Anyone who is treated to a dinner party is a lucky duck indeed. Anyone who is treated to three full-out dinner parties in one week is far too popular for her own good. I was convinced my life here in Japan was already too good to be true, and last week’s marathon of social events only added to the surreal beatitude.
On Monday, God said, Let there be drinks at a local bar owned by a kind Hawaiian, and so delicious kahlua-milk drinks were had.
On Tuesday, God said, Let there be unending plates of sushi, sashimi, fried squid, eel, mussels, sting-ray, cod-roe, octopus, and innumerable rounds of sake, and so there was ceaseless food and drink among Junior High School teachers and the Vice Principal.
On Thursday, God said, Take a break and eat raw vegetables, and so there were carrot sticks and a baked sweet potato.
On Friday, God said, Let your coworkers shower you with platters of crab, rare $100 mushrooms, marinated chicken from France, spaghetti with truffles, risotto, fresh cuts of beef and pork, white wine, plum wine, beer, and a blueberry cake, and so each person consumed half of his or her own weight in food delicacies.
On Saturday, God said, Let there be a repeat of Friday except for at lunchtime, and so more exquisite food was consumed in an indulgent fashion.
On Sunday, God said, Run in a 5k race, and give thanks to all those around you, and so a persimmon sponge cake was made and distributed in gratitude. Continue reading