PSU Magazine Summer 1989

They insisted that I try. A spot was cleared for me, brush, ink stone and paper were produced , then the sensei attempted to instruct me in some basic techniques. I clumsily dabbed some ink onto the paper and my chimpanzee- like efforts were awarded the unearned high marks usually granted a guest in Japan. Perhaps I could have seen an operation in America, possibly even standing at the patient's feet. But would I have been in– vited to an in-hospital calligraphy class afterward? Would there even have been such a class? Or was this another one of those fascinating experiences that came to define my life in a Japanese company? I had little time to ponder these questions as I rushed to that night's business dinner. I t seems to me that Japanese hotel lob– bies are always crowded with men , few, if any, being guests of the hotel. But that's how a business dinner (which is actually an entire evening out) begins, by meeting your host in a hotel lobby. We never ate at the hotel restaurant or drank at the hotel bar. We simply met there, ex– changed pleasantries, then hopped into one of the cabs lined up in front of the hotel. From there the evenings tended , with minor variations, to follow a fairly consis– tent pattern . Once we arrived at the restaurant and our host somehow made known his familiarity with the " master" of the place, beer was ordered, glasses filled , and an informal toast made. Many Japanese peo– ple's faces turn bright red when they drink, so after a couple glasses of beer, when the food began to arrive, my hosts usually had an embarrassed sunburned look . In the taxi on the way to the restaurant , the small talk invariably turned to the in– ability of that evening's host to speak any English, even after studying it for six years in school . However, with the scarlet glow of drink came a cascade of sheepishly offered phrases and translations of our conversation, delivered in broken English but with a surprisingly sophisticated vocabulary. With the beer gone and the food arriv– ing, the rhetorical question would arise whether to continue drinking beer or order sake (rice wine). It's well documented that the Japanese prefer to do things by the PSU 12 Local fare sold in an open-air market near the apartment Irwin and his wife Wendy rented in Sapporo, Japan. group approach; asserting one's in– dividuality or somehow being different from the group are considered negative characteristics. In restaurants this manifests itself in the tendency of people in a group to eat and drink the same things, and it's often the case that what the senior member of the party orders, the others will order too. " my host watched me expectantly, hoping, I think, that I would express revulsion to the food." The task of determining what will be consumed and when is a great respon– sibility, requiring a native sensibility to in– sure that things proceed in a way that everyone is used to, a way that everyone expects. That's why it's so unfortunate that most decisions concerning the meal went to me, the guest. As to the decision of beer or sake, I am quite fond of sake so it was always my choice. It also happened to be the right choice. And so for the rest of the meal we were never without a little decanter of the smooth , slightly sweet, heated-to-body-temperature liquid. As we worked our way down the even– ing's culinary path , we talked of the dif– ferences between life in America and life in Japan , especially where work was con– cerned. And as each new dish was placed in front of us, my host watched me expec– tantly, hoping, I think , that I would ex– press revul sion to the food. Failing to get that reaction (sometimes only through great determination on my part) he became ecstatic when I downed whatever nightmare from the sea or earth was of– fered to me while complimenting him on the choice. As dinner came to an end , with the business of nourishment and warm-up drinking taken care of, talk turned to the subject of " the second place," the next drinking establishment for the evening. A small place is cal led a "snack,'' and the bigger places are often called "clubs" or " bars." Whichever label it goes by, it's going to have at least one hostess, more likely several when the quality of the nightspot chosen is determined by a com– pany expense account . After seating you , the hostess (or team of hostesses) seats herself strategically among you. She proffers warm wash cloths, laughs at your jokes, engages in tantaliz.ing conversation , keeps the snack bowl full (of leathery squid jerky, shrimp flavored rice crackers, candy, dried fish , dried sea weed , roasted soy beans, etc.), lights your cigarettes if you smoke, offers occasional and well calculated pats on the knee, and most importantly, she makes sure that your drink is always full and that you keep drinking. At these places .the host always asked what I wanted to drink (that haunting responsibility again), and I soon found that the only correct answer was "whiskey." Aside from the hostesses, the main at– traction at the drinking spots is the karaoke, a special sound system that plays songs minus the vocal track, the vocals are supplied by the customer. Depending on the place, the music might be enka (the Japanese equivalent of country and western) or new Japanese music or old American music, with Elvis and slow Beatles' songs the favorites.