and one from Iowa! We all chatted a bit together and before any of us knew it, it was after midnight. Yoko and I beat a hasty retreat, vowed valiantly to ganbarimasu (do our best) on the morrow, and separated for a few hours of sleep before our hiking trip.
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Date: 2008-07-27 11:29 am (UTC)