I've now been in Japan 1 year and 9 months. I find that I don't often long for my homeland or its food though I do love much of it dearly. But I am starved for all things Latin. The thought of a taco sinks deep into my heart. A kiss on the cheek from a new acquaintance would bring me to my knees. A friendly, "Que tal?" would flush my soul with joy. And so, like a homesick Latin American, I have gone on the search for some place where I can have a taste of the Southern motherland. By what I can only ascribe to providence, I found a wonderful little Mexican restaurant on the 10th floor of Hakata Station in Fukuoka. The problem? It's three hours away and a $50 train ticket. Notwithstanding these obstacles, I have managed to make it out there often enough to become a familiar face to the workers and a friend of the owner. The owner bought a one-way plane ticket to Mexico and lived there for two years to study Mexican cuisine. His story about adventure, solitude, not being able to communicate, and drinking cerveza on the beach and then weeping at quiet moments when alone made me laugh and nearly weep with compassion. The restaurant named "El Borracho" (The Drunk) and its owner are definitely magical. But he seems to be the only one in all of Southern Japan to introduce this wonderful food and culture to millions. So, I am stuck to visiting once every couple months or so when I can make it out to Fukuoka. Until today.
I just found out there is a "Mexican Restaurant" only an hour and fifteen minute drive from my house. The recommendation came when I explained about my love of Mexican food to a co-worker over Japanese school lunch. It seems a mystery to me that hardly anyone in my entire city knows what a Mexican taco is, and those who have heard of tacos, almost without fail, have never eaten one. When a Japanese hears the word taco, they immediately think of octopus (tako). This can lead to some serious misunderstandings about my preferred foods. But, with this particular individual, after some explaining it dawned on her what a taco was (she'd seen a picture) and she told me there was a place I should check out (she saw it in a magazine). I told her I'd love to go one day if we could figure out where it was. I left it at that.
Today, I went back to the same school and saw the co-worker again. I hadn't seen her for an week and our previous conversation had slipped my mind entirely. In an out of context and sudden moment that is typical of Japanese in general and especially the people in my area when approaching me, she asked me in Japanese, "Did you go?" I paused, tried my best to put this question in the context of what was going on in the teacher's room and responded, "I went to fifth grade's lesson but sixth grade is cancelled today."
She got a confused look on her face, and then said, "Takosu. Did you go there?" Still, a little confused, I paused again and pondered on why she was asking me about octopus. She ran over, and grabbed a magazine and frantically started flipping through it. She told me she found the magazine with the Mexican restaurant advertisement with an address. Then last week's conversation started coming back to me in a flood. But for all her flipping about, she could not find the article for the life of her. She seemed busy and she told me to look through it one page at a time until I came across it. It seemed like an easy enough task and I began my work. I flipped through page after page of Japanese restaurant info and ads and by half-way through the book I started wondering if this was the right magazine. Soon enough, I finished flipping through the entire magazine and put it down. I looked up and said, "It's not in here. I looked at every page." She was positive that it had to be in the magazine somewhere, and began flipping through in search again. With an "Ah!" she stopped flipping and threw it down on my desk. This is what I saw:
Sure enough...tacos. It shouldn't be too hard to imagine how I missed it. Everything looks so Japanese that only the Indian Nan (tortillas...?) up in the top left corner could help you distinguish it as foreign food. What with four Japanese dishes, organized little piles, and some french fry looking things you can see how I took one look and flipped the page. All for the price of only $15.
"See!? I told you!" Indeed, tacos. I asked her the name of the restaurant and she took a glance through the description and said, "It's named "The Latin"! It's because the chef also prepares French food." Not wanting to be rude, I gently tried to explain that French food doesn't really fall in the "Latin" category. "But that's what the chef says right here. They have the same image so the name just came to him, 'The Latin'." I hesitantly explained about how Latin America is everything basically south of the U.S. on the American Continent and didn't have really anything to do with France which is in Europe. "Is that so? Well to the chef, he sees the relation." Frustrated, and stunned that Mexican food was being lumped together with French food as the same thing I said, "Well, to me they are very different." That's as far as my persuasive skills got in defending the complexities of international cuisine. But at any rate, I ended the conversation with a positive note, "I'll have to go give it a try." She smiled and responded, "Yes, please and report back!"
So with that, I'm off to "The Latin"...maybe. For a story? Perhaps. For the food? Not a chance.
I just found out there is a "Mexican Restaurant" only an hour and fifteen minute drive from my house. The recommendation came when I explained about my love of Mexican food to a co-worker over Japanese school lunch. It seems a mystery to me that hardly anyone in my entire city knows what a Mexican taco is, and those who have heard of tacos, almost without fail, have never eaten one. When a Japanese hears the word taco, they immediately think of octopus (tako). This can lead to some serious misunderstandings about my preferred foods. But, with this particular individual, after some explaining it dawned on her what a taco was (she'd seen a picture) and she told me there was a place I should check out (she saw it in a magazine). I told her I'd love to go one day if we could figure out where it was. I left it at that.
Today, I went back to the same school and saw the co-worker again. I hadn't seen her for an week and our previous conversation had slipped my mind entirely. In an out of context and sudden moment that is typical of Japanese in general and especially the people in my area when approaching me, she asked me in Japanese, "Did you go?" I paused, tried my best to put this question in the context of what was going on in the teacher's room and responded, "I went to fifth grade's lesson but sixth grade is cancelled today."
She got a confused look on her face, and then said, "Takosu. Did you go there?" Still, a little confused, I paused again and pondered on why she was asking me about octopus. She ran over, and grabbed a magazine and frantically started flipping through it. She told me she found the magazine with the Mexican restaurant advertisement with an address. Then last week's conversation started coming back to me in a flood. But for all her flipping about, she could not find the article for the life of her. She seemed busy and she told me to look through it one page at a time until I came across it. It seemed like an easy enough task and I began my work. I flipped through page after page of Japanese restaurant info and ads and by half-way through the book I started wondering if this was the right magazine. Soon enough, I finished flipping through the entire magazine and put it down. I looked up and said, "It's not in here. I looked at every page." She was positive that it had to be in the magazine somewhere, and began flipping through in search again. With an "Ah!" she stopped flipping and threw it down on my desk. This is what I saw:
Sure enough...tacos. It shouldn't be too hard to imagine how I missed it. Everything looks so Japanese that only the Indian Nan (tortillas...?) up in the top left corner could help you distinguish it as foreign food. What with four Japanese dishes, organized little piles, and some french fry looking things you can see how I took one look and flipped the page. All for the price of only $15.
"See!? I told you!" Indeed, tacos. I asked her the name of the restaurant and she took a glance through the description and said, "It's named "The Latin"! It's because the chef also prepares French food." Not wanting to be rude, I gently tried to explain that French food doesn't really fall in the "Latin" category. "But that's what the chef says right here. They have the same image so the name just came to him, 'The Latin'." I hesitantly explained about how Latin America is everything basically south of the U.S. on the American Continent and didn't have really anything to do with France which is in Europe. "Is that so? Well to the chef, he sees the relation." Frustrated, and stunned that Mexican food was being lumped together with French food as the same thing I said, "Well, to me they are very different." That's as far as my persuasive skills got in defending the complexities of international cuisine. But at any rate, I ended the conversation with a positive note, "I'll have to go give it a try." She smiled and responded, "Yes, please and report back!"
So with that, I'm off to "The Latin"...maybe. For a story? Perhaps. For the food? Not a chance.
