Chicken Yakatori 18/9

So maybe, just maybe,  I should have prepared more for this trip. For example, I could have learnt at least some of the symbols from the three, yes three, alphabets the Japanese have. Or just learnt a few of the most useful words. But I didn’t, and it’s too late now. So as evening fell, and I walked around Yokohama with a rumble in my stomach, my thoughts turned to the menus displayed outside the many attractive looking eateries dotted around the city. But there was trouble ahead. Or at least trouble in my head, because all the menus were exclusively in Japanese, (I couldn’t tell you which alphabet, but it was no doubt one of the three.) So, now I had a choice; go to KFC or Wendy’s or take a risk, I took a deep breath, saw some surfer dude in the queue for KFC and pushed the door open of a Yakitori place that looked friendly enough. And indeed it was friendly. I presume that in this little corner of Yokohama, they don’t get many Gaijins, and thus they were bending over backwards to accommodate me. And joy of joys, they even had an English menu. Thirst had over taken me, so I ordered a cola immediately and then settled down to study the menu. Immediately the waitress appeared with my drink and a choice of hot or cold towels. I wiped myself down with the hot towel and watched the waitress excitedly tell her colleague which one i had chosen. But… my joy soon turned to horror as I saw that this place wasn’t offering lovely succulent chicken breast on a stick like the picture outside suggested; there was chicken and there were sticks but, there was chicken heart on a stick, chicken liver on a stick, chicken skin on a stick, and, the delightfully named, chicken gristle on a stick. Why had I ordered the coke? I was stuck here now, in this offal place, trying to decide if I preferred kidney, foot or cartilage! They were fussing over me, giving me a basket so my bag didn’t need to be on the floor. (I wasn’t sure if they more worried about their floor or my bag), giving me a cold towel to follow up the hot one and waiting for my order. Oh, the stories they would tell their friends. Crazy Gaijin ordered chicken feathers on a stick. But then the land of my father came to my rescue. I saw it, chicken with Welsh onions, my saviour.

But my nightmare wasn’t over. The bill came, and it came to 1684 yen or something similar. I put 1700 on the plate and took my leave, taking in the toilet on the way. 

How nice it is that Japanese toilets have little baby seats for you to hang your baby in while you are taking a call of nature. And how nice it is of the Japanese to remind the parents not to hit their children whilst opening the door. Anyway, I digress, the point is, I left the toilet and skipped down the stairs, only to be stopped by one of the staff telling me something about my bill. Indignant, I was. I’d left more than enough funds to cover it. Were these unscrupulous Japanese going to rip me off on my first day in town? What happened to the honesty that everyone had told me so much about? The young man was insistent and wasn’t going to let me leave. Then, his colleague came running down the stairs. I wondered what the hell was going on. She held out her hand, I flinched. She dropped 16 yen into my hand along with a pineapple flavoured sweet. It was my change. No matter how much I protested, they insisted I take it. 

Then, they stood there waving and bowing at me until I had drifted away into the night.
Check out the photos below of the food, with the raw cabbage and 'jiggy' sauce. Lovely.

Raw Cabbage 'Jiggy' sauce 

Chicken Ramen

What is a welsh onion anyway?