Jugglers, Bears, Scientists, Rice.

That night, me and Eliza planned to eat dinner, and before leaving, I invited Ruth and Kim. Of course, as with all good plans, they exploded, and before we knew it there were eight of us, including some new acquaintences: Jen, Nikki, and a boy whose name I forgot - and an old one, Amanda. We made plans to meet in the park by the dormitories at 7 o'clock, which would make us fairly hungry. When I made it to the park, Nikki was there, speaking to two nihonjin, an old lady and a young man who was juggling not three, not four, five, or six, but SEVEN balls at a time. Granted, he could only do so for a few seconds, but it was impressive nonetheless. Everybody else was late, so me and Nikki spoke to Juggler-san for a while. He was very amicable, asking us questions about where we came from and why we were in Japan. It was the first time I'd ever held a conversation with a native Japanese speaker, knew exactly what he was saying at all times, and was able to respond immediately. Before long everybody else arrived, and we headed out, passing on our way an insanely large dog being walked by its owner. This dog was gigantic. I mean, it wasn't really a dog, so much as it was a POLAR BEAR. That's how big this dog was. It was incredibly friendly (and thankfully, so was the owner), allowing all eight of us to pet it at the same time.

We explored for a long time, passing many good restaurants, before we finally settled on one. However, it didn't have room for eight - many of these restaurants were walk-in, sit down at a booth-type thing, and eat while they cook right in front of you. Many were also very, very small. We decided to split up into two groups, with the people who spoke Japanese decently split among those groups. Me, Ruth, Nikki, and Eliza went as one group, while the other four went into the restaurant we'd found. We wandered for a little while before stumbling across another booth-like restaurant where we saw a group of four nihonjin teenagers hanging out and drinking. We didn't recognize anything on the menu, but we chose to go inside anyway, sort of hoping the menu inside would have items we knew. The cook and another young man bowed as we entered and we sat down at the closest seats. Next to us was one of the four teenagers I'd seen on the way in. He was wearing a shirt that said in English, "I Are A Scientist". Whether or not the shirt was grammatically correct on purpose I'd never know. Maybe it was supposed to say "I Am A Scientist", or maybe it was supposed to make fun of the fact that a scientist was wearing a grammatically incorrect shirt. Who knows. It's Japan. The man taking orders handed us hot towels (sometimes we get hot towels, sometimes cold towels, and sometimes a choice between one or the other - what the big difference is, I don't know) and we told him in Japanese that we'd like some water, and that it might take a while for us to decide on something.

Looking at the menu, we soon realized there was nothing on it we recognized. Everything was either Kanji or Katakana that didn't make any sense. Sometimes the Katakana entries are obvious (like Hamu Chiizu Tousuto, which is Ham & Cheese Toast) and other times it makes no sense at all, just a compilation of whatever syllables happen to be on the cook's mind. Before I had the chance to say anything, Ruth decided to order something at random, simply because it had the kanji for rice in it, so we knew it had rice. She ordered it for everybody.

My skepticism died away when we received our plates. It looked like normal fried rice, except it was a lot of it, and there were chunks of smaller vegetables inside, and a bit of what looked like shredded seaweed on top. This would be the first of many meals that made me more full than I thought was physically possible. It is considered rude to not finish a meal given to you, especially if it is home-cooked or in a family-owned restaurant. Every grain of rice had to go. As delicious as it was, about three-fourths through the meal, I began to think it wasn't possible. There was so much. Ruth was done before everybody else, having collected and eaten every minuscule piece of rice and vegetable on her plate. We all eventually finished completely, not wanting to be out-Japanese'd by the others. Me and Eliza were last.

Me and Ruth shared a very small bottle of sake that was fairly cheap, and then the four of us headed out, learning a bit more Japanese on the way out (betsu betsu means separate and isshou means together, as in, how you are paying the bill). We walked slowly back to our separate dorms, thankfully not getting lost on the way back.

The next night, very similar plans were made...