Burrow Your Way To My Heart

Okay, I’m tired and and hung over from last night’s welcoming party, and I am in no way prepared to stumble across this at 8AM. On a good day, I would be fascinated by mind-controlling parasites. But with a roiling stomach the day after having consumed, by my estimate, the victuals of at least seven different animals, all I can think about is, “Oh God, what if I swallowed some Lovecraftian abomination, and it makes me blurt out inappropriate things at the exact wrong time?”

On second thought, I do that anyway. But now I have an excuse.

Anyway, it was great to be around some of the teachers outside of school, everything was a good deal less formal. Even if I still can’t understand most of what’s being said, it’s still fun, and the others were more than willing to try English and help me with my Japanese. I learned that horse meat tastes pretty damn good, and more importantly, squid (or ika if you will) isn’t half bad. Maybe they make it different over here or something, but the only time I had calamari in the US I was disgusted by it.

They also abide by my “everything tastes better when it’s on a stick” rule, with a good portion of the food arriving on skewers. I heartily endorse less chances to embarrass myself with chopsticks. And I was not misinformed when I was told the chuhai I had at the party in Himeji was, to be polite, inferior. The real stuff turned out to be far more delicious. And tasted dangerously like candy, making over-indulgence far too easy for me. I shall steel myself against it the next time to avoid collapsing on the floor, a drooling wreck of a man.

No pictures this time, only words. What would I have taken pictures of anyway? The fact I was smiling, a lot?

Eat me up with your love
Burrow your way to my heart