Finally, Ramen!

I kind of can't believe it took me this long to get my first ramen in Tokyo. Anyway, as promised, I returned to Ikebukuro for dinner, this time choosing a little ramen shop. As is common in these here parts, at this ramen shop you go to a ticket machine, which has pictures (labeled only in Japanese, of course) corresponding to buttons. You make your selection and pay at the machine, and then give the ticket to the server, who pins it in front of your seat (or table, but I was sitting at the "bar" in the center). Of course, I can read Japanese even less than I can speak it (using "speak" in its most generous interpretation here), so we had a problem. But I am nothing if not a problem solver!

Much like those mice running their mazes, figuring out which lever to press for food, I ran circles for a bit. Then I just decided to quickly ask the kids (early 20's? Late teens? EARLY teens? How the hell would I know?) who ordered just before I did. Again using my highly developed inter-cultural holistic language skills, I politely said "sumimasen", then proceeded to point to the picture of the ramen I wanted, then waved my hand in front of the buttons. It actually took two tries before one of the kids got the message. I'm pretty sure his friend, just behind him, got it in one, because after the second time, he said something which seemed like "yeah, he wants you to show him which button." He then pointed out the proper button, to which I gave him a hearty "domo arigato!". Money in machine, button pushed, and Kevin is ready for his ramen (suspiciously like those rats).

As I sat at the bar, the friendly waiter said hi, along with some more Japanese. Frankly, even the phrases I know I think I wouldn't recognize when spoken in the heat of the moment. I freeze up pretty much anytime someone speaks to me. I assumed he was asking if I wanted a drink, so I said "coca cola?" He said a few more things which I just assumed meant he'd get me one. Turns out they don't serve any drinks. At least there's plenty of water (which is actually fine with me).

So, the only downside here was either I made the wrong selection (or those little bastards fucked with me) or the picture, while looking like pork, was actually fish. I had ordered (or mistakenly been given) a ramen with fish. But I persevered (which was actually one of the words I saw in the young lady's English study book mentioned in the previous post!) and kept on. Surprisingly this did not ruin my ramen experience. It kind of took some willpower for me to force down my gag reflex after eating some of the fish, but I just pushed it aside and concentrated on the noodles, green onion and broth. Tasty, tasty, tasty (even with fish).

I think this experience just shows how much I've matured and how I am able to deal with adversity of any kind. I truly am, or should be, an inspiration to you.

Pictured: tasty, though a bit fishy, ramen. Again, I don't know the name of the place. If they had a sign (which I'm sure they did) it was in Japanese, so I can't give them the props they do deserve. Great food and pleasant service. About all you can ask for.